Once Kissed: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family) (24 page)

And I have Curran’s love to thank for it.

“Later, Levon,” I call to him.

Levon smiles. It’s forced, but it’s a step forward—not the expression of defeat he usually carries. And the way he stands makes me think he’s not done fighting yet.

“Later, Curran,” he yells back.

I cross through the church garden again, pausing in front of the Holy Mother. I thank her for giving Levon another week with us. I also thank her for Tess’s laugh that morning, and for keeping our baby safe. Tess hasn’t laughed much lately. But since the doctor assured us everything’s fine, and now that she’s twelve weeks along, she’s smiling more, and yeah, laughing, too.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes.

Hey, cop. I miss you. Is everything all right?

I speak into the mic and send her back a text.
I’m fine. Group went a little longer tonight.
Who am I kidding? It went a lot longer. I was supposed to meet Tess an hour ago.

Are you coming to the pub?

I grin.
Of course I am. Can’t miss my brother’s big celebration, can I? Not every day one man destroys an entire mafia empire.

I know. Twenty consecutive life terms for Montenegro alone. Can you believe it?

No. Declan fucking owned it.

So you’re coming? For sure?

I’ll be there in fifteen.

Good. He needs you. Despite all the higher-ups here, they don’t mean as much to him as his family.

I grin, knowing she’s right.
Are my brothers and Wren there yet?

Yes. Finn and Wren were the last to show, but they’ve been here awhile now.
She pauses, then adds,
If you can believe it, Miles Fenske’s daughter is also here.

Melissa?

Yes.

Did she call Declan an asshole yet?

In the seconds it takes for her to respond, I know I’ve missed another of her cute laughs.
No, but everyone is drinking, so I’m sure it’s coming.
She waits, then adds,
If she doesn’t sleep with him first.

What the…?
You serious?

Curran, it’s odd. But despite their atrocious first meeting, neither can seem to tear their eyes off the other.

No shit? On my way. Save me a ringside seat.

I pocket my phone, but stop short when I catch sight of who’s waiting for me.

Joey sits by the entrance in his wheelchair, arms crossed, face tight. Seeing how his group had to wait for mine to end, it looks like he’s been waiting there a long time. All that aside, he doesn’t seem in a hurry to round the corner and head inside.

“Hey, Curran,” he says. “You have a minute?”

I don’t. But for him I do. “Yeah. Sure.”

I sit on the bottom step leading out of the elevated garden area. For all he seems to want to talk, he takes his time. I don’t rush him, just wait. I owe him as much. He angles his chair around so instead of facing me, we’re both looking in the direction of the parking lot, the streetlights casting an odd shade of white against his light skin.

“Do you want to know something about me?” he asks.

I steel myself—expecting him to say he’s getting worse, or that he can’t have kids, or that I screwed him up more than I know. “Yeah. Sure.”

He keeps his sights ahead. “I was supposed to be better than you.”

I frown his way. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He rubs his hands, his expression turning dark despite the glare from the lights. “In the academy, me and the other recruits, all we heard about was you—how fast you moved, what a first-class shot you were, and how your instincts were something they couldn’t teach—an ‘ingrained talent’ one of the trainers called it.” He huffs. “They played you up like you were some sort of god—even the way you wrote up your reports was something they threw in our faces. Your agility, your speed—it wasn’t enough you had the physical shit down. The old-timers made sure to tell us you had the smarts, too—and the rest of us could only be so lucky to sweat in your damn shadow.”

I’m not sure where he’s headed, but I listen, and listen hard.

“Thing was, I was fast, too. I could shoot, and passed my exams like they were nothing. Reports? Hell, they were almost a joke to me. But it wasn’t good enough. Not like the legend of Curran O’Brien,” he says, playing with the brakes on his chair. “The first time I saw you was when you came to do a demo with an assault rifle. By the way the instructors talked you up, I thought you’d walk in wearing a cape or some shit. Do you remember that day you taught us? You remember me?”

I want to say yes, but I don’t want to lie. “No. But I taught a lot of recruits—”

“Save it,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “I hit every target faster and closer to the mark than anyone in my class. Every time I squeezed that trigger I blew my competition away, and you didn’t say shit. Neither did the other trainers. But didn’t the world stop spinning when you showed everyone how it was done.”

“You wanted praise,” I say, thinking I know what he means.

