I haven’t either, and I’ve been keeping a keen eye out too. “I’ll only chill when they are safely with Mom.”
“How did they get here? I imagine it must’ve been a risky journey.”
“If they’d been traveling under their own names, sure.”
Her eyes pop wide. “They traveled under false aliases?”
I nod. “It’s how they got out of the country in the first place. Dad clearly knows some dodgy fucks. They all have fake passports and it’s how Mom and my sisters were able to leave and come back without being spotted.” It’s still unbelievable, as if my life has become an episode of CSI or Criminal Minds.
“What are your sister’s names? And how old are they?”
“Emma is twelve, and Kaitlyn is”—I have to stop and calculate it in my head. She was Emma’s age the last time I saw her—“fifteen. Shit. She’s just turned fifteen.” I gulp over the new wedge of emotion in my throat.
“And it’s been nearly three years since you’ve seen or spoken to both of them?” I nod. “That’s rough.”
I nod again, my Adam’s apple jumping in my throat. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask, realizing I know very little about Rachel’s family other than her parents won big on the lottery a few years back and they are getting a divorce.
She looks out the window again. “One brother. Alec is three years older than me.”
“Are you guys close?”
She shrugs, still looking out the window. “Not especially. He’s been away at college the last few years so I haven’t seen that much of him either way.”
“Faye told me your parents are getting divorced. I’m sorry about that.”
“It is what it is. I can’t say I’m overly surprised or upset about it.”
“Is that why you moved here?” I indicate, pulling the car over into the next lane.
“What’s with the twenty questions?” She twists around, and there’s a strange look on her face.
“No reason. Just making small talk. If you’re uncomfortable, we can talk about something else.”
Her foot taps idly off the floor, and she’s shifting around in her seat. “What about your dad?” she asks. “What’s happening with him?” I grit my teeth, and my jaw locks. I turn off at the next exit. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”
“It’s not that.” I shake my head, following the line of traffic moving toward our destination. “It just makes me so mad.”
Air whooshes out of her lungs. “I can relate.”
I flip my eyes to hers, and we share a look. “Dads are supposed to protect you, not hurt you and throw you into the line of fire.”
My chest constricts at her words. More for what she’s not saying.
She straightens up, as if realizing she’s said more than she should. “This isn’t about me.” I catch the warning. “Tell me about your dad.”
“He’s still hiding abroad,” I start telling her the story Mom told us. “Mom was fed up of life on the run, and she wanted to put down roots for the girl’s sake, but Dad has to keep moving in case the authorities catch up with him. He’s on the FBI’s list of Most Wanted so they had to keep moving to avoid detection. Mom put her foot down. She missed me, and she wanted the girls to have a normal life. She gave him an ultimatum: turn himself in or she would leave by herself. When she woke the next morning, he was gone.”
“Shit,” Rachel says. “That’s awful.”
“He’s a selfish asshole.” I’m seething. Mom just wasted almost three years of her life, and risked her freedom, for nothing. “I used to think he was the best dad ever, but he’s a selfish coward who only puts himself first. What man thinks he can steal millions and not get caught? What man refuses to face up to his actions and does that to his family?”
“He’s either in denial or narcissistic.”
“Or a bit of both,” I acknowledge, as I drive straight through the main thoroughfare. Aunt Cora lives in a small, private neighborhood on the outskirts of town. I pull the car onto the shoulder and put it into park. “We’re almost here,” I say, turning to face her. I wipe my sweaty palms over my jeans. “You keep straight until you come to a T-junction. Then take a left, the next right, and it’s the fourth last house on the left-hand side. It’s the big white two-story house with the American flag out front.” She looks at me curiously. “Both my cousins are in the marines.” I open the door the same time she does. “Pull the car into the driveaway and around to the left, as far as you can go.” I look up at the dark nighttime sky. “If anyone is watching the house, hopefully we can get in and out before they have time to do anything about it.”
I climb into the cargo hold, trying to pretend my heart isn’t trying to beat a path out of my chest. “Try not to kill me before I get to my sisters,” I joke.
