fucking Ireland , boy-o.”
I say nothing, but he raises a brow at me. “Don’t bullshit me, kid. I knew when you came back.”
I force myself not to react - not to show a single flinch or sign that I give a shit that he knows.
He grins. “It’s not that big of town, Boston,” he says with a wink. “And boy, that Valerie sure is a piece, huh?”
I can feel a horrible chill run down my spine.
“Yeah, it’s not a big town and I know people, pal.”
“Been spying on me, Dec?”
He pulls the smoke from his lips and grins again as he hold his fingers up. “ Teeny bit. What can I say? I missed you, kid.”
“You didn’t.”
He shrugs. “Well, not your driving skills.”
I can feel my blood boil as he grins and as the two black-coated goons chuckle. I know he wants me to react, so he can. It’s how Declan works. Always the viper, always the provocateur, so he has a reason to strike.
Don’t let him get to you.
I’m past this.
I’m better than this.
“Whatever you say, Declan.” I purposely turn my back to him, taking a sip of my coffee as I look out at the waves beyond the mouth of the harbor.
“But hell, I guess it’s not Valerie I should be watching these days, now is it?”
I freeze, the mug halfway to my mouth, before I slowly lower it and turn back to him. He’s leering at me, a wicked grin on his face as he stands with one foot up on the side of my boot. And that look say’s he’s daring me to make a move.
I don’t.
“Oh yeah, kid, I see it all.” He taps the side of his face as he grins at me. “Like a hawk. ”
I’m turning, readying myself to ignore any more of his bullshit, when that voice of his cuts deep.
“That Ivy Hammond sure has grown up.”
I turn back, my face tight. “ Watch it.”
Declan chuckles. “That Instagram account of hers?” He whistles. “Shit, kid, I’ve fired off a few by myself to some of those yoga-pant and bikinis, if you know what I mean.”
I’m on him in a second, hands grabbing him by the collar and my eyes burning like hot coals into his. “You watch your fucking mouth!”
The two goons lunge forward, but my uncle waves them off with a hand. The corners of his mouth curl.
“Now, what it is you said to me all those years ago when I helped you out? When I helped you get away?” He raises a brow. “‘She means nothing,’ I think it was? That she was ‘just some girl’?”
I know what I said. I said exactly what I had to, to keep her distant from me; to make sure Declan didn’t think she was any sort of leverage on me. It’s also why I’ve got no intention of tearing a hole in him right now about the one letter she never got.
My hands loosen on his shirt.
“Just some girl, huh?” He shakes his head. “Eight years later and look at you - all piss and vinegar over it.” He snorts. “Must by some kind of cunt she’s got between her-”
I roar as I drag him around and slam him into the side of the boat. I’m seeing fucking red as I raise my fist with every intention of slamming it through his teeth, but I’m suddenly stopped and pulled away from him by the two goons.
“Whoa! Whoa! ”
He’s chuckling again - fucking laughing as he stabs a finger at me.
“Mind your fucking manners, you little prick. Jesus fucking Christ, we’re family.”
I snarl as I shake loose of the two thugs holding me back. “I try and forget that detail.”
His eyes narrow as he jabs a finger at me again. “You got soft over there, kid.”
I bark out a harsh laugh.
It was the literal opposite. I grew hard over there. I grew rough, and unkind, and uncaring, doing jobs for Declan’s Irish connections that I wish I could take back.
He clears his throat as he straightens his shirt collar, frowning at me. “Jesus, I just wanted to come by and say hello and welcome back to town. Jesus fucking Christ, throw a damn tantrum about it.”
He shakes his head as he pushes past me. “Shit, guess we shoulda brought a fuckin casserole, huh
Heidi Cullinan
Dean Burnett
Sena Jeter Naslund
Anne Gracíe
MC Beaton
Christine D'Abo
Soren Petrek
Kate Bridges
Samantha Clarke
Michael R. Underwood