“So this is my fault? You crossed a line!” I shouted.
“I know, and I won’t apologize for it.” He grabbed a tablet from the table and clicked the screen a few times before turning it in my direction. I stared down at the video of my home. Grabbing the tablet, I pulled it closer. There on the screen were four men destroying my father’s office.
“They showed up right after you left. They knew where you were and planned to follow you home from the restaurant. That was why I sent Liam.”
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Had Sinclair sent men into my home? What if Maddie had been there? I shook my head as I bit my lip. That son of a bitch. I threw the tablet at the wall and glared at Cian.
“You’re no better than my father.”
I turned away when he called my name. I knew he wouldn’t let me leave, but I didn’t have to stay here with him. I stormed down the hall toward the bedrooms, picking the first one I came to, and slammed the door shut, locking him on the other side.
Chapter Thirteen
Cian
I walked over and picked up the tablet she’d thrown. The screen was cracked, but it didn’t matter. I tossed it into the garbage. I had others.
I went back to the files spread out on the island in the kitchen and stared at them. How was this possible? How could we not have known what Eamon was doing?
I felt sick as I read through the names of the victims and the abusers involved. Men and women who were believed to be upstanding members of their communities.
It would take time to go through all the names and find out who was still alive and who wasn’t. And the victims—were they alive? Were they still being held?
Eamon had been dead for almost twenty-five years. Killed by his son simply for visiting the Trick Pony. When Sal saw this, he would lose it. Unless Sal knew? Was that the real reason he’d killed his father and sealed up the house?
No, he couldn’t have known. He wouldn’t have put Caity and Maddie in that house if he’d known what was in there.
What about Sinclair? Had he known what Caity would find? Why did she meet him? What information had she given him?
“I told you; you can trust me. I won’t tell them.”
I walked down the hall and knocked on the door she chose. “Caity, we aren’t done talking.”
She didn’t answer, and I pulled my keys from my pocket. She had to know she couldn’t escape me. Locking the door had been symbolic, a way for her to tell me to fuck off. Well, too damn bad.
I unlocked the door and walked in. She stood by the window looking out at the river.
“We need to talk, Caity.”
I remained in the doorway waiting for her to acknowledge me, knowing she wouldn’t. She was an O’Malley. They made stubborn pigheadedness an Olympic sport.
“I need to know how Sinclair is involved in this shit.”
She took a deep breath and kept her back to me. I walked across the room and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. She didn’t fight me, and when I looked at her reflection in the window, I saw the tears.
“I’m sorry, Caity. I’m sorry I betrayed you, but I’m not sorry it gave me the means to protect you. I love you, and I will do anything to keep you safe. Including betray you.”
She stiffened in my arms but said nothing. I blew out a frustrated breath. “Baby, I’ve waited decades for you. I can wait a few more days for you to understand that I am here for you. To love you, to protect you, to make you happy.”
I kissed her neck and stepped back. When I reached the bedroom door, I turned to look at her one more time.
“No one knows you’re here. And no one will.”
I quietly closed the door and left her to stew in my words. I hated the silence. I wanted her angry and ranting, not whatever the fuck this was.
I didn’t know how to handle this version of her, so I went back to the kitchen and found her purse on the floor. I opened it up and pulled out her phone. There were a dozen missed calls—I assumed from Sinclair, knowing she’d disappeared on him.
I pulled the back off her phone and removed the SIM card, snapping it in half. I tossed the phone in the trash before moving back to the files.
