Page 43 of Free to Judge
His lips twitch. “You think you know what to ask?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He takes a sip of wine and makes a circular gesture. “Go ahead.”
“You were born Declan Sean Conian.”
His brow furrows. “Yes.”
“Raised in the suburbs of Boston, you excelled in languages—graduating high school speaking three. Impressive.”
“How—”
I trample right over him. “Went to BC. Majored in languages and pre-law. Dual bachelors. Approached by an FBI recruiter on campus who recommended you get your pesky law degree even while preparing to go straight into Quantico.”
Oh, to have a camera trained on him to capture the shock on his face when I throw that information at him. He leans forwardand sets his glass down carefully. “How did you unearth that information?”
“How am I doing so far?” I flip my hand. “Answering with a question is still an answer in this case.”
“No, Kalie. How did you uncover that information? Did your father tell you?” he demands.
My brow furrows. “No. Of course not. I haven’t spoken with him since that day at Hudson…what the hell are you doing?” I yelp as he towers over me.
“Then tell me how you found out all that when that information is supposed to be erased!” he roars directly in my face like a wounded bear with a knife jammed through its paw.
I hold up both hands in front of me, almost touching his broad chest. “I…used a program my cousin gave me.”
“Which cousin? What program?” he snaps, intensity morphing into outright threat.
My eyes narrow. “What’s it to you? That information is publicly available.”
“It’s not, and if you could find all that out after the tech team at Hudson did their damndest to bury it, there’s going to be hell to pay. My mother may be gone, but some of her relatives are still alive. Tanya’s family is still here. Hudson buried my past so her family wouldn’t be in jeopardy from the Tiberis or the Byrnes. If you could get to it, who knows what other information could be found out about me they can hold over my head?”
“Shit.” Understanding finally, my hand lands on his heaving chest.
He reaches up to hold my fingers in place. At first, I thought it was just a surface attraction between us, something I had a chance of beating. But when he speaks, something shifts inside me. Something I’ve never come close to experiencing. “We’re not close like your family, not anymore. But I don’t want their blood on my hands.”
“Calm down. Let me call Jon.”
“On speaker,” Declan commands.
“Aye, aye, captain,” I mutter as I connect the call.
It rings once before Jon picks up. Immediately, Jon asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Tell him, Kalie,” Declan orders.
I do so in a way that won’t ignite Declan’s temper but will give Jon the information he needs on an open line. “Mike’s been testing new toys. I found information that might be problematic for someone who enjoys my right hook. Understood?”
There’s a long pause before he says, “Got it. Have a good night.”
Now Declan’s expression has turned baffled. “What just happened?”
“He’ll handle it.”
“By doing what?”
“By calling my cousin.”
