The Untouchables(92)

She frowned once again and I hated it. “No. He wouldn’t have come, and I wouldn’t force him. He stayed for my father and after my father died, he went back to Italy. I found out Brooks had applied for the force but was rejected a year before he came to me. Part of me believed he could bring my family down and get the credit if he joined. Still, I used my father’s black book, cashed in a few favors, and he was in; my personal mole, working the Chicago police. It took me years, but I did it. Even after the Valero burned down our fields, the Giovannis were still on top. After the gold rush, the feds were on the hunt anyway, so I focused on the crystal and heroin.”

“And Coraline’s…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it. It was so odd. She was good. She tried her best to be as tough and as bad as us, but she was too good. I liked that about her.

“And Coraline’s illness brought it all back. It made me wonder how things would have been if my father never had it. Would I have gone to UCLA? Who would I be?”

“A cute, sweet, college graduate, most positively still married to me. My life sure as hell would have been easier.”

“You really want me to shoot you, don’t you?”

Laughing, I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her. “I can see it. You would actually be as innocent as you look.”

“All I see is you walking all over me and bending me over for sex like your personal plaything.” She pushed back, clicking the safety on before putting the gun away.

Watching her handle her gun made me want to bend her over now. This wasn’t the place. The last thing I needed was for her to get sick again, but the car…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, to which I just grinned.

Leaning over, I grabbed her legs and picked her up bridal style.

“Liam fucking Callahan, put me down right now!”

“Not until I bend you over in the car. Of which you owe me a new one anyway!” I smiled.

“You stupid, Irish brute!”





TWENTY-SEVEN

“Everything Dies. That is the law of life-the bitter unchangeable law”

—David Clement-Davies





DECLAN

Up the halls, down the corridors, in circles, I ran. She just upped and left, not bothering to speak to a nurse or even text me. I had no idea where she was or where she was going, and what pissed me off the most was the fact that it was my fault. I never should’ve left her alone, but I just needed a goddamn second to breathe, to gather the broken pieces of myself. I should have been with her; I should have never left her side.

“Declan?” My father grabbed hold of me in the middle of the lobby, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. I just stared at all the faces passing me by, some in snow white coats, others in blue scrubs, but most of them were just visitors wandering about. None of them were Coraline.

Where was she? Damn it, where was she?

“Declan? Son? What’s wrong? Speak to me.” He shook me like he did when I was child, forcing me to meet his eyes. They looked just as tired as mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if I now shared the wrinkles he now wore.

“Coraline. She’s gone. I don’t know where she went. The nurse said she checked out.” She’d checked out without me, without anyone in the family.

“Son, she’s at the church down the street. I had Monte follow her….”

I didn’t even wait for him to finish speaking before I broke out of his arms, rushing out the automatic double doors and into the blaring streets. I had no idea what street I was on, my mind was coming undone every moment she wasn’t next to me.

The church my father spoke of was in sight, farther down the road. Pushing through the crowd, I did my best not to run, to stay calm and to think of what I was going to say to her. With each step that brought me closer to the looming brick cathedral, I felt the words drip out of my brain and disappear into some gutter.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I must have been going out of my mind. Like a madman, I’d been running all over the damn hospital, calling her phone over and over again. Now I was standing outside of the intimidating wooden doors of Saint Margaret, unsure of what I could possibly say to her.

Mind went back to the first time I had met her. I was entering Eastside Diner to escape the monsoon that was pouring over the city. The moment I saw her run in, out of breath, dripping wet, and laughing like a madwoman, I found myself unable to look away from her. She had this presence about her and it drew me in.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Sighing, I grasped the church door and pulled. As the door swung open, I saw her. She stuck out like…well, like a drunk in a church. She sat in the candle lit cathedral with her legs propped up on the pew, and a bottle of vodka in her hand. Not a soul dared to rear their heads. Blessing myself, I walked the aisle, my feet echoing as I hurried to reach her. She didn’t even look up. She just drank.