Chasing Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Series (Chasing Bad Boys Book 1)

by Kylie Parker

  “The job was just a pretext, sweetheart.” Michelle smiled. “It wasn’t much of a job, anyway. I couldn’t ask you to follow us down to California, flat broke. How would you pay for anything?”

  “Pardon me for interrupting this tender moment, but can I have your attention?” Olivia joined the conversation, holding a newspaper in front of her. “We already know that Helen’s truck was found close to Narrowsburg. But, the paper says that it was heading towards New York, not Pennsylvania.”

  “I’m not following you.” Michelle complained. “I can’t see much, either. Bring it closer.”

  Olivia obliged, setting the newspaper down on Helen’s lap. The article confirmed her words.

  “Ok, two questions.” Olivia went on. “One: Why was he on Route 97? Shouldn’t he be using the interstate? Two: Why would he be driving towards New York? What was he still doing there? I mean, shouldn’t he be heading in the opposite direction?”

  “I can only answer the first one.” Helen spoke in a puzzled tone. “He wanted to avoid highways. Interstates are full of traffic cameras. It’s weird. He’d left Berwick almost 48 hours earlier. I doubt it’d take him more than six hours to get there.”

  “We need to talk to the police.” Olivia said firmly. “Something is seriously wrong here.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Helen said with a nod. “What do you think it could be?”

  “I have no idea, honey.” Olivia shrugged her shoulders. “It could be anything, really. This clue doesn’t mean much by itself, but his phone had been off all that time. Now, why would he do that?”

  “Let’s not speculate, shall we?” Michelle suggested. “Let’s wait until after the funeral. The cops have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Helen continued to stare at the newspaper, in the hope that Olivia had discovered an important piece of the puzzle. Part of her was desperate to believe that she didn’t know the whole truth. Still, she agreed with Michelle. Speculating was not a good idea. At any rate, the moment that she would confront the police was very close. Soon, she would have the answers that she so much needed…

  Chapter Thirty

  As one would expect, the Cemetery of the Evergreens was full of people. Marcus was the son of a very powerful man, with many friends, as well as enemies. Nevertheless, what really lured most of them, was the fact that the Pentagon had been considering him dead. Many people were wondering why the government would do that to a man in uniform, since his body had never been retrieved in Afghanistan. A few of them suspected the possibility of a cover-up, whereas most of them dismissed it as a conspiracy theory.

  All the same, along with common people, came dozens of reporters. As a matter of fact, there were so many television vans close to the cemetery that James had to park his car more than half a mile away from it. Once again, Helen felt anger rising within her. She knew very well what all those reporters were going to say. And, not long afterwards, her suspicions were confirmed. To make matters worse, they broadcast live from the spot, smiling for the camera, as if they were attending some sort of celebration. Helen’s initial thought was to confront a random member of the press. Their insensitivity disgusted her. But, in a matter of seconds, she rejected that notion. She was there to honor his memory, not start a fight with someone. Furthermore, making a scene in such a public place was a guaranteed way for her to be humiliated.

  Before the start of the service, James told her that he wanted to see his friend’s body and asked her if she would like to go with him. But Helen didn’t have the heart to glance upon the remains of the large, handsome man who had captured her heart. She politely refused, claiming that she wanted to remember him as he was. James did take a look in the coffin, but he didn’t have the chance to talk to Helen, as reverend Douglas started his funeral sermon.

  Helen was unable to hold back her tears, throughout the memorial service. Staring down at Marcus’s closed coffin, she recalled their happy times together, wishing that she could see his face, one last time. The first memory that rushed through her mind was his image at James and Olivia’s wedding, clapping his hands, with a happy smile on his face. She even remembered the short conversation she had had with Gina, shortly afterwards. Inevitably though, her mind jumped forward, to the night that he had left her at that motel in Berwick. The fear in his eyes, his trembling voice and his last kiss sent her heart into a downward spiral. Minutes before the end of the service, she was still crying in sobs, leaning her head against Olivia’s shoulder.

