Mallory’s eye roll said she didn’t buy the denial either. “Leah, it’s okay to admit Declan broke your heart.”
“He lied and acted like a total shit.” Controlled in his anger, but that face. He’d had the nerve to look disappointed in her. In her.
“And that’s because,” Mallory held up a hand. “And don’t get pissy at me, but you’re saying that because he read your files? That’s what’s at the bottom of all this?”
It looked like the girlfriend code was on the fritz. “Do you really not get it?”
“I figured you’d already either dumped the files or showed them to him. No way did I think those things were hanging around, getting in the way.”
Doubt skittered through Leah’s mind. “Why would I hand them over?”
“You love him and those files are about his family. With the threats I just assumed you’d give him whatever ammunition you could.”
The delivery, so matter-of-fact, had Leah’s defenses rising. “He used me to get to the documents and then made up these stories about my dad.” And now Mallory was frowning. Worse, it was that you-know-better glare she did so well. “What?”
“Any chance Declan didn’t make it up?’
Leah shifted the mug around and drank out of the opposite side. When she decided that wasn’t any more comfortable, she twisted it around again. “Of course he did.”
“Try to look at this with an open mind, one not influenced by stories told to you over the years by an angry man.” One of Mallory’s feet hit the floor as she leaned forward. “You were a little kid. Is it possible, just possible, your dad’s hands weren’t clean back then?”
Leah blinked hard as her headache thumped even louder. “How dare you?”
“Save your indignation. I’m not Declan.”
The comment, so out of context and so calm in the way she said it, snapped Leah right back out of her fury. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Mallory got up and came around the coffee table to sit on it and right in front of Leah. “You know I love you. You know I would never hurt you. You hope Declan will give you the same, but you don’t know, and that makes you skeptical of his motives. But you know mine, so stop with the daring stuff and talk to me.”
Having the truth dumped right at her feet like that made Leah’s insides squirm. Mallory’s ability to deliver unvarnished truth was one of her greatest assets as a best friend. Loyalty was another.
“Hoped. Past tense when it comes to Declan.” Leah mumbled the words even though, deep down, she feared there wasn’t anything past tense about her feelings for Declan.
Mallory grabbed the mug out of Leah’s hands and put it on the table beside her. “I don’t have an agenda but I do have eyes.”
“Okay.” Leah didn’t know what else to say, so she went with that.
Mallory picked up the top piece of paper and put it on Leah’s lap. “The faded ink, the familiar handwriting. Hell, Leah, there’s nothing about this that looks new or made up.”
She refused to look at it. That reveal of this simple piece of paper had smashed her heart into pieces and left her feeling so lost. “Declan is an expert at this sort of thing.”
“No, his dad was an expert grifter. From what you’ve told me, Declan was a hotheaded, messed-up kid who found his way thanks to a strong mother and the United States Army.”
“But . . . I . . .” Leah shifted and the paper crinkled. She tried to give it a brief glance, but the lines grabbed her attention and wouldn’t let it go. The words she’d been fighting rushed out. “If this is true and Dad did this, how do I trust anything?”
“You can trust.” Mallory’s nose wrinkled as she made a face. “I just think you’re trusting the wrong man.”
Leah’s hands shook as she picked up the paper. Her fingertip traced the words as she read along. She’d skimmed the passage so many times in the past. It didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of Charlie’s crimes, because him taking the money and the date weren’t in question. It all fit together differently now. Those same words accused . . . and changed everything.
If it was possible for her chest to cave in, it just did. She glanced up, letting Mallory see the thunder of pain Leah could no longer hold back. “What do I do?”
Mallory put a hand on Leah’s knee. “Talk to your dad. I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
She smiled. “Then take someone he likes.”
“He likes you.” At Mallory’s snort, Leah changed directions. “Okay, fine. I’ll take Clay.”
“I was thinking Ed.”
The unspoken point was that her dad might need legal advice by the time this was through.
“Fine.”
Mallory picked up Leah’s cup and took a sip, but not before shooting her a look that meant trouble. “What are you going to do about Declan?”
“See, that’s just it. I figured out one other thing before you got here.” There was a fact she’d kept trying to remember, one she couldn’t grab onto long enough to make the pieces fit. But after Declan left it came to her. A few paragraphs in one report, but when added to the timeline of the Hanover brothers and Charlie’s initial con, it changed everything. “I know who Kristin Accord is. Since it’s in the files, Declan might know. He could have read it.”
“Who is she?”
“Someone who knew Callen’s mother.”
“What?’
“My point is that telling Declan will end everything, which is probably inevitable anyway since love without trust means nothing.” That lesson had been spelled out in bright letters to her early that morning. And it sucked.
***
Declan drove around for hours before finally heading home. He walked in, careful not to slam the door, though he desperately wanted to. He needed to shout and swear and punch the shit out of Marc Baron. Declan knew if he started he just might not stop, and that was the only thread keeping him from driving to the man’s house.
