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“Yeah, yeah.”
I don’t glance up until the door clicks closed behind him. At the sink, I press my hands into the sides of the vanity and stare at myself. Any credibility I’ve built the last few weeks is being destroyed the longer I’m in here. My black eyes peer back at me in a face that appears sun-kissed. I yank my hair out of the ponytail and redo it, trying to blank out my mind.
Chad.MyChad in that photo.
When I focus on my hands, Chad’s sticky hair coats them, blood seeping between my fingers as I scream for help in a deserted street. My chest aches at the memory. With my eyes closed, I swallow, and my throat is scratchy. I pushed these memories down so far I didn’t think they’d ever resurface.
It’s been twenty years. Might as well be yesterday.
I will get answers. When he died, I was too young; I didn’t understand. Seeing his picture on the wall is like having a window pried open in a hot, stuffy room.
I’m not closing it again.
War might be inevitable.
If the O’Malleys killed Chad, I’ll be the one firing the first shot.
Chapter Eleven
When I come out of the bathroom, there are fifteen sets of male eyes sizing me up. Some are part of O’Malley’s crew and others are Lorcan’s. One of Derry’s men smirks at me, and he telegraphs his smart-ass comment before it ever leaves his lips.
“Morning sickness? Lorcan knock you up already?” He chuckles and checks the other guys for a reaction.
Witty responses light up my brain, and I sift through them, rejecting the ones that’ll get me killed. “No, asshole. Food poisoning. Next time I have the urge to vomit, I’ll aim at you, shall I?”
A few of his buddies stifle a laugh behind their hands. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s puked at the sight of him,” one of them says, laughing.
The door to the office swings back forcefully, and Lorcan storms out, Antonio and Ian close behind him. His focus sweeps over me before he says, “We’re done here. The terms are shit.”
Derry leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. Unlike Lorcan and Finn, his arms bulge from fat instead of muscles. Personal fitness must not be a priority. The men fall into formation behind Lorcan with me at the rear.
“Once you cool down, you’ll know I’m right, Lorcan.” Derry raises his voice to get in one last dig as we near the end of the hallway. “Don’t be a fool like your old man.”
Lorcan stops in his tracks, and I put my hand on my gun. When he turns around, his men rotate with him. “Watch yourself, Derry. Your idiocy is showing.”
Derry’s chest goes red, and then the color migrates to his face. “You’re gonna have to come crawling back to me for this deal after that comment. On your knees.”
“Not gonna happen. Hell’ll freeze over first.” Lorcan’s arms are loose at his sides, and then he jerks his head for us to move out.
Derry’s eyes narrow at me, and he sneers. “Collar your bitch, Lorcan. Hands on guns mean bullets start flying.”
He’s talking about me, but I don’t move my hand. Derry could shoot me in the back. I don’t want to be gunned down. I want to know why Chad was murdered. And once I know, people will pay.
“What’d you call her?” Lorcan spits out, his stride carrying him back down the hall. His hand reaches inside his own jacket and extracts his gun. Pointing it at Derry’s face, Lorcan’s rage is spewing out of him as he says, “You show her the same respect you show my men, or you’ll take a bullet as proof I’m serious.”
Five other men train their guns on Lorcan. There’s a weapon in each of my hands, and I rotate them to different targets, trying to gauge who might be trigger-happy.
Antonio appears in my peripheral vision, guns raised. Ian’s shoulder brushes mine as he takes his position beside me. The other men better have our back. If we’re shooting our way out, this is going to be chaos. The hallway with the bathroom is on my right. Escape is straight down the hall.
“Easy, Lorcan.” Derry doesn’t take his eyes off me. “She’s not worth a war.”
“It’s not gonna be a war, Derry. It’ll be a massacre. Yours.” Lorcan readies his gun, his attention never shifting from Derry’s face. “Apologize to her.”
There’s a cacophony of guns adjusting behind me.
Derry laughs. “This isn’t about her. But, fine.” He tips his chin at me. “I apologize for my language.” He lets the end of the gun connect with his forehead. “We both know this is about your pride, and it’s got nothin’ to do with her.”
Lorcan’s jaw tightens, and he lowers his gun. “We’re done here. You hear me, Derry?”