“He did.” I gritted my teeth. “He fucking told her, because he knew what would happen, knew what she’d do, and he knew I didn’t have a fucking choice, the piece of shit.”
“Cillian was mean,” she whispered, her eyes big in her face. “Really mean.”
“He hurt you?” I barked, unable to stop myself, ire flooding me, even though the fucker was dead, at the prospect of her being hurt by that cunt.
“No. Just freaked me out. I never let myself be alone with him, let’s put it that way.”
“Good,” I grunted. “Smart girl.” Relief filled me as I muttered, “It isn’t my proudest moment, Aela. It’s the most shameful thing I’ve ever goddamn done. It happened, though, and I’ve been paying ever since. First with that bitch Deirdre, who blackmailed me into being with her. Then with whoever the hell carried on in her place after she died.”
“Who could that be? What do they have on you?”
“Photos. Jonny’s gun, which would prove that the bullet in Paul was from his weapon, not a Haitian’s.”
She frowned at me. “Who were you scared of finding out?”
I shrugged. “Da, of course. At that point, jail would have been a fucking vacation. I was miserable, absolutely goddamn miserable until you and I started hooking up. Things derailed even more when Da made me his fists.”
Aela simply blinked. “Where did the paintings come from? Why are you showing me them?”
“They’re not really related to that night, but with Paul’s contact, the fence, these are what I bought, and they’re the only beautiful things that came out of my fucking childhood.” I winced. “Well, until you and Shay came back into my life.”
She didn’t react to that, just asked, “You bought them with the money you made?”
“I bought the Van Gogh with the contacts I made from that time,” I clarified. “We didn’t make enough on the heists to fund something like this, but it was where the habit started. Collecting things, you know?”
Her eyes bugged at me. “Things?Declan, these are priceless paintings. Not ‘things’.”
My grin was as sheepish as my shrug, but it darkened as I murmured, “It’s one of the reasons why I had to let that bitch blackmail me. I couldn’t stop…” Jaw clenching, I muttered, “Anyway, the guy I bought thePoppiesfrom had the Feds chasing after him. He accepted just over four hundred grand. Crazy money. But it set him up in Aruba or someplace.”
“It’s worth over thirty million dollars. Minimum,” she squeaked.
My lips twitched. “I’m Irish. I like a bargain.”
That had her heaving a sigh. “This is nuts.”
“Sure is,” I agreed. “But, and it’s a massive but, you have to understand that if I was a cunt to you, I never actually meant to be. When Deirdre died, that fucking morning of the funeral, I got my first demand. Deirdre never asked me for money after she got her own way, but the person who took her place did. I had to scramble to get the ten K they wanted, and they wanted it every fucking month. I wasn’t making as much back then as I am now.”
“Evidently,” she whispered, her gaze back on the paintings. “Everything,” she mused slowly, “in this place is antique, isn’t it? Priceless, too?”
“Most of it.”
A breathless sigh escaped her. “My God, Declan.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“Why did you get involved in those heists?” she queried warily, like she was trying to find the answers to questions she’d long since been waiting to discover.
Maybe she had.
I just took it as a good sign that she was still interested after all this time.
“Because I was stupid, rebelling against Da. The first time, at any rate. I was shitting bricks after it too, but we had a couple of hundred to mess around with, and it was all without Da knowing about it because he tithes everything we earn.” That information had her eyes widening. “Then we hit a pawn shop.” I whistled under my breath. “See that little jade bottle over there?” I pointed to the window ledge. “That was what started it all.”
“The first piece in your collection?” she asked, then she winced. “Declan, you don’t have to tell me any of this. You’ve told me more than I expected—”
“I do,” I rasped. “Because, while I don’t expect you to walk on hot coals as an apology for keeping Seamus from me, I’m hoping that you want your son to know his father enough to not want him to be in jail.” I grimaced. “Or at the bottom of the Hudson.”
“Was it wise cluing your brothers in on all this if the reason you’ve been hiding it for so long is because of your father?” she whispered, her voice husky.