While he was at it, Declan wanted to find a way to kick his own ass.
He’d blown it. He got greedy. He read the files and got hooked. After a lifetime of thinking he didn’t want to hear one more word about Charlie, poring through the files gave him a bit of something he didn’t know he needed. Insight. A peek in.
Declan still didn’t understand the man and never would. He certainly couldn’t condone one thing his father had ever done with his life. But none of that excused Marc’s behavior or his treatment of Leah.
Leah. Declan threw his head back and stared at the crown molding on the ceiling.
“What are you doing back here?”
Callen’s voice floating through the darkness had Declan jumping. “Shit, Cal. Why are you up?”
“It’s close to dawn.”
“But have you even slept?”
“Having trouble with that lately, so I was watching a bad movie.” He walked into the entry wearing the same clothes he had had on all day. The only nod he gave to nighttime was the socks and bottle of water, though he carried one of those all the time. “Now answer my question.”
Declan thought about ducking the question and shrugging off the concern. But before he could build up a wall on the anger and frustration bouncing around inside him, the words came out. “Everything fell apart.”
“Not with Leah.” Callen blew out a long exhale. “Man, what did you do?”
“I uncovered something about her father. Seems he was a fraud just like Dad. Started out as Charlie’s partner.”
Callen’s eyes widened, which meant something, because nothing shook Declan’s big brother. “Shit.”
Declan waited for Callen to say more, but that was it. Maybe that was enough. “Yeah.”
Callen shook his head. “Damn.”
“Fuck, shit, damn. I’ve run through them a
ll.” Declan also made up some interesting combinations on the way home.
“You told her?” When Declan nodded, Callen let out a long, low whistle. “How did she take it?”
“I’m home, aren’t I?” The clock in the family room picked that minute to chime.
Callen set his water bottle down on the banister and started up the steps. “Let’s wake Beck.”
“Why?”
Cal stopped and turned around. His steps back down the stairs were slow and measured. The move matched the intense stare. “We need to talk, Declan. Straighten this out.”
“We’re not going to turn Marc Baron in.” Declan was adamant about that and would fight Callen forever if he had to.
He screwed up his lips. “Of course not. We’re going to figure out how to handle this so it’s not so hard for Leah.”
The words crashed over Declan. He’d expected some anger and maybe a stray I-told-you-so comment. He got support. Not that he should have been surprised. Since arriving in Sweetwater, Callen had stepped up. He didn’t judge and handled trouble with ease.
But still, this was more than simple brotherly support. “We?”
“We’re in this together, Declan.” Callen put a hand on Declan’s shoulder. “If you don’t like it you have no one to blame but yourself. You set this up when you convinced us to keep the house. You’re stuck with us now.”
The pact was more than Declan had hoped for but everything he always wanted. “That works for me.”
Callen lifted his hand and smacked Declan in the side of the head. “Then let’s get the lawyer boy and put his expensive education to work getting your woman back.”
Now that’s the Callen that Declan had grown accustomed to. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Declan stood on Marc Baron’s front porch. The first stop of the morning—Beck’s bedroom—went fine. He and Callen had woken Beck up, waded through his strings of profanity at having lights turned on, and spilled all the news, including the whiteboard Leah once kept in her bedroom. Declan hadn’t known what to expect, but his brothers gave their support. They agreed Leah shouldn’t pay for her father’s mistakes any more than they should pay for Charlie’s.
Then Callen told Declan to fix his mess and bring Leah home. He meant to Shadow Hill. Made it sound so easy. Declan knew better. The things he’d said weren’t easy to take back or forgive.
The trust he’d built with Leah shattered when she walked into that dining room and saw him looking through the paperwork. He’d been so fucking stupid. So careless and unbelievably slow. As he’d stood there, furious over the accusations she was lobbing, he realized the reason they burned through him so badly. It was obvious. He’d fallen in love with her. Sick, stupid, forever in love with her.
Somewhere between the accusations in the diner and holding her in the dark, his feelings had shifted from attraction to love. His experience in this area was limited, but the constant pull of wanting to see her and be with her had exploded into something bigger than he could control. He ached when she wasn’t with him and nearly drowned in contentment when she walked through the door. Fighting, sleeping together, or just talking, he couldn’t imagine a life without her.
But he’d missed the most important piece of being with her—trust. They circled each other and held back because of their linked pasts, when what they needed was to step up and be there for each other. Well, he could do that now. It didn’t matter what sins lay at Marc’s door: Leah loved him, so Declan would make an effort to bring them back together. Or die trying.
He rang the doorbell then stepped back. When only silence echoed back at him, he looked in the driveway and saw the older man’s car. It was more than fifteen years old and the paint still shone. Good to see Marc took care of something. Declan just wished he’d picked his daughter over a vehicle.
