Kennedy fumbles with the remote, and before we know it Peter Slade’s close up is seventy inches wide. The words messy divorce lingers at the bottom of the screen. The talking head is a bitter blonde who is known to slice and dice men on most occasions, but tonight she’s offering up the entire Slade family as an appetizer to the American people.
“Oh, hell.” Kennedy tosses the remote against the screen like a boomerang, and it bounces back in spite. She pulls me in by the shirt in one aggressive move until her nose is pressed against mine. “Who the hell is doing this to me?” Her fists pound into my chest. “And what the hell are they about to do to you?” Her voice breaks, her affect crumbles. “Tell me, Caleb.” Her hot breath mingles over mine. “How in the hell could this get any worse?”
* * *
Kennedy doesn’t say a word as I drive us down to the Morris Township County Correctional facility that houses my little brother. He has an approval for weekend visitors. The fact that today is Monday wouldn’t bode well for the average family member hoping for a quick sit-down with their incarcerated loved one, but I’m not your average family member—I’m an attorney who happens to be on his approved list of legal eagles, and I’ve signed Kennedy in as my aide.
Kennedy holds my hand with a strangled intensity as if we were meandering through a crowd of felons, but we’re far from it. It’s just the two of us, plus one very armed guard, walking down a long, steel hall. The echo of her heels only affirms this. We head over to the waiting area and are seated in an empty cafeteria while we wait for my brother to show. I haven’t seen Solomon in months. I’m angry about this, but he all but begged for me to stay away. I’m not entirely sure why I ever agreed. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, something incredibly wrong can seem incredibly right. It’s not until some serious time passed us both by—hard time for him—that the scales have fallen off and let me know what a shitty plan this was to begin with.
“Two days in a row, sweetheart?” He comes in from behind, his voice light and jovial. Typical Sol. I had the guard tell him it was just Kennedy.
We stand and turn around.
His features harden in an instant as he looks at her. “You changed your face.” He glances at me and smacks his lips. “And you brought a jackass along for the ride. I hope, for your sake, he gets good mileage.” He frowns before breaking out in a genuine grin. My grin.
We look alike. All three McCarthy brothers share the same dark hair, same shit-faced features. Not that we’re complaining. The girls never do. Sol was stealing Abel’s I.D. up until the day he turned twenty-one. I should have known then that leading a double life is something he’d strive to do. But I’m here to tell him the show is over. I’m not too interested in carrying on with this farce, sending him up the river on his own free will, and for what? His stupid pride? No thank you. Today I wash my hands of this, even though I realize the consequences will land my law degree in the incinerator. I’m fucked, Kennedy is fucked, Keith is probably very fucked, and Solomon, here, will walk away clean as a whistle. My mother always said he was what you would find at the end of a rainbow. Now I’m starting to believe it. I’m what you might find at the end of a bog. Muddied and covered in the slime of my own making. Disbarred, disowned by my old man, unable to save Kennedy, and, if that last part pans out to be true, I’ll be the first to fall on a blade. I thought something would become of me, and, instead, I’ve become of something.
“This is my girlfriend, Kennedy.” It feels very high school to use the term so casually when we haven’t quite used it in front of each other. It felt only slightly foreign coming from my lips. But it felt invasive as if I’ve shared something that should have been done in private first, where Kennedy could have giggled at the idea, and my mouth would have covered hers, assuring it was true. “The person you spoke to was an imposter. We need to know whatever you can tell us. Is there anything you remember about her? Her face? Her hair? Did she have any kind of accent?”
He slouches in his chair. His demeanor growing serious again as it damn well should. I’ve got his back—it’s the least he could do to have mine.
“Dude, what the hell is going on in your life?” He examines Kennedy like she’s a pariah.
“It’s complicated. Someone is after Kennedy, and, now, I’ve learned that someone came to see you claiming to be her. It’s disconcerting to say the least.”
His eyes widen. Solomon loses his gaze at some invisible horizon over my shoulder.
“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouts so loud the walls rattle, the guard runs in and subdues him.
