Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  I leaned against the wall, letting out an exhausted breath. “And how the hell am I gonna help you do that? I’m not a cop.”

  “No, but you said you’d do what it takes to help me.”

  I did, didn’t I? Stupid son of a bitch that I was. “So I’m gonna narc for you? Be a rat?”

  “Pretty much.” Scotty paused. “That gonna be an issue? Are you changing your mind? We can always come up with a different plan, if you want. One that may or may not involve jail time.”

  I clenched my jaw at the veiled threat, picturing Lucas. In my mind, he watched Scotty with pride as the kid hit a home run, standing up on the bleachers and cheering loudly as his little brother ran the bases. The pride he had for his brother was something I’d never had or felt in my life. Lucas was such a better guy than me.

  And I owed him.

  “Nah, man. I’m there.” I scratched my head. “But I can’t go with Molly. Guys showed up at her place yesterday. Bitter Hill. I hid their bodies in Pops’s garage. It’s not safe there anymore.”

  “Then take her somewhere else with you.”

  “I’ll go alone,” I gritted.

  “And leave her defenseless?” Scotty laughed. “You, of all people, should know how quick the enemy is to use a woman against you.”

  Even though his words made me feel like shit, since I’d done that to Lucas, I forced a laugh. “All’s fair in love and war, man.”

  “That’s what they say,” Scotty agreed. “They know she’s yours now. They’ll use her again, only this time, you won’t be there to stop them. You need to protect her till we at least take down Reggie.”

  Fucking A. He was right.

  Me leaving her didn’t save her. It was too late for that.

  Maybe I could send her away somewhere safe. Tell her to take a vacation till this all blew over . . . which would be never. This wasn’t some small battle with a shithead.

  This was war.

  “I have to go. Just pulled up to Tate’s.” Scotty shut off his truck and sighed. “They took out Artie.”

  I closed my eyes. He was an older member, like Pops. “Shit. Where?”

  “Outside of his place. All of the higher-ups are going into hiding. Taking precautions to stay alive. I told Tate I’d let you know, so you being out of sight will look normal.” Scotty cleared his throat. “I’ll let Tate know you’re laying low as ordered and chasing some pussy, and will be back when he wants you. Hang tight. Keep yourself out of Bitter Hill’s grasp. Don’t kill anyone else.”

  I stared down at the corpse at my feet. His red, congealed blood poured out of the perfectly centered chest shot—which I’d been particularly proud of, considering the fact he’d snuck up on me and given me quite the beating before I’d killed him—and soaked the pavement behind Heidi’s bar, right below what had once been Lucas’s living room window. Now it was the charred remains of what had once been my best friend’s home, and a reminder of what I’d done to him. “About that . . . ?”

  “Shit.” Silence, and then: “How many?”

  “One.” I paused. “So far.”

  “Molly will be there any minute. Get the fuck outta there, and I’ll have some guys clean it up.” He closed a door. “I’ll get the guys in your pops’s garage, too.”

  “Be careful no one finds out.” I dropped my head on the wall, watching the headlights that approached and slowed. More than likely, my princess was here. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Scotty boy.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  Molly came around the corner of the alley, hesitating. “Chris?”

  For a second, I debated not answering her. Chances were, she’d get scared and run off, go home, and be fine. Then again, maybe not.

  And that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. “Here.”

  “Chris, I—”

  “Is she there?” Scotty asked at the same time.

  She came two steps closer, and something caught my eye. Still holding the phone to my ear, I lifted my arm, squeezed the trigger, and shot down the motherfucker creeping up behind my girl. The asshat didn’t even see it coming, and he hit the ground convulsing. He’d be dead within seconds, since I’d hit him in the throat. He’d choke on his own blood and die, and I didn’t give a damn.

  I was a sadistic fucker like that.

  He shouldn’t have come after my girl if he wanted to live.

  Molly, for her part, clapped her hands over her ears and dropped to a crouch, whimpering. Well, if that wasn’t enough to scare her off, I didn’t know what was.

  Lowering my weapon, I said to Scotty, who’d fallen oddly silent on the phone, “Make that two.”

  “You’re killing me. Get the fuck outta there now.”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, and hung up. Sliding the phone in my pocket, I swallowed hard, my heart racing because Molly was staring at me with wide eyes that said she wasn’t certain whether or not to be scared of me. Easy answer. She should be. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t lower her hands from her ears, but nodded, her gaze drifting to the other dead body in front of her. And she just kept staring.

  I glanced down at the first asshole I’d sent to hell tonight. The stiff’s eyes were pointed at Molly, as if he watched her. I nudged him in the cheek with my boot until his face was toward the wall instead. “Better?”

  She licked her lips. Slowly, her eyes lifted to mine. “What about the guy behind me?”

  “Dead.”

  “I thought . . .” She lowered her hands. “For a second, I thought you were aiming at me.”

  I stumbled forward, my injured leg dragging behind me so I looked like some kind of demented zombie in a movie. But it was the best I could do. “I would never, ever hurt you, Molly. Not like that. Not on purpose. I’ve done a lot of bad shit, some of which I regret, but I would never aim my gun at you. You have to believe that.”

