Page 80 of Arranged Scars
And Mal’s unraveling.
I’ve never been in more danger in my life. Even if they don’t suspect me, they’re unhinged and running right against the edge. These men would happily kick me until I’m bloody on a good day. But they’re far from their best right now.
“Then there’s you.” Mal turns to me slowly. He blows out smoke. It hangs like a haze in the air. “You disappeared, Caroline. We needed you here.”
“I was on a trip with my husband. It was a little honeymoon.”
“Must be nice. You two are getting along.” Mal stalks toward me. I back away, hands sweating. I touch the phone in my pocket, heart racing into my throat. “But he’s not really fucking family.”
“We’re in trouble, and you weren’t around to help.” Dad’s staring death at me.
Mal jabs his cigarette in my direction. “You’re a loose fucking end. You’re a goddamn liability. Why the fuck are you still alive, but Shane and Redmond aren’t?” He jerks toward me. I shriek in alarm when he grabs my arm. The cigarette darts down, arcing through the air toward my skin?—
I catch his wrist with my other hand. I’m not strong enough to stop him, but I think he’s so surprised he stops himself. I’ve never stood up to Mal, not once in my entire life, but I lean into him now and meet his gaze, lips pulled back in a snarl.
“Careful, you asshole. You almost burned me.”
“I’m going to do worse, you uppity, worthless bitch.”
“Yeah? What do you think my husband will say aboutthat?”
He pauses. For the first time, Mal seems uncertain. “What’s he got to do with any of this?”
“You think my husband won’t notice bruises? Burn marks? You think I won’ttell him? He’s a Whelan, you idiot. So go ahead, put that cigarette out on my skin. If you were worried before, you sure as shit will be terrified then.”
Mal doesn’t move. He stares at me, visibly struggling against the idea that I have any defense against him. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t pull back either.
Until my dad speaks up.
“Stop bickering, you two idiots,” he says like we’re having a friendly sibling spat. “We need to come together.”
Mal eventually pulls back. He’s still watching me with pure shock and confusion on his face. “He’s right. We shouldn’t fight.”
I say nothing, only hug myself and glare at him, while inside I’m burning with a righteous hate and fury, but also with a strange, newfound power.
I’ve never been able to make Mal back down before. Not once, no matter what I said or did, no matter how much I begged and pleaded, Mal always followed through with his threats.
Now, I have leverage. I have protection.
He can’t hurt me without suffering for it anymore.
I want to laugh in his stupid, nasty face, but I’m pretty sure that’ll only make him lose his mind and kill me.
“We’re going to inform the Whelans about this problem,” Dad says, ignoring Malachy as my brother lights another cigarette. “Dermot’s putting together all the evidence he has. We’re going to ask for their help.”
“Good idea.” I’m shaken, but I do my best to keep my voice steady.
“They have resources we can use. I want you to talk to your husband about this problem too. See what he has to say. Maybe use your influence to help the family. You want to help the family, right, Caroline?”
I almost laugh in his face. Nothing sounds worse. “Of course I do.”
“Good, then make sure this is a priority for them. Declan’s been busy lately, but I want this to be top of mind.”
Oh my god. These bastards. That’s why they called me here.
They want to use myinfluenceover my husband to get what they want. They don’t care about warning me. Which makes sense—they didn’t actually call until the attack was already days old. I’m an afterthought at best until they want something.
“I’ll do my best.”
