Page 19 of Inflict

Visitors were not uncommon for his father.

Evelyn’s father—Declan—was entirely unusual.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to have you here, but …” Sean trailed off with a smile that felt far too cold to be true. “You know how it goes, Declan.”

Declan nodded, saying nothing. Even when Connor’s father stepped back a foot, his arm widening outward as if to offering the other man to come further into the house, Declan didn’t move an inch. His gaze never left Sean, either.

It was as if he didn’t trust Connor’s father.

Not to walk past him, not to get too close, and not even to turn his back to him.

Connor had seen enough—and heard enough—to know there were plenty of people who thought Declan was the most powerful Irishman in the state of New Jersey and New York. They talked about him with an air of respect, some with admiration, and others with fear.

Everyone, that was, except Connor’s father.

“You want a drink?” Sean asked. “Whiskey, or some black stuff? I’ve got pints in the fridge.”

Declan still didn’t move. “No need. I’m not staying—pleasantries aren’t needed today.”

“Be that as it may, I’m thirsty.”

“I’m not,” Declan said firmly.

Again, neither man moved an inch.

Connor was entirely unsure of what he was witnessing. The room felt different—usually his home was so cold, and not from lack of heat, but from a certain lack of emotion from the people within it. Blankness and blackness stared back from the eyes that watched him, but he knew, from seeing other families, that it was not the way it should be.

This wasn’t the same.

A pressure seemed to build, the longer the two men stayed like statues, staring at one another, and refusing to budge even an inch for the other. An invisible pressure, an exchange of sorts.

“Then what do you want?” Sean asked, his tone as sharp as ever. “Because I know you didn’t make your way over here to bust my balls for not showing up to the meet yesterday. I wasn’t feckin’ needed, Declan. I’m only needed when someone needs to hurt.”

A tic moved in Declan’s jaw. “I’m aware.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“You’ve got another lass—younger, they said. Much younger.”

“Oh, this nonsense again?” Sean said, scoffing. “You’re a gobshite, Declan.”

“Did you get her from the same place as the last, or are you entertaining new traders?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“It is, if they begin knocking on my or my men’s doors, Sean.”

Sean laughed under his breath, shaking his head with a grin. “Like you, they’ve got a healthy fear of me, and for good reason. Don’t go worrying over that, it’ll do you no good. Don’t bring that trouble to your own doorstep.”

Declan straightened a bit, his face draining of color. “I’m not a fool; I’m not going to go looking for trouble, Sean.”

“Then why bother making your way over here for this, if you already knew the answer I was going to give you?”

“How young is she?” Declan asked, ignoring the question from Sean.

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters.”