CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Amelia
Declan was everywhere in my life.
In my thoughts. Next to me when I slept. Beside me as he drove me to work. On the phone with my father as he helped Pop work out how best to deal with the nightmare this idiot family was causing us.
Later that week, my mother and father came to the restaurant — literally rode the elevator a few floors down — and met me for lunch. My shift was technically over, and the manager on duty was a sweetheart who’d seen my parents every day since their arrival.
According to Brennan, there were still guys sniffing around the house every couple hours, and even though Brennan’s men scared them away, they still came back to see if anyone from the family was home. Declan was irate, and it was Brennan’s even temper that probably kept him from doing something more drastic than spying on the people who were spying on my family.
Pop was about as uncomfortable with all the help as I was, but Brennan and Declan were tactical geniuses and went through my mother to get the support they needed. They gave her all-access spa and restaurant passes to cajole her to stay while it worked itself out, and Finn even set Pop up in an office somewhere on the administration side of the hotel where he could get some work done in peace. I’d done a decent enough job digitizing his files for him that it wasn’t too hard to run the current projects remotely and bidding for new jobs was a snap, it turned out.
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled over his fancy salad. Mom made him eat it. She’d been all over him since the diagnosis, and since the stubborn old man still hadn’t coordinated a surgery date, she watched him like a hawk and limited the “fun” stuff in his life — like booze, fried food, and caffeine.
“The stuff that makes life worth living,” he groused as he angrily stabbed at his bed of lettuce leaves.
Pop’s phone chirped on the table, and he glanced at the message.
“Casey’s sending a few guys to the jobsite I need to check-in on this afternoon,” he said, and I noticed that he got a little less bitter each time he mentioned the situation. Not that he was getting used to being protected by Declan Casey.
“You’re okay with that, right?” I watched him as he sipped his water with lemon, my mother having vetoed his normal soda.
“I’m fine with it,” he said with a sigh. He’d taken the whole thing relatively well, but I didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes or the fact that his cheeks were more sunken in. He was losing weight. And coupled with the fact that my mother was on him like a hawk, I gathered that he hadn’t been feeling the best lately. Getting your son beat up, your daughter involved in assault and battery, and your home attacked probably made staying healthy after a cancer diagnosis tricky, to say the least.
“You’re a liar,” I said with a shake of my head. Pop didn’t deny it outright, though.
“I want us all to be okay, Amelia.” He met my gaze, and I could see the frustration in his eyes. “And sometimes you gotta do things that sting your pride a little to make things okay for the people you love.”
I swallowed at the emotion in his voice and stabbed at my own piece of haddock. I wasn’t the best with emotions. I took after my father in that respect, and it was easier for me not to acknowledge something difficult or painful like that. I’d rather stuff a bite of white fish into my mouth than to try to find words to comfort my father right now.
I hated myself for it, but I was who I was.
And, apparently, after shoving a mouthful of hated salad in his mouth, it was who my father was as well.
Peas in a pod, my mother had always called us.
“Are you enjoying your stay at Declan’s?”
My mother’s question hung awkwardly in the air. What did she mean, exactly? Again, my father took another huge bite of lettuce and grilled chicken and wouldn’t make eye contact with me. He was likely in denial that I was in my mid-twenties and more than likely sleeping with the guy. Poor Pop.
“Sure,” I said slowly, wondering how treacherous the ice was that she was dragging me out on to. “Why? Miss me? I’m sure Finn could find a room for me here?”
I wasn’t exactly trying to stay with them at the hotel, but part of me felt guilty that I wasn’t here for them. My mother, however, nearly jumped down my throat at the offer, giving me a resounding, “No.” She lowered her voice, looking around. “That’s not what I meant at all, Amelia. We’re perfectly happy here. You stay there as long as you need.”
I frowned at her words. As long as I needed?
“What’s going on?” I asked, the suspicion in my voice clear. “Are you trying to keep me away or something?”
This was so unlike my mother, who would pull out blankets and sofa beds to make room for anyone who needed it. She loved to pile all of us cousins in on top of one another back when we were younger.
“I don’t mean anything, honey,” she began, her hand covering mine and squeezing. It almost felt like I was getting dumped. “But your father and I have really been enjoying our time together. So, as long as you’re not putting Declan out, it’s kind of nice to have him to myself finally.”
