Page 53 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Leaning against the balustrade overlooking the ballroom, my eyes scan the crowd waiting to be announced before they descend to the party.

My eyes constantly seek her out. She’s a beacon amid the crowd with her long dark locks carelessly swept up and a neckline plunging so deep, it’s a wonder her dress is managing to hold in her ample cleavage.

More than one man has admired her, but she’s oblivious to it. Then there’s her escort—the infamous Peter Freeman. If I didn’t know the man was her cousin, I’d be ready to commit murder at her being so at ease on his arm.

Still, my heart clenches at her radiance. I’m not certain what’s brighter—the crystal chandeliers or her effervescent laugh. I can’t prevent the smile that graces my lips as I watch her. Kalie is always beautiful, but when she smiles, it reminds me of how much brighter she has made my life.

The emcee announces her uncle, Jared Dalton—partner at Watson, Rubenstein, and Dalton—escorted by his husband, Ryan Lockwood. Then, he announces Keene, escorted by Alison.

Finally, I hear the words that take me back to the beginning of our journey, through the time we spent together, bringing us to where we are now.

“Katherine Laura Marshall, Harvard Law Class of 2018. Amaryllis Events. Escorted by Peter Freeman.”

Kalie descends the steps confidently, my smile disintegrating when I recognize how carelessly I treated her.

I was a fool not to fall on my knees begging for her forgiveness for my idiocy in trying to subdue my feelings before I ever left her home that morning.

I should have let her know long before then about the intricacies of my cover—including the chop shop and meetings at Velvet Vice.

I should have given her a choice, and by failing to do so, I may have self-destructed the only thing that matters—our love. With that knowledge, I make my way over and hand my invitation to the announcer. He glances down, offering me a small frown. “Sir, you didn’t indicate any employment.”

“I know.” I don’t offer him any more or any less.

Half the people in the room who haven’t announced their employment are former presidents or heads of agencies who received boisterous rounds of applause.

I won’t receive the same, but many in the room will wonder if I’m a part of the intelligence community or if I’m in between jobs.

Right now, it might be a crap shoot if they’re right.

He lifts his microphone to his lips before proclaiming, “Declan Sean Conian. Harvard Law, Class of 2010.” He pauses a moment before sliding the card into the champagne bucket, where he’s placing all the invitations.

“Be cautious descending the stairs, Mr. Conian. Welcome to the Fair Harvard Annual Reunion.”

“Thank you.”

I find her eyes on me as I descend the steps. Then Keene mutters something, making me wish I had enhanced hearing, as her family chuckles before moving off in the opposite direction I’m in.

For the next hour or so, I trail her at a distance.

I come close to ripping the eyeballs out of a few men who can’t seem to meet her eyes instead of her plunging décolletage.

When they manage to look away and meet my feral glare, they falter before stammering something—likely incoherent—and shuffling away.

That’s right, fuckers. Get the hell away from her. She’s taken.

After a while, she and her cousin separate from the rest of their group and I decide to make my approach. He tags me first. The second he does, his lip curls. I find it amusing he thinks it will have the same effect on me as it has on the other twenty or so men who have approached Kalie.

I let my fingertips graze against her elbow. When she turns around, the world stills.

Her dark red lips part as she sucks in a gasp of air. She must steal mine because I can’t quite get my lungs to work. Then my brain reminds my organs to work. She pales even as I reach out and murmur, “Firebrand.”

Peter mutters, “I’m going to get your dad before I kill this guy here and now. Don’t move, Kalie.” There must be a god because I’ll take the small favor of my impending death if it means we’re alone in the middle of the swarming crowd.

Up close, her dress is a work of art. Jeweled straps lead into a satin bodice with a black overlay that turns the sharp red into Harvard crimson.

Her skirt isn’t crimson as it appears from a distance, but a multitude of layers that reflect again the depth of not only the dress but the woman wearing it.

I open my mouth to compliment her, but she beats me to it. “You look nice.”

“You look exquisite, Kalie.” Reaching out, I lift her wrist to my lips. I need to feel the pulse of her heart against my lips since the location I truly want to place them might be visible, but would be utterly scandalous to this crowd.

She jerks her wrist back before hissing, “Are you insane?”

Instead of answering the question about my sanity—since the fact I was a damn idiot about how I treated her is clear evidence I wasn’t, I lean in to share with her the information I haven’t even told Keene yet. “It’s over, firebrand. That’s why I came tonight.”

While I was sitting at home, staring at the Fair Harvard invitation, knowing exactly where Kalie would be, I received a call from Ace.

He informed me, “We swept up the rest of the Tiberis. Sal is back in jail after singing like a canary. You know he was at Velvet Vice the night you gave me the intel, and we raided it.”

“I do.” Fortunately, the team found Nerissa and immediately took her testimony before arranging witness protection, so she’ll be around to testify in a few years.

Her full story, shared with me by Holder, is nothing less than heartbreaking.

I just hope she’s able to reunite with the people who matter most to her.

Maybe someday.

“As for the Irish, Paul, James, and Thomas Byrne have all been taken into custody.”

“And Marshall?” I asked. “What about him?”

“They’re on their way to get him right now,” he crowed. “It’s over, Dec! You did it!”

