Page 12 of Vengeful Devotion
“I met her in a diner.”
Her vague answer gives me pause. My mother loves to talk, especially about the women she helps. But she’s reluctant when it comes to Gemma.
“What diner?”
“Why are you so curious about her, Declan?”
“Why are you so intent on dodging my questions?”
“Fine, Declan. Have it your way. I won’t lie to you. I found her at a diner in Charleston Heights.”
My blood turns cold. “I told you not to go there, mother. It’s not safe. Did you see him?”
My mother squares her shoulders and stands. The look in her eyes lets me know I’ve gotten under her skin. She marches up to me, her head barely coming up to my chin, and that’s only thanks to her heels. I love my mother. I’d do anything for her, but I won’t let her win this. She needs to understand that Warren is a danger to her. He’s a danger to us all.
“He’s my fucking son, Declan. Just like you are. I can’t give up on him. You may be able to for whatever stupid reason you’ve concocted, but I refuse. He needs us. All of us.”
She has no idea what her precious son has done. If she did, she would hate him as much as I do.
“Mother,” I start, ready to tell her the truth. To tell her what kind of man she raised. But the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t do this to her. I can’t break her heart, just like I couldn’t be brave enough to kill Warren. So I say the only thing that comes to mind, “He’s an addict. He doesn’t need us. He needs a fix. The only reason he entertains you is because he knows you’ll give him money.”
“How would you know what he needs? The last time you saw him, you broke his nose.”
For good reason.
“I know, because we’ve all been down this road with him. Ever since his engagement ended, he’s been destroying himself. I don’t want to see him destroy you, too.”
“He’s getting better, Declan. He wants help.”
I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t. He’s just telling you what you want to hear. Stay away from him.”
She shakes her head at me.
“I mean it, Mother. Don’t go see him again.”
Her eyes turn bright, highlighted by anger. “Look, you may be in charge of this family since your father died, but remember who gave you life. Remember the womb you came from. It was mine. You’re my child, Declan. I don’t care if you’re thirty or that you’re the boss. You have no say in what I do or where I go. I’m not one of those gun-toting meatheads you can boss around. I will help my son. I don’t give a damn if you like it or not.”
Before I can say anything, she turns on her heel and leaves. Frustration flows through my veins. I turn towards my desk, swiping everything onto the floor. My mother doesn’t understand that I’m trying to protect her and the only way to make her understand is to admit my cowardice. Doing so would be like signing my death certificate. The other families and my rivals would see me as a target. There’s one universal thing we all believe in, and that’s an eye for an eye. Failing to avenge your father’s death just because it was your brother who pulled the trigger, is the exact opposite of that. My family would probably disown me.
Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, I twist the cap off and take a long sip. I relish the taste of alcohol and cinnamon, but it doesn’t wash the sense of failure out of my mouth. I’m not sure anything ever will. I’m tempted to crawl inside the bottle and find out just how much it will take to cleanse me. But I don’t. I can’t. I still have a job to do. If my mother knows nothing about Gemma Rossi, then it’s up to me to find out. I grab my phone, tapping out a message to Balor.
Bring my mother’s new hire to my office.
Sure, I could wait for him to finish putting together a background check for her. That’s assuming Balor could do one, knowing only her name. But what fun would that be? If I play my cards right, I could find out everything I need to know about her plus scare her off. I could be rid of her before she ever becomes a problem for me. And trust me, that girl will become a problem. I can feel it.
CHAPTERFIVE
Gemma
“This is your room, Gemma,”Francine says, pointing towards a door.
I can’t lie. Halfway through the tour of her expansive mansion, my eyes glazed over. There are so many rooms, I’m never going to be able to keep them all straight. I’m not even sure how we got here. Which will prove to be a problem if this is where I’m living.
She pushes the door open. The room mirrors the same homey sensation I’ve felt since I walked in. This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed. From the velvety black comforter to the attached modern bathroom, it screams luxury. Sure, I had my own room at Lonny’s, but it was nothing like this. It was a forgotten room that was never up to par with the rest of the house. I run my hand along the gray wall. Staring up at the chandelier on the ceiling. The twinkling lights dazzle me for a moment. I can’t believe this room is mine for the foreseeable future.
You are a gutter rat. A throwaway. You’re not worthy of something so nice.
Lonny’s voice hits me like an arrow. The painful truth stings my soul. I pull my hand away from the wall. I shouldn’t be touching anything in here.