  However, her attitude changed, when she realized that Marcus’s father was not going to say anything about his son, even though there were a podium and a microphone available. David Donovan preferred to chat with a middle-aged couple, as the large crowd began to disperse.

  “Not even a eulogy?” Helen wondered, surprise written all her face.

  “Maybe he’s too upset.” Olivia voiced her opinion. “He’s lost his son.”

  “He doesn’t look upset.” Helen remarked, watching as Donovan smiled to the couple. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she turned her gaze to the left and up at the microphone.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Olivia said, lowering her voice. “Don’t do it.”

  “Watch me,” Helen spoke in an emphatic tone, before starting towards the podium. Her friend tried to grab her by the wrist, but she quickly pulled her arm out of Olivia’s grasp. She knew that a eulogy would devastate her even further, but Helen was not going to leave the cemetery, without paying tribute to the man that she loved. Stepping up to the podium, she turned her body left and faced the crowd.

  “Is this on?” She said, tapping her index finger against the microphone. The loud sound that it made gave her the answer, turning quite a few heads, but it also sent chills, up and down her spine, as the bass reverberated. Grabbing the base of the microphone, she adjusted it to her height, breathing in sighs. “Hi.” Helen began, wiping her tears off her face. “My name is Helen Weir. I came here today, to say ‘goodbye’ to someone really special to me. Imagine my surprise, when I heard a lot of the press call him ‘a traitor’, or ‘a disgrace to the uniform’. What really upsets me is that those same so-called ‘reporters’ said those horrible things, with smiles on their faces. You, sir…” She pointed down at the closest reporter across from her. ‘You did that, too. I remember you. Have you no respect?” The man in question dropped his gaze from her stare and looked down at the grass, clearly embarrassed. “You didn’t know him, like I did. Marcus was…” Helen lifted her hand to cover her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes, as her face hardened with pain. “The best man I’ve ever met: kind, loving, calm. He wasn’t a traitor. He wasn’t the monster the press thinks he was. He was…” She paused, clenching her jaw, as two tears toppled over the edge of her eyes. “… My angel; my sweet, dark angel. ‘Sleep sweet, my dark angel. Deliver us from sorrow’s hold.’”

  Overwhelmed by emotion, Helen dropped her face into her hands, as more tears spilled from her eyes. The crowd went speechless for a few seconds. The only sound anybody could hear was Helen’s gentle cry. A bitter smile spread across Donovan’s aging face, as he put his hands together. Slowly, he started applauding, his gaze settled on Helen, as she took a short step back. Olivia and Michelle sprinted across the grass, as more and more people clapped their hands. The two of them jumped to the podium and embraced her, as James followed behind them.

  “That’s the bravest person I’ve ever seen in my whole life.” Olivia whispered in Helen’s ear.

  “You sure told them.” Michelle praised. “Good job.”

  “Thanks, guys.” Helen sighed, leaning back. She was about to speak once more, when she noticed James, out of the corner of her eye.

  “Excellent speech;” he spoke, his voice bass-deep; “Inspiring, actually.”

  “James, did you see the body?” Helen asked, barely able with her own voice thick with emotion.

  “Yeah,” he said on a sad exhale. “It’s Marcus’s. I recognized him by the Scorpion tattoo on his arm.
”

  His last sentence shattered her last hope. Once again, the air around her seemed too thick to breathe.

  “We can go to the police now, if you like.” Helen did not appreciate Olivia’s suggestion at all. James had identified his friend’s body. For her, talking to the police would be a total waste of time.

  “And do what, Liv?” She wondered, lightly shaking her head. “Ask them why he was going to New York? Does it matter? He’s gone. I want to go home. Please.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Helen had doubts about whether she could maintain her composure on the drive back to her birthplace. After all, it had been a very emotional day. Moreover, this would be the last time she would see her friends for a while. Olivia told her that, due to her pregnancy, she had to stay in New York. Air travel could potentially be risky for pregnant women and she was no exception. On the other hand, Michelle and James still had two more venues to play, before their West Coast tour was over. Still, Helen was so emotionally drained that she felt like she had run out of tears. Throughout the three-hour long drive, she kept looking out her window, barely saying anything.