  Slowly, she struggled to her feet. When she lifted her face to mine again, the fear was gone, but she still somehow managed to look terrified. “I—I do. I believe you.”

  “Good.”

  I closed the distance between us, stuck my newly acquired gun in my pants, since you could never have enough protection, and cupped her face. I stared down at her beauty, her classic and flawless features out of place in this dirty-ass alleyway, and caressed her with my callused thumbs. I left behind trails of blood and dirt. Cursing under my breath, I started to pull away. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Don’t.” She covered my bloody hands with her clean ones, keeping them in place. “Don’t apologize.”

  I swallowed. “All right. Now listen and listen carefully. We need to get outta here. Now. Before someone else sees us.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Right. Of course. The bodies . . .” She stared over my shoulder, presumably at the corpse. “Will you come back to my house with me?”

  “Hey. Stop.” I urged her face back to mine. She’d seen enough death because of me—she didn’t need to keep staring it in the face. “No, we can’t go back to your place. It’s not safe anymore.” I dropped my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent, because for a little while there . . . I thought I never would again. And it had hurt more than the beating I’d gotten from the dead fucker behind me. “We have to grab Buttons and hide out somewhere else.”

  “I have another house, on the Cape,” she said in a rush. “No one else knows about it. Let’s go there right now. The kids are on break, so I don’t have to work, and we’ll hide out. Recover.”

  I stared at her, still wanting her as far away from me as possible, but knowing the likelihood of that happening was slim to none. “I don’t want to get you hurt. Will you go there without me?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head slightly. “Not a chance.”

  “Molly . . .”

  “You come with me, or I don’t go at all.”
She held a hand out. “What’s it going to be, Chris? Do we sit here and wait for more bad guys to come, or do we go to my place on the water?”

  Stay, or go. Fight, or run.

  Be an informant, or stay loyal to the gang.

  Kiss the girl, or don’t.

  These were all decisions my actions had forced me to make in the last few days. But this one was the hardest. If I was with her, she wasn’t safe. If I didn’t go with her, she wouldn’t go, and she wouldn’t be safe. If we stayed here, we’d be dead within the hour. Short of kidnapping her and tying her up in a bedroom on some foreign island and leaving her there—I was outta options here. “I’m a dead man walking, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. Don’t make me, Princess.”

  “Then don’t make me stay here, where it’s dangerous.” She twisted her lips. “Come away with me and my cat instead.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why do you insist on helping me, even when I don’t deserve it?” I asked, frustration boiling out of me and showing in my words. “Why care whether I live or die? I’m nobody. No one.”

  “Because you’re someone to me.” She bit down on her lower lip, and her fingers tightened over mine. “You were always someone to me.”

  I stared at her, not knowing what to say to that. I could tell her she shouldn’t give a shit about me, that I wasn’t worth it, but it would be pointless. If she was gonna care, nothing I could say would stop her. She’d regret it eventually, when I somehow ended up breaking her heart. But it was what it was, and I was too greedy to tell her to stop. I’d tried to leave her behind once; it didn’t stick, and my store of nobility was exhausted. “You’re someone to me, too, and I’m an asshole for admitting that, but it’s true. You’ve always been someone.”

  A small smile lit up her face. “I know. So follow me.”

  “Anywhere, Princess.” I brushed my lips across hers, keeping it short. “Any. Where.”

  She wrapped her arm around my waist and helped me to her car, and this time, I let her. My fight with the Bitter Hill asshole lying behind me had done a number on my already bruised body, so for once, I needed a little bit of help. When we got to the second dead body I’d made tonight, she hesitated, swallowing and fisting my jacket. “Is he from that other gang? The one that wants you dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why do they want you dead?” she asked quietly.

  “Because I’m an asshole.” I swallowed back a groan because standing motherfucking hurt. Bending slightly, I picked up my trash bag full of clothes and extra guns. I’d tucked it away behind the Dumpster earlier. “Ignore him. Come on.”

  She helped me into the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and stared at the alley. At the dead body. “But why are they chasing you? What did you do?”

  I readjusted myself in the seat and clenched my jaw. “Can we not do this here? We need to get out before more come.”

  “Oh. Right.” She seemed to shake herself, and pulled away from the curb, staring straight ahead at the road. “Do you need anything before we go?”

  “No. Just the cat. You?”

  She shook her head once. “No. I have clothes and stuff there. Buttons has food and litter and toys, too.”

  “Good. Then, just drive.”

  I watched her as she stepped on the gas and drove back to her house, her grip on the wheel so tight I could see the whites of her knuckles shining in the moonlight. I guarded her back as she ran inside and grabbed Buttons, carrying him out in a green carrier in a matter of minutes. And then we were gone, heading toward the highway.

  As she drove, I watched the emotions play across her features. Fear. Worry. Excitement. They were all there—because of me. The worst thing I ever did in my life, short of betraying Lucas, was going to her place that night. She was a fucking kindergarten teacher and had no place in gang wars and shoot-outs.

  I’d done this to her. I’d ruined her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, still watching her. “I never should have dragged you into this mess. I wish I could go back and pick any other fucking pharmacy to break into that night. Or that I’d gone thirty minutes later. Or that I’d refused to go with you, no matter what you said. Anything that would have stopped you from finding me like you did and bringing me home with you.”

