Page 16 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I feel sick. Not puke my guts out ill, but the kind of nauseous you can’t dissipate with pink liquid, ginger ale, or saltines. No, this is born of disappointment from being let down by people who swore they’d always protect me.

As I approached my father’s office, I didn’t hear anything. Assuming he had engaged his security measures, I waited patiently knowing the kind of clients he dealt with often meant he couldn’t discuss certain cases with our family.

But never did I expect when the soundproofing lifted Declan’s rising voice from inside. Nor did I expect the calculated way my family intended to keep information from me—us—about what was circling around us like sharks in the water.

Maybe I should have.

It’s a betrayal on so many levels I’m not quite certain what to do other than trust the only person I can in this moment—myself.

I shove open the door to my father’s office, as a throbbing heat of fury and disgust surges through my veins, letting my instincts take over.

When they realize I heard some of their conversation, my family’s faces flinch.

Good. They deserve the agony I’ve just suffered.

But Declan? His eyes meet mine head on. Of all of them, he has the least to be shamed for. He didn’t hold my hand growing up. He didn’t make vows in ink. He didn’t promise fidelity in truth.

No, all he did was smile at me and make me wonder and want.

“They say that if you eavesdrop on whispered conversations, you’re likely to only hear insults.

But I can’t help but think the shadows reveal secrets that strip away any illusion of decency,” I declare.

My pulse pounds in my ears as my eyes clash with Declan’s—a silent exchange that nearly strips the air from my lungs as his burn into mine with an intensity I last saw at my law school graduation.

Need.

Want.

Desire.

I try to steady my trembling hands, already assembling the words for a tirade well overdue. “How could you allow such a clusterfuck to happen?” My father, Uncle Caleb, and Liam wince. “The sheer gall of egoism and duplicity in this room burns through my very core.”

“Kalie…,” my father pleads.

Ignoring him, I step further into the room—a room my father built during my mother’s pregnancy so that he wouldn’t be too far away from us—and fix him with a look that reeks of contempt.

“Tell me I misunderstood what I overheard. My—your—Jack Marshall is still alive?” I demand, my voice cracking like shattered glass.

Their silence speaks volumes. In my mind’s eye, I replay every syllable I overheard in the corridor once the soundproofing was lifted—a twisted conversation that at first made me believe my family was making deals with the devil. That is, until the devil was revealed to be the hero.

Declan is nothing more than an accessory to a hidden agenda. My anger flares and my stare shifts, aiming toward Declan, whose face is coolly impassive. I tilt my head and sneer, “Since you seem to be at the center of this, you get to explain.”

When he hesitates, I can’t control myself. “Now!” I bellow so loud and sudden, all four men start.

Finally, he speaks—his voice measured. “I’m not who you think I am.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You mean the willful lawyer to kidnapping psychopaths?”

For just a heartbeat, his deep chocolate brown eyes flicker with regret—a flash of something vulnerable before he resumes his controlled composure. “Not in the way you believe me to be.” His gaze darts then to my father, who hesitates a heartbeat before offering a slow, weary nod.

“Tell her, Dec. We have to trust her,” my father finally murmurs.

“Gee, thanks, Dad. Trust me with what?”

Declan shifts his weight. That’s when the man I thought I knew seems to melt away, discarded like a wrinkled suit.

The man standing before me straightens abruptly, shoulders squared.

Declan’s posture suddenly radiates authority.

In that moment, a chill runs through me as I’m reminded of my father and my uncles.

He mirrors the same exact power they command.

My eyes dart to the other three men in the room. “Who is he?” I demand. Then, without giving them the slightest chance to respond, I turn to Declan. “Who are you?”

Leaning casually against the small conference table fashioned from polished mahogany—the very table my father insisted on because it reminds him of the one at Amaryllis Events—I notice the ease of his stance.

Raking a hand through his tousled hair, he meets my glare head on.

His low warning vibrates in the charged air.

