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I'll be glad when it's over.
CHAPTER 9
BELLE
I’m dressed as nice as I can manage out of my small, outdated wardrobe. I decided on pulling my hair back into a low ponytail to try and conquer my frizzy hair. I walk into O’Leary Shipping—an old warehouse on the outskirts of town—and wonder for the millionth time if I’ve lost my mind. I don’t know what I expect to accomplish here. I look like hell. My lip is cut from my father’s ring, and my face is bruised, too. I’m not exactly Killian O’Leary’s type anyway. I doubt he cares what I look like, but I still feel self-conscious.
I’ve always told myself that I would leave immediately if my father’s temper caused him to lash out at me. It would only take one hit from him then I’d just walk away—guilt free. It turns out that it’s not quite that simple. I’m still worried about whatever stupid scheme he’s planning. It might have been safer for me to stay out of it, but I just can’t bring myself to do nothing. I didn’t sleep all night for worrying exactly what they were planning against Killian. Whatever it is, my father is certain that Killian will end up dead. I’m confused as to why I’m so worried about the guy, but there’s one thing that I do know for certain. If I stand by and do nothing, then his blood will be on my hands.
There’s no way I can live with myself if Killian does die, and I did nothing. He is probably not a good guy. My father is definitely not. Their battles should not be my concern, but it feels like it is. Of course, doing this may sign my father’s death warrant, too. Realistically, I’m not sure how to work around that. I just know I’ve got to try.
So, here I am, arriving at the O’Leary’s business and feeling like a fish out of water. I would have felt better if my face didn’t look so rough. I tried, but you can definitely tell I took a hard hit. I applied a few layers of concealer so the damage wouldn’t look quite so jarring, but you can still see shades of purple on my skin that shouldn’t be there. I’m wearing a dark pair of glasses in hopes that no one will notice. Of course, I know it’s not normal to wear them inside, but I’m just going to fake it. What’s that old saying? Fake it till you make it.
That’s my plan.
I walk bravely through the front door hoping I look cool, calm, and collected. I walk purposefully to the front counter. There’s a receptionist behind it typing away at her computer, her nails clacking along the keyboard. I grab the edge of the counter to support myself—afraid that my knees might give out.
“Hi, I need to speak with Killian…uh…Mr. Killian, please.” My voice shakes a bit with my nerves. I breathe deeply for a second to get a hold of myself. I’m saving his ass by coming here. I doubt he’ll have me killed…Right? I’m going to try and not mention my father—although you’d have to be stupid not to realize how I got my information. That means, I’m going to have to beg for my father’s life. I can only hope that Killian will show some kind of mercy. I’m grasping at straws, I know. Still, if I do nothing, I’m no better than my father.
“Can I get your name, miss?” she asks without even looking up.
“Belle Tate,” I respond after swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry, Miss Tate. He’s not seeing anyone today. He’ll be in a meeting with a client the rest of the day. Can I set you up an appointment for a later date?”
A radio screeches on the desk asking for Sierra, presumably her, to answer the radio.
“What?” Sierra asks into it, giving me an overly nice smile until it falters as the man on the radio tells her something is wrong with Vince. It’s kind of plain to see that whoever Vince is, he’s important to the woman because she nearly runs out without another word.
I glance at the door she ran out of. Then my gaze moves back to the elevator. It doesn’t look like anything special, no keycard panel or keypad for a passcode. I know time is dwindling as I debate what to do. It’s not cool to find Killian’s office on my own—I get that. Still, I’m not sure how much time I have before Dad carries out his fool plan.
“Why would there even be an elevator? It’s only two floors,” I mutter, stepping into it quickly, tapping on the door close button before Sierra can make it back to her desk. “This is crazy. What am I supposed to say to him? Hi, Mr. Killian, do you remember me? You carted up my canned goods to my apartment and scared me half to death? I thought you were really hot, but terrifying. I’m here because I think my dad and his buddy are going to screw you over. Please have mercy on me and on my dad who seems to be losing brain cells daily.”