“No. I wanted recognition for how good I was, because I deserved it.” It’s what he says, but something in the memory makes him lower his head. “Instead, you moved on to those who were struggling, instead of commending those who got it right the first time around. Maybe I impressed myself, and maybe a few others there, too, but I sure as hell didn’t impress the one guy I thought I should,
you.
”

“Why’d you care what I thought?” I’m not just blowing smoke. I honestly don’t know where he’s going with this.

“I told you: because I was supposed to be better than you. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself….”

Joey stares out into the deserted lot, where an old rusty Buick is parked in the corner. “I think everyone knew how good I was,” he says. “But where they saw confidence in you, they found arrogance in me. I was placed with you for a reason. So maybe one day, I could be better. The thing was, since I wasn’t impressed by you, I didn’t see it for the gift the higher-ups meant it to be.”

I don’t move, mostly because the claws ripping their way down to my soul won’t let me.

“You know why I’m stuck in this chair?” he asks, his voice cracking.

Christ.
I look hard at the pavement, realizing he’s crying. “Because I didn’t do my job,” I admit.

“No,” he gasps, trying to speak. “It’s because I didn’t do mine.”

I turn in his direction, watching the tears pour out of him like a faucet.

“When you went to cuff that perp, I housed my weapon instead of covering you. I was rolling my eyes at how you were taking your time talking him down—thinking you were nothing but a pussy when you yelled ‘Gun!’ The first shot was meant for you and it just missed your head. I barely had time to yank my piece out of my holster. But as fast as I was, I wasn’t fast enough.” Joey breaks down then, his voice forcing its way through his sobs. “I’m sorry. Jesus Christ, Curran, I’m so fucking sorry….”

I lift my phone to check the time. Declan is worn out and starting to make his exit, and Curran still hasn’t shown.

Finn’s whistle has me looking to the door. “You girls ready?” he calls.

I lift my purse and weave my way through the crowd with Wren at my heels. We join her brothers minus Curran at the door. “Any word from Curran?” Killian asks me.

“No. I’m not sure what’s keeping him.”

Declan places his arm around me and leads me forward. “Come on. I’ll take you to my place so you won’t be alone. We can wait for him there.” He turns before leaving and waves, inciting the crowd who gathered to cheer.

Seamus laughs as we step out. “Yo. Attention Philly and all your lowly inhabitants—even youz all the way in Kensington!” he yells. “May I present the one and only Declan O’Brien, your future king and possibly the best-dressed male outside of Lower Merion Township!”

“Fuck off,” Declan says, shoving him back and joining the others in their laughter.

I used to think Declan was so staid and proper. But in his family’s presence, I see the roughhousing Philly boy Curran’s always described. Although Declan’s more serious in a professional atmosphere, I’m glad he’s finally comfortable enough around me to show this side.

As Declan and his brothers continue to joke, my thoughts return to Curran. His group counseling sessions are often intense. I’m worried tonight was harder than he let on.

Sofia inches closer and places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure Curran has a good excuse for not being here.”

I try to smile. “I know. I just wish he would have come.”

“Will we see you for lunch at our place tomorrow?” she asks, quietly.

I nod. “Yes. We’ll be there.”

After a brief round of goodbyes, Declan leads me to his beautiful sedan with tinted windows. His place of honor at the impromptu celebration secured him a spot in front of the pub. I slip inside when he opens his passenger-side door for me, but the sight of Melissa exiting the building distracts him from shutting the door.

He nods graciously her way and offers what most would consider a dashing smile.

Melissa apparently doesn’t find it so dashing, and responds with an icy glare fierce enough to freeze a flock of pigeons mid-flight. His siblings burst out laughing. “What’s wrong, Declan?” Angus yells. “Another hookup you forgot to call back?”

And doesn’t that earn Declan yet another scowl from Melissa. He leans against the car and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That woman hates me.”

Hmmm. I’m not so sure, but don’t tell him otherwise. Melissa isn’t just someone he works with; she’s his boss’s daughter. For all the success and fame Declan earned with the Montenegro case, a misstep with someone so close to Miles Fenske could ruin him.

I reach for my phone as Declan pulls onto the street, but wait to check the screen until I see his assigned police guard trailing us in his unmarked vehicle. With the heavy traffic this time of night, our guard has to drive more aggressively to keep up. I’m not sure if Lu is also tailing us, but she tends to be more discreet.