  Nonetheless, even in what seemed like the worst period of her life, the young blonde was able to find a reason to smile. As much as the eulogy she had given to Marcus had devastated her, Helen had to admit that it had also boosted her confidence. Addressing a large crowd such as that required a lot of courage, especially with dozens of reporters around. Without a second thought, she had confronted them and confessed her love to Marcus as well, resembling the strong, confident woman that he was attracted to. In her mind, this was the first and most important step she had to take, in order to get over his loss.

  James eased his SUV to a halt, right outside her house. Helen reluctantly opened her door and moved around the large vehicle, as he popped the trunk open.

  “I guess this is it.” Olivia spoke in a sad voice; “our country girl’s back home.”

  “Yeah; no more cute little smiles for a while.” Michelle muttered, folding her arms across her chest beside her friend.

  “Girls, we’ll see each other again soon.” Helen stated firmly, as she set her suitcases down on the ground. “Can we please avoid the emotion? I’ve cried enough for one day.”

  “I’ll miss you.” Olivia confessed. “But, you’re right. Hug it out?”

  “Come here.” Helen smiled, opening her arms.

  “I’ll call you when we get to Manhattan, ok?” Olivia said, her voice mild, as she embraced her friend.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” Michelle protested, making Helen’s eyes glint with amusement.

  “Sure you do.” She whispered, turning around. “Good luck on those concerts. It’s funny, though.”

  “What?” Michelle inquired, as Helen squeezed her tightly in her arms.

  “I thought James would want to cancel those.” Helen elaborated. “Marcus was his friend.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m not canceling them.” James stated, stepping out of his car. “Work is the only thing that can take my mind off him, Helen. It keeps me sane.”

  “I see.” Helen said with a sigh.

  “Alright; time to hit the road again. Bye, honey.” Olivia gave her a sweet smile, reentering her husband’s SUV.

  “Bye-bye, you cute little face.” Michelle winked at her.

  “Drive safely.” Helen returned the smile, waving at them. She watched, as James drove off, hoping that she would see her friends again, possibly even sooner than she anticipated. She was going to miss them, but she had managed to get rid of the idea that she had to live close to them. Yes, she enjoyed her time with them; they were all fun, supportive and loved her dearly. However, in the few weeks of her vacation, Helen had matured. Marcus had shattered her illusion that living in the city was going to be easy. She no longer desired to abandon her family. On the contrary, she was willing to stay in her birthplace, even though she had been tired of her everyday routine.

  Helen was able to keep Marcus’s fate out of her mind, as she later went to her parents’ supermarket. She loved to see her mother again, especially after everything she had been through lately. She gladly assisted her in everything Debbie requested and even waited for her to close.

  Nevertheless, as night fell in Shandaken, Helen’s memories came rushing back. She left her mother in the living room and went to her bedroom, thinking about the tragic loss of her beloved Marcus. For hours, she kept remembering the horrific moment of Captain Boyd’s phone call, crying for the man who had been so violently taken away from her. Helen spent yet another sleepless night, wondering what she could have done differently. Still, the answer to that question was always the same: nothing. Had she gone back to New York with him, she would either have died in that accident, or hunted down by the men who they had spotted in that diner.

  Moonlight was slowly fading into daylight, when Helen walked out of her bedroom, in need of some water. As she found herself in the kitchen though, she noticed a large, dark body’s frame behind the front door. Before she knew it, a white piece of paper was slipped under the door. Puzzled and somewhat scared, she approached, spotting small, black letters on the top of the page. Helen bent down and picked it up. It read:

  “Golden Opportunity – Donovan Real Estate Enterprises”

  “What the hell…? Marcus’s father?”