And then I know. Solomon gave her exactly what she was looking for. Whoever this is, whatever she wants, she knows what consists of my darkest hour, what consists of his.
They haul him out like he’s a cold side of beef, a carcass hanging by a rope—and he might be.
“What did she look like?” I shout after him.
“Fuck, I don’t know.” He writhes in their arms. “She looked like that.” He points to Kennedy with his chin as they haul him away.
“Why is he so upset, Caleb?” Kennedy inhales a measured, even breath, struggling to keep calm. “This person—she knows something doesn’t she?” Kennedy pulls me in hard by the collar. “What exactly is your secret, Caleb?”
I close my eyes and pray this entire day away.
“It’s bad isn’t it?” Her voice dips just below a whisper.
“It’s bad.”
* * *
I drop Kennedy off at her house and head back down the mountain. Zoey called when we were five minutes from the lake and said another envelope came, same as the first. I didn’t want to worry Kennedy. She has enough to worry about without the added bonus of knowing there could be more fun waiting around the corner.
Solomon’s case has been televised. It’s not hitting the national circuit, he’s no OJ, but everyone in the lower region of the state is privy to the fact the trial is barreling toward its inevitable end. Whoever has this info doesn’t have long to act. That leaves me with the one option I’ve been weighing since the beginning—acting on it myself. Come tomorrow morning, I’m headed to court. It’s time to say my peace.
I plan on turning this rodeo on its ear. My brother never deserved to be behind bars. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if they put him away for something he didn’t do.
The building that houses Westfield and McCarthy comes up, glittering in salmons and golds as the sunset drips off its mirrored lens. I speed in and head up the elevator, my mind traveling a million miles an hour when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Kennedy.
Zoey just told me you’re headed to the office. Said this might be big. I’ll be there in ten.
Note to self: Fire Zoey.
I’m not anxious to pull Kennedy into any more grief, and if there’s anything waiting for me in one of those envelopes, it’s more grief.
I race to my office, trip the lights and speed to my desk where a slim manila envelope sits patiently for me, pretty as a hand grenade. Mercilessly, I tear the seam and sure enough, there’s a bonus this time, a note on plain paper, written in flowery handwriting.
She’s lying to you. She paid me ten thousand cash to send you the first envelope and visit your brother. She has all the dirt on you that she needs. I’m washing my hands of this.
I flip the envelope upside down, and a CD tumbles out. Whoever this is desperately wants me to believe Kennedy is behind this. My stomach churns with doubt. As much as I want to believe Kennedy has nothing to do with it, something tells me not to underestimate her.
“Take two.” I pop in the CD and turn up the volume all the way. The room ignites with the crackle of static.
“I made the delivery and saw his brother.” It’s a female voice. Unfamiliar, scratchy as hell. “I wrote down all the details for you. There’s enough to nail his coffin shut.”
“All right. I think I’m locked and loaded and ready to go. I can’t wait to bring this bastard down. Caleb McCarthy won’t know what hit
him.”
My blood runs cold. My heart feels as if it’s finally stopped beating. That last voice belonged to Kennedy without a doubt.
I replay it again and again, and each time her words are a fresh knife to the heart.
A set of footsteps click over from the hall. Heels. Kennedy. I shut my laptop and slip the note under a stack of files just as she breezes through the door.
“Where is it?” Her eyes dart around the vicinity like balls breaking over a pool table. “Caleb? What happened?” She pants out the words as I rise to meet her.
“Maybe nothing happened.” I walk over to her, our eyes bound like links on a chain. “Maybe it was just a ploy to get you here?” I offer a crooked smile, but not one part of me believes in happiness right now. “Come here.” I wrap my arms around her, and we rock like we’re dancing for a good long while. I never did tell her what I had done for Solomon. I told her I’d let her in on it tonight by the fire, but we’re not by the fire, we’re in it. Hell, we’re not even who we thought we were. If what my ears heard is right, then we may never even get close to where I thought we were headed.
My lips find hers, and I offer a desperate kiss, an angry, fueled with rage and harrowing sorrowful kiss. My tongue moves over hers as she sighs right into my throat.
