Truth & Consequences (Boston Latte Book 2) Page 4

  “You’re asking to die then, Dad?” Liam scoffed. “You may as well just deliver Julian, his own gun pointed to his forehead.”

  “That’s not what he’s saying, you fool,” another man snarled. “If the Sheehan family knows we’re suspicious, they might get the Youngs to wiggle from their den. Your only other option before starting a war is the Regan family.”

  “No,” Julian’s voice broke through the small crack of my door. “I’m not involving them. We’re not involving them.”

  “It wouldn’t be involving if you’d simply marry their daughter, Julian.”

  “Ha!” Liam’s laughter rumbled in the air. “Am I the only one in our family who hasn’t lost it?”

  “I haven’t lost it.” Julian’s voice was maliciously arrogant, filling me with fear. “I worry that our father and grandfather have.”

  “You got into this mess, Julian. You need to clean it up on your own.”

  “Tonight is just another example of the risk being part of this family presents on anyone. Even being associated with us is trouble. Do you think I want to put anyone at risk like this? Honestly,” Julian roared, “I don’t want the damn seat if this is what it does! If it threatens people I care about, give it to someone who can handle that. If I lose her again…I swear to God…”

  “Cut the bullshit.” One of the men laughed. “You get shot, you cry, get over it.”

  “Please don’t bring this up,” Liam bellowed. “He got shot because…Jesus…we’ve been through this, Julian. Let it go.” I’m so confused right now, I want to break my head in half.

  “Need I remind you I was shot because you deemed it necessary to sleep with the daughter of Charles Foley, whom apparently I also need to remind you is an associate of the Youngs, and I happen to look almost identical to you?” Julian’s shout vibrated the walls. “Christ, Liam. Your dick gets this family into too much goddamn trouble. And yet I am the one who has made a mistake. If you think for one second that what I’m doing is hurting you all, any of you, then get the hell out of my house and never call on me to help lead this family again.” Silence.

  “That’s not what they’re saying.” I recognized Maureen’s voice break the cloud of hostility. “Julian, if you call in the other families, it will gain you more support to take on Grandfather’s seat.”

  “That was shot to hell,” one of the other men groaned, “the second he found her room in the hospital.”

  “Don’t fucking start,” Julian rebuked. Who? What?

  “I’m calling the Sheehans and Regans tonight. They might be able to help us figure out who threatened your life, Julian,” Liam interrupted the quarrel. “If we need to bring in more families, we will.” Swallow. More…families? Like…more dangerous people with guns, rope, and…tattoos?

  “I despise this,” Julian snarled, his tone low and gruff. “The only thing I fancy about being part of this family is the fact that I am alive and in good health. Everything else is torture. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t exist without the pressure of supporting the empire you created that goes against all morals of any normal human being.” We aren’t normal. He isn’t normal.

  “Get off your soapbox, Julian,” one man’s voice cracked. “You’re in line. You own it. If you’re next, you fucking handle your shit.”

  Oh my God. Footsteps filled the hallway, and I froze, unsure of what to do or where to hide. Maureen’s heels clicked loudly, sticking out from the steps of whichever men accompanied her. Other families. Next in line. Empire. I scampered from the floor and into my bed, tightly cocooning my body in the layers of blankets and sheets. Families. Trouble. Lead. As pieces of the disturbing puzzle fell together, my stomach twisted, twirling around itself with painfully anxious realization that I found myself in the middle of the Molloy family’s secret meeting. Secret. Omission. Research. Lead. Tattoos. Crosses. I’m going to die.

  I couldn’t count how long I held myself prisoner in the luxurious linens of my bed. I lost track after counting the uneasy seconds that passed while footsteps left and entered the foyer, moving around too much to keep track of who was actually inside with me, with us. What I did know was that my bladder reached its full distention, and I shivered from the inability to avoid using the bathroom. Oh, you know, because that requires actually leaving this bedroom and crossing the hall, where one of these people might end me if they figured out I eavesdropped. Not that I understood the extent to which they spoke, but after the way the evening developed, there was absolutely no desire in me to be caught by one of the men I overheard earlier. It was pathetic, but I looked around for a cup, for anything that would let me stay in my cell a little longer. You’re disgusting. They know you’re here. Just use the toilet and go back to bed. Right? Right.

