No Turning Back (13 page)

She’d lived with the sensation of unfinished business for a lifetime. She’s just never expected Declan to fit so comfortably into the other part of her life, the one that wanted to move on and get over it all. He shouldn’t be her get-back-to-life guy. Not when she still didn’t trust his role in everything that went before.

“Who told you?” she asked.

“My mom, the same woman Charlie was married to at the time he left with your mom.”

The phrasing said it all. No matter how much Leah wanted to shout and scream about all she’d lost, Declan proved a living reminder that she was not alone. A silent suggestion that she should get over it because others had it bad, too.

But no matter how Leah turned and examined the pieces, she’d lost more. “You’re putting a pretty spin on it but you can go ahead and use the real words. Your dad and my mom had an affair. My mother left me and Dad, thinking she’d found true love and Charlie was going to take her away from her boring life and all her responsibilities.”

Declan nodded. “Instead, he left her in a cheap motel in Nevada. Typical behavior for Charlie.”

“Where she died.” The wind kicked up, blowing past her and taking her hair with it. It seemed right to Leah that she should be shrouded, her face temporarily hidden, as she said the horrible words.

Declan reached out and tucked the wayward strands behind her ear. “Yeah, I know.”

He didn’t apologize or explain. She realized he didn’t think he had to. For the first time in her life, she wondered if he was right. If maybe it was true the sins stopped at the father and didn’t have to be carried by the sons.

“Charlie committed so many crimes and hurt so many people.” Declan glanced out over the property with sad eyes. “Mom says he rationalized his behavior by saying he took
things
and restored balance in the financial world. That was his spiel, “stuff only.” He either ignored or never understood that “stuff” is almost always about more than stuff. It’s tied to self-esteem and family obligation. That people panic when they lose everything and don’t see a way out. He ignored the human toll.”

Leah’s throat tightened to the point of choking her. She had to drag air deep into her lungs just to breathe. “Like my mom.”

“Like so many, Leah, but there were a few where the tragedy went well past jewelry and money. Your mom and another woman used pills. A few men who couldn’t deal with going home to tell their families they lost everything and picked a permanent way out.”

The words, delivered so calmly and in a matter-of-fact tone, cut through Leah. “You’d think with my mom leaving and the police calling to advise my dad . . . you’d think he’d grow to hate
her
.”

“But he didn’t.” Declan didn’t ask. It wasn’t a question. He knew the truth.

“No, he focused all his hate, all his blame and pain, on Charlie.”

“And taught you to do the same.”

There it was. The simple truth of her childhood. For a second, just that second, she let her mind go to the place where she resented her father for loading the burden on her. Where she blamed herself for not pushing back more. “Let’s just say his version of making family memories wasn’t really the norm.”

Declan leaned in with his hand barely touching the pole but his body leaning against it. “So, why don’t you hate me?”

“I wanted to. Man, I really did. I tried.”

He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “But you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I did.” When he leaned in this time she touched a finger against his lips. “Not yet.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” He mumbled the words against her skin.

If they were going to play a game of show-and-tell, it was his turn to offer information. Leah guessed she could have asked anything in that moment and he’d answer. She went straight to the subject that intrigued her the most, one that had nothing to do with the cons but everything to do with the man Declan turned out to be. “Tell me about your mom.”

As if he knew it was coming, Declan launched into an explanation without hesitation. “She was young, like nineteen, when Charlie swept into her life. She knew about small towns and jobs that paid crappy hourly wages. She never had any thought of college. Her goal was to work as a teller at the bank. But then Charlie sold her these big dreams and took her from California to Oregon to live this life she thought would be perfect.”

Just as she tried to imagine her mom getting caught in Charlie’s web, Leah now imagined Declan’s mom, being that small-town woman when Charlie walked in with those sparkling blue eyes and perfect face. “Talk about a bait and switch.”

“When he left years later, after giving her a taste of friends and a solid roof over her head in this small ranch house over on Pine Street, he took the money and saddled her with three young boys and no way to support them. Callen, who was still in elementary school, watched us at night while she worked her second job. Food consisted of government cheese and peanut butter. She loved us and worked hard and then one day Charlie swooped in and took Callen away.”

Dread pulsed through Leah. “What happened to her after that?”

“She broke.”

“Broke down?”

Declan swallowed hard enough to be visible. Sadness weighed down his features, showing in the dip of his mouth and dullness in his eyes. “No, that’s not what I mean. Crying would have been good. She went blank. Sat there and didn’t say a word.”

“Depressed.”

“A pretty extreme case. It wasn’t until the water got turned off and upstairs neighbor threatened to call Child Services that mom snapped out of it. It took months and some help from the local free clinic for her to be able to function. She entered some sort of special program and eventually, after a few false starts, earned her teaching degree.”