Her mouth glides over my cheek until she buries it in my ear.
“I’ve been framed very well, haven’t I?”
My chest heaves against hers as we continue our melodic slow waltz, our heads buzzing with a haunting rhythm of these daunting threats. It’s nauseating, treacherous, much like life without Kennedy has been all these years.
“What did they say, Caleb?” Her breath is hot and thunderous in my ear, a deafening rush like waves roaring against the sand. She takes a ragged breath in response to my silence.
I take a bite out of her lower lip and find her achingly delicious.
“I’m going to have my way with you, and then I’ll tell you.”
She pulls back, her lids heavy, her lips red as berries. “Tell me what, Caleb? What you did or what I did?” Kennedy examines me with those crystal eyes, her beauty bright as a flame in this dismal room.
“Both.”
Kennedy gives a delayed grin, the slight patina of anger hiding behind her eyes. Her fingers glide over my tie, smoothing it until she gives the knot a firm tug. Her fingers move slowly over my buttons as her cool hands fan across my chest like a rainbow. I tilt my head back and give my belt a firm tug, pulling down my zipper with a marked deliberation. Kennedy and I have always held each other at bay just enough to remain clever strangers in one another’s worlds. For as much as we craved a relationship, we each found excuses for not having one, and here we are, together at last—toxic in every capacity.
I strip her dress off, send her bra flying, and take a moment to enjoy the view. Kennedy has a perfect body—a body that can move me to tears, drive me to the point of insanity. If I were moved to break the law for my brother, what wouldn’t I do for her? I wonder. I already know.
My thumbs hitch into her panties as I glide them over her hips. Kennedy rolls her head over her neck, moans as if this were the height of pleasure. It won’t be. I can promise that.
She begins to flick her heels off, and I give her hips a firm squeeze. “The shoes stay on.”
“Yes, sir.” Her eyes widen, round and soft, as if she were dazzled by the command. Maybe that’s what Kennedy needs, someone to bark out orders at her. Some women eat that up in the bedroom. They crave a personality bigger than themselves when it comes to getting dirty beneath the sheets, and Kennedy’s personality is pretty damn big.
I lean in and give a hard bite to her earlobe. Kennedy explodes with a groan that rattles her whole body.
“You like that don’t you? A little pain with your pleasure?” I whisper hard in her ear. My hand travels to the inside of her thigh, and I’m met with her wet warmth. My fingers glide into her body, hard and fast, greedy to be inside her. She wraps her leg around my waist as she pulls me from my boxers and lands herself on top of me. Kennedy impales herself over my body with an enthusiastic jump as if it were her favorite sport. Her warmth glides down over me, slow and tight. Kennedy feels better than a virgin, better than a wet dream, better than any other woman I have ever had. Kennedy feels like the finish line, what I’ve spent my whole life wishing for and waiting for—and she is.
I back her against the window, as large and wide as the wall, and let the entire city watch as she rides me—as I have my way with her mouth, her perfect tits, her tight ass, for as long as I can hold out. I’m not sure why I didn’t push her against the door, the wall, my desk for the sake of keeping things intimate, instead I’ve invited the entire world to lend a watchful eye to our madness. I think, deep down, I wanted the lunatic who’s watching to know—to let the world know—that no matter what transpires, Kennedy and I will survive. Kennedy Slade is mine. The end.
Afterwards, after a long riotous session of aggressive trashing-the-office sex, I hold her on the uncomfortably small leather sofa, her body wrapped in my suit jacket like a blanket.
Kennedy curls up in my arms, her head turned toward mine. Her eyes glow like white powder. Outside, the skyline of Collingsworth lights up like a miniature version of Manhattan. It’s a beautiful portrait we get to look out at and be a part of.
“Tell me, Caleb. Tell me what they’ve done now.” Her voice is as steady as her gaze, and I’m left questioning her innocence once again. If she is innocent, this is what they wanted, to create a fissure of doubt, if she’s guilty then—well, hell, I’d still try to find a way to prove her innocent. It’s what I’m hardwired to do. It’s what she hired me for.