  Reluctantly, and filled with trembling urgency to use the bathroom and overall fear of a Molloy murder, I climbed from my bed. The doorknob was warm beneath my touch, electrified with the tension that lingered in Julian’s home. I turned it tightly, preventing the latch from clicking and signaling my presence. I slowly opened the door with my breath held. I peeked into the hall, glancing both ways before sprinting to the bathroom. Blood pumped into my ears and rattled my busy mind. Once inside, I dropped my leggings and knickers to my knees as I hurriedly ended the torture of too many bubbles at the theatre. Oh, right, the reason we were even able to be blown up by a bomb. I hastily shuffled back into my clothes and washed my hands, flushing the toilet with my foot. I didn’t waste time inspecting my face, sure that it appeared as red and swollen as it felt, instead reaching for the door to make my hurried return to bed. Be stealthy.

  “Oh!” My heart stopped as the door turned independent of my hand, my stare locked on a white t-shirt.

  “Shh,” Liam pressed, holding his index finger to my gaping mouth. Like I’m going to scream. Is he nuts? Hey, killers, dangerous people, and your equally violent families, come and get me. I’m right here! I don’t think so.

  “I’m sorry I startled you,” he whispered, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I learned you were awake, and I wanted to inform you that we have a doctor here to look at you.”

  “You learned I was awake?”

  Liam nodded. “David’s been at your door all evening, bird.” Oh my god. Had he heard me eavesdrop? Did David listen to me cry?

  “You people have a serious issue with stalking.” I shook free of Liam’s hands, squeezing between him and the doorframe. He stopped my departure as I hovered halfway into the hall with his hand locked around my wrist. I observed his subtle smile when I glanced back at Liam.

  “Just get checked over, then back to sleep. I promise.” His eyes spoke of urgency, sparkling blue in the dimly lit hall. “I’ll go with you if that helps.” Helps? This fool is kidding, right?

  “You think after how you spoke to me, threatened to kill me, I would feel safer having you in a room with me? Forgive me while I go end my life on my own terms, Mr. Molloy.”

  “It’s Liam.” His head shook. “And I already apologized for my crass behavior. Need I remind you that you’re alone with me right now? What else could happen to you?” Well, that opens up an enormous list. He read my mind, a small laugh leaving his throat while he released his hold on my wrist.

  “Doctor Monroe is in the kitchen. The light’s better in there and, well, I can have a drink,” he mumbled, guiding me through the hall toward the kitchen. Its light was blinding compared to the rest of the house, radiating like a star at midnight. I studied Liam as we approached the door, his expression strangely calm.

  A man spoke from the table, his tall figure leaning against the edge as he sorted through a hefty brown leather bag. “Ah, Miss Leary. You look surprisingly well. Better…” Compared to what?

  “Better? I look better compared to what?”

  Liam’s throat cleared, entering the space between the doctor and me. “Can we get on with this, please? She needs to return to bed, and I need to find my spot on the couch.”

  “You don’t need to
stay,” I muttered, suspiciously examining Liam’s features as his arms crossed. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Considering I almost lost my balls after lunch,” he chuckled, his shoulder leaning against the wall, “I’d like to stay. I’d like to keep my manhood.” Gross. And to think there was a moment this evening I cried out for him instead of Julian—in my mind, of course. Shudder. Shiver. Boys are gross.

  “Right.” Doctor Monroe stepped toward me and lifted the earbuds of his stethoscope toward his ears. “I’m going to listen to your heart and your lungs. Then I’ll want to just see how your head is. I hear you had another tumble.” Another tumble? I’d call this more than a tumble, Doc.

  “Christ,” Liam snorted. “Just look her over and move along.”

  I watched him while Doctor Monroe requested I inhale and cough, worried by the tormented furrowing of Liam’s brow. His eyes hid from mine, focused elsewhere in the kitchen, avoiding contact with me during the brief exam. Doctor Monroe declared my lungs were fine, but he was worried about my head. Aren’t we all? His palms cupped my skull from the front, his fingers pressing various points around my scalp.

  “Would you say you’ve had any additional pain since the incident?”

