“Ciara—”
The line goes dead, and I toss the phone onto the bed.
This is not how she should have found out about this. She deserved better. Hell, maybe she deserved toneverknow that part of her father’s past is toxic and poisonous.
I didn’t want it to come anywhere near her, but it’s too late to go back now. I had to make a choice in order to try and regain her trust, but from the pain in her voice, I can’t help but feel I may have just lost her either way.
I reach across the bed for my phone and send her a text, needing to make sure she’s going to be safe when she reaches JFK.
Me
I’ll have a car come and pick you up at the airport.
My phone pings a minute later.
Ciara
Don’t bother. Mila is picking me up.
A bitter sense of relief washes over me that she’s not going to be alone, but it also means she likely won’t be waiting for me at the house when I eventually arrive back in New York.
The laughter we shared on the plane ride over here feelslike decades ago, and I wish I could go back in time and hold on to that moment for a while longer.
While this trip also has a business purpose, I genuinely wanted to show Ciara the city. It was meant to be a chance for us to truly connect, away from all the noise of New York and the reality of our lives. But instead, I’ve somehow managed to drive her even further away, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get her back.
The next flightto New York isn’t until nine a.m. so I take my mind off of my disaster of a marriage by moving my meeting with Angus O’Malley to first thing this morning.
After pacing around the penthouse until I eventually passed out on the couch from exhaustion, I woke around five, had a shower, and packed my things before heading to meet Angus.
He suggested a coffee shop just off the strip that seems quiet and low-key, which is perfect for the sort of meeting I’m about to have.
As I sip on my black Americano, grimacing at the bitter taste, eyes burn into the back of my head, and I turn to look over my shoulder as Angus approaches.
The one and only time we met was the night my father got shot, and even then we didn’t exchange more than a simple greeting. But his graying auburn hair has gained a few more streaks of silver since that night, and the creases on his forehead and around his mouth appear deeper.
“Angus.” I get to my feet and hold out a hand.
He shakes it firmly, and I spot a Celtic cross tattoo etched onto the back of his weathered hand, along with a handful of names in the center, but before I can ask about the nod to hisIrish heritage, Angus pulls his hand away and takes the seat opposite me.
“Ye’re lookin’ like shite, boyo. But then again, it’s been a rough few weeks forye.”
“You could say that.” I sit back down and reach for my coffee.
He folds his arms over his chest, causing the buttons on his white button-down to strain. For a man in his mid-sixties, he’s still packing just as much muscle as I am, and I’m easily half his age.
“I’m sorry about Seamus.” He offers me a sympathetic look. “He was a good one.”
One of the servers approaches, but Angus waves her off before leaning forward and resting his forearms on the rickety table. “So, what didyeneed to talk to me about?”
“It’s about my father.” I set my coffee down on the table. “There are a few things that aren’t adding up, and I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”
He frowns. “Yethink I know somethin’yedon’t?”
I shrug. “You knew him for a long time. I’m guessing if he was doing anything shady, I thought perhaps you might know about it.”
Angus lets out a bark of a laugh. “Yerfather was a shady man. But he always knew when to not cross the line.”
I nod slowly. “That’s what I thought, too, but I’m questioning some of the things that have been brought to my attention.”
