Almost Innocent (23 page)

I
sat there
, not listening, just staring at him, while he talked about what information he’d gathered so far, animatedly moving his hands. He looked so much like my brother—our brother—that it almost hurt to see. I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it before.

If I had, I just wrote it off to a strong family resemblance. Seeing it now, I could tell it was so much more than that. It was uncanny. They had the same nose and, when they laughed, the same lines around the same eyes.

“Dude, do I have shit on my face or something?” Mark asked, swiping his cheek with a palm. “You’re staring.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m tired.” I forced a smile. “Didn’t get much sleep the last two nights.”

Mark laughed. “I figured. You look like shit.” He headed for the bar in the back corner of my office. “That have anything to do with Gabby?”

I tensed. He’d only been here for twenty minutes, and for the majority of that time, I’d wondered how in the fuck this man, the one I loved like a brother, could be the same one who had hurt Gabby so badly she went into a full meltdown at the mention of his name. What kind of goddamned monster was he? And how in the hell had he been able to hide that kind of depravity for so long?

I leaned back in my office chair, staring at the ceiling and asking for strength. I didn’t want to do anything but nail his feet to the floor, beat him into a bloody stump, then torch what was left. That wouldn’t get Gabby justice though.

Until I could, I’d play his silly-ass little games. I sat up and smiled the way he expected me to. “Maybe.”

My cousin poured himself a generous amount of my Macallan single malt before settling his smug ass back in the chair across from me. “That a wise choice?”

The way his eyes sparkled as he asked it, as if I was doing something wrong, pissed me off. “Why wouldn’t it be? Dustin’s been gone a long time.”

Mark shrugged. “She’s got a kid.”

At the mention of Grady, I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. I could only sit there, focusing on my breathing, until I got my temper under control. Fuck him if he thought he could even think about my nephew.

“I’m not following,” I finally managed to grind out.

He glanced at his drink, an annoying smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You really wanta raise someone else’s bastard?”

“I don’t consider my brother’s son a bastard. They may not have been married, but Grady is still a Callaghan.”

“Is he though? Your nephew, I mean? Dustin didn’t think it was his kid.” He gulped his drink. “And you were gone. You missed a lot.”

One hand fisted in my lap, fingernails digging into my palm to remind me to stay focused. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” I tried to keep my voice casual, but I felt as if I was failing.

Mark only shook his head once. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told ya.” He lifted his drink to his mouth once again. “How’s Fiona?”

I frowned at him, finding it harder to hide my emotions. “How’d you know I saw Fi?”

He shrugged. “The two of them were inseparable before Dustin died. I just assumed they would still be.”

It was an easy cover, an easily bought explanation, but the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. I ignored my unease. “Good. She’s good.”

“She seeing anyone?”

He asked in a way that made it sound as though he was interested—romantically. The way a friend you’d banned from even looking at your sister would subtly ask if she was dating anyone. It was weird and made my stomach clench. Something was off here.

I leaned forward, elbows on my desk. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Shame. After the way Ezra died and after what happened to her…” He stared over my shoulder as he trailed off. Then he smiled. “Eh, never mind.”

After the way Ezra had died and after what had happened to her? What in the fuck was that supposed to mean? I wanted to demand he finish that sentence.

Fi had been through hell. My brother-in-law had been butchered, cut to pieces and left to bleed out on his kitchen floor, choking on his own blood. Meanwhile, his wife had been knocked unconscious, raped, then gagged and bound in their bedroom so she couldn’t call for help once she woke up. The two of them hadn’t been found until the next afternoon when my father sent someone over to check on them.

Fiona’s in-laws had blamed her—Ezra had started working for my father and Callaghan Industries two months before the home invasion destroyed their lives. His parents were horrified when Fi tried to bury his body in Maine, even though she was his wife and wanted him close. She’d finally given in, after his mother was hospitalized, and let them take his body back to their family plot. They in turn thanked her by refusing to let any of the Callaghans, including heartbroken Fi, attend his funeral or his burial.

