Page 35 of Free to Judge
I lean forward, bracing my forearms on the desk. I begin to tick off a list. “You two can’t think of a single person who might want to fuck with what thefamiglia’sgot going? Because let me tell you, when I call Mr. Byrne, he will not appreciate that answer.”
“No, Declan. No one…”
I slash my hand in a “silence” motion. Shoving to my feet, my chair slides back so hard it slams against the wall. My fist comes down on the desk three times in hard succession. “If you can’t be honest, you’re going to get eliminated, you dumb shits.”
Tony holds up his hands placatingly. “Now, just a minute?—”
“You don’t have a minute. Not on the stand,” I cut him off. My chest heaving, I point out the office window to the chop house floor. “You think those men have loyalty? They’re loyal because of money. They know nothing about being loyal because of blood, because of family.” Sliding around the desk, I snarl, “Those shits would think nothing of capping me, you, hell—the DoorDash delivery person for some extra cash.”
They both eye me like I’m a lethal cobra, not the attorney paid four figures an hour to keep them from toppling a centuries old empire. “Need I mention the cops who would love to throw your asses in the slammer?”
The appalled expression on their faces is my only answer. “But what really chafes me? Watching two dumb fuckers who think they can outthink me.” With that, I jerk my chin up.
The next moment, my door flies open. Two men, enforcers for the Byrnes who have come down from Boston to “keep an eye on their investment,” come in and lurk behind them. “Here’s what you two are going to do. You’re going to get the fuck out of here. You’re going to find out who’s involved with the logistics behind the fucking pipeline and you’re gonna do it fast. Then, you bring the information to me. Do you think you can do that?”
Sal swallows hard. “Yeah.”
“Understood,” Tony whispers.
My head tilts. “Well, that didn’t sound very convincing.” I reach under my jacket and pull out my gun. Firing it above their heads, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the terror on their faces as the ceiling tiles disintegrate and land on their heads.
“We got you!” Tony shouts. “Just don’t kill us.”
“Better,” I approve. “But let me warn you, if I don’t have answers by the end of this week, I’ll know where to start looking for the problem.”
On my way out the door, I order, “Get to work.”
As I storm out of the chop shop, I spy the team stripping a bright blue convertible. For just a second, I’m given a reprieve from the suffocating world I’ve submerged myself in for answers I know I’ll never get as I’m reminded of the fire in Kalie’s eyes both times I’ve been up close to see them.
And what I might need to do to see them again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
All my lifeI’ve worn my family like a badge of honor—proud of the sacrifices and the love that fueled our legacy. It was that deep pride, the fire to make our parents proud, that drove every decision I made from college to law school. Hell, even from my decision to defer school for a year to train for the five rings few can achieve. But thirty minutes ago, the pride that held me in itsembrace over the course of my life shattered when I saw my father, my family, and Declan conspiring together.
In that moment, a crushing wave of disappointment hit me, making every breath a struggle, not as if my lungs hadn’t trained to run marathons with speeds that had been likened to those of gazelles. This is the problem when people put humans on pedestals as heroes; inevitably, they topple off because they can’t maintain the facade.
Today, it was my family’s turn to crash to the ground.
There are days I wish I could see inside the twisted logic that makes up my father’s brain so I could appreciate what he believes is so dire that there should be no comeuppance to lying to his family. From what it sounded like, Declan was already willing to help them bring down the Byrnes.
Walking in on that scene wasn’t even close to what I was expecting when I went to my father’s today.But part of me wonders if I should have. It was all too obvious after Declan laid it all out to me at Hudson, explaining in hushed, venomous tones how he planned to dismantle the families who took out his partner.
I can’t say I blame him. If it were me…hell. It was me. I mumble to myself, “And if I’m not the poster child for things not to do when you’re furious, I don’t know who is.”
I desperately wanted someone in the room to contradict him, that he hadn’t lived through that kind of agony. But they didn’t. He laid his truth bare, even as brutal as it was to accept. He isn’t a monster, the enemy. He was a wounded warrior compelled to finish the battle, regardless of whether he was left standing.
Now, I’m left with the feelings he triggered in me the day of my graduation overlaid with this image. I find myself wanting to know more, wanting to know everything. Declan stirs something in the shadows of my heart that I can’t turn away from.
The one thing I know is it isn’t fear of him or what he could do to us.
Not anymore.
But what does this mean?
My hands are shaking so damn bad between anger and uncertainty they can hardly grip the steering wheel as I pull into my driveway. My SUV skids on loose gravel before halting to a stop in front of the garage. I stare blankly at the dashboard for a moment, feeling as if, for the first time in my life, I have no clear course ahead. But somehow I’m stuck in a race I neither trained nor signed up for.
Just then, my front door swings open. A flutter of hope skims through me at the sight of who’s there. Is it crazy to think—or maybe just desperately want—the person sprinting at me can explain this whole mess away? Instead, Grace waves as she leaps down the steps.
