Always You (Adair Family 3)

12

Mac

Lisa, my friend and chief constable in Glasgow, could provide me with no leads, no useful information into the deaths of Kenny, Frickle, and Bryan. The car that ran over Bryan was reported stolen days before, though she did agree it was a little too coincidental and the circumstances for each case seemed odd. She’d asked two of her detective sergeants to reopen the investigations into their deaths and asked me to stay out of it.

But I couldn’t. No DSs were going to be as invested in discovering the truth as someone potentially in the firing line. Billy made it to Australia with his wife, and I hoped that would keep him safe for now.

I did my own digging. First, I looked into Craig Kilmany’s family because these were the people who had the motive to kill the boys involved in Craig’s murder. Craig had two brothers: Jimmy, in prison, and Lee, who’d gotten out of prison a year ago. Craig’s parents were deceased; his father died of cancer not long after Craig’s death. His mother died of an overdose some years later.

The brothers interested me—I remembered they were as thick as thieves growing up, all part of the same gang. And since Lee was out of prison, I focused on him. I called up the private investigator, Daniel Ludlaw, whom Lachlan and I had employed sporadically over the last decade, and asked him to look into Lee Kilmany. I wanted to know what he’d been up to this past year.

With this weighing on my mind, I was glad Robyn and Lachlan were returning from their honeymoon soon. Not just for the peace of mind of having them close to home, but because I would be glad to hand the estate reins back to Lachlan. Managing it was wearing on me. Everything was wearing on me.

Mostly the estrangement between me and Arro was wearing on me.

For the millionth time since that night, I wished I could go back and change the way I’d reacted. That I hadn’t let my fear lash out in anger. Even after she’d fled, I’d convinced myself we’d be okay. That we’d get over the horrific moment. It wouldn’t be too long before I realized how fucking naive I’d been …

* * *

Arro wasn’t answering her phone. I’d have to go to her. Maybe give her a few days. Last night had been a hellish scene.

Upon unlocking my front door, I had a flashback as I stepped into my now dark and cold living room—Arro walking toward me, wearing nothing but high heels and the bracelet I’d bought her.

“Fuck,” I muttered, closing the door behind me as my body responded to the memory. If only she knew the strength of will it had taken to push her away.

Was it strength of will, though? I thought bitterly as I threw my keys in the dish on the side table and switched on a lamp. Shrugging out of my jacket, I flinched remembering the look on Arro’s face as she scrambled to dress. Not for the first time in my life, I truly hated myself.

I was a fucking coward.

Swallowing hard, I wandered into the kitchen and stared at the bottle of whisky on the counter. It would be so easy to drown in it. Make her fade out. But I’d always been aware that I was the son of an addict, and there were a few times in my life where I’d come close to disappearing into the oblivion alcohol could bring. I always stopped myself. Never went down that road. Desperate to prove I wasn’t my dad. But I was. I was just self-destructive in other ways.

Ignoring the whisky, I filled a glass with tap water.

I could have had her last night. The insidious thought crept into my mind as I stood in the kitchen. My body stirred at the thought. I’d wanted her for so long, and the thought of coming home to her every night was such a painful goddamn longing. And there she’d been, so beautiful, so sexy and confident.

Until I destroyed her.

“You haven’t destroyed her,” I muttered, shaking my head. It was just an awkward, horrible moment, but we’d get past it. We were Mac and Arro.

I’d go talk to her and finally have an honest conversation about why we could never be together like that. No matter how much we wanted it. The memory of that night on her couch last December still haunted my dreams. Still made me wake up hard. It was one of the sexiest moments of my life, and we didn’t even fuck.

I would tell her that I hadn’t had sex in too long, and perhaps that was a factor. But it wasn’t the overlying factor, and I was old enough to know better. I wasn’t a young man who believed he could drown out the woman he really wanted by sleeping with another. I knew from experience that it didn’t work, and sometime over the past few years, I’d lost the appetite for casual sex. It would never satisfy me now. Nothing but Arro could satisfy me.

So I was fucked since I refused to go there with her. Maybe that was my punishment for standing by while a boy was murdered, for never loving the mother of my child the way she wanted me to, for abandoning my daughter, and for loving a woman younger, kinder, and far too good for me.

Sighing heavily, I walked back into the living room, and my eye caught on the large envelope that had been pushed through my letter box.

That hadn’t been there when I’d gotten home. I strode over and picked it up. It held a long, narrow object. Flipping the envelope over, I saw it was blank.

What the …

I tipped the contents out on my sideboard and froze.

The spare key to my house and a black velvet box. Placing my glass down, I used both hands to open the box and found Arro’s diamond bracelet inside.

A wave of dread crashed over me. My heart raced and my palms were suddenly slick as I braced on the sideboard to catch my breath. The room spun as panic clawed at me.

I’d been kidding myself, pretending like last night wasn’t as bad as it had been.