Page 14 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Every morning since I was forced to meet Declan’s eyes across the parking lot at Amaryllis Events as I read out my apology for my “emotionally charged behavior that was not as a result of Mr. Conian’s direct behavior but as a residual trauma from my own experience with his clients,” my morning run has become more than a training exercise—it’s become my salvation.

Especially since I can’t sleep for thoughts of Declan’s intense stare. It wasn’t fury but something else burning in the depths of his eyes. A part of me wants to sweep the memory under the rug, but the part that was compelled by him all those years ago? Well, that part of me can’t let it go.

So, even if I weren’t already training for three upcoming marathons, I’d be out here relishing every mile, punishing my body for betraying my mind. This time of day, when I’m pushing myself in a way so few can, is the only time when my mind isn’t complicated by that silent stare.

Without breaking my stride, a smug smirk tugs at my lips.

Today’s ten miles are brutalizing my newest trainee, Jon.

Every agonized, wretched moment of my cousin’s torment tastes far sweeter than any angry girl playlist I could listen to as I hone in on each precise, pounding step and measure every single breath I take.

Sure, there are agents who’d have killed to swap places with Jon—agents I’ve spent months with in the past fine tuning their training to conquer the New York City Marathon.

But no. Today, retribution drives my pace.

It isn’t practical, but the feverish burn to punish Jon for his behavior in such a small fashion eases some of the humiliation of seeing my face on every gossip rag apologizing.

To him.

After a few hours, I leave my cousin in a sweaty heap before bounding up the stairs to our Craftsman. With a wiggle of my fingers, I call out, “Send someone with a little more stamina to follow me to work.”

His response is a one fingered salute.

Hours later, as I make my way through the back path between Amaryllis Events and my reward for putting in ten miles, I try to untangle my feelings. On one hand, nothing should ever override the sacred bonds of love and loyalty our family holds.

Still, I know I’ll eventually forgive Jon because he’s family. His willingness to even form a loose-knit alliance with Declan has to do with business. I’m not certain why I still need to be protected like I’m the Hope Diamond, but if it eases the tension in the family, I’ll deal.

But my guilt? I have to be honest with myself.

It chafes knowing a man I’ve fantasized about is so completely out of bounds.

It’s time to admit it’s myself I can’t forgive.

How can I trust my instincts when they wanted to lead me to Declan all those years ago and here he is now—someone who is willing to strike out at the heart of those I love?

My judgment sucks, plain and simple.

Barging into The Coffee Shop, not even the lure of a mocha can force the thoughts of Declan from my mind. Maybe it’s because over the weekend when we got together at her new place, Laura said, “He’s doing his job, Kalie. Just like you do. Isn’t that justice?”

“But what if…?” I choked on the rest of my question before it fully formed.

Laura’s no idiot. She laid my fears out brutally. “What if something happens to me? Again?”

“Yes.”

“Then it happens. This time, we’ll confront it. Together.”

“Together. Right,” I spat. My words laced with venom.

Her face froze. “You’re still angry with Jon.”

In that instant, my rage erupted like a volcano. “What made him leave me like that, Laura? He stood there and watched me get arrested before helping Declan—” I swallowed hard, unable to shake the feeling of disappointment and disdain that emanated from him.

Laura exhaled a long-held breath. “I have no idea. But I have to trust Jon. We’re family, Kalie.”

Yet my mind swirls with unspeakable possibilities. What hold do the Byrnes have over Jon? Is it more than just an alliance?

After hurling a curt “Thanks” to Zane—resident hermit, culinary genius, and the man Reggie has the hots for—I snake my way through the alley back toward Amaryllis Events. A swig of the sweetened caffeine calms me as I murmur, “Jon deserves every excruciating mile of his punishment.”

“What punishment is that?” A voice deep and dark, as smooth as the melted chocolate on my tongue, startles me.

Spinning around to face him, a dangerous feeling rises deep inside.

Sheer indignation flows through me at how criminally good he looks.

How can a man with so few morals saunter about society with no warning sign flashing “Danger”?

And damn, I hate to admit, even if the man represents every newsworthy felon, Declan is no slouch in the looks department.

With every step I take in his direction, I check out his windswept black hair, towering six-foot-two frame, and the glint on his thousand-dollar wingtips before drawling, “Came to do your dirty work yourself? Consider me impressed.”

Before he can retort verbally, or I can insult him further, I’m slammed hard enough against the nearest wall to have my back scrape against the brick.

Declan’s predatory hand constricts around my throat, trapping me in a steel cage of his body.

In the next heartbeat, a screeching car roars past. Somehow.

I twist my head, desperate to catch a glimpse of its plates.

There are none.

When I rotate my head in his direction to demand answers, I meet a pair of searing brown eyes locked onto mine. His voice, a low rumble barely audible over my frantic heart, carries a furious warning. “I thought you were protected by guards whenever you stepped out, Kalie?”

“I just ran out for coffee,” I retort, voice strained due to the increasing tension of the hand at my throat.

He mutters something under his breath. I don’t catch much but I hear the word “cousin” distinctly. I snap, “I’ll deal with my own cousin. Thank you not so much.”

He leans forward, his hand releasing. Now, he uses his forearm to crush against my windpipe, causing me to struggle for air for a split second. “Does any of this strike you as a joke? A car almost ran you down. You have bodyguards for a reason. Your. Life. Is. In. Danger.”

Despite the narrow cut of my skirt, I manage to lift my leg high enough to get leverage so I can slam my heel against his instep. He staggers backward, shocked. Wrenching free of his vice-like grip, I clutch my throat as I rasp, “My life is endangered because of you.”