She’d been destroyed. Not only was she still trying to recover physically, but she lost her husband twice in a matter of weeks. I thought for sure we were going to lose her—she disappeared into such a dark place. To add insult to injury, the police never found out who had done it. Their investigations turned up nothing.

Ezra had been a well-liked, well-respected member of our community. Other than being married to Fiona and inheriting any adversaries our family had, he had no enemies. Police eventually ruled it a robbery gone bad. It was still an open case.

My parents had demanded retribution. I’d come home early from college in Boston—my junior year was almost over anyway—and done what I could to right the wrong. No one knew anything. No matter who I hurt or how hard I hit, I couldn’t get a single lead. I failed her.

There had been a divide between Fiona and me ever since. A gap I couldn’t breach. At first, I let it go because she was dealing with not only what had happened to her but also the death of the one person she’d counted on and trusted above all else. I thought she was disappointed in me for letting her and Ezra down.

As the months went by, I realized it was more than that. She wasn’t telling me everything. She wasn’t telling anyone everything. She was avoiding us, putting distance between us all, because she was clinging to a secret. Part of me felt as though she knew who had attacked her.

Fiona was a strong one though, all fighter. After Dustin’s death, only a few short months after Ezra’s, she picked up the pieces, dropped her married name, and forced herself to get out of bed every morning. She was a constant source of support for a scared and pregnant Gabby, and I know that without Fi, things would have been much harder for her.

“I’m not surprised Fi’s single though. I don’t know how I’d feel if the woman I was dating dropped that little bomb,” Mark continued, almost as if he expected me to know what in the hell he was talking about.

The asshole was baiting me. I wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say. “What bomb?”

“That she was raped. That she can’t have kids.”

My arms thumped against the table as I dropped them, and I couldn’t keep the agitation out of my voice. “What?”

No one knew that. No one. We’d kept it out of the papers, off the police reports. Dustin didn’t even know because it was none of his business. My parents had only told me because I was going after the monster and they didn’t want me to have any surprises that would stop me in my tracks. Hell, they may have even told me to motivate me. Whatever the case, no one else knew.

“You didn’t know?” His voice was remorseful, as if he was sorry he’d just dropped a major bomb, but his body language gave him away. His shoulders were back, chin up, eyes focused on me and unblinking. The fucking douche was fighting a smile.

“I didn’t.” I said the words slowly, forcing my feelings down. He wouldn’t have done that to Fi, would he? She’s his cousin. I shook my head. I’d give him one more chance to clear it up. One. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Dusty.”

In that instant, I knew. Mark hadn’t just hurt Gabs—he’d hurt Fi. Fiona!

Dusty was a disgusting prick, but he’d loved Fi. Toward the end, I thought she was the only one he loved. If he had known, he would have never let a detail like that go. He would have demanded the same kind of retribution that he had demanded for Uncle Logan’s death. Dustin didn’t know. I believed that to my core.

Fucker wanted to play games? We’d fucking play.

I changed the subject, needing to refocus. “You two were very close.”

“Me and Fi?”

“No. You and Dusty.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his shoulders tensed before he could cover it. “I loved him like a brother.”

“You mean you loved him because he was your brother?”

He laughed, not in humor but as if I was a dumbass, and lifted his head as he cocked an eyebrow. “Gabby tell you that?” He drained his tumbler and headed to the bar for another.

“No. Dusty,” I lied.

Mark glanced over his shoulder. “That why you killed him?”

I forced my body to stay relaxed. “That why you didn’t?”

He only laughed as he forced the cap back on the bottle of whiskey before he turned and leaned against the wall. “Why in the hell would I have wanted to kill him?”

“You were supposed to be watching out for Gabby. Making sure she was safe. He was out of control that day. You should have been there to protect her.”

“I didn’t work for you,” he sneered. “I worked for my brother. I sure as shit wasn’t going to ruin my relationship with him over a gutter slut.”

My jaw tensed as I clenched my teeth.
Fuck him
. “You promised me you’d watch out for her.”

He snorted. “I did watch out for her. I never let him kill her.”

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?”