Kalie drags me back to the present. “What do you mean, ‘it’s over’?”

My voice drops to a bare whisper as I brush my lips against her ear. “The Feds took down the Tiberis. They’re in the process of rounding up the remaining Byrnes.”

I should have known better. Kalie isn’t the type of woman to have had a normal reaction. Instead of her body sagging in relief, she takes a step back and offers me congratulations on a job well done.

I inform her that I came to her the night we FaceTimed. Her cool, “I wasn’t there,” churns up acid in my stomach.

“I know. I know you left. That was probably for the best. It freed me up to focus on doing my job.”

“Did it?”

Warning bells go off in my head. Still, I need her to know the truth. Daring much more than I should, I cup her cheek. “I meant what I said that night, Kalie.”

“Which part?”

“The part where I told you I’d come back for you.”

He cups my cheek. “I meant what I said that night, Kalie.”

“Which part?”

“I kept texting you because I wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I didn’t beg you to come home the way I wanted to because I didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

She moves further away. I step closer.

That’s when she hits me with a reality check. “It wasn’t the danger that drove me away, Declan. You broke me. That day, you decided my heart wasn’t worth caring for.”

I feel the blood leave my face. “No. I mean, that’s not what I meant…”

“Whether or not you intended to, that’s what you did.

Frankly, your argument sucks. You’re predicating your whole case on two main arguments—the first is that I’d be waiting when you came crawling back.

The second being I’d be willing to forgive you for your mighty list of transgressions since it was for the greater good. Right?”

“I was hoping the news would…”

“What? Make me so happy for you that it would make me want to talk with you?” Bitterness is evident in every word she flings at me. “Go back to law school, counselor. I think you’ve spent too long outside of a courtroom.”

I stop her just before she storms off. My chest is heaving. Her eyes are the color of the deepest part of the sea. “What, Declan?”

“Is there really no hope for us, firebrand?”

“I deserve more than to be ambushed, Declan. I deserve to be wooed all over again. I expect you to earn back my trust. Then I’ll decide what happens next.”

When she says that, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back her trust. Even if that means loving her from afar.

I watch her as she walks away, searching for her cousin or parents. I cringe when she’s stopped by—not a shock—another man. This time though, she stiffens when another man approaches her from behind.

That’s when I notice the glint caused by the chandelier off the object in his hand.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. My heart skips a beat as panic slides through my veins, fast and furious. I take my eyes off her for a second as I scan the room for Keene, her uncles, her cousin, but I can’t spot any of them.

When I turn my head back to where I last saw her, she’s no longer there. Neither are the two men. The sudden realization has me on high alert. Where is she?

My instincts scream something is wrong.

Immediately, I begin pushing through the crowd, moving quickly. I finally lay eyes on her cousin, who is holding court with a gaggle of women. His smile falters and he immediately excuses himself. We meet at the edge of the buffet table. “Have you seen her?”

“The last time I saw her, she was with you,” Peter snarls.

Seconds later, we’re joined by Keene, who is holding his phone out like it’s a tracking device. He jerks up his chin. “She’s outside.”

My stomach drops. “She…she was just here.”

His voice is lower, clipped. “Now, she’s moving.”

“Oh God, Keene. She…she was just talking with me. Someone—someone took her.”

“What happened?”

“I got the call from Holder. They were taking in your father tonight.”

The blood drains from Keene’s face. “This is his play. He’s going to try…he took my…” Keene’s free hand grips my lapel and jerks me forward. His voice is lethal as he pulls himself together. “We’re going to get her out. In the meantime, you’ll catch me up on everything.”

Before I can agree, he spies someone over my shoulder. “Alison.”

I turn, already preparing for the worst. Her hand reaches out and grasps my arm in a grip so tight, I’m certain there will be a bruise left with five small fingers. “Do whatever you have to. Bring my daughter home alive.”

Then she grabs Keene’s face and kisses him hard. “Go.”

He shoves me forward toward the side door. “Move.”

Neither of us stops until we’re at street level. The moment we reach it, an unmarked SUV pulls up. A blond with cold blue eyes is driving; a black-haired man is next to him. “We dropped off our primary. Where are we headed?”

Keene looks down at his phone and snaps off coordinates before making introductions. “McCullough, Clifton, meet the jackass.”

The dark-haired man shifts around, giving me a once-over. “I’m Clifton.”

The driver weaving in and out of traffic like he’s stolen the vehicle mutters, “McCullough. What did you do to get on Keene’s shit list?”

“I fell in love with his daughter.” Then I swallow before admitting, “Then I fucked everything up.”

McCullough mutters, “Yeah. You’d better hope you bleed.”

Clifton adds, “Because if not, Keene can still take you.”

Keene barks, “Jon’s meeting us there. What’s our ETA?”

“Fifteen minutes if we don’t get stuck on the bridge.”

“Then don’t get stuck on the bridge,” Keene snaps. “Bastard has my girl.”

Fortunately, we don’t get stuck, and we manage to craft a plan using the computer in the slick vehicle McCullough and Clifton have access to, as well as the small armory they keep in the back. By the time we meet up with Jon, I have hope we’ll be able to get her out alive.