Declan: The Callaghan Mafia #1

by Rylan, Savannah

  “Do you need something?”

  I snickered. “Yeah. Some questions answered.”

  I pushed myself off the floor as a shooting pain worked its way up my arm. Holy mackerel, it really hurt. I held it in my hand as I gazed into the eyes of my father, and he looked more annoyed than anything. His lips, pursed. His brow, furrowed. And as he slowly stood from his chair, that apathy turned quickly into fury.

  “What on hell’s earth are you doing here!?” he bellowed.

  My eye twitched, but I forced myself to keep my composure.

  “If you broke that deal with the Callaghan boy, do you know what you’ve done to me you little—”

  “Why did you give me the money?” I asked.

  The first thing I felt was the back of his hand connecting with my face. I hissed, but I didn’t stumble. A warm sensation trickled to the forefront of my skin. It softly dripped down my cheek. I didn’t waver, though. And I sure as hell refused to cry. I was stronger than my father. Stronger than his anger. Stronger than his intimidation tactics.

  My gaze found his before I drew in a deep breath.

  “Why the fuck aren’t you with Declan holding up your end of the bargain?” he glowered.

  “First, it was your bargain. Not mine. And secondly, after selling me off? You owe me an explanation as to why you’re working with Fiona to get me to a better life.”

  I spat the last three words as my father’s nostrils flared with resentment.

  “I wouldn't give you a damn dime of my money. You’re not my problem any longer,” he said.

  “The emblem in the stack of money Fiona gave me says otherwise. And I think you owe me answers.”

  “I owe you nothing!” he bellowed.

  He cracked me against my other cheek, and that time he knocked me off my feet. I grunted as I fell to the floor, landing back on the arm I’d hurt. The wail that left my lips rattled my faceplate. My face stung. My arm seared with pain. I tried to get up, but I felt my father’s foot press down into my side.

  Pinning me to the ground.

  “Did you leave Declan?” he asked.

  “No, no I’d never leave him,” I said breathlessly.

  “Don’t you lie to me, little girl. Did you break up with that boy? Have you shamed the Daly name?”

  “That’s your job, not mine!” I shrieked.

  He pressed down further as whimpers left my lips.

  “Father, please,” I whispered.

  “I think you’ve been away from this house a little too long. You’ve unlearned the respect I taught you. And since you’ve decided to come visit me with your asinine questions, it’s only proper for a father to teach his daughter a lesson she’s forgotten.”

  “I just want the answer to my question,” I whispered.

  “You never should’ve come back, Ciara. You’re going to ruin everything.”

  His hand gripped my clothes before he hoisted me off the floor. I stood on my tiptoes, trying my best to ground myself as he pulled me close to his face. Blood trickled down my neck. The bruise on the other side of my face was already swelling. My arm dangled helplessly, feeling as if it were being bombarded with a thousand pins and needles.

  And still, I somehow found the strength to look my father in his eyes.

  “You will never convince me you didn’t give her that money,” I murmured.

  He snickered. “You know nothing, Ciara.”

  “I know you’re scared.”

  His hand held tighter. “I’m James Daly. I’m never scared.”

  “Maybe so. But you’re at least nervous. You don’t have to worry about me being loyal to Declan. I’m part of his family now, and I’ll always be loyal to the Callaghans. But I want to know why the hell you gave me that money. And I’m not leaving without an answer.”

  Father blinked. “Did—did you just curse?”

  I paused. “Yes.”

  “You cursed at me!?”

  “Just answer the fucking question, you liar!” I shrieked.

  He whipped around and tossed me into his office chair. It rolled back, slamming against the front of what I only assumed was his desk. His eyes lit up with anger. Fear gripped my throat. I wanted answers, but more than that, I wanted to see my father weak. I wanted to see my father break.

  “You have a lot of nerve coming into my own distillery and calling me a liar,” Father growled.

