Read Online Tangled by Erica O'Rourke - Free Book Online Page B

there because of you. Because you went into that lineup and said you didn’t recognize the perps.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “They turned up dead a week later.” I must have looked genuinely surprised, because she continued, a bitter twist to her mouth. “Didn’t your uncle tell you? Both of them, execution style. Found in a Dumpster over in Back of the Yards. I saw the pictures.”
    My mouth tasted sour. “Pictures?”
    She shrugged. “The detectives who caught that case used to play poker with my dad. They don’t like sharing that stuff, but they can’t say no, either.”
    “Jenny.” I chose my words carefully. I knew from experience how much people lied to you when you were grieving, thinking they were doing you some sort of favor, protecting you from ugliness. “My family didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your dad. Or Verity. I know he thought otherwise, but he was wrong.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “I wouldn’t. Not about this. My uncle didn’t kill your dad.”
    “No,” she said thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t. Not himself, that’s not his style. He always makes other people do the dirty work. Someone else takes the fall, pulls the trigger. Like your dad. And ...” She spun around on the cracked vinyl stool, stopping to peer at Colin’s truck. “Your bodyguard. Or is it boyfriend? Dad was never quite sure. Dangerous game, he said, for both of you.”
    I stepped back from the counter.
    “You don’t even realize, do you? The things your uncle’s done, the things your family’s done ... don’t you ever wonder about the cost? Don’t you think it might be too high? Or are you so happy being ignorant, you don’t even want to know?”
    No wonder Luc had thought I was crazy when Verity died, raving about justice and revenge. I must have sounded like this. Except I’d been perfectly sane, and so was Jenny. Witnessing her grief was like falling through a mirror. “What do you want?”
    I already knew.
    She started to answer, and then her face transformed. In an instant, her eyes turned cheerful and a pleasant, impersonal smile rounded her cheeks. A second later, a hand clapped my shoulder. “Time for Mass. Who’s this?”
    Billy. Jenny must have known who he was. Did he know her? My brain scattered, unable to reply.
    Jenny stood and slipped on her coat. “Jen,” she said. “A friend, from school.”
    “Lovely to meet you, Jen. You’ll have to excuse us, but we’ve got church. If we’re late, my sister will have our heads.” So charming, my uncle, with his snow white hair and neatly groomed beard, eyes creasing in amusement. Like a really deadly garden gnome. In church clothes. Looking at him, you could almost forget how quickly his cheery expression would fall away if you crossed him, replaced with something ruthless and steely.
    Almost, but not quite. I’d seen firsthand how tightly Billy clung to power. It seemed wiser to keep myself out of his range.
    “Sure. See you around, Mo.”
    She tucked some money under her plate, which I still hadn’t cleared, and left without another word.
    “We’re already late,” Billy said, glancing around the nearly empty Slice. “Best to clean up your friend’s mess quickly.”

C HAPTER 10
    H ere’s something you should know about my school. St. Brigid’s, while being one of the most expensive and prestigious girls’ schools in the city, is also a regular neighborhood church. This has its benefits—after all, few schools with such a sterling reputation to uphold would accept the daughter of a convicted felon, unless the family was a member of the parish. A family who was happy to make sizeable donations every time the kitchen needed repairs or the air conditioning went out or the rectory was being remodeled.
    There are also drawbacks. In my case, it meant an increased chance of my family running into my teachers, or at least the ones who wore white collars or black habits. A year ago, it wouldn’t have been a problem—they would