“First, I want to tell you what I did for my brother—the shithole he pulled me into, launching the both of us into this nightmare.”
Kennedy lets out a hard sigh, rubbing her thumb over my cheek, with grief pulling down her features. “Before this gets ugly, I just want you to know that no matter what you’ve done—I love you, Caleb.” Her eyes laser into mine with a painful clarity that only comes with the truth. “I will love you forever.”
“Kennedy.” I pull her hand to my lips and hold it there as I try to get my emotions in check. The last thing I want is to cry like a pussy. “I love you with everything in me. I gave you my heart that day I first laid eyes on you. Before we ever really met, I knew you were the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” I hesitate a moment. “And I still want that. Do you want that with me?”
“Yes.” She ticks back, stunned. “Hell, yes.” Her palms cup my cheeks as she pulls me in. “I can see the doubt in your eyes, Caleb. Someone is fucking with us good. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”
The air grows still between us. I’ve had these moments with my clients before, the stillness before the inevitable truth vomits out of them. This is the fork in the road, where the lie meets the truth. There always seems to be this awkward pause that each of my clients partake in, and, to be honest, I never knew why. But here I am, crossing that same intersection, and I suddenly get it. This is the moment where you admit defeat. I had held fast to the manufactured truths that Solomon gave me, but my next words will draw a big, fat red line over everything we firmly stood for. Sometimes telling the truth is painful, and, up until now, I never really understood that.
“About a year ago I was heading out for a day hike to the Gideon Wilderness right outside South Lux. Somehow, I managed to convince Solomon to come with me.” That day comes back in jags, heavy spring air clinging to a clear blue sky. “My father had just made my brother, Abel, partner—Abel who hated, hated that he had succumbed to the law disease as he calls it. I was resentful, mad as all hell. I was the one busting my ass for my father. I was the one with a belly full of fire, ready to take on the legal world, take over his company when it came time. But the golden chalice wasn’t offered to me. I didn’t get a sip of my father’s successful firm. As usual, I was left out in the cold. So”—I lean in and kiss he
r temple—“I took a day off and went for a hike.”
“I’m sorry you were bypassed, but maybe he was planning on pulling you in at a later time?”
“Perhaps, but I don’t see the reasoning, and I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have mentioned it by now. My father has a dark side. You saw the psychological aftereffects he left with my mother.”
“So what’s the crime? Did Solomon wear the wrong shoes?” She gives a gentle scratch to my chest, coaxing me along.
“No. He didn’t do a damn thing wrong. When we got back, he went home. The rest is a twisted, contrived version of history that I was asked to play along with. Solomon had a girlfriend, has, who the hell knows where they’re at. She went out that afternoon to her ex’s to pick up some money he owed her. They have a kid he was trying to wrangle from her. She was alone, and her jerk of an ex-husband was in the middle of the road when she got there, and she gunned it. She mowed him down in the middle of the street, and the only witness around saw my brother’s pickup. She was pretty messed up when Sol found her—terrified that not only did she kill her ex, but she was about to lose her daughter. Solomon, being the kind-hearted bastard he is, volunteered to take the blame.” I shake my head. “He called me up and told me to meet him at a bar—told me what story to stick to, that I went hiking alone, he didn’t need or want an alibi. He wanted to play hero for this crack whore who killed a man with a decent wife and two kids, and now my brother is paying the price for her very impaired judgment.”
“Oh my, God.” She buries her head in my chest a moment. “That’s so terrible. Are you going to do something?”
I let out a breath I’ve been holding for over a solid year. “Solomon.” His name breaks as I say it, and I swallow hard as my emotions try to jerk out of my throat. “He made me promise, swear to him, that I wouldn’t step in. He asked me not to come to the trial. To say the least, it’s baffled my family. He asked them not to go, but they’ve defied his wishes.” I wrap her silky hair around my fingers. “I’ve been thinking about things, and I’ve decided I’m not going to let my kid brother rot in a cell just because he wants to put on a cape and play hero. I’m heading to court first thing.”
Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) Page 18
