Page 19 of Savage Promises
I walk behind the desk and yank the knife from the wall. Twirling it in my fingers, I turn to sit back down, but the golden eyes staring at me from the office doorway stop my heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lennox
Around midnight I take a break from my bustling club to drive Neve home. I don’t order her an Uber or put her in a cab with those silly friends. Maybe I’m being naïve thinking Neve can’t rebel on her own.
In my Mercedes, one I bought pre-owned to get all the fancy bells and whistles, Neve is quiet except for the occasional mopey sigh from her in the passenger seat. She stares out the window, her arms crossed tight over her blooming chest. Her bottom lip juts out in a pout that I’ve seen enough. An expression she often falls back on. Usually, because it works. With Dad, with Mom. But mostly Dad.
Sorry, sis. An empty well can’t take care of anyone.
Still, I feel her sulking self-pity radiating like a heatwave. I just don’t have the patience for it right now. Not after the fight last night with Garrett. There’s only so much I can take. And why I feel more than ever, I have to open my own nightclub. Break free from this Donnelly black cloud once and for all.
My headlights carve through the dark winding streets of Astoria. A low fog hangs over the damp pavement. The rain has stopped, but the tension in my chest hasn’t. Garrett. Neve. What am I going to do with them?
“You can stop being mad at me, you know,” Neve mutters, finally breaking the silence.
“I’m not mad at you,” I sigh.
“You’re always mad at me. Always treating me like a child.”
“Youarea child.” I exhale through my nose, forcing my focus on the road and not giving into the guilt of Neve’s sullen glare. “I’m trying to protect you, Neve.Mom’s gone. It’s up to me. You were reckless tonight. Taunting my bouncers and tricking my bartenders into serving you alcohol. Plus, that club has some dangerous customers. It’s not safe.”
I consider the Albanian Garrett lured there last night. I don’t need any more ofthemshowing up.
“Whatever.” Neve shakes her head.
I stop debating her. She’s seventeen, a young adult in the eyes of society. But she’s still breakable in ways she doesn’t understand. All she cares about is volleyball, her teammates, winning, and getting trophies.
I turn down our block and ignore the Quinlan manor house. At this late hour, only a few lights here and there glow in the windows. All the kids have moved out. Ewan, the oldest son, lives nearby with his wife and kids. Griffin, Connor, and Shane now live in Manhattan. Just knowing Shane’s not behind his bedroom window on the far-left corner, the block feels colder. Hollow.
While Quinlan Manor is quiet, activity in front of Dad’s house is anything but. There are cars...everywhere. My heart drops into my stomach.
Fucking Garrett! All this activity means he went ahead with his stupid plan. And got caught.
I swallow and hold it together, play it cool so I don’t upset Neve.
Passing at least a half dozen strange cars idling on the street, I pull into my dad’s long driveway. Odd, that no one stops me.
Neve unbuckles her seatbelt before I even turn off the engine.
“Wait for me,” I snap. “Something is going on in the house. Didn’t you see all those cars?”
“You’re paranoid. No one would ever hurt me.” Neve storms into the house through the kitchen door in all her naïve glory. Her glittering heels are clutched in one hand,her perfect blonde hair spilling over her shoulder like the little drama queen she is.
I sit there for a beat, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. I need to gather myself before facing whatever fresh hell is brewing inside the house.
Leaving my coat in the car, I enter the house using the same kitchen door and lock it up behind me. My mother’s absence still lingers on every drop of silence. I tear up for a moment looking at her kitchen, how my father and brother don’t keep it as clean as she did. Dishes are piled in the sink, the trash is overflowing, and all of Mom’s potted herbs are a dried-up wasteland.
Jerks.
Slowly, I creep into the living room. The scent of aged wood kicks up old memories I don’t want in my head. I hear the last echo of Neve’s footsteps stomping up the stairs and I sigh, glad she got up there safe. After she slams her bedroom door and that clatter clears from my brain, a symphony of voices pours from Dad’s office at the back of the house.
There’s no screaming. No yelling. And no gunshots. I pray this has nothing to do with Garrett and what we talked about last night. But that’s doubtful. Ishouldturn around, but I can’t walk away from trouble.
The voices draw me closer to the office, and I freeze in the open doorway. Garrett sits slouched in a chair, clutching his side like he’s been hurt. I see a hint of blood under his nose and his face looks swollen.
Broad shoulders block everything else out. It’s Shane!