  “I don’t. Not at all. You didn’t ‘drag’ me into anything.” She stopped at the red light and frowned at me. “I found you. I offered to take you home. I came out tonight, looking for you. I made my choices, and I don’t regret a single one of them. Stop acting like you’re the bad kid in class, when you’re clearly the quiet one in the back who has no friends and doesn’t trust anyone. The one who’s too scared to put himself out there.”

  I choked on a laugh. “I’m not quiet—or scared.”

  “I bet you were in school.” She stepped on the gas heavily, and I glanced in the rearview mirror. No one was behind us. “I bet you only had Lucas as a friend, and you always turned in your assignments on time, or even a little bit early, and at recess, you sat in the grass plucking a blade and trying to whistle on it, instead of doing the monkey bars or playing tag. You’re the type of kid who goes home to his room, shuts the door, and hides from his parents so they don’t have a reason to yell at him again. To hurt him.”

  Shit.

  She was way too damn close to home on that one.

  I wasn’t sure when she’d figured all this out, but she had, because she was a fucking kindergarten teacher, of all things. She recognized the signs in me, that a little boy had been too scared to admit, like no one else ever had, and that hit me harder than it should have—right in the chest, where my heart had once been.

  I tapped my fingers on my thigh. “And if I was that kid?”

  “Then you were.” She lifted a shoulder, eyes on the road as she merged onto the highway. The lights of Fenway Park lit up the sky to the right, and the darkness of Southie—and Steel Row—was directly behind us. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Funny, because I’d always felt that if I’d been a better kid, or if I’d been smarter, faster, wittier—maybe I wouldn’t have made my pops so angry. Maybe he would have liked me. “If I was that kid in your class, what would you tell me to do?”

  “I’d tell you to do whatever makes you happy,” she said softly. “And I’d hug you and let you know you aren’t alone, that I was here for you, even if no one else was.”

  I stiffened. “Like you’re doing now?”

  She didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead.

  “Shit. Is that why you’re doing all of this? Out of some misplaced sympathy?”

  “Oh God. No. Just . . . no.” She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t feel sympathy for you, Chris.”

  Resting the gun on my lap, I shifted because my ribs hurt like hell. “What do you feel toward me? What am I to you?”

  “You’re the guy who sent me presents since my dad died, and made my life brighter, while living in the darkness yourself. You’re the guy who writes sweet poems and draws amazing portraits but kills someone in an alley and acts like it doesn’t bother him.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Because it doesn’t. Why should it?”

  “You’re also the guy who sleeps with me and leaves in the middle of the night without a word because he doesn’t want to put me in further danger. You might think you’re this bad guy without a redeeming quality to be found, but you’re wrong,” she said, ignoring my question. She pulled off the highway and stopped at a red light, and turned to me, locking eyes with me for one terrifying second. “I see you, Chris. I see who you are. I know you. I see your beauty, and I see your darkness. I see it all. And I am here for you.”

  My heart pounded so loudly, I didn’t hear anything at all.

  And I knew, in that moment, that this woman of mine was going to be my downfall. From the first moment I saw the teenage version of he
r, headphones in as she sat with her father on their porch, I’d known she was the girl of my dreams. I’d traveled to the edge of my parents’ property, trying to avoid Pops since the Patriots had lost to the Giants, and I’d still been a kid unable to protect myself. Her laugh had rung out through the air, and I’d sat down, staring at her. Even back then, she’d brightened my dark soul with nothing more than a smile. For years, I’d admired her from afar, refusing to cross that line.

  Refusing to dirty her with my hands.

  But last night, that line had been erased and redrawn, and she was on my side of the line now. I’d touched her. Kissed her. Made her mine. It was up to me to keep her safe, to protect her at all costs. She was mine—

  And I fucking loved her.

  That’s right. Love. It might seem weird, such an admission coming from a guy like me who didn’t have an ounce of goodness in him, despite what Molly said. But I couldn’t think of what else this burning need to make her happy, to keep her safe, to hold her close, to kiss her and hug her, and all that other sappy shit, could be.

  Not that I was going to tell her that I loved her, or ever say those three little words that held no meaning. No one ever meant what they said anymore. People lied easier than they blinked, or breathed, or slept. Words were shit.

  But I meant this.

  Growling, I hauled her close and kissed her, putting all those thoughts, all those fucked-up feelings, into that kiss. I might never say the words, and she might never know it, but she held my blackened heart in her hands, and had for years. And no matter what came of this mess, no matter how this whole helping-Scotty-out thing ended, I had to make sure she was okay. I had to keep her alive. Even if I ended up dying in the process.

  That’s what love was.

  CHAPTER 16

  MOLLY

  Two days later, I watched Chris as he drew, his hand flying over the paper with a grace that couldn’t be described, his forehead wrinkled as he concentrated, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful. He sat by the open window in the living room, right next to the kitchen, which faced the water, the light blue curtains blowing from the breeze. He wore a button-up plaid shirt that was open and a pair of jeans that hugged his rear perfectly.