Page 90 of Dangerously
“And her promises are always solid.” March adds a layer of commitment.
“Okay,” she gives in, reluctantly.
“Okay.” I fix her lopsided crown.
The room is stone-silent until Ling and Farrah leave. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. A face-off with my parents. Declan and March stand beside me on one side of the kitchen island while my parents stand on the other. My father takes the initiative, walking around to Declan’s side.
“Liam McNamara.” He puts his hand out. I don't know what his angle is, but I’m not letting my defenses down.
“Declan O’Dea.” Dax shakes his hand, staring him dead in the eyes. They’re about the same height, but Declan’s girth is almost double my father’s. His thick, tattooed arms and broad chest make my father look like a toothpick dressed in a designer suit.
“And how do you know my daughter?”
Oh, this question could come with a dozen-and-a-half loaded answers.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Liam looks at me. “What happened to your fiancé?”
“It didn’t work out,” I sneer.
“She moves fast,” my mother just has to contribute.
“And you are?” My father reaches for March, his arm getting a little too close for comfort.
“Business partner.”
“Oh? What kind of business?”
I look at March and smile. “Contract killing.” It feels so good to tell him the truth.
My parents have no idea what to make of my answer. In their head, it’s preposterous.
“That’s very funny.” My father laughs it off.
“It’s also very true.” I am as serious as a monarch on their deathbed.
“You kill people?” He looks at March.
March shakes his head slowly, menacingly. “She does.”
“And me.” Declan can’t be left out.
For the first time ever, my father actually looks scared. It’s exhilarating. My whole life, I've been the frightened mouse. Not anymore. I believe he thinks we’re here to kill him. Which I totally would even without someone paying me.
“Get out of our house!” My mother grabs a butcher knife. “Get out right now!”
None of us moves. Not because we’re afraid. Because it’s so damn comical. “Put that down before you hurt yourself. I’m surprised you even know which end to hold.”
“Relax, Nadine,” my father speaks calmly. “Just put the knife down so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“She’s here to kill us!” Nadine is frantic.
“No, I’m not. And if I were, I wouldn't be hanging out with Farrah cooking grilled cheese. But don't get me wrong, the idea crosses my mind often.”
“This is all your fault, Liam.” She actually lays blame where it’s due. That’s a fucking first. My mother slams the knife down on the granite countertop. “I need a drink. And I’m locking myself in my room. We should have stayed in the fucking city.” She storms out, exactly the same way she did when I was a child. I guess some things never change.
Now that we are relatively alone, the energy in the kitchen shifts. And it’s not because of my father or me. It’s because of Declan and March.
