Page 45 of Vengeful Devotion
“I work in the same family business you do. I can offer you a hefty reward. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do? Spread the word about her, maybe?”
“Your family sells Irish whiskey as well?”
“No. Not that business.”
“Logistics?” I feign ignorance.
“No.”
“Then I’m not sure what family business you speak of. But I can have someone drive you to a hotel or the airport if you’d like?”
Lonny sighs. I can see it in his eyes. He isn’t buying my bullshit. Well, I hope he can see the determination in mine. He’s not getting his hands on Gemma.Ever again.
“I have my own driver. Thank you.” He gets up. “If you see Gemma, please tell her that Uncle Lonny won’t give up on his little bambina. She can’t hide forever.”
I clench my fists. The whites of my knuckles showing. He’s baiting me. Trying to lure me into telling him the truth. But I stay silent.
Dean leads Lonny out the door. The moment the door closes, Balor looks at me.
“What was that about? Why did you lie to him?”
“Something isn’t right about him. He called her a danger. Does that sound like the Gemma we know?”
“No. But maybe it’s all a ruse?”
“It’s not,” I snap. “Gemma isn’t like that.”
I stand up, stomping towards the door.
“Where are you going, Declan?”
“To get the truth.”
My thoughts are going a million miles a minute as I cross the house to Gemma’s door. I’m pissed that she lied to me. She told me her name was Gemma Rossi, for fuck's sake. Why wasn’t she just honest? What is she running from? Gemma came to Vegas for a reason, she ran away for a reason, and my gut is telling me it’s because of her uncle.
After everything I’ve said about not being able to have her, it’s clear to me she’s safer with me and my fucked-up world than she is out on her own. Especially now that I have a small idea of what she’s had to endure. I may not have the details, but once I do… heads will roll.
I knock on her door, but there’s no answer. “Gemma,” I call, knocking again.
There’s still no answer. My patience is wearing thin. So much so that I don’t knock again, I twist the unlocked doorknob and open her door. Her room is empty. I have two choices. I could go hunt her down, I’d probably find her in my mother’s room, or I could wait for her. The decision isn’t much of a decision as it is instinct. I step over the threshold into her room, sealing myself inside.
Her room barely looks lived in. I fucking despise it. A room this empty means she wasn’t planning to stay long. Not long enough to get comfortable, at least. I pace her floors, waiting for her to show.
The longer I’m left alone to my own thoughts, the more antsy I feel. It feels like I’m playing chess without having all the pieces. This is why I require honesty above all else. I can’t do my job without knowing the truth. If Gemma had just been honest, I could’ve handled this by now.
You never gave her a reason to be honest.
The thought sinks into my stomach as a hard truth. Minute after minute ticks by until I can’t take it anymore. I search through what little things she has. I throw her closet open. It’s full of clothes, but they have my mother’s style written all over them. None of this is her. There’s a tattered backpack sitting against the closet wall. I pick it up to find it empty.
Before I can search the rest of her room. The door opens. I shoot out of the closet, finding Gemma by the door with her back to me. Her shoulders are moving up and down with her gasping breaths. She locks the door before backing away from it.
I clear my throat. She spins, her dress slacks sweeping the floor as she does.
“What the fuck, Declan? You scared me.”
“We need to talk. Now.”
Her face goes white. But she plays it off.