There was a light on in the window next to the front door and he spied movement behind the curtain. Before he could try again, the door opened. Marc Baron stood there, phone in hand, and wearing a scowl that promised the longest morning of Declan’s life.
“You’re trespassing. The police are on the way.” Leah’s dad shook the phone as he talked.
Declan doubted that, but he also knew this guy wasn’t going to give an inch. “I’m here to talk about Leah.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hurt her?”
Since he meant something other than the emotional death match in Leah’s dining room a few hours ago, Declan adjusted his answer. But, still, saying she was fine was too big of a lie to sell. “This is about the breach between the two of you.”
“Not your business.” Baron tried to close the door.
Declan wedged his foot in the space and hoped the older man didn’t break it. “It is, since it’s related to me.”
A horn honked as a car went by. The tree-lined street was empty. The brick homes were older, smaller than the new developments popping up in the next town over, but the large front yards and proximity to the elementary school made it a prime location. Which meant people would be taking to the sidewalks any minute now.
“Leave her alone.” Leah’s father gave the order as if he assumed it would be obeyed without question.
The idea of that made Declan’s chest ache. He pressed the heel of his hand against it to make it go away. “She loves you, believes in you.”
“Of course she does. I’m her father.” Marc shifted his weight. The slamming of the door looked less imminent, but only slightly. “Unlike you, she had a decent father.”
It was on the tip of Declan’s tongue to call the guy out. He’d raised her in a soup of guilt and a sense of duty to complete an errand of revenge. From the little things she said, Declan knew her dad had a temper that rivaled his own, one that remained untamed.
Then there was the bigger issue. After all those years of pretending to be a victim, it was clear Marc differed from Charlie only in the number of victims each piled up over the years. No matter how much Leah wanted to deny it. Maybe Marc Baron did his one con and learned his lesson. That didn’t forgive his lifetime vendetta against his former friend and partner in crime.
But Declan refused to go there. He’d been pummeled his entire life by his father’s sins. Playground fights, cops who assumed the con man tendencies ran in the blood, and victims who came forward. Except for a few odd groupie types, the legacy had been nothing but dark. Desperation clawed at his throat from the very idea of opening wounds like those for Leah. And since he wanted a future with her, the idea of further alienating her father seemed like a pretty dumb move.
“I’m not here to argue about Charlie’s parenting skills. I can’t justify anything he ever did and I won’t try, but I can tell you how you’re blowing it with Leah. You’re pushing her and testing her, and she needs a break.”
“I can handle my own daughter. I don’t need you for that.”
Unless he was totally wrong about Leah, she’d be here eventually to confront her father. Their father-daughter bond would be tested in ways neither could imagine, but Declan could, and he wanted better for her. He knew that hating a parent stole a part of you, that thinking your dad was a piece of shit meant thinking a part of you was a piece of shit.
Declan never needed others judging him. He’d done a self-assessment often enough and always came up short. Beck compensated for their upbringing by working in the system. Callen handled it by never talking about it. Declan, well, he went in search of honor in a uniform. He didn’t want Leah to wallow in those self-doubts.
“There will be a day when you need Leah by your side and she won’t be there,” he said, fearing he was describing his own future.
“Why are you still here?”
The frustration jammed up inside him overflowed. “Because I love her.”
The older man laughed. Threw hi
s head back and laughed. “You don’t even know what that means.”
Anger battled inside Declan with his need to get the words out. If he lost it now, Marc Baron won. And Leah would pay the price. “I know that being with her means figuring out how to deal with you.”
“You aren’t going to be around, unless you count jail.” Her father smiled. “But why not let her tell you herself?”
The crunch of gravel on the driveway didn’t register until Marc glanced over the yard. Declan spun around in time to see Leah and that lawyer, Ed something, get out of an expensive black sedan. She had an envelope in her hand and Declan couldn’t help wondering if the evidence was in there.
The lacy slip he’d last seen on her had been replaced with faded jeans and an oversized gray T-shirt that stretched low on her hips. No make-up and dark circles under her eyes. Stress radiated off her.
He ached to hold her and beg her to forgive him, but that frown may as well have been a flashing NO-VACANCY sign. She hugged the envelope to her chest and stared him down with a look that telegraphed hate as she walked up the steps to stand beside him.
The last glimmer of hope inside him snuffed out.
Leah concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “What are you doing here?”
That was the last time she’d listen to Mallory. She’d cast Declan in the role of well-meaning victim. Innocent parties didn’t race around town causing trouble, which is exactly what he was doing on her father’s porch. He couldn’t even wait and let her handle it.
“I’m calling Clay.” Her father started dialing.
She ignored him and focused all her energy, what little she had left, on the man determined to emotionally tear her to shreds. “You couldn’t wait. Could you, Declan? You armed yourself with the information and marched over here.”
He had the nerve to frown at her. “Stop talking nonsense.”
Her father took a threatening step, slamming his shoe against the porch. “Do not talk to my daughter like that.”
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