Page 20 of Vengeful Devotion
“No. These women are beautiful. Watching a broken woman find her wings is beautiful. You don’t know that yet, but you will.”
The more time I spend with Francine, the more I want to trust her. I think pieces of me trust her. It’s hard not to. The woman is a saint, or at the very least, an exceptional person. She’s balancing the scales of good and evil with her work here.
But looks can be deceiving. This could all just be a part she plays to keep eyes off her son and whatever he’s doing with the family business. I don’t know what Declan is in to and I don’t want to know. But I know it’s not good. Good guys don’t need armed guards standing outside their house day and night. Good guys don’t threaten a new employee on their first day. Declan McBride is not a good man. I know this. Yet, my body still craves to be around him. My skin still tingles from where he touched me earlier. I want him, even though I know I shouldn’t. How fucked up is that?
CHAPTEREIGHT
Declan
A pieceof ash falls from the sky. Settling itself on my shoulder, like a little gray remnant of my work. Seeing one of my warehouses burned to the ground is jarring. I’m no stranger to war and bloodshed. But this? No one has ever dared to pull a stunt like this against my family. I can’t deny that the person behind all this has brass balls. It’llalmostbe a shame to kill them.Almost.Their inevitable death will taste all the sweeter for it.
Around me, people are yelling, but I barely listen to a word. None of it matters. Not now. We can’t save my warehouse or the product inside. We’ll be lucky if there’s even dust left by the end of all this. The sun beats down on the scene, exposing everything. Whoever did this set the fire right as the sun was coming up. I’d be willing to bet they did that to give me less of a chance to bury the evidence. It would be a smart move if I was some smalltime wannabe. But I’m not. I’m the fucking king. One fire won’t change that.
“The chief says it’s definitely arson,” Balor says, coming to my side.
“Wow. What a revelation.” There’s a rough growl in my voice. “Does he plan on being helpful anytime soon?”
“He’s doing the best he can.”
“Really? If this is the best he can do, then I’m afraid I’ve wasted my money.”
“What do you want him to do?”
“I want him to tell me how this fire started. That could lead us to our arsonist.”
“I will let him know that is the priority for us right now. We’ll have the information soon.”
“Balor, where is the guard?”
He nods his head towards a man standing next to the fire truck. “He just came in on the shipment last month from Ireland. Go easy on him.”
No wonder I don’t recognize him. He’s a rookie. The gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk towards him. His dark eyes snap to mine, his spine straightening on my approach. I stop right in front of him to study him. For a rookie, he has an edge to him. One that I can see as well as feel. He has an axe to grind. The question is, who will act as his grinder?
“Mr. McBride,” he says, his voice thick with an Irish accent.
I’m impressed by his ability to stand stoically before me. But then again, Jamie only sends me his best.
“What is your name, young blood?”
“Grady. Grady Sullivan, sir.”
“Would you like to explain to me what happened here, Grady?”
“Yes, sir. I came on shift at half past seven this morning. When I got here, the fire was already consuming most of the building.”
“Did you see anyone?”
He shakes his head. “Only the four bodies of the nighttime guards out back.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Partially pissed off that he didn’t see anything helpful. But I can’t hold him responsible for this. Not when there is zero evidence that he was involved.
There’s a loud creaking sound, the only warning before the last charred wall standing falls into the graveyard of ashes. I clench my jaw. Every second that goes by, and I don’t have answers, is a second too long.
I see Dean standing near the body bags on the ground and approach him.
“Tell me you have something.”
Dean’s green eyes swing to me. As the head of my security, he hates losing men. We all do, but Dean takes each death as a personal failure. In reality, it’s me who failed. The blood of my men is on my hands. And I fucking hate it.
