“After?” He sounded so innocent. Except Rory McCabe didn’t have an innocent cell in his body.
“Come on, Rory, you can tell me,” she coaxed. “Why did you employ me to protect Declan? You could have employed another company. We’re good, but there are others just as good.”
He pursed his lips and looked at Declan and Penny. He was leaning against the wall now, seemingly totally absorbed in his ex-fiancé. “Because I love my son.” He turned back to her. “You might not believe it, but I did my best to split you up all those years ago because I thought it was the best thing for Declan.”
She reached across and patted his arm. “Don’t fret about it. I’d already come to the conclusion that we would have been hell together. It wouldn’t have taken us long. You just sped things up.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He was so damn cryptic. “You know I hate you.” She glanced back at Declan. “Both of you.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But let me tell you something about our family and maybe you’ll hate Declan a little less. And understand him a little more.”
Jess knew she should get up and tell Rory McCabe that she had no interest in understanding his son any more than she did now. But she didn’t move.
Rory stretched his long legs out in front of him and settled in his chair. “My father came over from Ireland after the Second World War and literally carved himself a place in the East End of London. Gambling, prostitution, later on drugs—he didn’t mind where the money came from. And he didn’t care who he stepped on in the process.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“Not even vaguely. He was killed in a revenge attack when I was twenty-one, and I took over the business.”
“I bet that was hard.”
“Yeah. It was also a whole lot of fun. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and trampled over anyone who stood in my way.”
“Nice.”
“‘Nice’ it was not, but I was just a kid. A lot of people wanted to see me go down, so I had to toughen up fast.”
“So what changed you?”
“First Logan came along. His mother and I didn’t last, and she made it as hard as possible for me to see him.”
“Declan said you got custody when Logan was ten.”
He looked her over. “So you’ve talked about this stuff with Declan.”
“Not really. Just in passing, when it touched on the job.”
“Oh yes, the ‘job.’ Anyway, Logan was already a total tearaway even at ten, not much hope keeping him on the straight and narrow. By then I’d met and married Declan’s mother. Christ she was”—he shook his head—“different. And I wanted her, but she’d only have me if I went straight.”
“Aw, the love of a good woman.”
He laughed, and this time, across the way, Declan lifted his head and gave the two of them a narrow-eyed stare. So Rory had been right—Declan was quite aware of her presence. Could he actually be trying to make her jealous?
“I’m not sure I’d ever classify Judith as a ‘good woman.’ But she had determination. She was a perfectionist, and I was far from perfect and too set in my ways to change enough to satisfy her. But by the time Declan came along I knew I didn’t want a son of mine living the same life I had. Always looking over his shoulder, expecting the cops to be behind him. Worrying that his kids would get caught up in some mess and end up inside.”
“So the two of you decided Declan was going to be a ‘good’ boy.”
“He was a good boy.” He grinned. “It’s in his genes.”
“Right. Of course it is.”
“But yeah, we might have drummed it in a little hard that he had a duty, couldn’t afford to play up, get attention. Plus, just when he got to a troublesome age, Logan got put away. Declan blamed himself.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because Logan got Declan out of a fight and stayed behind to teach them a lesson for picking on his little brother. The police broke up the fight and one of the coppers accidentally got slugged in the face…by Logan.”
“Oh. Nasty.” Poor Declan.
“After that Declan didn’t give us any trouble. The perfect son.” He sounded almost sad at the notion. “Though he did ask for a Harley for his eighteenth birthday.”
“Did you get him one?” He certainly hadn’t had a Harley when she’d known him, she would have noticed.
“No, I got him a Porsche.”
“Figures.” She couldn’t believe she felt sorry for someone for getting a Porsche for a present.
But really, what difference did this insight make? This conversation might have made her understand a little better why Declan was the way he was, and also why he’d dumped her all those years ago. But she’d already guessed a lot of it. She’d been leading him off the straight and narrow, but she reckoned she wasn’t trying to take him anywhere he didn’t really want to go deep down. It was the whole nature versus nurture thing. They’d brought Declan up to be well behaved, good, and to subdue his wilder nature, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there underneath, simmering away.
“I still don’t get it,” she said. “Why the meddling? Why aren’t you and…Judith really pleased with the way he’s turned out? He’s…perfect.”
“We want him to be happy.”
“And he isn’t?”
“He’s going through the motions. And he’s ready to explode.”
She looked away, back to Declan who now stood in profile. So he could keep an eye on them? He seemed outwardly relaxed, but if she looked closely she could see a tic working in his cheek and his fingers flexing at his side. He glanced across and caught her gaze. A shiver of something—apprehension or anticipation, she wasn’t sure which—ran through her.
Was he really on the point of exploding? And did she want to be around if that happened? But then he’d always given the impression of leashed power, of trouble locked tightly inside; it was what had drawn her to him. What had made her push and push at those locks to see if she could get to the real Declan.
Another shiver. This one settled low down in her belly.
Maybe it was time to get out of there. She could leave the whole no-more-sex conversation until another time. When she’d convinced herself that it was really the only option.