Page 63 of Free to Judge

“I obviously do. None of you should have the kind of knowledge you do. It’s for your own good. I’m doing my damndest to keep you all safe.”

“Are you? By doing what?” Laura’s question silences the room. I suspect if she had a scalpel in her hands just then, she would have shanked Declan. “Was it considered helping when you got one of the men who held me hostage released on a technicality?”

Well, that answers that. Laura definitely recognizes Declan.

Liam sighs. “Sweetheart, listen to them.”

Her head twists on Liam slowly. She hisses, “As you were aware of this, hush your mouth if you know what’s good for you, Liam.”

His eyes plead for mercy—as if he doesn’t know better than to expect any. “I knew Dec when we worked together at the agency. I recommended him for the job at Hudson. Yes, I knew he was working undercover inside the Byrnes’ organization.”

Uncle Caleb clears his throat. “Right. Laura, I might have forgotten to mention that.”

Laura and her mother both track Uncle Caleb with their eyes with equally lethal glares. Even as Aunt Cass inhales sharply, Laura blasts her father. “You seem to forget quite a bit these days, Father. Perhaps we should look into getting you some occupational therapy at the hospital to assist you with your defects.”

Jon shakes his head before his gaze lands on Declan. “Yeah, you’re on your own, buddy, for whatever they dish out.”

Declan’s jaw drops, flabbergasted. “Are you for real?”

He points at his twin and then his mother. “They scare me.”

Declan points at me. “Well, your cousin frustrates and scares the ever-loving hell out of me, but you don’t see me backing down when it comes to her safety, do you?”

Jon’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’d rather ask for forgiveness than beg for permission if I know I can keep her alive for one more damn minute.” Hispalms slap down on the polished mahogany. The sound echoes around the room.

Silence reigns in the room at his declaration. That’s when Uncle Caleb speaks up. “Does everybody appreciate the seriousness of this discussion?”

Dad steeples his fingers together. “Everyone needs to listen to the real story of what Declan’s doing.” Methodically, he recounts every moment of how he never gave up looking for his and Aunt Cassidy’s father. That Jack Marshall, as a distant relative, was accepted as a member of the Irish Mob. “The Byrnes aren’t a wannabe group, Cass. They control most of the northeast. It wouldn’t surprise me if at least a quarter of your clients are in some way related to them.”

“Do you think he knows who I am?” Cassidy asks with a calmness I envy.

“No. He might speculate, but he doesn’t know.”

She relaxes marginally at that. Mama wraps her arm around her shoulder. But their relief is short-lived when my father drops a bomb in the center of the conference room table. “I’m absolutely certain he knows who Kalie is and has been entertaining the idea of going after her, which is why I’ve upped her protection.”

If someone were to hook the room up to a Holter monitor, it would send off alarms due to the way emotions in the room are spiking and plummeting with each new revelation. Dad swings his gaze in my direction before jerking up his chin. “I promised you—complete transparency.”

“You knew?” Mama shouts at me.

“Only for the last few days.” My eyes find Declan’s. His swirl with a dichotomy of emotion—fury and support. “Declan told me the truth after a confrontation at Hudson. At first, I thought Dad was just being his natural autocratic self because I’d slugged Declan at court.”

He grumbles, “I wouldn’t say you slugged me, Kalie. Punched me, sure.”

My mother’s voice could re-freeze the polar ice caps. “I heard she landed you on your ass with a single hook, Mr. Conian. Considering you’re a trained agent and my daughter isn’t, I’d give the round to her.”

“Personally, I’d have preferred if she’d landed a second swing at my brother—but there’s still time.” Laura bares her teeth at Jon in a facsimile of a smile.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jon argues.

“There you go making the point for your sister,” Aunt Cassidy interjects before her son can say another word. “What’s our motto?”

He mumbles it under his breath.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” She holds her hand to her ear.

“Family first.”