Her expression softens. “I’ll drive slow, promise.”
“Thanks for doing this, Rachel. I owe you.”
She surprises me by reaching out and taking my hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad I could help, and it’s going to be fine. Your sisters will be so happy to see you, and you’re going to be a family again.” She smiles, squeezing my hand briefly before moving away.
As she closes the door, I lie flat on my back, my knees bent, praying she’s right. Because this is only the start of a new battle.
Chapter Fourteen
Rachel
I do as Brad asked, driving slowly and carefully, and pull into his aunt’s driveway, bringing Ky’s Range Rover around the side of house. I kill the engine when I can go no farther, parking in front of the three-car garage. I quickly jump out and go around back to let Brad out. He scrambles out as a light turns on inside the house, throwing both of us into the spotlight. Cursing, Brad grabs my hand and pulls me with him, racing toward the back of the house.
A large man with a mass of thick gray hair and a fierce expression steps out onto the back porch as we reach it. He’s got a shotgun pointed right at us, and I almost pee my pants. His shoulders slouch, and his expression softens when he spots Brad. “Quick, inside,” he says in a gruff voice, scanning the surroundings over our heads as Brad ushers me into the house.
A small, petite woman with long gray hair pulled into an elegant ponytail paces the kitchen floor in front of us. “Oh, Bradley, thank God,” she rasps, rushing Brad and pulling him into her arms. “We got such a fright when you pulled up. I’ve been so worried about your mother. Please tell me she found you?”
Brad wraps his arms around his aunt. “It’s okay, Aunt Cora. She did, and she’s safe with my friends. I’m sorry you were worried, but we couldn’t risk calling.”
The back door snicks shut unexpectedly, and a little whimper flies out of my mouth. I don’t think I’m cut out for all this sneaking around shit. Cora’s gaze lands on me. Extracting herself from Brad’s arms, she smooths a hand down her plain pink shirt and steps toward me. She clasps my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry, my dear, I didn’t realize Bradley brought a friend.”
“This is Rachel,” Brad says by way of introduction. “She came with me because I was afraid I might have a tail.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile at her kind face. “Although I wish it was under different circumstances.”
“We all do,” the man says, carefully placing his rifle down on top of the counter. “I’m Jonathan by the way, but my friends call me Jon.” He pats me gently on the shoulder, sending me a reassuring smile.
“Where are they?” Brad butts in, the urgency transparent in his tone and the expression on his face. “Where are my sisters?”
His aunt’s face lights up. “This way. Emma hasn’t stopped asking for you from the minute she got here.”
“She hasn’t?” The sheer vulnerability on Brad’s face is doing funny things to my insides. Does he think his sisters haven’t missed him as much as he obviously missed them?
Jon unlocks a wooden door to the basement, flicking the switch on the wall and tramping down the stairs. We all follow silently behind him. It’s a workroom of sorts. Tons of tools hang from shelves and nails on the wall, and boxes of supplies line the floor. He guides us to a smaller, less conspicuous door at the back of the open space. He raps three times on the dirty door, unlocks the padlock, and then steps aside to let Brad enter first. He nods for me to follow him.
“Brad!” a girlish voice calls out in excitement. The sounds of racing footsteps approach. I hang back as a small girl with long blonde hair throws herself at Brad. She’s sobbing and clinging to him. He lifts her up with ease, hugging her to him as he swings them both around. Tears flood his eyes, falling freely down his face, but his smile is as vast as the Atlantic Ocean. My heart soars at the sight, and tears threaten my eyes.
“Pumpkin,” he croaks out. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me, too, Brad,” she cries. “I missed you every single day.” She wraps her legs around his waist, and he holds her up. Pressing his cheek into the top of her head, he looks at me with unbridled joy and relief. It’s contagious, and I find myself grinning back at him.
