Page 10 of Sweet Revenge
She hesitated, eyes darting past him to the elevator as if she was gauging whether she could make a run for it. When she scowled, he knew he’d won, and she dropped the keys into his outstretched hand.
“It’s in the trunk.”
“Great.” He barely suppressed a grin. “Wait here.”
He watched her until the elevator doors hid her from view. If he had his way, no man on earth would ever see her dressed like that again. No man but him.
ChapterSix
Evie took her time getting ready. Under the harsh bathroom lighting, she looked pale with shadows under her eyes from last night’s tears and restless sleep. She massaged lotion into her skin, using makeup to ease the paleness and disguise the shadows. Unwilling to fight with her unruly curls, she swept them up in a messy bun and decided it was good enough.
Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt, tugging on both. She gave herself one last long look in the mirror before loading everything back into her bag and carrying it into the bedroom.
The room fit him, with its dark, imposing furniture and deep navy linens. Sleeping in that bed last night with his scent wrapped around her had been a comfort as much as a torment. She didn’t know what to make of his generosity. He was probably eager to keep her close so he could keep an eye on her.
She wouldn’t be his problem much longer. As soon as her parents were buried, she was getting the hell out of here and never looking back. There was nothing in Philadelphia for her anymore except painful memories.
He was seated at the kitchen counter, intently watching a video on the tablet in his hand, but he tapped the screen to pause when he noticed her standing in the front hall. His eyes dipped down to the bag in her hand and back up to her face.
“You can stay as long as you need to.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to check into a hotel until the funeral.”
“And then?”
“And then I’m going back to New York.”
He gave a curt nod, sliding the tablet into a case and tucking it under his arm. Rounding the counter, he stopped in front of her. Their height difference hadn’t changed much over the years. He still had about five inches on her five foot eight, but he was imposing in his dark gray, tailored Italian suit and crisp white button-down with the collar open.
The angles of his face were different, harder, chiseled with a decade of age and experience, and the dark sweep of his hair made his blue eyes even brighter. Those eyes had captivated her once. Drawn her in and consumed her. She had to be careful it didn’t happen again.
“Ready?”
“No,” she followed him into the elevator, “but let’s get it over with.”
He’d parked her car in a second reserved spot for the penthouse, and she tossed her bag into the trunk before climbing behind the wheel. She knew the way, so she didn’t wait for him to follow her before peeling out of the garage. It was warm for April, so she rolled the windows down and let the breeze tease the curls that had fallen loose from her bun.
Pulling into the parking lot of an unassuming gray building, Evie cut the engine. To anyone driving by, it would be overlooked as a suite of office buildings rather than a makeshift funeral home and morgue. McGee had operated as the Callahan syndicate’s coroner and funeral director for as long as she could remember, though she’d never been closer to death than the occasional funeral before now.
Declan’s Range Rover and another car she didn’t recognize pulled in behind her. Nessa. Evie watched her twin sister climb out of the silver BMW. Her hair was shorter than she’d kept it in high school, and she wore it straight down to her shoulders with auburn highlights that caught the light. They weren’t identical, but it had been easy enough to fool people from a distance when they were kids.
They paused to speak next to Declan’s SUV, and when he gestured to Evie’s car, she had the sudden, overwhelming urge to flee. Just throw the car into drive and never look back. If she’d never yearned for home, never called her mother to wish her a happy birthday, none of this would be happening. She could be in New York or Seattle or fucking Timbuktu. Literally anywhere but here with the memory of her mother’s blood smeared on the kitchen floor and the devastated look on her sister’s face.
When they started toward her car, she forced herself to get out and face her sister for the first time in ten years.
“Oh, Evie,” Nessa said as soon as she saw her, wrapping her up in a firm hug. “It’s all so awful.”
Evie’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Declan, who only shrugged. She had no idea how to respond or what to say, so she gave her sister an awkward pat on the shoulder.
“What happened?” Nessa looked from Evie to Declan and back again.
“McGee’s finished the autopsies, and he’s got some theories.” Declan gestured toward the door at the side of the building and held it open for them both.
The inside was nicer than she’d anticipated, nothing like the cold, sterile place she’d always pictured. But not even the polished hardwood floors and soothing blue paint could mask the smell of death. Funeral homes always smelled like death. Death and sadness.
McGee appeared from a side door, a little grayer than she remembered him, but with the same kind eyes. He took Nessa’s hand, gripping it tightly.
“Your parents were good people,” he said. The thick brogue of his Irish accent hadn’t faded in the three decades since he moved to America. “And I mean to lay them to rest well.”
