Dean doesn’t believe a thing. He looks at me with cold indifference to hide the flicker of pain I saw in his eyes.
“I don’t believe you.”
“No, Dean, please?—”
“No, Clover. I…” He cuts himself off and stands with his back to me. “I trusted you. And I’m not hurt that you lied, or that you made me spend money and time chasing leads that hadbeen cold for four years, not a handful of months. I’m not hurt that you were focused on your family, either. But what does hurt me? That after all our talks about the lies from Trisha and how I valued honesty and our trust, you didn’t tell me the truth bychoice. You only came clean because you got caught.”
38
DEAN
The flight back to the States is quiet. After our rushed discussion in the hospital waiting room, Clover withdrew into herself. Her last comment was something about her sister’s lack of care or affection, but concern for Bobby overwrote most of that for the rest of our stay until we were seated on the plane.
I want to comfort her. My anger and frustration haven’t faded, but I still care about her. I want to know the whole truth and it feels like she’s only given me a handful of it. I hate feeling in the dark.
So, I remain in my seat and wrestle with the storm of emotions in my chest, deciding it’s better not to act until I’m certain my anger won’t rise up at the wrong moment. Instead, I focus on what Duke told me about Malcom. The Byrnes being deeply connected to the Kuznetsovs is something I missed entirely, but given how small the Byrnes are as a family, it never would have crossed my mind that they could be tangled with one of the biggest Russian families.
But now it makes sense. Having a smaller family do your dirty work is probably the safest way to handle things. Is whatDuke said about the fire true? Is it possible that his fire and my fire are the same disaster? The implications are overwhelming and I spend the rest of the flight fighting not to call Don and fill him in immediately. This kind of conversation can’t be carried out over the phone.
Neither of us eats or sleeps for the duration of the flight, so exhaustion clings to us like a blanket when the jet lands and Bobby is swiftly transferred to a waiting ambulance in the middle of the tarmac.
“Dean.” Clover briefly taps my forearm, drawing my attention to her as a warm July wind tugs at our clothes. “Can we talk? Properly?”
I want to. God, do I want to. But looking at her pains me more than I can say and I don’t want our conversation to be smothered by my own currently raw feelings.
“I need time.”
“Please,” she says softly, and her large eyes shine under the moonlight. “I want to explain.”
“And I want to hear it,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “Just not right now. I can’t… I need some time. I’m sorry.”
Pain flashes over Clover’s face as she chews on her lower lip, then she nods just once. “Okay.”
“Go with Bobby.” I jerk my head toward the ambulance. “Care for him first.”
She doesn’t say another word, but I remain on the tarmac and watch her climb into the ambulance. I remain there even as it drives away and don’t move until the flashing blue lights are completely out of sight.
“So,” Jack sighs as he comes to stand next to me. “Where to, Boss?”
“Don?”He’s not in his office or the library. I hurry through the manor and search the bar and the gym, finally finding Don out on the patio nursing a cold drink under the stars. “Don!”
“Dean!” He spins to face me and a wide smile breaks out across his face. “What the fuck, I thought you weren’t back for another day or so.”
“I had to come back early. Listen, I need everything you can get me on Malcom Byrne.”
Don’s brow knits together. “Clover’s uncle? You mean more on what we already have?”
“Yes. I need more than his finances and business history. I need a fucking dirty deep dive into that man’s past. I need to know everything.”
Don’s relaxed demeanor vanishes in seconds. “Tell me what happened.”
“We found Clover’s sister. Hailey. She wasn’t taken and she wasn’t lost. She ran away with a Russian man called Kuznetsov. He goes by Duke now.”
“Kuznetsov?” Don repeats slowly.
“Exactly. And while we were bonding, he told me an interesting story about a fire. One that the Kuznetsovs were involved in covering upforMalcom Byrne.”
“What the fuck?”