My father’s face was about as red as the slice of beet he’d been avoiding all through the meal. He hated beets. I swallowed the water I was drinking too fast and nearly drowned myself, sputtering and coughing.
My mother handed me a few extra napkins, and I tried to wipe myself down.
“You understand, don’t you? It’s just that we never really got alone time with your brother living with us, and the past few days have been, um, extra special for our marriage—”
“Mom!” I yelled, ready to put my fingers in my ears and start singing la la la at the top of my lungs if she didn’t stop right there.
“That’s enough, dear,” Pop finally spoke up, hushing my mother with the promise of a chocolate cake she’d been talking about earlier.
“You’re not upset, are you?”
My poor mother. Always trying to keep the family happy and glued together.
“It’s fine,” I said with a smile because it really was. “I promise. I just didn’t want you guys thinking I was abandoning you.”
“Well, I don’t mean to cut and run, dear, but your father and I have a couple’s massage in ten minutes, and I don’t want to be late,” she said as she pushed her chair back and stood. “You know how these massage therapists can be.”
Actually, I had no clue how they could be, and I was pretty sure she didn’t really know, either. But she was in Rome and doing as Romans did, I supposed.
“Sounds great,” I said with a smile. “I’m heading over to Layton Street to do a little window shopping.”
I had plans to binge watch television tonight with Declan after he came home from work, but I still had a few hours until then and didn’t want to wait around his empty apartment by myself.
That, and I needed a little fresh air and a little more space between me and the gorgeous man who had invaded my mind, my body, and my day-to-day existence since I first saw him in the medical center a couple weeks ago. How it had gone from zero to crashing his penthouse in such a short time was beyond me, and I knew I’d do well not to get myself too wrapped up in him.
Well, not much more wrapped up in him than I already was.
Mom gave me a huge kiss on the cheek and Pop awkwardly patted my back before scurrying away, probably still mortified at the near-comment my mother made at the table about his sex life.
I took a rideshare over to Layton and hopped out, hoping the fact that I’d changed out of my chef jacket and pants meant that I no longer smelled like a kitchen. There was nothing worse than having a stranger sniff the area around you and ask if someone was cooking garlic.
Without much I’d be able to do about it anyway, I went on with my shopping and wandered to the first store nearby. An accessory store. I liked accessories. A lot. Because my professional uniform was limited and pretty strict, pretty earrings — studs, never dangling — were my love language. I’d worn everything from studs that said “Dirtbag” on them to small, 3D succulent cacti. They were my thing.
I’d just set aside a couple pairs when my cell phone rang. The number wasn’t one I knew, and for a split second, I considered letting it go to voicemail, but with everything up in the air the way it was, I didn’t want to risk missing an important message from my father.
“Hello.”
“Is this Amelia Byrne? Daughter of Jack Byrne of Dorchester?”
Damn. I regretted answering but figured it was too late to hang up.
“It is.”
“Amelia, this is Trevor Leonard. Remember me? How are you? How have you been?”
Trevor Leonard. I frowned at the name. It’d been years since I talked to him. In fact, the last time I saw Trevor, I’d been in my final semester of culinary school and met him at a bar while I was visiting my parents. It’d been a few dates, a few late-night make-out sessions with a cute, kind of nerdy law student to pass my time before heading back to Savannah. We’d been Facebook friends over the years but nothing else.
“Wow, Trevor. What a surprise. What’s going on?” I felt like I probably sounded wooden and stiff, but it was the best I could do. I was really thrown for a loop.
“Well, unfortunately, I’m calling on somewhat official terms. Nothing bad, it’s just I was hoping to meet with you today and talk about the incident with Gentry James. I’m an assistant prosecutor here at the District Attorney’s office, and the case came across my desk.”
My heart dropped through the floor and landed with a thud in my stomach. Trevor hadn’t exactly said that I was in trouble, but it didn’t matter. I wheezed a breath in and squeaked out a reply. “Oh. Seriously?”
It wasn’t my best response and staying conscious with the lack of air I was getting was becoming more difficult.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s no big deal, really. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
I blinked and looked around, suddenly unaware of my surroundings as my world closed in on me. Looking down, I had earrings in my hand as I was making my way toward the front door of the shop. Panicking, I spun around and set the earrings on the counter before walking outside to finish the call.
Thoughts raced through my mind about how serious this was. Was it real? Was Trevor just in on some intricate, twisted joke? What about my brother? Was he in trouble for something? How bad was the James guy, anyway? Was I going to jail? What about my father?
Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and put my hand against my head, willing my brain to slow down for just one second so I could wade through it all.
“What are you saying, Trevor? I’m freaking out a little here, and you haven’t really said much.”
“Don’t stress, Amelia,” Trevor said, his voice reassuring. “I just wanted to ask you a couple things, maybe go over what happened.”
I paused. “Isn’t that something the police would do?”
He didn’t respond at first, and I wondered if I had said something wrong. I wasn’t a lawyer or a cop, but I’d seen so many police procedural reruns sitting with Pop on the couch these days, I damn sure felt like I could have been. Prosecutors come in later in the game — to put the bad guy away. And since nobody had been charged, wouldn’t that mean the police were still investigating just what James and his little goons were doing to my brother?
“They are,” he said. “I just saw your name on the initial report as it came through and wanted to reach out.”
Surprising.
“Oh, well, I haven’t talked to a lawyer about pressing charges or anything. I’m not there yet.”
Trevor gave a short laugh before clearing his throat. “I’m not sure you understand, Amelia. It seems the question isn’t whether or not you’re pressing charges against them. It’s whether they’re pressing charges against you. And worse than that, whether the state is going to look at charging you with assault and battery.”
I swore under my breath.
“Amelia, really, just meet up with me and let me ask you a couple questions,” he said. “It’ll be good to see you again too. Believe it or not, I’ve missed you over the years. Everything is fine, I swear.”
There was a nagging feeling at the back of my head that was telling me that I should slow the hell down and think this through, but mostly I wanted to tell Trevor and the D.A.’s office whatever it was they wanted to know and get on with my life. I didn’t want this to be dragging around me like some dead weight when it was time to start getting serious about getting Pop well again.
And there was my idiot brother to consider. If I could clear up any misunderstanding, maybe there was a chance that JJ would be scared into making better decisions after his major screw up. I still hadn’t gotten to talk to him about anything because the coward was hiding at his girlfriend’s and refusing to come out to The Capstone and talk to our parents.
“Okay, that’s fine,” I said, even though worry curdled in my belly. “When?”
“What are you doing right now?”
Right now, I was panicking and terrified, but I didn’t say that out loud. “I’m free,” I said instead.
He was exceedingly pleased with that — his words, not mine — and agreed to head toward me from his downtown office. There was a café and bakery somewhere in the middle that he swore boasted amazing coffee and pastries. It didn’t matter to me because my ability to make small talk and nibble on snacks was all but eradicated by the sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t care how many times Trevor told me it was no big deal, there was something up, and my intuition wouldn’t let me deny it.
***
“Wow, you’re more gorgeous than I remember you.” Trevor breathed into my hair as he squeezed me tighter than an assistant prosecutor probably should. Even though we’d fooled around when we were younger, I didn’t appreciate this level of familiarity, especially by someone who wanted to put me in jail.
I pulled away, putting distance between us. “Thanks. Good to see you too.”
He ushered me over to a small table in the far corner of the bright, airy coffee shop. Just as I started to sit in the chair he held out for me, my phone buzzed. It was Declan.
Hating to do it, but not at a place I could talk, I sent him to voicemail. It immediately rang again, and once more, I silenced it.
“What can I get you?”
I blinked, my mind going blank for moment. “Vanilla latte, please,” I said, distracted by the fact that Declan had just sent me a text message. Apparently, patience was not one of his virtues.
I looked down at the text. Everything okay? Should I be mad that you keep sending me to vm?
I chewed my lower lip, wondering how much I needed to tell him. I sucked in a quick breath before tapping out a quick message. Random call from old friend Trevor Leonard. Wanted to catch up and ask abt the fight.
Declan’s response was lightning fast, surprising me. Where are you? Don’t answer anything, Amelia. I mean it.
Hmmm… so Declan immediately knew that Trevor was a prosecutor. Interesting.
Before I could respond, Trevor returned with our drinks, and I quickly tapped out my location before dropping my phone in my bag.
“So, you look good, Amelia.”
He was smiling as he repeated himself. Again, I nodded and thanked him. He didn’t look much different. His blond hair was a little thinner on top, but not much. He wore a fairly expensive suit, nothing crazy, though. His blue eyes looked tired. His smile was strained.
I decided right there that Trevor Leonard looked much better as a law school student than as a full-blown prosecutor.