“I can’t tell you more than the bare bones, Kalie. ”

The ease at which he addresses me should alarm me. Instead, it causes that annoying quiver to run up my spine. To tamper it down, I tap an impatient rhythm with my toe on the hardwood and cross my arms, my chest tight with indignation. “Why not?”

His jaw sets, and he grits out, “Because I don’t need another woman’s blood on my conscience.”

Instinctively, I lean forward in fear. “My cousin?”

“No—my partner’s.” The words hang in the air like a cruel twist. My lips snap open in shock before he exhales a steep, bitter sigh. “My name is Declan Conian and I’m an attorney—”

“I know that.” Even as I bite out the words, a litany of emotions cross his face—steely determination, a simmering rage, and something elusive I can’t quite name.

He answers, “Before that, I worked for the FBI.”

My gaze darts away toward Liam, who ducks his head. Something rotten settles inside my stomach before I ask, “And who, exactly, do you work for now?”

“For the last three years, undercover with Hudson Investigations. I’ve been working to take down the Byrne family’s entire stronghold.”

A low, bitter laugh escapes me as I turn my gaze away from Declan to stare into my father’s eyes. “Of course you have.”

“Kalie, sweetheart,” my father pleads.

I slice my hand in the air. “Stop. You couldn’t be bothered to tell me the truth before.”

“I was trying to—”

“So help me God, Dad. If you finish that sentence with ‘protect me,’ I won’t be responsible for my actions. You, all of you”—I let my gaze sweep around the room encompassing every member of my family—“have lied to us. Now, I want someone who hasn’t to tell me the truth.”

At first, no one speaks. “Well, that answers a lot. Let’s start with you, Declan.” I lean closer, voice low and probing. “You said you were FBI. How did this band of misfits recruit you?”

Tension fills the space as his jaw clenches visibly. “It happened a few years after I saw you graduate from law school.”

His answer clearly shocks my father. “Wait? What? You two know each other?”

My eyes narrow. “We crossed paths prior to our—interlude—at the courthouse.”

“Kalie.” My father’s voice holds a note of warning. “Tell me everything.”

“No. Right now, I’m the one asking the questions.” My tone is absolute.

“I need to know everything about how you and Declan met.”

“Funny, you’ve had years to ask him that very question. Right now, it’s my turn. Why were you at Harvard that day?”

“I went to hear Director Skorniak speak. My boss at the time—Holder—suggested it would be enlightening.”

“And was it?” I challenge.

To my surprise, Declan quotes, “‘Judge carefully. Rule righteously. Ensure your heart, your mind, your expertise, and above all, the law will ensure future generations can live the life they deserve.’”

I give him credit for remembering what I consider to be the best part of the commencement speech, which leads me to ask, “Did you know who I was before that day?”

“I had no idea the woman who captivated me across the tent as she enthusiastically applauded was going to end up being the daughter of my future employer.”

I study him—the subtle bruise on his chin peeking from beneath a shadow of stubble. Declan’s breath shudders out. “It wasn’t until a few years later Liam contacted me.” He nods at the man in question.

I glance in Liam’s direction, who jerks up his chin in confirmation.

Anger resurfaces. “Then why are you working to get the Tiberis released?” The words fall from my lips before I can restrain them.

“If you stand for truth, justice, and the good ole Hudson way, why would you inadvertently harm our family?”

A mocking smile curves his lips. “You believe I’m actually working to help them?”

“Wouldn’t you?” I retort. Before he can muster a response, I whirl around to confront my father and uncle. “Do you really trust him?”

Uncle Caleb speaks, his tone edged with exasperation.

“Before he left the FBI, Declan was part of a task force where he worked as a handler…” My uncle’s voice trails off before he picks up with his more recent history with Hudson.

“Since he joined our team, he’s worked exclusively providing intelligence to Jon and Liam. ”

“Excuse me?” My heart pounds against my ribs.

“He’s not a criminal, Kalie,” Caleb defends.