“Kaitlyn,” Cora calls out, gesturing toward the corner of the room. I lift my head up, only noticing his other sister now. “Come say hi to your brother.” She’s nearly as tall as Brad, and her hair is the same shade of blonde. She has it cut in a short bob with both sides tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing tattered jeans that have clearly seen better days and a long, loose patterned T-shirt with a charcoal gray hoodie.
She pushes up from the couch, sauntering toward us with a wary expression. Brad places Emma’s feet on the ground, squeezing her hand before walking toward his other sister. “Munchkin,” he murmurs, tentatively pulling her into a hug.
Kaitlyn is stiff as a brick in his arms. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a little girl anymore, Brad.”
Easing back, he places his hands on her shoulders. “No, I can see that.” He skims his sister’s face. “You’ve changed so much. You’re so tall, and you cut your hair.”
“It wasn’t by choice,” she snaps.
“Kaitlyn.” Cora’s voice carries a silent warning.
“I guess we’ve lots to catch up on,” Brad says calmly, but the way his voice falters a little tugs my heartstrings. I can’t even begin to imagine what life on the run was like, and Kaitlyn is obviously battling some demons, but taking it out on Brad isn’t fair. He’s been through his own hell.
“I’ll give you the short version,” she says, her sneer matching the sarcasm in her tone. “Dad’s a selfish prick, and Mom’s too weak to stand up for herself. She’d rather subject us to shady lowlifes and drag us all round the world, rather than tell the man she married that he’s a scumbag criminal who deserves to rot in hell for what he’s done.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything, Kaitlyn,” Brad retorts, jerking his head in his younger sister’s direction.
“Screw you, Brad. What the fuck would you know about it? You held on to your lifestyle while we were slumming it.” She pushes away from him, folding her arms angrily over her chest.
A muscle clenches in Brad’s jaw, but he doesn’t retaliate. He just stands there, taking the abuse hurled at him. That doesn’t sit right with me.
“Contrary to what you believe, it hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns for your brother either,” I interject, feeling pissed and protective on Brad’s behalf. “And I don’t care what you’ve been through, you need to watch your tone.”
Yeah, I’m so not analyzing that.
She narrows her eyes at me. “And who the fuck are you to tell me anything?”
“Don’t, Rachel.” Brad turns pleading eyes on me, and I reluctantly seal my lips shut.
I want to speak up for Brad because I know he hasn’t had it easy, but his sister is still young, and she’s clearly been through an ordeal too. That thought throws water over the smoldering flames of my anger. “We should make tracks. It’s getting late.”
He nods, and his eyes express gratitude. “Can you pack up your things, girls. We’re getting out of here.”
“Where to?” Kaitlyn asks, still scowling.
“Mom’s in a safe place, and I’m bringing you to join her.”
The girls pack their things, and we say a quick goodbye to Cora and Jon. I promise to text them once everyone is safely in the house in Wellesley. Brad climbs in the cargo hold, and the girls cower on the floor of the backseat as I reverse the Range Rover out of the driveway. Once I’ve gone a few miles and I’m sure no one is following us, I pull over and let him out.
Before I can walk away, he snags my wrist and pulls me to him. His mouth is soft and warm as it collides with mine. I know I shouldn’t kiss him back, but it’s too difficult to resist. Especially when his kiss is sweet and adoring, and I’m sensing how much he needs this connection, so I don’t bother fighting something both of us want even if we’re opposed to articulating it. We mutually part lips a couple of minutes later. He presses his forehead to mine, and my hands automatically grip his waist.
“Thank you, Rachel,” he whispers. “For putting yourself on the line for me.”
I look into his sincere eyes, and he plants his lips against mine for one last, brief moment, and, dear Lord, that feather-soft kiss unravels me. There’s something so tender in the gesture, and in his gaze, and it affects me on a soul-deep level. This is the side of him Faye has spoken about. A side I’ve only caught fleeting glimpses of up to this point. A side I was reluctant to believe existed. I can keep dickhead Brad at bay, but a softer, kinder persona? I don’t know how I’m expected to resist. The thought unnerves me for a whole heap of reasons.
