Page 119

“Because you were going to marry Declan McCarthy.” She says it the way you'd explain something to a child who isn't stupid, only young. “Do you know what that would have made them? An Irish family with an American mother-in-law. A port. A name in Boston nobody could touch. My father has spent thirty years making certain that never happened, and he's been good at it. Every McCarthy son who could have married someone useful has been in a cell or in the ground when it mattered.”

The room tilts slightly.

“Cavin,” I say.

“Cavin got lucky. Torin didn't.” She adjusts a cuff. “And then there was you, and you weren't even the point. You were the door. Close the door, no alliance. Simple work, and I'd have been paid for it and gone home.”

“But you didn't go home.”

Her smile changes.

“No. Because I got inside your house and found out about your mother's trust, and I worked out that if you were gone and your father was grateful, I could have the money as well as the job.” She lifts one shoulder. “My father wanted your family stopped. I wanted your family stopped and everything they had.”

“You thought you deserved my life.”

“I thought I deserved a chance to let my family win,” she says. “The rest of it was mine.”

I shake my head. “And yet you walked away. How?”

Her smile tells me she’s proud of what she’s done. “Your father trusted me. He was a very lonely old man.”

I have to let them know what we know. Did she…?

“Don't worry,” she says. “He died a happy man. He never even knew what hit him.”

Oh god.

”You killed my father.” My voice is a whisper. “You tricked him, and then you killed him.”

She shakes her head. “Don't make me sound like such a villain. Come on, Valentina. I knew who I was replacing. You had a charmed life, didn't you? We brought you here, and you disappeared, but it sounds like someone tried to best us and didn't pay.”

“Go on, take a look,” she says, her smile too confident, too disconcerting.

There's a file on her desk, and in bold letters, the words:

Torin McCarthy

Wait. Why does she have a file on Torin?

Against my better judgment, I open it.

Plans, receipts, the names of Boston officials. Evidence that Torin was framed. Evidence that whoever she's working with has been manipulating both of our families for decades. Now it all connects.

The click of a gun at my temple makes me freeze.

“Now you see it all, don't you, love,” she whispers in my ear. “See, my conscience is clear now. I told you everything. Now this is over for you. Your father's gone. Your brothers will be next. The McCarthys don't have a leg to stand on because I have connections that will put Torin right back in the last place he wants to go.” She taps the file. “He was seen at an auction in Boston. He bought a woman from a human-trafficking ring.” She clicks her tongue. “Naughty, naughty Torin. It's all over, Valentina. I hope you enjoyed your charmed life.”

Chapter Thirty

TORIN

“Valentina!” I hiss into the comm, but I’m getting too frantic. Several people are looking my way.

“Imposter” was the last word I heard before she vanished. Imposter? She can’t mean Shannon?

What would she be doing here, of all places?

Then nothing. Not a click. Not the sound of her mic being moved, which she did every few minutes. Nothing at all.