Leah’s heart ached for the woman who struggled so much after Charlie stole almost everything. Being a victim of his con was one thing. Being the mother of his children was such a foreign idea to Leah that she couldn’t reason it out. “Did she fight to keep Callen?”

“She says she didn’t know where Charlie had him.”

A memory pinged in Leah’s head. Some of those blanks in her timeline fell together. “You don’t believe her?”

“I do, but Callen doesn’t. Their relationship is strained. Can’t blame either one of them. Just chalk it up to more Charlie Hanover roadkill.”

“But you’re close to Callen now.” For some reason, it was important to Leah that it be the truth. She didn’t even trust Callen, certainly didn’t like him, but the yearning for normal shot off Declan in waves, and if Callen could give him that, she wanted it for Declan.

“Depends on how you define the word. It was years before he showed up again. By then he’d changed.”

So much of who these men were made sense now. Reading files and notes had failed to capture the events with all their emotional pull. “And you went into the Army to escape.”

“I had nothing but a terrible attitude, complete with expulsions from two schools, to show for my high school experience. After a . . . let’s call it ‘incident,’ the court tagged me as having a severe anger issue. With that kind of background, the Army was the best choice. A decent recruiter who knew how to downplay the negative things on a record got me in. Staying in probably saved me from living under a bridge with everything I owned in a shopping cart.”

There was only so much of his past that she could ever find. The juvenile records proved tougher than expected to crack. “Are you exaggerating?”

“Actually trying to play it down a bit so I don’t scare you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a warm kiss on her palm. “Good news is my life went another way and my anger is under control.”

“What about me?’

His arms slipped around her waist and his mouth hovered over hers. “Oh, I sure as hell can’t figure out how to control you.”

“You want to?”
Please have him want to.

“Only in the bedroom.”

Her nerve endings jumped. The thrill racing through her had nothing to do with the new information. It came from his touch and his closeness, his warm breath and the bend of his neck as his mouth inched along her jawline in tiny, nibbling kisses.

She tilted her head back to give him greater access to her neck. “Is that an offer?”

“Want to see my workroom?”

Laughter bubbled up inside of her. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “That’s a terrible line.”

“So, yes?” He whispered the question against her ear.

Oh, the temptation
.

All she wanted was right there, under her hands and surrounded by his arms, but reality crashed in when her stomach grumbled. “I have to go to work. Like, my actual job. I’m on lunch break right now and have meetings and boring calls scheduled all afternoon.”

His palm slipped down until it covered the indent of her lower back. “Poor baby.”

She never knew that was an erogenous zone until his fingers found the spot. “That response is much better than the silent treatment.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“Felt that way.”

The smile that burst over his mouth lit up his face. Gone were the dark shadows that passed through him while talking about his past. “You do understand what you’re saying, right? We absolutely are dating. Like seriously, only each other, dating.”

No way was she ready to use that word. “We’re testing.”

“You can call it whatever you want so long as we get naked soon.”

Her thoughts exactly. “Depends on whether you get better about keeping in contact.”

“Keep your cell on.”

“Are you trying to impress me?”

He smacked her ass then stepped back. “Oh, you’ll be impressed.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Any chance you’re in the wrong place?” Callen’s gaze scanned the room as he talked. When he’d moved in less than a week ago, he’d set up his things, what little there was, on the house’s third floor.

The former attic had been renovated, though that might be a strong word. With some paint and weeks of work, hammering and drywall, it would house a bedroom, small sitting room and bathroom. That was the plan. Not the one Callen had harbored when he stepped foot on the property, but the one he’d accepted when it became clear Declan needed this house.

The reason didn’t matter. If Declan wanted a home, Callen would help him get one. It was the least he could do after having failed his brothers for so long.

Despite what it could be, now the floor was home to stacks of his grandmother’s storage boxes, along with his duffle bag and the twin mattress he dragged up the staircase from one of the back bedrooms on the second floor.

And her. Petite, and hot and brunette . . . and very hot. Long hair, bright eyes and a round face with a full mouth. Callen didn’t know what was going on with the women in this town, but something good, because each was prettier than the one before.

“Excuse me?” The woman dropped the box in her hands and spun around fast enough to lose her footing. He reached out to keep her from falling down, but she grabbed onto an older rocker for that.

The details didn’t matter, so he skipped to the main point. “This is my house.”

The woman smiled. “So, you’re the oldest. Callen, right?”

He hated this sort of thing. People knew him, judged his bloodlines, and then the accusations flew. Outside was one thing. In his house, temporary or not, was another. “You clearly have the advantage. You are?”

