"Good." She drifted away and sat down in the middle of the black leather sofa that ran along one wall of the office. She tapped the seat beside her and Logan and Tamara sat on either side. Penny raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. "I'm guessing this is a family matter, so I'll leave you to it." Declan waited until she had closed the door behind her before he turned back.
His dad hadn't yet moved and for a moment Declan worried that he might have hit too hard. But he'd pulled the punch. Then Rory pushed himself up onto one elbow and wiped a hand across his nose, staring at the scarlet that stained his fingers. "You broke my nose."
"Yeah."
He dragged himself to his feet. "Are you going to tell me why?"
Declan reached into his pocket and pulled out the check he had taken from Jess's wall last night. He tossed it onto the desk beside where his father stood.
He picked it up, his brows drawing together as he studied the check. Then his expression cleared though his eyes narrowed. "She never cashed it?" He sounded almost pleased.
What the hell did that matter? "She came to you, and you gave her money to go away."
"She was bad for you."
"It wasn't your decision to make. You promised to let me know if she needed anything. I asked you if she'd been in touch. You lied."
"I made it my decision. You were only eighteen and about to throw your future away on a little tramp."
"She was never a tramp." Declan turned away, running a hand through his hair. He would never get his father to admit he was wrong. Arrogant prick. "You should have fucking told me."
Rory pursed his lips. "Maybe. But if you'd really wanted her back then, you would never have left."
Declan crossed to the cabinet where he knew his father kept the scotch and pulled out the bottle and a couple of glasses. He placed them on the desk.
"Don't we get offered any?" Logan asked.
"Get it yourself." He poured an inch into each and handed one to his father, who eyed him suspiciously, but took the glass and swallowed the drink.
"You going to hit me again?"
"Maybe." But he sank down into the chair opposite his father's, legs stretched out in front of him, and sipped the drink while he examined his new boots. There was more he wanted to know and if he had to beat the answers out of his father, well, he was willing to do it. But he didn't think it would come to that.
"Why did you employ Knight Security? And why did you specifically ask for Jess?"
His father swirled the amber liquid around in his glass while he considered the answer. Why did Declan get the impression that whatever it was he wasn't going to like it?"
But it was his mother who actually spoke first. "That might be my fault," she said.
Declan turned his gaze on her. His mother was still beautiful and looked what she was, fifty-five years old, well-cared for, rich …
"Your father married me because I was respectable. I married him because he was not. It was my one rebellion in life. But we only married on the understanding that he would go legitimate and put his bad ways behind him. Your father was not a good man."
"Still isn't," Declan muttered.
"But I was determined you were not going to be the same. So you were brought up to know your duty, and you were a good boy. Better than we could have asked for."
"Are we going to get to the point?" Declan asked. Jess would be here soon, and he wanted answers first. Wanted to know how to move forward and his mother wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.
"The point is, we went too far. You were too good. You were the perfect son, never a foot wrong."
"Except the summer you were eighteen," his father put in.
Jess.
"And after that you were even worse. Always perfect."
"I wasn't that bad," Declan muttered.
"Baby brother," Logan put in, "you're a goddamned machine."
Declan ignored the comment, and his mother continued, "I thought when you became engaged to Penny, things would be better, but in fact they were worse. She was just another symptom. I was glad when you split up. I told your father he had to do something."
"Something?"
"Shake you up, bring you back to life. Come on, Declan, tell me, are you happy? Have you ever been happy?"
"Once." He swallowed his drink, leaned forward, and poured another. He glanced up at his father. "So employing Jess was just your way of stirring things up. Stirring me up."
He shrugged. "If I'm honest, I'd given up. You were the perfect businessman. Hard to remember you were my son. But you got no pleasure from it. And I had no clue how to reach you. By the time you took that bullet I was willing to try anything. Jesus, I stood across from you in that hospital, you'd just been shot, and all you could think of was getting to some bloody meeting on time."