No Turning Back (23 page)

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 his 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.”

“Oh, all of a sudden you give a shit about her?”

“Everyone calm down.” Ed walked up the last step until he stood even with Leah’s dad. Ed’s rational voice cut through the rising tension, which was the reason she dragged him here without giving him one hint about what was happening. “We should step inside.”

The older men filed in the door, leaving her trailing behind with Declan. He shot her that you-can’t-be-serious look he did so well. “You brought a lawyer?”

“I thought Dad might need one.” In reality, she wanted a level-headed witness. She had no idea what sort of hate her father would spew. He’d never lifted a hand to her, but his words sliced deep enough. “Don’t act innocent or disappointed or whatever that expression is supposed to be. You’re the one who dug around and found the evidence. God, Declan. The sheets weren’t even cold.”

Her father got to the edge of the foyer then spun around. His red face signaled trouble. “You’re sleeping with him? I was sure the town gossip about that was all wrong.”

As if she wanted that news announced to the whole county. She shut the door then faced them all. She was a grown woman. She refused to pretend she was a virgin on prom night. “Were. Not anymore.”

They all stopped just inside the door. Her father didn’t invite them to sit down and she doubted Declan would have agreed. Despite the stern grimace and broad shoulders, she’d bet inside he wanted to bolt. Part of her couldn’t blame him.

He stared at her until she returned his gaze. “I came to ask your dad to ease up on you,” Declan said as if the words had been torn out of him.

She shook her head as she tried to force his words together in a way that made sense. He’d uncovered the mess and should be gloating. If the situation were reversed . . . no, she wouldn’t turn any of the Hanover brothers in. She wanted to believe she would, but she knew better.

But Declan wasn’t her. “I’m supposed to believe you didn’t mention the file or the information you found?”

Ed frowned at them. “What are you two talking about?”

It was now or never, and it couldn’t be never. The urge to hide the document, pretend she’d never seen it, smacked her like a slap to the face. But part of breaking out of old habits and moving on was stepping up. She had to face the past to overcome it.

“This.” She held a thick envelope and kept her arm hanging there in midair until her father finally took it. “Declan had his own file full of papers about what happened in Sweetwater all those years ago, and one of the documents in his doesn’t match mine, or I should say, yours. Specifically, your version didn’t include your note from all those years ago.”

Her father turned the envelope over in his hands but didn’t open it. The smug look on his face disappeared. For a second she thought she’d seen panic flare in his eyes.

“What the hell is it?” Ed asked as he looked over his friend’s shoulder.

Declan widened his stance as he clasped his hands together behind his back. “Proof your friend was in on Charlie’s cons from the beginning.”

Declan’s face made the perfect target and her father lunged for it. “You lying sack of—”

Being younger and fitter, Ed also moved faster. He grabbed her father around the shoulders and dragged him to a halt. “Stop it.”

Before anyone could say anything, her father turned on her. “How can you believe this boy over me?”

“I’m a man,” Declan pointed out in a deadly soft tone.

And if Leah guessed right, a very angry one. But she had bigger problems, like a potential second heart attack for her dad. “I didn’t say I believed him.”

But she did. She also trusted her own eyes. She’d seen that handwriting her entire life, and the timeline implicated her dad in a way that was all too clear. The fact he didn’t have the paper or anything like it in his files told her he’d tried to hide the truth by burying any evidence of it.

Whatever her father saw in her eyes had him opening the envelope and scanning the paper. He looked up again with a blank expression. No anger or fury. That’s when Leah knew for certain. The father she grew up with would have fought off any false accusation. His expression, so careful, was about calculating how to get out of the mess he’d created.

The last of her adrenaline puddled on the floor. She’d been emotionally bruised and battered. All the arguing and fighting had come down to this. Her father had lied for years.

She tried to take it in but couldn’t. Her brain shut down. Her body followed. Muscles ached like she had the flu, and the countdown to falling over started.

Her father shook his head. “It’s a fake.”

“I’ve seen that one and the one you had. They don’t match.”

“This is nothing, and your boyfriend is blowing it up into something.” Her father snorted. “And you’re falling for it, which is pathetic.”

“It’s real. The prosecution had it and gave it to us when they turned over other files following Charlie’s death. It proves you handled the money when it was stolen,” Declan said.

“I . . . what?” Her father slapped the back of his hand against the paper as he sputtered. “It’s a document that says nothing.”

“Ed?” Leah looked to him for help, but he was too busy reading over her father’s shoulder.

“This criminal you’re sleeping with is trying to take the focus off him and put it on me.” Her father got more wound up as he spoke. “He hid in the Army and throws around his medals, but none of that can hide the dirty little delinquent underneath.”

Leah realized none of that was true. Oh, she knew about Declan’s service, but he never once bragged. If anything, he added his service and good deeds to the list of things he wanted to put behind him.

Ed put a restraining hand on his friend’s arm. “Marc, you need to calm down.”

The worry over her father’s health battled with the need to say it all. He was on meds and strong. Still, she debated shutting this down and calling his doctor.

“Do not coddle me.” Her father’s well-known temper flared, and he whipped his phone across the room, where it bounced before cracking and shattering. When Declan didn’t even wince, the fire in his father’s eyes grew brighter. “You followed in your father’s footsteps, I’ll give you that. Dragging everyone down with you, spreading your foul garbage to anyone who’ll listen, including my easily influenced daughter.”