He pushed off the wall and walked across the room as if he was proud of himself. He had no fear whatsoever when he looked at me. “You’ve always been so fucking blind where she’s concerned. You’ve never seen her for what she is—a cum-guzzling whore who enjoys being on her knees. She can cry to you about how mean he was or how badly he hurt her, but ask her what she’d do after he beat the shit outta her. Ask her why, if she hated it so much, she’d immediately drop to the floor and suck his dick.”

He was lying. Gabby would never act that way, not even if she’d been forced. It was the one of the tricks Dustin had taught me—“Say whatever you can to get under the other person’s skin. Get them riled up, and they won’t think straight. They’ll make mistakes.” Short of cutting out his tongue though, I had no choice but to listen to the ramblings of an obviously insane man.

I wasn’t some moronic chump. Mark could try to manipulate me, but it wouldn’t work. Even if he was telling the truth, it didn’t matter. My girl had done what she had to in order to survive. That was all that fucking mattered to me.

“Didn’t matter who was there. After Dustin punished her”—Mark held up a finger—“and let’s not forget that half the time, she fucked up on purpose just to get punished”—he shook his head, dropping his hand—“she’d go to town. If he refused her, you know what she’d do? She’d crawl to me and beg me to let her suck mine. Does that sound like a woman who was abused? Nah. That’s a fucking whore who gets off on the pain.”

“I almost believed that. Then I remembered…” I stood, bracing my hands on the top of my desk and leaning over it, unable to stop my reaction. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He laughed, lips twisting into a cocky smirk. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He stepped up to the other side of my desk and set his glass on the surface between us as if he owned it. “Just know I could describe where every one of her birthmarks are, and what she felt like on the inside, long before you ever could.”

I hit him. My mind screamed at me to wait, to push the anger down and let him keep spewing his lies so I could find out what had really happened, but my arm reacted. As my fist connected with his nose and I heard that satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking, I realized that no amount of pain I handed out would be enough to satisfy my depraved need.

He clutched his gushing nose and laughed like a madman. “Sore spot?” he asked, his voice muffled. Before I could answer, he backed up and fell into the chair, still laughing. “Jesus, you’re so fucking predictable where she’s concerned.”

The fucking dick wasn’t fazed. And he wasn’t afraid. He would be. By the time this was over, he would be pissing himself in fear. I reached into the top drawer, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his blood from my hand almost nonchalantly before I pulled out my favorite toys.

“Look at it this way,” he told me as he leaned his head back, “Dustin had already broken in every hole. She was all used up by the time I got there. Shame you didn’t join in the fun sooner. Not many women can say they’ve had all three Callaghan brothers.”

“You’re not my brother.” I moved around the front of my desk, leaned back against it, and crossed one ankle over the other.

When he finally sat up, he did a double take, eyes moving to the pieces next to me: my favorite Buck knife, the Desert Eagle I’d gotten after my first real kill, and the M9 my dad had given me years ago.

“You’re right. I’m not. Still, it’s too bad. Dustin and I spent too many nights to count tag-teaming that sweet ass of hers. You could have joined us and we’da gone for a four-way.” He smirked as my fingers twitched next to the gun. “You’re not gonna shoot me. Not over some two-bit hooker.”

I nodded slowly, smiling. “You’re right. I’m not going to shoot you over a two-bit hooker.”

I lifted the Beretta and shot. No need to aim, because I didn’t really care where it hit him. Mid-calf, knee, ankle. It was more of a love tap than anything—a promise of what was coming. Either way, he’d be in pain, and if he happened to make it out of this alive, he’d be missing an appendage.

The shock on his face, the way his mouth fell open right before a howl escaped, and the frantic way he clutched the spot that was once his kneecap was almost as satisfying as the sound of the bullet pulverizing bone.

I shrugged. “I shot you because of Fiona.”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes showed nothing but pure hatred as he looked at me. It was probably the first time I’d ever seen the real him. It was a pitiful and disgusting sight.

He hadn’t been carrying when he walked in, probably wanting to make sure I didn’t get too suspicious. Or maybe it was because he was that pathetically cocky. Either way, he’d made a dumb-ass move. As he reached for the gun that wasn’t there and realization dawned that he couldn’t do jack shit to defend himself, he actually looked as if he might cry.