Page 21 of Quentin
Silas shook his head. “You’re making problems. Bigger problems than I can afford to handle. You bring those drugs into this town, and any shot I have at becoming a senator are long gone.”
“It’s too fucking late for that,” Joey said. “They’re already here…we’ve already got the distribution set up! These guys get disappointed, and no one in this town is going to be safe!”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take,” Silas replied. “But the bottom line is, you’re a threat to me, Joey…a threat to my future goals. You’re more valuable to me as a tragic casualty of domestic violence…you’ll go from being a liability to being a platform.”
“Then shoot me in this fucking car if you’re going to because I’m not getting out and making it easy for you,” Joey said.
Before Silas could react, Joey lunged at him. They struggled, both of them grappling for control of the weapon. Silas cursed, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep the younger man from twisting the pistol from his grasp. Just when he thought it was over, when he thought Joey had won, his cousin’s finger slipped on the trigger.
The sound was deafening in the car, but it was the smell that hit him instantly. The faint burning smell and the coppery aroma of blood mingled sickeningly in the small space.
Joey gasped, his mouth working as blood bubbled from between his parted lips. It wasn’t the first time Silas had watched someone die. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d watched someone die by his own hand. But it was the first time that he’d killed someone he’d taken care of as a child, someone whose funeral he’d have to attend as one of the bereaved.
Climbing out of the car, he walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Dragging Joey’s still warmbut lifeless body out of the vehicle, he concealed it in the trees. All that was left was to clean the car, return it to impound and burn his clothes. The gun would go back to The Kicking Mule, and when Joey was reported missing, his body would be found after an appropriately difficult search and questioning his ex-wife, with their long history of bad blood, would be the only logical option.
Fourteen
They didn’t eat in the dining room, and no one dressed for dinner. All her Downton Abbey-esque visions of the grandeur of being a Darcy were dashed as they huddled around the kitchen island eating burgers and drinking beer straight from the bottles. Lowey watched them for a moment, taking in the easy way they all talked with one another, the comfort and camaraderie they had with one another.
She’d never had that, she realized. Not with anyone in her life had she ever been so at ease. The closest she’d come to that was with Quentin, but still, it was a revelation to see him in this light. Good natured, charming, as close to being at peace as she’d ever witnessed him.
“So, tell me, Lowey, have you hired a contractor to patch up the bar yet?”
The question had come from Bennett. “No, not yet. Until the insurance adjuster gets back to me, I won’t really know if that’s even feasible. It’s a lot of damage, and I’m fairly certain I am underinsured,” she answered.
“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I can drag Carter down there, and we’ll help you put it right. We work for beer, too.”
“It will be put back together,” Quentin promised. “I’ll help, too. Even if it does mean hanging out with two Hayeses. Double the fun. Yay.”
Mia flicked a plastic fork in Quentin’s direction. “Be nice, or you’ll pay for it.” Bennett laughed, but she tossed a glare at him. “You too. I’m done with people in this family fighting and carrying on with each other and with the rest of the world…and FYI, Quentin, I invited Ciaran tonight, but he couldn’t make it. The next time you two are in a room together, if there’s any blood spilled, I will skin you both. Is that clear?”
Lowey watched Quentin duck his head to hide his grin as he muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”
When he glanced over at her, she saw it in him—the darkness that was simply a part of him. He was in his element here, laughing and joking with his family, to the point that she was keenly aware of the fact that she was an outsider. But with that little glimpse, she realized something else, something far more important than the fact that she didn’t quite fit in with the whole Darcy crowd. There was a part of him that only she knew, a part of him that no one else would ever see.
It set her at ease, seeing that in him. It gave her a sense of relief because in that moment, she knew that whether or not she belonged withthem, she still belonged withhim.
He moved closer to her, leaning down to whisper against her ear. “You okay?”
“I am now,” she answered. “How are you? Ribs hurting?”
“Only when I laugh. Or breathe. Or move. Or think…but I’m good. Another beer, and I’ll be amazing, in fact.”
“Have all you want. I’ll drive us home…I could get used to touring around in your baby.”
“Whoa…hold up. He let you drive his car?” Clayton demanded, gaping at them both. “I’m his goddamnbrother,and he won’t let me drive it!”
“Yes, but I have boobs,” Lowey answered.
“They do provide a lot of opportunity, don’t they?” Annalee observed. “Now close your mouth, Clayton.”
“On a more serious note and while we’re all here together,” Mia said, “We need to talk about Mama.”
Lowey was still looking up at him. She could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, could feel the tension that flooded him. It rolled off him in waves, and she sat back, waiting for the explosion.
Quentin tamped down the spark of hope, beat it down as brutally as Ciaran had beaten him. “There’s nothing to talkabout, Mia,” he said. “Nothing has changed, and nothing is ever going to change. We just have to accept it and make the best of it.”
“But thereissomething to talk about, Quentin. And things are changing. There have been little signs, moments and glimpses where I could swear she’s right there with us…and then today?—”
