I give a very unladylike snort and get everyone’s attention again.
“You think he’s yours?” Vicky challenges me.
I’ve had enough. Everything in me tightens and grinds to a halt. I snap. I can feel the burn traveling along my chest and up my neck. “He’s all yours. Trust me, I don’t want him.” My words come out louder than I intended.
I glance at Hannah, who looks as white as a ghost. Now that I think about it, all the girls do. The silence in the room could only mean one thing. I turn slowly to where everyone’s eyes keep flickering and meet a very dark pair of breath-taking eyes.
Lucas is staring at me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LUCAS
I soak up Ella’s fear. I don’t blink as she swallows. Her mouth opens and closes. It’s a perfect mouth, pouty, kissable.
When her lids flutter closed, cutting me off from her wide eyes, I glance at the other girls. As my eyes touch each of them they seem to sink back further into their chairs. Turning on my heel, I walk out of the room at a leisurely pace as I grapple for control of my emotions.
No one had ever refused me. That’s what I did best. Shutting people down, Ella’s words were filled with a venom I wasn’t used to. People may think bad things but to announce them out so brazenly isn’t very nice at all.
“Close the door.” A cold chill runs down my spine at my father’s words. I meet his dark eyes briefly before closing the study door behind me.
I try to reel in my confusion and fear at his arrival. “I wasn’t aware you would be home so soon. If I had known…” I trail off and let him fill in the blanks. I would have welcomed you. I would have tried harder to clean up the mess with Declan. I would have run a fucking mile.
“You left me no choice.” My father leans against my desk, his eyes darting from the mail on my desk to me.
“Declan was killed by someone we know and his finger cut off. You didn’t think I needed to know that.”
I finally let the air trickle back into my body, it’s like defrosting. I take a step towards my desk. “Clearly I didn’t need to tell you since you already know.”
His finger jabs the envelopes. “I wanted to hear it from you.” My father doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t need to.
“Yes sir.” I grab for more control over my emotions and sit down in my desk chair.
He stares at me, I’m waiting for him to pounce. He pushes off my desk and moves around my study like he hasn’t stood in it a million times. It once was his as a young man.
“Tell me your thoughts.”
With him not looking at me, I can finally gather my thoughts. I wasn’t going to point out that I thought Henry did it. He would brush it off. I don’t think it is love he has for Henry. It’s hard to explain. He is like a pet you keep hidden but secretly like it.
“It must be a member.”
He takes a snap look at me before turning back to the bookcase. “Which one?”
“Aine.” I state.
His eyes look murky as he stares at me and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
He nods his head. “Female, small, friendly. No one would suspect her.”
“But why?” He stops now and faces me.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. It isn’t Aine. It didn’t make sense to me.
“Thirty years ago we had a member die.”
This knowledge is fed to me with his back turned once again.
“The same way?”
“Yes.” My father folds his arms across his chest. His black suit makes him look formidable. He isn’t someone you disobeyed. That’s why he leads all of us.
“Did you find out who was responsible?”
I can see the trouble rising to the surface in his murky eyes. “No.”
I raise both eyebrows and sit forward. “You think the person that did this also killed thirty years ago?”
If that is the case it ruled Henry out.
“We will have to look into it more.”
“Who was the member who died?”
My father stares at me longer than necessary. “Why?”
“There might be a connection.”
“There isn’t.” His answer is abrupt, but I know better than to ask any more questions.
“I hear you are changing the way our punishment system works.” I swear I see a smile in my father’s eyes. The only person who must be feeding him information is Brendan.
“I think it’s time for a change,” I say carefully.
My father stares at me again before unfolding his arms. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m back.”
I nod.
“Meet me in the sheds, I want to show you something.” My father turns and I’m waiting for him to leave through the door, only he pushes in a panel along the wall. I feel the breeze as a secret door that I am not aware of opens. He walks through it without looking back at me.
Leaving the study. Two of the girls are in the hall, they don’t giggle when they see me. They are wary and that’s good.
The gravel crunches under my shoes as I walk out back to the sheds. The shed is used mostly for storage of my father’s collection of vintage cars. It was always off limits and something was telling me I was about to find out the real reason I was never allowed in without my father's permission.
I open the small door that’s in the bigger one on the shed. I step in and search for my father. I’m waiting for someone to scream at me. I had never been in here unless he was with me. I spot him at the back of the shed. His eyes clash with mine.
Closing the door behind me, I don’t speak as I walk to him, but before I reach him, he walks off to the left and descends down a set of concrete steps. I follow him and when my father glances back at me, there is a dark glint in his eyes.
I have so many questions but I wisely keep them to myself as we stand in a corridor. A large wooden door to our left is our destination. My father opens the door and I pause while swallowing around a lump that forms in my throat.
“Come in.” The command has me passing the threshold as my father closes the door behind me.
Once again I don’t ask any questions. A man is strung up by his hands. His naked torso is painted in splashes of purple and black. My father puts a pair of leather gloves on. The man’s wild eyes flicker from me and my father. He starts to shout only to have his words jumbled from the cloth in his mouth.
“This may seem barbaric to you, but sometimes it takes this.” He points at the man who tries to push his swinging body closer to my father. His arms look extremely long, like they might be dislocated. “To make a point.” He finishes.
My stomach tightens. My father turns away from me and hits the man repeatedly in the ribs. The man cries out in pain. When my father stops, he’s breathless.
“Do you remember when you were a child and your dog died?” A cruel smile crosses my father's face. How could I forget?
“Yes,” I speak my first word. The man whimpers in pain, but I focus on my father.
“You wouldn’t stop crying. It was … irritating.”
I tighten my fists, wanting to drive them into his face. How could I forget that day? I had let my guard down, allowed my emotions to spill over, only to have him laugh at me.