He bellows, “No! It’s because of you! Don’t you get the Byrnes are tracking your every move?”

I’ve always prided myself on my razor-sharp mind, my relentless athleticism, and my unyielding determination. Never before had I felt such consuming passion and fury, but now it’s all that fuels me. “Then call your damn clients off!”

He seizes my shoulders and drags me up against his body. I’m momentarily stunned by the fierce thump of his heart against my ear, and then his hoarse whisper shatters the silence. “It isn’t that simple, firebrand. God, I wish it were.”

He releases me, but not before ordering, “Run. Now. Back to your office. I’ll have someone tailing you until you get there.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I tear out of the alley, not daring to look back.

But what does it mean when, an hour later, Jon shows up at my door, offering a fresh mocha with a troubled expression?

Gone is the infuriating arrogance I once adored.

Instead, his presence reignites the lingering panic from the alley, even as my heart solidifies my bitter resolve.

I stand behind my desk and cross my arms, trying to leash the storm raging within.

“A mocha? Really? Did Conian pick up the tab too?” I spit, venom dripping from every syllable.

“Thought you’d like it,” he replies, his tone annoyingly calm. “And I paid for it.”

“Wow,” I snap back, eyes rolling in disbelief. “Look at you, Mr. Benevolence. Seems to me you’re just covering all your damned bases lately.”

“Even the ones you refuse to admit threaten you?” His voice is a low, controlled counterpoint to my seething rage. “Kalie, what the hell happened?”

“What happened? Your pal tried to choke me, and I nearly got flattened by a car.”

His eyes narrow as he wrestles with the gravity of what he hears. “Choke you?” he echoes, as if to verify the truth in my words. Not that I’ve lied to him. Ever.

“Yeah, Jon. After a car almost ran me down.”

His nonchalant facade crumbles. “You’re sure?”

“No. I’m lying. If you doubt me, ask your new bestie. As much as I hate to admit it, Conian saved me.”

Dropping the pretense, his voice vibrates with raw emotion. “You’re not playing around. You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” I savor the word, letting its weight land like a crushing blow. “Didn’t expect your new friend to become my knight in tarnished armor.”

“That’s not—Kalie, he’s not what you think.”

“Oh, spare me! Then what is he? A criminal misfit toy? Was he left behind instead of being delivered at Christmas because he’s a mob lawyer with a heart of gold?”

“Just listen for once!” Jon snaps, his eyes blazing with urgency. He slams my door behind him, trapping the two of us together.

My anger temporarily abates as I react to his panic versus my own. He snarls, “We’re in this together now. Me and you.”

“We’re nothing together right now, Jon.” I watch as my words strike deep.

He flinches before he continues, “Hudson is chasing something huge—bigger than you can imagine. But one false move, and it all falls apart.”

“Falls apart?” I repeat softly, my fury about to boil over at the idea me and my loved ones are in danger because of a case—a fucking case.

“I’ve got informants, placements. Declan is our in. One miscalculation and everything collapses.”

“So, you’re gambling with everything? With our damn family?”

His silence hollows the room with unspoken dread.

“All for some vague promise of an in?” I demand, incredulous.

“Yes. No!” He rakes his hand through his hair, frustration raw in his tone. “This is so far beyond anything you can possibly imagine.”

Disbelief mingles with the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. “And that means trusting him?”

“It means trusting me,” he insists fervently. “Stop making mistakes, Kalie.”

“Trust you?” My laugh is brittle and riddled with scorn. “Right.”

He steps closer, and for a fleeting moment, the cousin I once cherished flickers in his eyes. “Kalie, you are what I’m fighting for.”

My anger falters, but only just. “Then why does it feel like you’ve gone over to the other side?”

Before he can say more, my phone shatters the tension with its ringing clamor. My father’s number flashes on the screen to AWOLNATION. Jon’s eyes dart from the phone to mine, urgency and dread coalescing on his face. “Answer it.”

I lift my chin, defiant. “Get out.”

“Kalie—”

“Out!” My command cracks like a whip, leaving no room for negotiation. He retreats, his eyes a swirling tempest of emotions I can’t untangle. Alone now, I snatch up the phone and bark into it, “Dad?”

His voice is an anchor in the chaos, steady yet laced with worry. “Kalie! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I insist, though each word feels like I’m stretching the truth so thin you can see through it. “Someone tried to run me over.”

“We know,” he replies grimly. “I just got word. They’re getting desperate.”

“They?” My heart sinks as dread seizes me.

“Conian called Jon, who called me before he came to see you. You didn’t take your protection with you.” His tone is a mix of disappointment, fear, and something unspoken. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“He saved me,” I admit, reluctant but truthful.

My father mutters to himself, “They’re more unstable than we feared.”

“Who?” I snap back, bitterness seeping into my voice.

“Kalie,” Dad’s tone softens, “please listen to everything we tell you to do. Don’t act out because you’re angry. We cannot afford to lose—”

“I wouldn’t give someone the satisfaction of dying.”

“They’ll do whatever it takes. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, images of that speeding car and Declan’s choking warning flaring in my mind. “I do.”

“We need to talk about this,” Dad insists gravely.

“Fine. But nothing will change my mind.” I hear the resignation even as I seethe.

“I’m sending a car to get you.”

“Like hell you are!” I retort, voice raw with defiance and fury. But there’s no one on the line any longer.

My father disconnects, assuming his will is stronger than mine.

I swear to myself if I didn’t want answers, I wouldn’t go based on his beck and call, but I do want answers.

No, I need them.