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Claiming Cari (The Gilroy Clan Book 2) by Megyn Ward (12)

Twelve

Patrick

I’m not sure what I expected when I got to the hospital. What I was going to do. How I was going to do it. I know what I wanted. I wanted to make James admit that he was the one who put Lisa up to filing that bogus lawsuit. That he was the one who posted that video of Cari online. That he did it because he’s a sniveling little bitch who got mad because he didn’t get his way. I want to make him admit all of it.

And then I wanted to make him very, very sorry.

It’s what I want, but it’s not what I get because when I walk through the main doors of the hospital, I find Declan waiting for me by the information counter, wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday.

Fuck.

Even though I have no idea where I’m going, I bypass the information counter and head straight for the elevators. I’ll stop on every goddamn floor and search every fucking room in this place if I have to. Because everyone else got what they want. Cari got to use me and toss me for whatever fucked-up reason or issue she’s got going. Templeton got to ruin any chance she and I might’ve had of actually making it work. Lisa got to extract her petty revenge over the fact that I regret what happened between us. Yeah, everyone got what they wanted.

Everyone but me.

I jab my thumb against the call button and stare straight ahead, ignoring the fact that my cousin is standing directly behind me. He can follow me all he wants because he’s not stopping me. No one is.

The elevator doors slide open, and a load of people tumble out. As soon as the car is clear, I step in. Declan steps in after me. An older couple with an It’s a girl! balloon bouquet and a giant stuffed stork try to get on after him. One look at the pair of us has the old man snatching his wife’s arm to pull her off the car. “We’ll wait for the next one,” he says, and the doors slide closed between us.

Good.

“You been here all night, waiting for me to show up?” I say, reaching around him to punch one of the lighted buttons on the panel. It hardly mattered which one.

“Either you or Tess.” He gives me a shrug. “I knew one of you would end up here, eventually.”

“Bet you’re glad it’s me,” I say because I’m angry and he’s as good a target as any. “You can’t even look at Tess, much less talk to her.”

Declan’s shoulders go stiff in front of me. “Fuck you, Patrick.”

“What did Tess do to make you end it?” I glare at the back of his head, my tone practically begging for him to turn around and punch me. “Whatever it was, it must’ve been bad considering you’d rather sell yourself into Jessican slavery than swallow your pride and tell her how you really feel about her.”

“Who says I feel any way about her?” He sounds defensive. Raw.

“The sixty-five surveillance cameras you had installed in my bar.”

He sighs, finally turning around to look at me. The look on his face tells me my comments hit their mark, but he’s not biting. If it’s a fight I want—and it is—I won’t be getting it from him. “You do this, there’s no going back,” Declan says. “Templeton wins. You lose everything. Everything.”

“You think I give a shit?” I say, laughing. “I already lost everything I care about. At least this way, I get the satisfaction of making that fucker bleed.”

Declan shakes his head. “Cari—”

“Doesn’t want me,” I say quietly. “She ended it. What I do hardly matters at this point.”

“This isn’t you.” From the look on his face, it was a development he hadn’t considered. That Cari and I wouldn’t recover. “You’re angry. Not thinking clearly.”

“Is that so?” I say, leaning against the rear wall of the elevator. “Who is it that you think I am, exactly?”

“You’re a good man, caught in a shitty situation,” Declan says. “You’re the best of us, and I won’t let you do this.”

“First of all—I’m not a good man. I think that’s been proven.” The elevator jerks to a soft stop, letting out a ding. “And second—you don’t let me do anything.”

“I’m just asking you to think this through.”

“He released it, Dec.” I stare at him, jaw flexing, hands fisted so tight I can feel my fingers cramping up. “Templeton released the video.”

“Fuck.” Declan swipes a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I’ve been here all night—no one came here to see him. No one I recognized anyway.” The elevator door opens on a busy floor, and Declan plants his feet while reaching for the control panel, slapping the button that closes the door. “Give me thirty minutes,” he says, hitting another button, this one marked with the letter C. “We’ll talk this out. If I can’t convince you to dial it down, I’ll watch the goddamned door while you beat that fucker to death. Deal?”

“Sure.” Whatever. It’s not like Templeton is gonna bleed any different a half hour from now. “Why not.”