  I drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know why you’re lying, but you are. I don’t know what you get from all this, but you’re getting something. All I want to know is why the money? Why the money to help me run away? I know you had to strike some kind of a deal with Fiona. Because our family hate one another. What did you promise her in exchange for helping me?”

  “I’d never work with that slut of a woman.”

  “I want an answer, and then I’ll leave.”

  “No. You don’t get to storm in here and make accusations. You should’ve just taken the damn offer, Ciara. I figured I had taught you better than that.”

  He reached for me, but I slipped away from his grasp. His bodyguards quickly surrounded the room, preventing me from running away. They all grinned at me as Father approached me. He gripped my shoulders and turned me around, staring down into my eyes. I had no out. I had to way of getting away. This man would kill me without a second thought and laugh as he did it.

  “Will you at least tell me why you killed Maeve, then?” I asked.

  He blinked. “Excuse me, little girl?”

  “Don’t play coy. It’s never been your forte. I should know. I’ve lived over your office for years now.”

  “What—did—”

  “Why did you kill my sister? I know you did.”

  “I would never kill—”

  I snickered. “Stop the lying, Father! Stop it! All I want are answers before I write you out of my life for the rest of it and I think I deserve them after you tortured me!”

  I vibrated with fury as I shoved my father in his stomach.

  “After you beat me, tortured me, starved me, and locked me in my room! After you tracked me down and refused to let me have friends and dressed me in a whore’s closet before parading me around like a piece of meat!”

  I stumbled as my vision grew hazy from screaming.

  “After you broke me down and built me back up only to slap me around and leave me with scars I’ll never cover up. Scars I’ll never get rid of. Scars that Declan kisses at night because you refused to treat me like a person and instead treated me like a fucking piece of used property!”

  Tears streaked my cheeks as I forced my shoulders to roll back. Forced my back to stand straight. Forced my gaze up to my father’s.

  “You tormented me. I’ll live with nightmares for the rest of my life because of you. Hearing your angry voice. Seeing your fist before it connects with my stomach. Feeling your hand cracking against the back of my cheek. I’ll always live with that. No matter who owns me and who takes care of me and who decides to kill me, you’ll always be worse. Always be more of a nightmare. Satan Himself would be a vacation after living with you. And even if I have to pay to have someone extract those fucking answers myself, I will get them, Father. Mark. My fucking. Words.”

  I panted for air through my nose. The shock that rolled over his face was something I’d never seen before. I took a step toward him, going toe to toe with the man that had frightened me all the years of my life. My eyes danced between his. I swallowed hard. And as the blood on my cheek finally dried, I licked my chapped lips.

  “I want to know why you killed my sister, and I want to know why the fuck you gave Fiona that money,” I hissed.

  “And truth be told, I’d like to know, too,” Declan said.

  14

  Declan

  It didn’t take me long to get my ass out of the house. It didn’t take me long to flag down my driver. It didn’t even take me long to pull from my driver where the fuck Ciara had gone. But when he told me where she’d gone, my stomach dropped. Ba
ck to her father’s distillery? Why the fuck would she ever go back there? I thought the worst. Maybe she was running away or running home. How the hell could she choose that monster over me? He abused her. Beat her. Scarred her body. Was I really worse than that asshole?

  Had I really become that kind of a monster?

  “Get me to where you dropped her off, and step on it. Your job is on the line here. You really should’ve known better.”

  My driver raced me across town as we passed rundown warehouse buildings. Empty parking lots. Cracked concrete sidewalks and abandoned school buildings with rusted-out parks that carried fuck-only-knew what kind of tetanus-based viruses. Chicago had been my home for many years. But in the time I’d been in Ireland, much had changed about the city. It seemed as if much of the populous had migrated to only a few square blocks. Many places had been abandoned, and even more of them were left unattended for the poor and desolate to desecrate. During my childhood years, I could remember these streets being vibrant with life. Mothers walking their children down sidewalks with smiles on their faces and phones in their ears. Children playing on stoops. Spraying each other with garden hoses. Yelling across the street to have conversations with their neighbors.

