Skyler blinked. She’d unconsciously driven to her stepfather’s house in Beacon Hill.
With tears marring her vision, she studied the luxury town house, with its stately brick facade and colonial-style architecture. She and her mother had moved into the house after the divorce, and Skyler couldn’t have gotten out of there faster. After high school graduation, she’d moved into her college dorm, never to spend another night in Clay’s house. Since her mother’s death, she hadn’t even been back for a visit.
But she got out of the car now and headed for the front door to ring the bell. She swiped her sleeve over her wet eyes as she waited on the stoop. God, what was she doing here? There was still time to go, if she hurried back to her car before—
The door swung open, revealing her stepfather’s shocked face.
“Sky?” His eyes widened when he noticed the tears staining her cheeks. “Are you okay? Come inside, sweetheart. Come in.”
He ushered her into the front hall, closed the door, and pulled her into his bulky arms before she could voice a protest.
Skyler stiffened for a beat before sagging into the embrace. They hadn’t hugged in years, and the hugs they had shared always felt forced and awkward. No matter how hard her mother had begged her to give Clay a chance, Skyler had never been able to warm up to him.
Her father had been gentle and compassionate, but Clay was the complete opposite. Commanding and hardened after years of heading up the organized crime unit in the FBI’s Boston field office. He’d swept into her mother’s life like a movie hero, an exciting man with a dangerous career, and Skyler’s mother had welcomed it. She’d fallen head over heels for him, leaving Skyler’s father in the dust.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Clay released her and cupped her cheeks.
“Nothing.” She gulped. “I mean, not nothing. But you don’t have to worry. I’m okay.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why are you crying?”
“I…a friend of mine was…he got hurt last night…and…” She searched Clay’s familiar face, rugged planes, thick dark eyebrows, strong mouth. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
The response was so swift it elicited a rush of guilt. The man had tried hard to form a connection with her and she’d fought him every step of the way, and yet when she came to him for help, he gave it so freely she felt like crying again.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. Do you want some coffee? I just brewed a pot.”
A minute later, she settled on a stool at the eat-in breakfast counter, where a steaming mug already sat. Her heart cracked in two when she noticed it was the mug she’d given Clay for his birthday years ago. Her mom had wanted her to pick one with a cheesy phrase on it—I love my stepdaddy had actually been available at the store—but Skyler had ignored the pleas and chosen one with a black-and-white picture of Boston’s harbor instead. Simple, boring.
Impersonal.
The fact that he was drinking from it, all these years later, made her feel like the most dreadful person on the planet.
“Tell me what happened to your friend,” Clay said in his no-nonsense voice. He handed her a cup of coffee, then sat down across from her.
Skyler took a breath. She wasn’t sure if what she was asking was even possible, but she had to try. For Gage. They might have ended it, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him get hurt again. He deserved to be free of O’Donnell, and if she could help him achieve that, she’d damn well do it.
“Have you ever heard of a man named Mitch O’Donnell? Supposedly he’s a local businessman, but he’s involved in the drug business and probably a bunch of other illegal stuff.”
Clay’s expression turned deadly. “I know all about O’Donnell.” He cursed. “How the hell did you get mixed up with him, Sky? The man has ties to the Irish mafia—my unit has been keeping an eye on him for years.”
She wasn’t at all surprised to hear it. “I thought you’d know him.”
“Tell me what happened.”
After a moment of hesitation, she met her stepfather’s eyes and told him everything. About Gage’s brother, about the deal he’d struck, about the beating. When she finished, Clay looked unhappy, and more than a little worried.
“This friend of yours…is he your boyfriend?”
She shook her head, ignoring the tight vise of pain squeezing her heart. “He’s just a friend. And I want to help him. I want O’Donnell to leave him alone. Can you help? Maybe put some pressure on him, or threaten to arrest him if he goes after Gage again?”
Clay ran a hand through his graying hair, his expression conveying visible reluctance.
“Please,” she begged. “I…” She took a breath. “I know I haven’t been the best stepdaughter on the planet, but I promise I’ll make more of an effort. It’s just…”