“How much longer do you think you’ll need protection?” I ask Declan.

He shrugs. “I don’t think I need it now.”

“No?”

“No,” he says, turning on his blinker. “Montenegro’s been sentenced. His first, second, and third have pled guilty and are looking at at least twenty to life each. What’s left of the family is scrambling to hang on to the crumbs that remain. They don’t have time to bother with me.” He huffs. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m looking forward to getting my life back.”

I consider his words, and his performance throughout the trial, as I return my phone to my purse. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not certain your life will ever be the same. You’re headed for greatness, Declan. You know that, don’t you?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

The lack of inflection in his voice has me looking back at him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

He seems to catch himself. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve always wanted this.”

I adjust my glasses. “Then why do I sense some uncertainty?”

“It’s not that. It’s what I have to sacrifice to keep the momentum going and achieve what I want before I’m thirty. You may have noticed how tight my family is. But this is the first time I’ve seen anyone aside from Curran in months.”

“It must be hard being away from those you most count on.”

Declan doesn’t respond right away. “It is. Like I said, the seven of us are close.” He smiles then. “You know, as big a pain in the ass as Curran is, he helped me through the stress of building and winning this case.”

“He’s a good guy,” I say, unable to hold back my grin.

“And you’re good for him. In fact, you’re exactly what he’s always needed.”

“And what do you think you need?” I ask him, quietly.

His eyes cut to the rearview mirror. “Nothing serious, that’s for sure. Not if I’m going to accomplish everything I want.”

My phone buzzes as Declan makes a right at the light. I reach into my purse, my eyes widening upon reading Curran’s text.

“Is that Curran?”

“Yes.”

“Everything all right?” Declan asks.

“I…think so. He’s having beers with Joey, and says he’s sorry he missed your big night.”

“Jesus, he’s with Joey?”

“Yes.” I realize the significance of their meeting, and hope he’s okay. “He promises he won’t be much longer.”

“Tell him we’ll be at my place and that we’re ordering food. Lots and lots of food.”

I angle my chin his way. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didn’t eat, and didn’t drink anything more than water,” he answers, rubbing his jaw.

I type Curran a quick text. “I thought you were drinking vodka on the rocks.”

“So did everyone else. But with all the big shots there, I needed to keep my head.” He tugs at his collar and loosens his tie. “Once we’re back at my place, it’s going to be a whole different story.”

I smile. “Well, if anyone deserves some fun, it’s you. Declan, you were incredible throughout the entire trial. I only hope to possess half your talent one day.”

His smirk reminds me of Curran’s. “Maybe you’ll get your chance. You did one hell of a job on this case. Truth is, I needed more help than I asked for, but you had me covered, worked hard, and never disappointed me despite my demands. I recommended you for the assistant DA spot opening up in the Trial Unit. You want experience, you’ll get it there.”

He laughs at my stunned face, continuing before I can thank him. “The pay is abysmal for a starting position, but working for the county is not without its benefits. Did you know for every year you work at the DA’s office as a prosecuting attorney, the county will pay twenty percent of your school loans?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I stammer.

“Now you do.” He waits as if debating what to say next, odd for someone who has a gift with words. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen with your pending lawsuit, Tess. But no matter what, this should show you that you’re going to be okay.”

I nod, although by now I’m pretty choked up. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “That’s what family’s for, Tess.”

Declan lets me deal with my girlie emotions while he calls in a food order at the bar and grill a few blocks from his apartment. He parks near the entrance and steps out. His guard steps out with him and follows him in like they’re old friends. After months of working together, I suppose they are.

I text Curran to let him know that we’re almost at Declan’s. I hit send and debate whether I should also tell him about Declan’s recommendation, but a knock against the driver’s-side door has me looking up.

Declan’s hands are full of takeout. I don’t remember him ordering so much, but hurry to unlock the doors to his sedan.

I realize too late that it’s not Declan when a strange man slips in and presses a gun against my side. “Don’t move. Don’t scream.”

He flips the locks and two more men jump into the back. “Got her?” someone says.

Something hard and cold presses into the back of my skull. “Yeah. Drive.”

The driver cranks the engine and eases onto the street as if he has all the time in the world, even though I recognize my time is already up.