“Don’t touch me,” I growl at him and shake him off. Nico just stares at me, his head tilted. Even my worst attitude doesn’t bother him and that bugs me more than anything.
“Just fuck off, Nico,” I sneer and stride back to the table,flopping down in my chair. He comes back to the table a few seconds later, a glass of whiskey in hand. As he sips, he looks at me, his eyes bouncing between me and the empty chair to my right.
I fucking hate that he can read me right now. Not even Dad or Carter seem to know that I’m fucked up inside, that I fucked my own head up when I wanted to feel close to Hendrix.
Fuck, I have to shake this shit. I have to. Spiraling into depression will only make it easy for someone to put a bullet in my brain. But for tonight, I’ll allow myself to feel. I just wish Nico didn’t see it.
“Declan, what’s going on?” Carter asks. His eyes brim with concern.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the threats. I even brought the latest blackmail note with me, hoping to make heads or tails of it. But the pitying looks I’m getting from him and Dad make me want to figure it out on my own. Dad and Carter said I need to use my head, so I’ll do that and figure out who’s trying to bilk me for five mil. Then I’ll fucking blow their brains out. After that, I’ll tell my family what I did so they’ll see I don’t need to be treated with fucking kid gloves.
“Nothing. I’m good.” My words slur, and shake my head to reel the tipsiness in, but that just makes the room swim.
Nico grunts but doesn’t say anything. I glare at him. “The fuck is your problem, bitch?” I hiss at Nico, making him grin and blow me a kiss. Lust flares through me just as much as anger does.
I slap my hands on the table as if to spew some foul shit, but Carter makes an irritated noise, drops his head, and squeezes his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Please, not tonight. Can we just have a normal fucking dinner, Deck?”
I clamp my mouth shut as my free hand drifts to my ribs, rubbing the space to ground me.
I don’t want to fight tonight. There’s too much on my mind and if I go off, I’ll fucking explode on everyone.
Dad watches me as I finish my glass of whiskey, his lips a slash across his face, like he wants to say something but is holding himself back. Good. I’m not sure I’d be able to control my temper if they decided to lecture me.
Dinner is served and everyone talks about work and the business. They ask me about security and how I’ve vetted the extra men I put on Carter and Kai’s home. I go through it mechanically, not talking more than I have to.
A dark, painful feeling has a tight grip on me and I can’t shake it. Pain and melancholy clench at my heart and I don’t want it to spill all over everyone else. Besides, I don’t want anyone here to comfort me. They’ll end up pissing me off and my gun will come out to play.
All I can do is drink to numb the pain until I can shake this feeling off. It’ll go away as soon as I figure out this bullshit blackmailer. Then my mind can downshift to finally grieving my lost friend.
Until then, me and whiskey will become good friends.
Dinner passes in a blur, and I shovel food into my mouth on autopilot. Anything to soak up this alcohol so I can drink more. I want to be absolutely blitzed when I leave here. Family dinner nights are the only times I can drink my fill, where I don’t have to beon. While my family is around, I can unwind and not be on guard for danger.
Hendrix can watch me when we get home.
My drunken gaze slides over the empty chair and it all comes crashing on me. Hendrix won’t have my back ever again.
As if knowing my friend is on my mind, Dad says, “One of my main men has a son, D. He’s looking to rise up theranks and needs a position to prove himself. With Hendrix being gone for a few months now?—”
“No,” I mumble, reaching for my glass, but there are two of them and I grasp at empty air.
Dad moves the real glass out of my reach, his eyebrows knitted. “You need someone to have your back. He’s a good kid.”
“I can find my own…my own bodyguard.” My slurred words are more apparent and I start stuffing bread into my mouth realizing I need to sober up so I can drive home. Maybe that last glass wasn’t such a hot idea.
Carter clears his throat and I flit my gaze to his. “I’m worried that you’re not protected, Declan,” he says. “Shit has calmed down since the Fensters were wiped out, but anyone can try us. It’s the worst kept secret that you’re unprotected. What if someone tries you and no one is around to put them down?”
This is why I can’t tell them about the letters…at least I think this is why. Thoughts aren’t as clear now as they were before. But I think it has something to do with them being overprotective and not giving me any freedom if they know.
Yeah, that’s it. They’ll nag and try to solve shit for me.Iwant to be the one that figures this shit out. And then they’ll tell me it’s my fault for doing something I don’t even remember doing to put me in this position.
Despite the shit I spew to my family, I want them to see me as their equal, as someone that can handle his own shit. I’ll start with finding out who’s after me. When it’s solved, I’ll tell Dad and Carter that it wasmethat figured it out. Maybe they’ll finally see me as more than a fuck up that shoots first and asks for details later.
“Whatever,” I mumble, getting to my feet. I sway but catch myself on the back of my chair. “I don’t care. You run my life any other time.” I stumble away from the table. “Why stop now?”
CHAPTER 8
NICO