  “Tonight?” I queried, hoping to catch a hint from him without Liam interrupting. I was fascinated by the abrupt nature of Liam’s comments, halting Doctor Monroe each time he questioned how I felt in comparison to something, my mind set in a tizzy.

  “Yes, bird,” on cue, Liam replied. “That’s what he’s talking about. Does your head hurt after you were thrown against the wall? Yes or no?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged, my focus on Doctor Monroe. His hands fell from my head before he removed the stethoscope and organized his items. That’s all?

  “So…that’s it?”

  “Yes.” Doctor Monroe sighed, a warm smile on his face. “Just rest. I imagine that will be difficult, but try.”

  “Where is your brother?” I questioned, eyeing Liam while Doctor Monroe zipped his small leather bag.

  “Call me if your headaches worsen, Miss Leary,” he interrupted my inquiry. “I’ll be off then. You’ll be sure to remind your brother to change his bandage by six in the morning. He should be fine with a cool compress and sponge bath by then.”

  “Lovely,” Liam scoffed, his eyes rolling with humor, “I can’t wait to give him one. I’ll remind him. Doctor Monroe, may I have one word with you in the hall, please?”

  “Of course.” Liam and Doctor Monroe avoided my eyes as they stepped through the doorway together, Liam’s palm spread along the doctor’s shoulder while guiding him from the kitchen. Glancing around the room in Liam’s brief absence, I observed multiple mugs of half-consumed coffee, two empty bottles of wine, and several plates of food, all resting in peaceful disruption like a museum exhibit. How many people were here? I’d never seen Julian’s home in such a state of disarray. Because I’d been there so much and had developed expectations? Wow, girl. Wait. How does Doctor Monroe know about my headaches? Probably these infiltrative stalkers who told him my life story. God, they were incorrigible. Movement in the doorway distracted my wandering attention.

  “Bed,” Liam sang, his arms stretching above his head, revealing the bottom of the tattoo along his abdomen. My eyes failed me, greedily drifting down to examine the line drawn over his sculpted body.

  “Your tattoo,” I probed, folding my arms around myself, “tell me what it really means.”

  “I’d have to kill you.” His smile stretched along his lips, pulling into a debilitating grin that rivaled Julian’s. Julian.

  “Where’s your brother, Liam?”

  “In bed.” His hands fell with a heavy sigh as he stepped out of the doorway and into the hall. “Just like you should be.” With Julian? Ha. Well…Liam’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding me tightly in his possession while guiding us further from the kitchen.

  “I’m curious,” I whispered to him, approaching the door to my bedroom. “Why did someone try to kill me tonight?”

  Liam’s blue eyes narrowed, squinting with a darkened aura that left my fingers numb. “It seems someone is always trying to kill you. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “So it wasn’t someone trying to hurt your brother,” I scoffed, catching his gaffe. He inhaled deeply, running the fingers of his right hand though his cropped hair. He’s buying time.

  “I think you two are the same in that department. Isn’t that how relationships go? Goodnight,” his index finger lightly tapped the tip of my nose, tormenting me, “bird.”

  Chapter Five

  I didn’t know who perplexed me more—Julian or Liam. He went from desperate, ruthless flirtation to threatening to kill me with his condescension alone. He knew something, he was keeping it from me, and I needed to know why. I didn’t even care what anymore. I wanted to know why. Although, the more I paced my room and thought about what the why might be, thanks to my thorough research, I questioned the validity of my previous thought. Nope.

  I wasn’t getting any answers before morning, so I crawled back into bed and covered myself with the cocoon. It was so kind to me, the plush comforter filled with feathers from heaven. I stared at the ceiling for a while before drifting, but it didn’t last. The Molloys refused to allow me any semblance of comfort—except for my bed—that evening. Voices swirled in the hall once more, filtering beneath my door and again heightening my awareness and fear.

  “I don’t need a reminder from you of who I am,” Julian growled, his tone fueled by rage that left my skin frozen, “and it won’t matter. The minute we get him, I’m going to snap his fucking neck with my own bare hands. If that’s what it takes to finally end him, to end this.”

