But when I meet his gaze, the look in his eyes is cold, hard. Made of iced rock.
And I’m acutely aware he’s armed.
The gravity of this situation finally hits me.
Declan’s not going to shoot me...is he?
Because now that I think of it, I know why I was there, but him? Why was he? And why does he have a gun? I’m not an idiot—usually—but when I met the Irish charmer at a club a few years ago, I fell hard.
I mean, what’s not to like for a girl whose life’s been nothing but ballet and behaving?
Dark, Irish, charming, dangerous, reckless. He told me his last name was Murphy, which I never believed—after all, he told my friends at various times it was Jones, McMasters, Brown… and… I didn’t care.
I know Murphy’s real now. It’s the name that stuck when Daddy had him arrested.
But he slipped out of the charges of assault and robbery. Ones I made up.
Daddy has power; he pulled strings, and Mr. Declan Murphy was arrested. And then quietly released.
Because Declan, according to Daddy, has powerful and dark connections.
I know I shouldn’t have done it. On all levels, it was wrong. Stinging shame still haunts me. But he hurt me. I wanted to hurt back.
I didn’t care that he might actually be dangerous.
I should have known he was something else.
Something bad.
Dangerous in the true sense of the word.
Murphy. As in The Murphys.Irish mafia.
And he has a gun.
A lump burns in my throat. This, I suddenly realize, isn’t a game. He’s not a good guy I hate. He’s a bad one I despise. One I should be scared of. So… why aren’t I?
“You’re not going to shoot.” My voice wobbles.
“Think carefully, Molly,” he says, using the name he called me by mistake when we met, a name I’ve grown to hate like I hate him, “and answer me honestly.”
“Why were you there?” I ask, scrambling to get my thoughts in order.
“Drugs. Your turn.”
I start to shake.
I should have gotten my father to throw bigger, nastier accusations at him, gotten Daddy to pay someone off to misplace his paperwork. Then again, we might be rich; Dad’s old money, but against organized crime? We’re nothing at all.
A sharp pain hits my heart. Daddy is why I’m here.
And now...
Where the hell is Leon? My friend is the one with all the connections, and my only link to the scattered breadcrumbs about my missing father. We connected after he met my dad at some ballet donor event a while back. We’d get together every so often for drinks and dinner after that. And after Daddy went missing a few weeks ago, he said he’d help me find him.
Mom believes he ran off. And she won’t talk about Daddy and his so-called debts.
“Please take me home.” I grip the sides of the seat. “I won’t ever tell anyone I saw you. I shouldn’t have been there either.” My eyes blur. “Please put the gun down. You’re scaring me.”
