My blood runs cold, the anger flaring up inside of me.
“Steph, did he hit you?”
Ivy’s awake now, her own brow wrinkled as she looks at me.
“Can you just come over,” Steph says, her voice a whisper again. “I think he just needs some one here to- I- I don’t-”
“Steph, I’m on my way.”
I toss the phone to the side as I start to swing my legs out of bed.
Ivy chews on her bottom lip, looking at me worriedly. “Everything okay?”
“It will be,” I growl, yanking pants and a shirt on. “Look, stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
The front door to Declan’s house is half open. But whatever sense of nagging dread I feel walking up to the place turns to ice in my veins at the sound of a scream as I step inside.
I dash into the living room to see Stephanie on the floor with my uncle standing above her with his fist raised.
“Declan!” I roar, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back before he can strike her again. I yank him away from her and slam him against the wall as he bellows at me.
“Oh fuck off, you little cunt!”
I slam him back against the wall by the shoulders, rattling framed pictures and shelves of china he’s never used.
“You keep your hands off her!” I bellow in his face, knocking him against the wall again.
He reeks of whiskey, his face red and puffy and his eyes wild. But he stops fighting me. His eyes narrow as he sneers out a grin.
“Oh, now he’s interested in family going-ons.”
“This isn’t a family ‘going-on’, you prick, this is you beating on your fucking wife.”
His eyes narrow again as his lip curls.
“She call you?”
Steph sobs quietly behind me.
“Did she?”
I shake my head. “You’ve been drinking, Declan.”
He sneers at her over my shoulder
“You suck his dick too you little whore?”
“That’s enough!” I shove him into the wall again. “Dec, I’m warning you.”
“You’re warning me what, kid.”
I glare at him.
“You need to calm down.”
He bares his teeth for a second like a cornered dog, looking like he might try and fight me again before he goes still under my hands.
He breathes.
“I’m going to let you go,” I say steadily.
“Goddamn right you are.”
“Declan.”
He glares at me.
“Fine.”
I slowly drop my hands from his shoulders, my stance still ready to pounce.
“What’s this about, Dec.”
He laughs bitterly. “Jesus Christ kid, you want nothing to do with me and now you’re interested. Shit, if you’re feeling that curious, I’ve still got that job I could tell you about.”
“You’re still stuck on that, huh?”
His lip curls again. “Yeah, kid, I’m still stuck on the twenty million that’ll be sitting in the strong box in the North Shore Shipping manager’s office after their big fundraising hoopla.”
I stare at him. “You’re talking about the ‘Carry On’ fundraiser.”
He nods, and I cringe.
“The fundraiser for fallen firefighters?” I shake my head, staring at him with a new level of disgust. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Declan.”
“Oh fuck off, kid. It’s twenty mil, and those firefighters have fucking life insurance and union pensions. The fuck do they need that kind of money for?”
“They don’t, Declan. It’s for their families you asshole.”
He shrugs. “Not my fucking problem. All work has risk. They knew theirs, I know mine.” He jabs a finger at my chest. “Don’t pretend that fucking the Reverend’s daughter again suddenly gave you a fucking conscious.”
I growl low in my throat, but he wags a finger at me. “Your cut would be five million, kid. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
“Jesus Christ, what fuckin happened to you, kid.”
Declan pushes me way as he stumbles for the bar cart in the corner of the room and grabs a bottle of Jameson.
I frown as he pours himself a glass.
“Dec-”
“Fuck off, you’re not my Ma.”
There’s a sniffling sound behind me, and I turn back to Stephanie, still cowering in the corner of the room.
“Steph, maybe you should go.”
She blinks, like she’s not really hearing me. Declan pokes me in the back with a boney finger.
“I need you for this job, kid.”
“I’m not doing it. Not in a million fucking years, Dec.”
He sways on his feet, whiskey sloshing. “It’s too much to walk away from, and you damn well know it.”