  Heat lifted from my chest, raising its powerful flame along my neck, burning my ears and throat. Julian just expressed a desire to kill someone, to end a life, within earshot of me. The rope, the gun, every secret he kept from me, and I never truly thought he would hurt me. There was something buried, something hidden, that reassured me. Maybe it was his smile, his protection, or the fact he ordered my coffee, but I hadn’t truly thought he was capable of ending me until then. It was in that moment I remembered the man who flashed his gun in the back room of the coffee shop, the man who threatened me with only a smile, the man who read my mind and knew my weaknesses. I flinched as a door slammed in the hallway, the vibration tickling the walls.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” his voice roared again, followed by another door slamming and heels scurrying across the floor. Heels. Maureen. What the hell is going on out there? I tightened the covers around my body and brainstormed escape routes. There was nowhere to go if everyone decided to fight right outside of my room. Just my luck. It was uncharacteristic of the Julian I came to know to engage in such a public display of anger. To imagine he demonstrated restraint, knowing I was nearby and eager to learn, numbed my spine. If that was restraint, I couldn’t begin to fathom how he truly felt about whatever was discussed.

  “You’re not going to make a strong leader if you put your extraneous dreams first, Julian Patrick,” one of the men mumbled, his voice just high enough for me to hear. “You should have killed him when the chance first presented itself, but you’re too busy playing games. Don’t make me question your judgment. Liam isn’t firstborn, but…”

  “Liam is a goddamned child,” Julian moaned, his voice drifting into the distance, stilling my heart. “And there’s nothing extraneous about fate…”

  His tone became a mumble, the deep vibration of his voice trickling into my room until I could no longer hear him. Extraneous dreams? I couldn’t imagine Julian was gifted the freedom to dream, let alone have thoughts irrelevant to what his family deemed necessary. I don’t know Julian. All of this is an impossibly pathetic attempt to use me as a pawn, a tool to protect his reputation against an arranged marriage.

  My ears burned with steam that blew from them the longer I thought about Julian. He told me several times he didn’t want me to die, he w
ould kill for me—why? I couldn’t put the pieces of their puzzle together, but my gears turned, and I was utterly terrified.

  I waited for the voices to dwindle, for doors to stop slamming, before my mind allowed my heart to beat at a pace that wouldn’t automatically suggest cardiac arrest. I unrolled from the covers with a mess of hair covering my face. I feel like shit. Death. Crap. My head started to ache, the dull, painful reminder of so many unanswered questions. Well, screw this shit because I refuse to be a victim. I wasn’t going to have mystery pieces floating around, living in fear of something that might not even be. I wanted to find Liam and knock him in the balls, and I didn’t even know why. Stupid damn tattoo on his stupid hard abs. I mean, Jesus, who the hell is that guy?

  The memory of Julian’s harsh, violent shouting at his guests tore back into my brain, striking my core. Who is he? No longer would I wait. He can kill me tonight, but I’m going. Yep. Just as soon as my feet begin to work again, I’ll climb from this bed and find him. Ha. I continued to sit, my eyes wandering everywhere but the door. I locked on the shreds of my dress piled on the floor in a depressing, nine thousand dollar heap. Someone tried to kill me tonight, to kill us. Us.

  I don’t know where the ridiculous courage came from, having hidden under my covers more times that night than at the age of three, but enough was enough. I tumbled from my bed, reached for the doorknob, and opened the door. The hall smelled different, a heavy, hazy musk lingered around. It wasn’t Julian. It wasn’t even Liam. It was new, tortuously assaulting my sinuses. I listened for the slightest sound of life with my ears wide like an elephant.

  I struggled to see in the dark space as I tentatively crept toward his bedroom. My heart was heavy, aware I’d memorized the route. I lost feeling in my bare feet, chilled by the hardwood floor and ripple of hesitation coursing through my veins.

  Open the door, Aideen. All that separated Julian and me was a panel of wood. A moveable panel of wood. I cautiously wrapped my fingers around the knob, its metal radiating his heat, the erupting tension and rage of his evening lingering on everything with its toxic energy. I pulled in the latch so he wouldn’t hear me enter. I don’t know why I wanted to be silent. Maybe I was buying more time. I cracked the door open, adjusting my eyes to the dimly lit room.