Page 74 of Twisted Secrets
“If I’d actually gotten out, this wouldn’t be happening right now. I should have run as soon as I realized he wasn’t going to leave me alone.” Weeks wasted. It made her sick to her stomach.
“Olivia, look at me.” His voice was so harsh, she instinctively obeyed. The expression on his face was even harsher than his tone. “We don’t have time for the pity party you’re indulging in right now.”
She tensed. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel. That monster hasmy daughter.”
“And you’re so wrapped up in blaming yourself that you’re going to play right into his hands.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “The past is the past. You can’t go back and change it. You can only move forward and ensure that the mistakes you made don’t define you.”
“Pretty to think so.”
“No, it’s not. It’s fucking hard. You think I’m not tearing myself up over the deaths of those men? They aremyfault. You said that Romanov might know where we were, and I ignored the potential threat. That’s onme.” He wound through slower traffic, the speedometer approaching triple digits. “I’m going to have to be the one to tell their families that I was too goddamn cocky, and theydied as a result.”
Just like his brother had. Her chest tightened, but she couldn’t afford sympathy. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Instead, she focused on what she’d do once they reached their destination. It seemed to take forever and no time at all to get back to Boston. Cillian drove them straight to Beacon Hill, stopping in front of a town house that looked like every other town house on that street—massive and expensive. The trees lining the sidewalk barely did anything to soften the look. She got out of the car and stared at the wide door that would be at home in some lord’s castle halfway across the world.
“Let me do the talking.”
She nodded, though she had her own plan. Olivia slipped her purse over the crook of her arm and walked with him up the stairs and into the town house. The interior was just as intimidating as the exterior—possibly more so. From the home in Connecticut, she’d gotten the feeling of a building well loved by the family that lived there. Here, everything was stark and expensive and uncomfortable, as if it had been designed to remind visitors just who they were dealing with.
As if she could forget.
He led her into a study filled with people. She recognized Cillian’s sister, Carrigan, and her…whatever he was. They weren’t married, but calling James Halloran her boyfriend seemed juvenile. Next to them was another O’Malley—judging by his dark coloring—and a blond woman. From the possessive way he stood behind the chair where she sat, as if ready to spring into motion at the slightest moment to protect her, she’d guess this was Teague and the Sheridan heir. Then there were the two men standing on the other side of the desk, as if trying to put as much distance between themselves and the rest of the room as possible. The younger man was nearly a carbon copy of the older—Cillian’s older brother and father.
Neither of which looked happy to see them.
His father glared. “Aiden specifically told you to stay the hell out of Boston while we cleaned up this mess.”
“The circumstances have changed.” Cillian shrugged, and if she wasn’t a step behind him, she wouldn’t have noticed how tense his back was. “I need to have a word with Dmitri.”
“Convenient that I’m here then, isn’t it?”
Olivia moved before she had fully processed the silky Russian voice. She grabbed her gun from her purse and spun, shoving him against the wall and the gun against the hollow of his throat. The only reaction she got was a slight widening of his eyes. “Little sister.”
“Half sister.” The response was automatic, and she pushed the gun harder against his skin. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
She was vaguely aware of raised voices behind her, but she trusted Cillian to keep them off her while she got answers.You think you would have learned after last night. Apparently not. Pushing the thought away, she focused on Dmitri. “Don’t play games with me, you bastard. Where is Hadley?”
Confusion played across his face, but she’d seen him use the tiniest expression to manipulate people around him. She wasn’t going to fall for that shit. She moved in closer, the gun growing warm in her palm. “You ordered Sergei to takemy daughter, and you’re going to order him to bring her back to me, or I’m going to blow yourfucking head off.”
“What are you talking about, Olivia?” His accent thickened, and he switched to Russian. “I don’t have your daughter.”
“Stop lying!” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking English or if she’d made the switch along with him, because all she could see was the growing anger on his face. “You threatened me, and when I didn’t do what you wanted, you followed through on it. Stop playing games.”
“I never—”
“I swear to God, if you say you never threatened me, I will do something unforgivable.” Her breath was coming faster now, but she couldn’t dial it back in. “We both know what your intent was even if your words weren’t exactly that. Where. Is. She?”
“I. Don’t. Know.” He glared. “I didn’t order this. If it was Sergei, it was done without my knowledge.”
“Liar.” She jerked back to hit him with the gun, but then arms were around her stomach, hauling her off him. Olivia screamed and fought, but they were iron bands holding her in place while someone else took her gun.
“Sweetheart, stop.” Cillian’s voice in her ear, angry but a thousand times calmer than she felt. “We’ll get answers, but if you kill him, we aren’t getting shit.”
“He’s not going to tell you the truth.” She lunged for Dmitri, more animal than human, but Cillian jerked her back again.
Then Seamus O’Malley was between them, managing to look down his nose at everyone in the room. “If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have you locked in a room until this is over. Decide.”
