"Maybe. Maybe not."
He was so damn cryptic. "You know I hate you." She glanced back at Declan. "Both of you."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. But let me tell you something about our family and maybe you'll hate Declan a little less. And understand him a little more."
Jess knew she should get up and tell Rory McCabe that she had no interest in understanding his son any more than she did now. But she didn't move.
Rory stretched his long legs out in front of him and settled in his chair. "My father came over from Ireland after the Second World War and literally carved himself a place in the East End of London. Gambling, prostitution, later on drugs-he didn't mind where the money came from. And he didn't care who he stepped on in the process."
"Sounds like a nice guy."
"Not even vaguely. He was killed in a revenge attack when I was twenty-one, and I took over the business."
"I bet that was hard."
"Yeah. It was also a whole lot of fun. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and trampled over anyone who stood in my way."
"Nice."
"'Nice' it was not, but I was just a kid. A lot of people wanted to see me go down, so I had to toughen up fast."
"So what changed you?"
"First Logan came along. His mother and I didn't last, and she made it as hard as possible for me to see him."
"Declan said you got custody when Logan was ten."
He looked her over. "So you've talked about this stuff with Declan."
"Not really. Just in passing, when it touched on the job."
"Oh yes, the 'job.' Anyway, Logan was already a total tearaway even at ten, not much hope keeping him on the straight and narrow. By then I'd met and married Declan's mother. Christ she was"-he shook his head-"different. And I wanted her, but she'd only have me if I went straight."
"Aw, the love of a good woman."
He laughed, and this time, across the way, Declan lifted his head and gave the two of them a narrow-eyed stare. So Rory had been right-Declan was quite aware of her presence. Could he actually be trying to make her jealous?
"I'm not sure I'd ever classify Judith as a 'good woman.' But she had determination. She was a perfectionist, and I was far from perfect and too set in my ways to change enough to satisfy her. But by the time Declan came along I knew I didn't want a son of mine living the same life I had. Always looking over his shoulder, expecting the cops to be behind him. Worrying that his kids would get caught up in some mess and end up inside."
"So the two of you decided Declan was going to be a 'good' boy."
"He was a good boy." He grinned. "It's in his genes."
"Right. Of course it is."
"But yeah, we might have drummed it in a little hard that he had a duty, couldn't afford to play up, get attention. Plus, just when he got to a troublesome age, Logan got put away. Declan blamed himself."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because Logan got Declan out of a fight and stayed behind to teach them a lesson for picking on his little brother. The police broke up the fight and one of the coppers accidentally got slugged in the face … by Logan."
"Oh. Nasty." Poor Declan.
"After that Declan didn't give us any trouble. The perfect son." He sounded almost sad at the notion. "Though he did ask for a Harley for his eighteenth birthday."
"Did you get him one?" He certainly hadn't had a Harley when she'd known him, she would have noticed.
"No, I got him a Porsche."
"Figures." She couldn't believe she felt sorry for someone for getting a Porsche for a present.
But really, what difference did this insight make? This conversation might have made her understand a little better why Declan was the way he was, and also why he'd dumped her all those years ago. But she'd already guessed a lot of it. She'd been leading him off the straight and narrow, but she reckoned she wasn't trying to take him anywhere he didn't really want to go deep down. It was the whole nature versus nurture thing. They'd brought Declan up to be well behaved, good, and to subdue his wilder nature, but that didn't mean it wasn't still there underneath, simmering away.
"I still don't get it," she said. "Why the meddling? Why aren't you and … Judith really pleased with the way he's turned out? He's … perfect."
"We want him to be happy."
"And he isn't?"
"He's going through the motions. And he's ready to explode."
She looked away, back to Declan who now stood in profile. So he could keep an eye on them? He seemed outwardly relaxed, but if she looked closely she could see a tic working in his cheek and his fingers flexing at his side. He glanced across and caught her gaze. A shiver of something-apprehension or anticipation, she wasn't sure which-ran through her.
Was he really on the point of exploding? And did she want to be around if that happened? But then he'd always given the impression of leashed power, of trouble locked tightly inside; it was what had drawn her to him. What had made her push and push at those locks to see if she could get to the real Declan.
Another shiver. This one settled low down in her belly.
Maybe it was time to get out of there. She could leave the whole no-more-sex conversation until another time. When she'd convinced herself that it was really the only option.
She pushed herself to her feet. Rory was watching her through narrowed eyes. "Too much of a coward to risk the explosion?" he murmured.
"Hell yes!" She whirled around and stalked away.
…
"You know she's going to give me shit assignments for this for the rest of eternity," Steve muttered from behind him, where he was guarding Declan's back along with his other bodyguard for the night. They hadn't been happy with his change of plans, but he'd insisted.
After much persuasion, Steve had finally given up Jess's location. The alternative had been to troll the bars and clubs until Declan found her. Obviously, Steve had decided risking Jess's ire was the lesser of two evils. As acting head of the company, she had to be reachable at all times, but it turned out that Steve had overheard her arranging the night out at the office earlier in the day.
"And you know," Steve added, "this could be classified as serious stalking."
"I'll tell her you had no choice," Declan replied.
The bar was just off the embankment. Steps led downward into a basement. Tables were scattered around the floor area, but most people were standing. It was Saturday night and the place was buzzing. He stood for a moment adjusting to the dim light, then searched the room.
He spotted her almost immediately. Her back was to him, but as he stared, her shoulders stiffened. But she didn't turn and he headed toward her.
She was with two other women, a tall, stunning brunette with crimson streaks in her dark hair and a tiny redhead, with a cute face and huge green eyes. They were both facing him and looked up as he came to a halt beside the table. Jess still didn't turn.
"I take it you're Declan, the prick," the redhead murmured.
He wondered how many people had seen that damn tattoo.
Finally, Jess turned around slowly. She ignored Declan and spoke to Steve. "You are so fucked."
"Yeah, I reckon." But he grinned. "Me and Rick are going to go sit over there at a safe distance and keep an eye on things. You two play nice."
Declan waited until his two babysitters had melted into the drinkers and then sat himself down in the empty seat across from Jess and next to the redhead.
"I'm Dani," she said.
"And I'm Kim," the brunette offered. "And we're going to go to the bar and get some more drinks."
They both stood in unison. Declan waited for Jess to tell them to stay, or more likely tell him to go, but she remained silent and the two girls disappeared, leaving them alone.
She looked tired and heartbreakingly beautiful. Dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, her face clean of makeup. She was turned slightly away so he couldn't see the scar, and for a moment she looked so like her seventeen-year-old self that his heart missed a beat.
Someone put some music on in the background; he recognized the song. It was one they had danced to all those years ago, through the long hot summer nights.
She recognized it as well and for a second, a slight smile curled her bottom lip and then was gone.
"I still hear certain songs and they take me back to that summer, scents, places in the city … " he said softly.
"Yeah," she replied. "Memories are a bummer. Wouldn't it be great if we could just wipe them out and start over?"
One hand was wrapped around her bottle of beer, and Declan reached across and uncurled her fingers, slid her palm into his. She didn't try to pull away, but a slight frown formed between her arched brows.
"I would never wipe away the memory of that summer with you," he said and he knew he spoke the truth. However painful the aftermath, he would still rather have the pleasure and the pain. "Those months with you will always be the best of my life."
He waited for her to make a smart comeback, but she remained silent, gnawing on her lower lip and gazing at the spot where their hands joined.
He stroked her palm with the pad of his thumb and a shiver ran through her.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked. "I missed you."