  Her fear was soon replaced by curiosity. Whoever was behind that door could not be a thief. Staring at the handle, Helen reached down and gripped it. The sight that greeted her froze the blood in her veins, as she pulled the door open. Her face loosened in utter disbelief, as a long gasp of shock fled her lips. The man’s large frame, his blue eyes and his crooked smile, the smile that had lured her to him since the day they met in Barbados left her no doubt: It was Marcus. His beard was gone and his hair was much shorter than she remembered, but Helen recognized him immediately. Her hands began to tremble, as he took a short step towards her.

  “M – Marcus?” She stuttered, her voice faint, as her lips quivered. He didn’t speak. Marcus bent his head down, gazing deep into her eyes, as his smile grew wider.

  “It’s me…” He whispered.

  “Oh, my God…” Helen’s voice broke, as she wrapped her arms around his back. She squeezed her eyes shut, putting her head on his chest, holding him tighter than she ever had. Marcus curled his left arm around her waist and his right one around her shoulders, burying his face into her hair, as her body began to tremble. For a moment, Helen believed she was having a dream; yet, the warmth of his skin and his firm grip felt very real. A sea of emotion flooded her heart, as she lost herself in his embrace. Within seconds, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. This time though, she welcomed the sensation. Drowning in his scent, Helen burst out crying, pressing her head against his chest even harder.

  “I told you…” Marcus whispered once more, stroking her back, as a tear rolled down his face. “I told you I’d find you again.”

  Slowly leaning back, she loosened her grip, as she opened her eyes. Helen took her right arm off of his back, watching as more tears streamed down his cheeks. She reached up to cup his face, her hand trembling, as her heart thumped in her chest.

  “I love you.” She said, her voice a soft, breathless whisper, as she felt moisture on her skin.

  “I love you, too, my country girl.” Marcus spoke, his baritone thick with emotion, as he tilted his head down. He pulled her close, as their lips locked in a long, sweet kiss. Tasting his salty mouth, Helen caressed his cheek, as he knitted his fingers through her hair. His warm breath on her skin made her body tingle, as he slid his hand up her back. She welcomed his kiss, like a humming bird needing nectar. It felt sweeter, tenderer than ever, filled with the love that he had for her. As much as she savored it however, her mind was overwhelmed by questions.

  “Ok.” Helen whispered while taking large breaths as she gently leaned back. “Please explain to me.” She swallowed hard. “How’s this even possible?”

  Marcus didn’t dign
ify her question with an answer. Instead, he removed his right hand from her back. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled a thick, white envelope out of it and handed it over to her. It was a letter from his father.

  Dear Ms. Weir,

  By now, I trust you are aware of the fact that Marcus is alive. I am truly sorry for what I put you through. Judging by what I saw in the cemetery, you love him very much. But, as you will soon understand, you had to believe that my son was dead. It was the only way for me to keep you both safe.

  First of all, I must commend you on your bravery. Standing up to so many reporters was a tremendous act of courage. Marcus said you were ‘gutsy’. I didn’t believe him, until I saw it with my own two eyes.

  I am a very well-connected man, Ms. Weir. As such, I have people at the right positions in airports, casinos and even the Pentagon. When one of them recognized my son in JFK, he called me. My sources at the Pentagon confirmed it. I was delighted to hear he was alive, but I had lost his tracks. You can imagine my helplessness, when I realized that those sons of bitches would go after my boy. The same people told me that an investigator by the name of Dan Warrick had been bothering government officials and marine officers, asking them questions about Marcus. I had one of my computer analysts hack into his laptop. Warrick had done a wonderful job. He had found the driver and the sergeant in the front seat of the truck, where Simmons had executed those poor marines. They were stationed at the Pentagon. They had seen the whole thing, but they were too scared to testify. I paid them a visit. I told them my son was still alive. They didn’t believe me, until I showed them a picture from a security camera in JFK. They testified yesterday. Simmons was arrested in Afghanistan this morning.