Page 53 of A Fine Line

He cocks his head at me and leans closer, resting his forearms on his thighs as he asks, “Are you okay?”

I snort, a laugh bursting out that I quickly suppress by slapping my hands over my mouth. I stay like that for a few moments, pretending I’m not on the brink of a mental breakdown but soon manage to sober, my hands falling back to my lap as I ask, “Who the fuck are you?”

He frowns at me for a moment, but then it’s gone, and he’s leaning back in his chair, an arm on each armrest as he brings his leg up and rests his ankle on the top of his thigh. “Declan Hughes,” he replies smoothly. “At your service.”

My eyes widen, and I sigh loudly as I slump back in my seat, unable to form words at this very unexpected turn of events.

In the words of Antoinette:What the actual fuck?

Chapter Twenty

Tony

It’searlymorningbythe time we make it back to the compound. I go directly to the locker room showers so I won’t chance running into Flora in my bloody state. By the time I’m exiting, cleaned up and dressed, Darius and Matt are standing at a workstation, their heads close together, and I can tell from their body language that Darius is pissed, and Matt is flabbergasted.

I give them a few minutes to bicker and then interrupt, “What the fuck is it this time?”

They both freeze and then look over at me wide-eyed, making me doubly suspicious. So, I wait, staring at them intently until finally, Matt says, “I got a notification when I got back that was a little concerning.”

I glance at Darius and ask, “Is he referring to his gossip rag again?”

“Yes,” Darius responds. “You know he has that thing set up to ping for a handful of people that he needs to keep tabs on at all times.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, then look at Matt and say, “What could your gossip rag possibly have to say that would put you all in such a lather?”

Neither of them looks at me for a moment, and I frown as I wait for one of them to say something. I can’t imagine what could possibly have come across the gossip rags notifications that would have Matt confused and Darius pissed off, but then to have neither one of them want to tell me insinuates that it can’t be good.

Their silence continues until, finally, I huff and walk over, yanking Matt’s phone from his hand and glancing at the screen it’s still stuck on. “Declan Hughes elopes in Europe.”

I click on the link, raising a brow at Matt as I say, “Keeping tabs on Declan of all fucking people?”

He shrugs but has the decency to look slightly contrite as he says quietly, “Well, in this case, it seems to have worked out okay.”

I look at the article now loaded on Matt’s phone. I scroll down, skimming the article, when a picture goes by, so I stop and scroll back up.

I grind my teeth, my blood pressure skyrocketing again as I take in the image in front of me. I glance up at Dare, and he has a grimace on his face as he says, “There’s no fucking way.”

I turn my eyes onto Matt, who’s shaking his head. “No fucking way, Tony. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but there’s no fucking way.”

I look back at the picture, scroll back up to the headline, and then back down to the picture. The pressure in my chest explodes—confusion, rage, and something untenable boiling over—and I throw the phone across the room. “Fuck!”

I pick up the closest object to me and smash that, too. Darius and Matt scramble out of my way, snagging whatever they can grab as I lose my shit, throwing and breaking anything and everything, I can get my hands on.

I’m standing outside my own body, watching myself going ballistic as a means to show the irrational feelings I can’t find words to explain. Darkness overwhelms me, anger, and violence the baseline of an explanation I’m incapable of letting loose beyond the pain radiating in my guts.

Once I’ve exhausted myself, I stand in the middle of the room, panting and annoyed that I’ve drawn a crowd. Matt and Darius are leaning back against the wall, their arms full of electronic equipment they rescued from my outburst. Anton, Erik, and a couple of other guys are standing on the other side, obviously having done the same thing. I yell out one final curse as I attempt to push down the unbearable weight that has settled back onto my chest.

Nettie approaches from the other side, presses her hand against my back, and I brace myself for her reprimand. But it doesn’t come. Instead, she leans close and asks, “Feel better?”

I give her a dirty look but say nothing, though I do feel a little better. Darius and Matt are approaching, and Matt says to Darius, “See. Now you know what we went through with you.”

Darius replies, “Seriously? I wasn’t that bad.”

This makes me laugh. “Not that bad? Jesus fucking Christ. You make my tantrum look like a baby tantrum.”

Matt nods in agreement, and some of the tension eases. I take a deep breath and stand up straighter, and Nettie moves in front of me and rests her hands on my shoulders as she looks me in the eye. “Remember, Tony. Nothing is ever as it seems. There’s not a chance in fucking hell that Carolina knew Declan. Shit, I barely knew anything about Declan, and he’s related to the asshat I’m stuck with.”

“She definitely didn’t know Declan,” Darius interjects as we walk over to the workstation that has been quickly cleaned up by Anton’s men. Darius dumps his armload of electronics on the table, pulls out the tablet, and hands it to me. On the screen is a video of a man tied to a chair in the middle of a dark room. I press play, and the man starts to speak, “I don’t know what fucking happened. I think everyone took him for the Beast, and by the time we realized our mistake, it was too late. A couple of guys were knocked around, and then they were in the wind.”

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