Declan crosses his arms tightly over his chest, his voice a murmur laced with defiance and more than a touch of regret. “I can’t exactly say my hands are clean, Caleb. Not anymore.”

Liam’s patience snaps. “Doing what you’ve done undercover has been documented as necessary to maintain your cover.

” With that, the two bicker in a heated back-and-forth, debating whether Declan will face prison time for turning a blind eye to burglary, carjacking, and a litany of other nonviolent offenses—crimes committed in the murky shadows while utilizing his apparently clever mind to bring down the Byrne family.

My mind whirls with the revelations. “Why didn’t anyone correct my assumptions right after the courthouse incident?” My question slices through the bickering like a knife.

Silence falls until my father strides forward, seizing both my arms in a grip meant to calm yet is undermined by his quavering tone. “Kalie, sweetheart, we had to let the lie play out.”

A pained admission follows from Declan. “Because you’re right, I got one of the bastard’s out who hurt your cousin.

” Every word of his honesty stabs at me.

He continues, and despite the turmoil he’s churning up, I find my heart twisting with reluctant empathy.

“I willingly combed through every piece of evidence, searching for a reason to get Sal Tiberi out. Do you know why?”

“You tell me,” I challenge, voice cracking.

A heavy pause precedes his confession. “I did it for love.” His admission halts me in my tracks.

“You see,” he presses, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

He scuffs them against the floor, uncaring of scuffing them as he’s lost in regret, “not long after, my partner—a woman with a husband and two children who I loved as much as you love your family—vanished. That is until her bare head was delivered to the FBI office.” He lifts his eyes once more, only this time they’re devastated by something only his mind’s eye can see.

“The forensic pathologists said her skin was peeled from her face while she was still alive.”

His words root me in place, my eyes never leaving his. “It’s been years, and I can still dredge up the memory of the agony on her face before someone did her a favor and severed her head from her shoulders. That’s what was on her face when they pulled her head from that box.”

“Oh God.” My whisper is as loud as a shout in the silenced room.

“So, yes. In trying to get justice for Tanya, I’ve shaken lives, broken trust, crushed innocent hearts—and until you threw a punch at my face, I was no closer to figuring out what happened.”

Then, like a mask slipping back into place, Declan transforms once more into the feared Mafia lawyer.

Slowly, he steps forward until our shoulders align, his presence imposing.

Without turning to face me, he murmurs coolly, “I’m sorry what I did in the line of duty harmed you, Ms. Marshall, but frankly, I don’t give a shit.

I’m a little busy trying to hunt down murderers. ”

In one swift motion, he strides to the door and hurls it wide open, storming out and leaving me flanked by men I’d loved and worshipped my whole life and another I’d grown to respect just as fully .

Trusted implicitly with everything from family squabbles to broken hearts to celebrations.

But now, after overhearing their whispered conversation and learning the raw truth behind Declan’s actions, I feel betrayed.

“You both are the problem, not him,” I accuse sharply.

“Kalie,” my father snaps, his voice laced with exasperation and hurt.

I shake my head, stepping back. “No. It boils down to trust.”

“We trust—”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t trust us, and here I am, caught right in the middle of your operation.

Hell, Dad, before I was born, you didn’t trust Mama with the truth about your own stalker and you nearly lost both of us.

” His face turns chalky with shame. “When are you going to understand that sharing your struggles doesn’t make you weak?

It only gives us more reason to stand by you.

” With that final proclamation hanging heavy in the air, I hurry out the door just as Declan had minutes earlier.

I decide against returning to work that day.

Instead, I inform the agent assigned to me to tail me once I leave Hudson.

I need to be away from probing looks and eyes that see too deeply for my own good.

I know that if I were to cross paths with my mother or her sisters now, my face would announce that the world has gone mad.

I’m now a custodian of secrets that push down on my chest like an unyielding weight.

Declan Conian is so much more than a gorgeous face in the crowd.

What he is to me is yet to be determined.