Page 65 of Wild Card
Horror squeezes my stomach, nauseating me. This man has been the demon haunting my life as long as I can remember, but he’s eviler than I could have imagined. It seems impossible to loathe him more, but I do. My beautiful, magical Catriona—I fell for her in a matter of days. Hell, maybe from the first moment I saw her. How could he sacrifice anyone, let alone his angel of a daughter, so callously? How could he not want to protect such a treasure? I don’t respond to him—what I want to do is fucking murder him where he sits, but now’s not the time. Instead I head down the hallway, numb and struggling to formulate a new plan. I don’t see the tall blond man in front of me until I slam into his shoulder.
I offer a half-assed apology, but the man grabs me.
I’m looking for a fight and I’m ready to obliterate this person until I see his bright green eyes.
“Do I know you?” the man says, his hand on my shoulder still. “You look familiar. What were you doing in my father’s office? The guards said you claimed to be with the gaming commission but you’re sure as hell not.”
It’s impossible to understand how he and Catriona are twins. Other than coloring, they don’t look anything alike. His body language is completely different from hers too. He’s commanding in a subtle way. But in a way that doesn’t go unnoticed. All cool control where she’s warm passion.
“Callan,” I say. “You’re Callan?”
“Yes. Who the hell are you?”
How should I answer that? I’m still thinking when another large man runs up behind Callan. He looks anxious and huffs out “I can’t find Birdie. She was supposed to meet Rory for dinner over an hour ago, but he said she never showed up.”
Oh Christ.
“Who are you?” Callan asks again. There’s a clear threat in his voice, and the other man picks up on it and registers my presence suddenly.
I’m not here to fight. Not these men at least. And since I’m in a casino, I might as well take a gamble and see if we can work together.
“My uncle has your sister. He probably has both of them.”
The larger man pushes me into the wall. I let him, for now.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” he snarls. “You fucking touch my sisters and you’re dead.”
I’m guessing this brother is the person who threatened to kill my entire family.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Let him go, Patrick. Let’s find out why he’s here.”
Patrick eases off of me, but I’d be a fool to think he wouldn’t snap my neck in an instant. Either of these two men would. Callan is just momentarily more understated about it while he gathers data.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s my grandmother.
“I came to ask your father for help,” I say. “Help in getting Catriona back to you.”
“I went by your property earlier today,” Callan says. “But I only saw an older woman.”
Another threat, and it’s well taken.
My phone rings again. And again.
“Expecting a call?” Patrick asks with a sneer.
“It’s my grandmother,” I say. “Just give me a second, please?”
Patrick inches closer, but Callan holds him off and nods.
“Nonna?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
She’s sobbing hysterically, and it’s hard to understand what she’s saying. It’s half Italian, half English.
“What happened?”
“He came here, Gio. My son. My own son.”