  The Dalys had chased them all out, though. Usurped their homes for their own purposes. Taken over their distillery and shoved out the workforce. He marred the city of Chicago like he marred the body of his own fucking daughter.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I got there and figured out, she had run away.

  Obviously, that nullified our truce. Daly’s debt would mount, plus interest. And a bit more, for the heartache I took on because of his daughter. I’d have to teach her a lesson as well in knowing her place. Not really because I wanted to. But because I’d have to. I’d have to set that kind of a precedence. To let people know that deals with the Callaghan Family were not to be trifled with. On top of all this shit—Martin and his asinine ways, Mom and her betrayal, Richard and him going missing—I had to track down the one who had been promised to me. A woman I couldn't wait to fall onto only minutes before.

  When the hell would this world around me stop trying to crumble?

  “We’re here, sir.”

  My driver’s voice caught my attention and I didn’t even correct him on the “sir.” I hated that name. So formal. So refrained. Not at all my style. I shoved myself out of the car and made sure my gun on my hip was full of ammunition. With a second magazine in my pocket, I closed the door silently and weaved my way through the distillery. There wasn’t a bodyguard in sight. Which was good for me, but bad for Ciara. I heard his voice shouting before I heard my woman’s voice shrieking. Screaming. Crying out for him. Trying to get his attention.

  And the resounding crack I heard boiled my blood.

  I dipped in and out of rooms. I made my way down winding hallways. This damn distillery was created to confuse enemies. Those who dared to encroach upon Daly’s territory. But what he didn’t know was that I’d crept these halls many times. Sure, it sucked like hell trying to traverse it in the middle of the night. But that didn’t mean I couldn't.

  “After you broke me down and built me back up only to slap me around and leave me with scars I’ll never cover up. Scars I’ll never get rid of. Scars that Declan kisses at night because you refused to treat me like a person and instead treated me like a fucking piece of used property!”

  Ciara’s voice took me aback. As I stood in the shadows of the looming stainless steel vats, I saw her. With her shoulders rolled back. With tears running down her face. And the look of strength in her eyes caught my breath in my throat. I studied her. The way she cradled her arm. The way blood dripped down her cheek. The way her skin flushed and the bruising already popping up against her skin.

  I plotted all the ways I’d torture Daly once I was done here.

  “You tormented me. I’ll live with nightmares for the rest of my life because of you. Hearing your angry voice. Seeing your fist before it connects with my stomach. Feeling your hand cracking against the back of my cheek. I’ll always live with that. No matter who owns me and who takes care of me and who decides to kill me, you’ll always be worse. Always be more of a nightmare. Satan Himself would be a vacation after living with you. And even if I have to pay to have someone extract those fucking answers myself, I will get them, Father. Mark. My fucking. Words.”

  My eyebrows rose. These weren’t the words of a woman that had come here to betray me. On the contrary, these were the words of a strong woman who had already taken a side. My side. I grinned from the shadows as her father’s eyes grew. As he stood there before his tormented little plaything, speechless at her words. It took all I had within me to give Ciara the breadth she needed to say what she deserved to say. Because what I wanted to do was put a bullet in the side of Daly’s head before taking down his bodyguards with my bare fucking hands.

  I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to contain myself, though.

  “I want to know why you killed my sister, and I want to know why the fuck you gave Fiona that money,” I hissed.

  Wait, the money my mother talked about? He gave my mother that money?

  “And truth be told, I’d like to know, too,” I said.

  Ciara gasped as her head whipped over toward the sound of my voice. But, all too soon, a bodyguard had her wrapped up in his brute arms. She struggled against him and I tried to keep a cool face. But inside I was panicking. He had his arm wrapped around her throat. A gun pressed much too firm against her head. This was a side of the job I never wanted Ciara to see. And I sure as hell didn’t want her seeing me gun down her father. Which was exactly what I’d do if I didn’t like his answer.