I touch my fingers to my lips, savoring the lingering tingle from his caress. How he can manage to convey so much with one tender kiss is unreal, but I know I’ll be replaying it in my mind later. I imagine this is what it’s like for Faye every time Ky kisses her. For the first time, a pang of envy jumps up and bites me, and I don’t know what to make of it.
We part without another word, climbing into the car, and Brad wastes no time getting back on the road.
“Hey,” he says a little while later, extracting his iPhone and handing it to me. “I still have all your songs, Munch—Kaitlyn. How about some Katy Perry?” His handsome face is expectant as he looks through the mirror at his sister.
I plug his phone into the docking station and switch it on.
“She’s lame.”
I’ve never been a huge Katy Perry fan, but I feel a sudden urge to defend her considerable talent; however, I bite my tongue. The last thing Brad needs is me and his sister at loggerheads.
He scratches the back of his head. “Eh, okay. I have tons of other stuff on there if you want to look? I’ve got lots of current music if that’s more your scene?”
Kaitlyn slouches in her seat, scowling. “Yeah, ’cause I spent the last three years downloading songs on my imaginary iPhone,” she drawls. “Get real.” She stares out the window, her shoulders hunched over, looking like she’s carrying the weight of the world, and I feel for her.
Brad looks so lost and unhappy, and I reach out, touching his knee. “What about you, Emma?” I turn and look at his youngest sister. She’s twelve, but she’s hugging a battered, dirty white teddy bear to her chest like he’s her best friend in the world. I suppose he probably has been in recent years. The thought makes me unbelievably sad. I have some experience of losing precious childhood years. It’s not anything I’d wish on my worst enemy. “Would you like to listen to some Katy Perry?”
She sends me a small smile. “Do you have “Roar”? I always liked that one.”
“Coming right up, Pumpkin,” Brad says, winking at his little sister, and I can almost see the tension seeping out of his pores.
The rest of the journey passes by quite quickly. Emma is
a little sweetheart, and it’s blatantly obvious how much she missed her brother and how much she looks up to him. She chatters away, singing along to some of the songs and introducing me to Snowy—her well-worn teddy bear.
I see a totally different side to Brad as he interacts with his little sister, and a pang of some emotion I can’t decipher hits me square in the chest. I can already tell Brad is a great big brother, and his sisters don’t realize how incredibly lucky they are to have him. This is further evidence of the side of his personality he’s previously kept hidden from me. I don’t miss the concerned glances he shoots his other sister’s way. Kaitlyn is sullen and silent the entire journey, refusing to engage in conversation even though Brad tries relentlessly to include her.
If ignoring people was a skill, she’d hold the black belt. But I’m trying not to be judgmental. I have no idea what horrors she’s been through.
Brad doesn’t bother getting back in the boot again. We figure if we’ve gotten this far that we’re not being tailed. Still, I don’t take a proper breath until we are safely in the tunnel of the secret entrance onto the Kennedy property and the gate is sealed shut behind us.
“What the hell is this place?” Kaitlyn asks, looking lively for the first time. She sits up straighter in her seat, forgetting to be sulky in the face of such an unbelievable sight. I’m with her on that front. Brad had burst out laughing when he saw the shocked looks on both our faces as the trees parted, revealing the hidden gate for the first time.
“It’s like the Batcave!” Emma shrieks, jumping up and down in her seat. “Are we going to live in Wayne Manor?”
“Don’t be such an idiot,” Kaitlyn snorts. “You’re old enough to know Batman isn’t real.”
“What?” Brad feigns shock. “Batman isn’t real? Shut. Up. Dude.”
I laugh, and Emma sniggers. Kaitlyn rolls her eyes.
Faye and Ky are waiting for us when we park. The garage is well-lit and less creepy than I was imagining as Brad maneuvered the car through the narrow tunnel. A petite woman with a huge smile stands out front. If I didn’t guess it was Brad’s mom, I could tell by the eyes. Brad’s are a carbon copy of his mother’s. I stretch my arms over my head when I hop out, attempting to loosen my stiff limbs.
Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5) Page 12