“I appreciate the compliment,” I said with a tight smile of my own. “But the fact that you want to talk about what happened the other day has me a little worried. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m having a hard time with small talk.”
He took a sip of his coffee and didn’t bother wiping the corner of his mouth, making me want to cringe for him. I did my best to look anywhere but right at the glob of foam stuck there.
He leaned back, his hands still around the mug. “Listen, like I said, nothing to worry about. It’s not even on my desk yet. I just caught wind of it and wanted to check-in with you before it got too big.”
I loosened my grip around my own mug before I broke it into pieces. “There’s a possibility of it getting too big?”
In my rational mind, I knew that both my brother and I had done nothing wrong. It was self-defense, after all. But I also knew that the people we were dealing with probably didn’t play fair or tell complete truths.
“Maybe,” he said, a little too nonchalantly. “I mean, there’s a guy with a messed-up jaw and some missing teeth. The detectives are looking more into it, but on paper, it looks bad.”
“The guy with a messed-up jaw had two goons with him beating my brother to a pulp and threatening me!”
My voice rose a little as I spoke, and I reigned it in as best I could.
He nodded. “Go on.”
“I’m just saying, Trevor, that I haven’t talked to any police detectives yet. I’ve heard nothing from them, so if they’re already putting together some sort of case, they’re missing a very big part of it.”
“I didn’t say they’re officially putting together a case yet,” he backtracked.
I narrowed my eyes at him and frowned. “Then what are you saying?”
My patience with the man was slipping quickly. He seemed to be saying something, and at the same time, nothing at all. The emotional roller-coaster he created with his words was exhausting and more than anything, I wanted off.
“I’ll be blunt,” he said, leaning forward and smiling like he was doing me some sort of favor. “The family would probably be willing to let this thing disappear if you make nice with them. Apologize. Make it right. Then it would stay off my desk if there was no more drama between the Byrnes and the Duffys.”
I honestly didn’t know how to process what I thought I was hearing.
“Trevor, is this really a conversation an assistant prosecutor would be having in a situation like this? You seem pretty savvy about the whole situation for it not even being on your desk yet.” I pushed the coffee he ordered me away, suddenly turned off from accepting any sort of token and favor from him.
He was acting fishy as hell, and as much as I wanted to put him in his place, more than anything, I just wanted to leave and him never contact me again.
“I heard about it from a friend,” was all he said, not really telling me anything. “And your name came up, and I thought I’d offer a little friendly professional advice, seeing how I go through this ten times a day. You want to make peace with them and make it all go away, or it could get ugly.”
It could get ugly.
I sighed. It sounded a little like a veiled threat to me at first blush, but Trevor’s nearly featureless face wasn’t giving anything away. Really, what had I ever seen in the man? No cheekbones. No masculine jawline. No punishing lips that could simultaneously be so soft as they…
I sucked in a deep breath, reining in my dirty thoughts of Declan. Rubbing my temple with my hand, I got control of myself and pushed Declan to the side for a moment while I dealt with Trevor.
Despite the fact that I had warning bells going off like crazy, I figured it’d be in my best interest to be as polite as possible and not cause a scene — or to give him any more reason to call me.
“I really appreciate the coffee and the heads-up,” I said, pulling my stuff together and trying to offer an easy smile. I was sure it looked really forced to anyone who knew me, but Trevor Leonard hadn’t really bothered to try to get to know me when we’d dated so he wouldn’t know the difference. “Take care of yourself, Trevor. I wish you the best with your career and everything.”
He looked surprised that I was leaving. “That’s it?” he asked, the annoyance obvious on his face. He wasn’t happy.
“Was there something else? You told me to make nice with the Duffys, and I appreciate your concern and warning. What else was there?”
The directness of the question seemed to take a little steam out of his sails, but he recovered quickly enough. “Are you in a rush? Do you have to leave right now? I figured we could catch up.”
Before I could say anything, I felt the pressure in the room change. I smelled that spicy, woodsy scent that had invaded my psyche over the past two days. In the space of a heartbeat, I knew he was here.
Declan was standing right behind me, and if I wasn’t crazy, I could practically feel the anger radiating from him.
“As a matter of fact, she is leaving right now,” he said, coming to stand right beside me, his posture menacing as hell as he stared down at the assistant prosecutor with a face that could stop a charging bull.