“Sophie Clarke.”

That told him nothing. “And, Sophie Clarke, why are you in my room?”

She bent down and picked up a bucket filled with cans and sponges. “Cleaning.”

“Cleaning?” No way was he buying that one. “Looked like you were searching.”

Sophie’s smile faltered. “It’s called dusting.”

“Who hired you?”

“Declan did. Is there a problem?” Beck gave the explanation as he walked into the room.

Callen made a mental note to tag this floor as off-limits without knocking. “Not if you have a problem with people going through your stuff.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t—”

Beck’s went wandering. He lounged in the doorway, arms folded over his chest and his gaze stuck on Sophie.

“Any chance you’re being paranoid?” Beck asked Callen but continued to look at her.

Well, damn
. Callen wondered what kind of spell the women in this damn town had cast on his brothers. A week here and they were all googly-eyed. It was pathetic, really.

Still, there was something about the glances Beck was throwing this woman, like he wanted to look but wanted even more not to. Callen recognized a hard case of lust when he walked right into it. “Ah, I get it.”

Beck’s gaze shot to his brother. “What?”

“Do you want me to say it out loud?” Callen watched as Beck finally got it.

He stood up, no more leaning or relaxing. He was on alert now. “You’re wrong.”

“What is it with you and Declan and your choices?”

Before Beck could say anything, Sophie shifted. She went from the boxes stacked near the window to standing right in front of Beck. She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “Beck isn’t any happier to have me here than you are.”

Now, that was telling
. “Is that right?”

“Declan is paying her,” Beck explained. “He suggested we keep her on. She worked for Grandmother.”

That didn’t make a lick of sense in light of the old woman’s finances. But something bigger was happening here. Something potentially dangerous. Callen looked back and forth between his unwanted guest and the brother who clearly wanted to sleep with her. She’d wandered up here, abandoned her bucket and started shifting boxes around. If she cleaned houses for a living, Callen would eat his duffle bag.

But Beck’s wide-legged stance and set jaw said he wasn’t ready to hear the truth, whatever that was. And Callen wasn’t in the mood for some fancy legal argument. Damn, he hated lawyers.

He put his position in the clearest words he could find as he pointed to the door. “Then, Ms. Sophie Clarke, you can clean my brothers’ rooms but stay out of mine.”

Beck frowned. “Is that necessary?”

Since Callen guessed he couldn’t kick her out without Beck going apeshit . . .

“Yes.”

***

Leah spent the entire afternoon rushing around after leaving Declan’s house. The work excuse had been real. She had meetings and phone conferences. Despite that, she found plenty of time to think about him. The scene at the swing set played in her mind. When he talked about his parents, especially his mom, the last bits of doubt fell away.

She wasn’t the only kid who suffered at Charlie’s hands. Declan had. Maybe his brothers had, but Declan’s calm retelling of his mother’s pain and the love shining in his eyes when he talked about her pretty much did Leah in. It was hard to hate a guy who loved his mother and treated women well.

Declan was not Charlie.

She’d just rounded the corner from the bathroom and stepped into her small office when she felt someone behind her. Turning around, she stared right into the red face of her father.

“I’ve been trying to call you.” Her father walked into the office behind her and slammed the door.

He acted like he owned the place. That wasn’t new. He made it clear more than once that she owed him for her job. He convinced the Council to take her on. He lobbied. Him, him, him.

“I was busy all afternoon.”

“Too busy for your father?”

No way was she jumping on that guilt trip. She walked around the small oak desk and sat down. “What’s going on?”

“I need a progress report.”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The house. The Hanovers. That’s all he cared about. “I’m working on it.”

“When are they moving out?”

That was the piece of information her brain refused to process. Declan talked about possible future negotiations, but she sensed that was all bunk. The bank and paperwork . . . the Hanover boys were staying. She had no idea how to broach that possibility with her father.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“We are talking. I can’t exactly force him to go.”

Her father swore under his breath. “I knew you couldn’t handle this.”

The avalanche of guilt crushed down on her. It had always been this way. He’d set these goals for her, impossible goals, and when she failed to meet them he withheld his affection. “That’s not fair.”

“Stop going to dinner and hanging around your car with him in the driveway—”

The air rushed out of her lungs and left her gasping. “What?”

Anger burned in his dark eyes. “From now on when you meet with this Hanover you take Ed with you, or me.”

“No.”

Her father knocked his fist against the top of her desk. “This isn’t for debate, Leah. Your time is running out.”

Her breath still hiccupped and faltered. So many threats over the years. So much disappointment. The difference now was that
she
was the one who felt let down.

“What does that mean?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“Set up a meeting and we’ll get this done.”