  So, I pointed the gun toward him as the rest of the bodyguards pointed their guns at me.

  “Declan!” Ciara shrieked.

  “Shut the hell up,” the bodyguard growled.

  “I’d go easy on her if I were you. Doesn’t bode well for your brain matter if you don’t,” I said.

  “Declan, you have to get out of he—”

  The bodyguard choked off Ciara’s voice and I quickly pointed my gun at him.

  “Let. The woman. Breathe,” I said hotly.

  “Run,” Ciara choked out.

  “Not without you, my love,” I said.

  And when Daly chuckled, I slowly moved my gun back to his fucking rat bastard little face.

  “My love? Really? After only a week or so?” he asked.

  I licked my lips. “Don’t worry. You'll pay for the sins committed against your daughter.”

  “I’d really like to see you try.”

  He rose his hand in the air. Ready to snap his fingers. The bodyguards chuckled, but I shrugged off the display of manhood. That had always been Daly’s weakness. Always trying to cock-measure in front of people. He had a complex, that man. Probably why he’d only had one child throughout the course of his life.

  No, Maeve. Ciara mentioned a sister.

  “Did you kill your own daughter, Daly?” I asked.

  His face dropped. “Why the fuck are you here?”

  “For answers. Just like she is.”

  Ciara gurgled on her own spit and it rose a fury in me I almost couldn’t see through. I knew Ciara hadn’t left me. I knew she’d come here for answers. And probably to defend me as well. Which meant I’d do everything in my power I could to protect her. To get her out of here alive.

  To get her in my arms again without shedding a drop of blood.

  If possible.

  “What are you looking for, Callaghan?” Daly asked.

  “You will address me as Declan. And I’m here for answers,” I said plainly.

  He snickered. “You’ll never be your father.”

  “I really hope not. I respect him. I love him. But I don’t agree with a lot of the tactics he used to run his business. I plan on doing things different. At least until he’s back.”

  “If he ever comes back.”

  I cocked my gun. “Those are fi
ghting words in this arena, Daly.”

  “Are they now, Callaghan?”

  “Declan,” Ciara whimpered.

  She grunted, but I forced myself to keep my eyes on Daly. I’d kill that bodyguard before I left here. In due time, and in the right way.

  “You should go back to Ireland, you know. You and your brothers. You shouldn't be meddling in the businesses of Chicago. You boys haven’t been here since your college years,” Daly said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You know where Richard is.”

  “What?”

  I took a step toward him. “Where’s my father?”

  “You mean stepfather?”

  “Semantics. You know where he is. Where the fuck is my father?”

  The guards had their guns trained on me, but Daly hadn’t snapped his fingers. Hadn’t given the fucking word to shoot either one of us.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “Is this how you’re going to do business? Pointing guns in people’s faces and demanding answers?” Daly asked.

  “Works for you. Tell me what you know about my fucking father.”

  “What if I know nothing?”

  “I know you know something!”

  Daly held out his arms. “Then, what are you going to do to get the information you seek?”

  The gun trembled in my hand. As I stood there, a mere two feet away from James Daly himself, my mind finally kicked into gear. My emotions got shoved into a box and I routed through all the protocols in my brain that practically came natural at this point.

  Five guards. One Daly. Bodyguard on my four has Ciara. Chokehold. Gun to her temple. Daly has no weapons on his person. Other four bodyguards have guns trained on me. One snap, we’re both dead.

  The odds didn’t play in my favor this evening.

  Daly chuckled as I slowly lowered my gun. He motioned for his bodyguards to lower their guns. I tucked mine in the holster beneath the flap of my suit jacket and the rest of the bodyguards holstered theirs. Except for the man who had Ciara in his grip. My head fell off to the side. I curled my fingertips against my palm, moving them around in soft circles.