Page 40 of Chaos Luck Wrath

The maroon leather-bound album lying on top still had a thin layer of dust clinging to its front. She pulled it out and opened up to the first page.

Front and center was a rare impromptu O’Reilly family picture. Scott O’Reilly was in a pair of khaki shorts and powder blue polo, a grill filled with burgers and dogs behind him. Smiling proudly, his arm was wrapped around the waist of his vibrantly beautiful wife, Shannon.

The family’s matriarch was in a flowy yellow sundress with a brown leather belt wrapped around her waist. Shannon’s smile was as bright as the summer day when this photo was taken. Her hands were each resting on one shoulder of her two children standing in front of her.

Layne was giving the biggest, goofiest, and cheesiest-looking smile there ever was at about eight years old. Right next to her was a seven-year-old Liam, sticking his tongue out at the photographer.

Mick tried sputtering out words over his laughter, “L-Liam! Liam, stop sticking your tongue out like that! And Layne, sweetheart, can you give a nice-looking smile?” Their Uncle Mickey made one last failed attempt to wrangle the O’Reilly kids so they could get a decent snapshot during the summer cookout.

Giving up, Mick snapped the picture anyhow with a forced grin. The second he lowered the bulky camera, Layne and Liam went running off into the expanse of Mick’s lush green backyard of his summer home.

Layne chased after her brother toward the swing set that was the largest she had ever seen. “Li, wait for me!”

She reached the ladder leading up to the slide at the same time as Liam, they both bumped against one another in an effort to be the first to climb up.

“Layne! I was here first!” Liam griped.

“I’m older!” Layne retorted.

Gaining the advantage of enough footing on the first rung of the ladder, Layne hurried up to the top. She made it down the slide with Liam following behind her moments later.

Not hesitating, Layne ran over to one of the two swings that swayed in the gentle breeze. She flopped her behind onto the blue seat, her hands wrapping around the metal chains that secured it to the wooden frame.

Just beginning to pump her legs to try and gain some momentum, an older child from one of the other families at the barbeque came up behind her and slammed his hands into her back. Layne was knocked right off the swing, landing face down in the grass.

The bully leered down at her like the little shit he was. “This is my favorite swing; girls aren’t allowed to use it!”

As Layne pushed herself up onto her feet, Liam came barreling in and shoved the kid. “That’s my sister!”

The two boys got into a shoving match while Layne ran back up the hill to tell her mom. The scuffle quickly ended when the boys were separated by one of the other parents in attendance, but not before Liam had landed at least one punch.

Scott took both of his children aside, and he praised Liam for all of his actions before sending him to get some ice on his hand. She stood alone before her father, who was down on a knee looking her in the eyes with disappointment.

“Layne,” he started with a shake of his head. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

She frowned as the weight of his words sank into her soul. “No…”

“Not only did you not stick up for yourself, but you ratted out your brother. Don’t you ever go snitching on your family again, do you understand me? That is not what O’Reillys do. I don’t care what the hell he does, he’s your brother and you need to support him.” Her father stood again, irritated with her choices. “Go on, get out of here. Go tell your mother to try to get those grass stains out of your nice clothes.”

Layne slammed the photo album shut and tried to vanquish the echoing of her father’s words in her head. She wondered if he would be so judgmental of her if he was alive to see what Liam was up to. Layne would like to think he wouldn’t be, and not knowing for sure was the most difficult part of his absence in her life.

Sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway, she took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her hand removed her phone from her back pocket as she brought up a name in her contacts. Layne sat there allowing the judgment of her dad’s ghost to berate her with whispers inside her ear.

Her thumb tapped the call button and the screen suddenly reflected the damning words, ‘Calling Det. Adams…’. The call rang once before Layne heard the footsteps jog up the main stairs at her back. She quickly disconnected the call before pushing herself up onto her feet.

Gage appeared at the top of the stairs and offered her a large smile. “There you are. Thought maybe you were going to try and get the slip on me.”

She shoved her phone back into her pocket and shook her head. “No, just trying to go through some things. Miss me?” Layne smiled sweetly at him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against the front of his body. “Always.” Gage leaned over and the warmth of his mouth washed over the length of her neck. He murmured against her skin, “You always smell so damn good.”

She tipped her head back some as he lavished her with his kisses, a light purr rising from her throat. “Mmm, you’re one to talk, Mr. Dolce & Gabbana.” As much as she teased him about using such a fancy cologne, she couldn’t complain about the way the spiced vanilla always perked up her senses.

His hand slipped underneath the shoulder of her shirt and pushed it down along with her bra strap, leaving space for him to continue to get a taste of her. He groaned knowing that he had come up here for intentions not involving his cock getting some action.

“The way I want to bend you over that stepstool right now and pound into your pussy…” Gage wistfully sighed, his dick fully on board with the temptation as it grew harder in his pants. He pressed one more kiss to the faded scar on her shoulder from her old gunshot wound.

Gage pulled her shirt back into place. “But, Sam is waiting for you downstairs.”

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