Unfinished Business: A Bastards of Boston Novel

by Carina Adams

  Rob shook his head. “Nah. It’s like the barber.”

  Barber? I loved the way he pronounced it—‘bahba’. Yet my mind whirled as I tried to figure out what a barber had to do with a beat-up car. At my blank look, a smirk tugged at his lips.

  “You see a barber with a great cut. His shop’s neat, his clippers and combs all gleam. Right next door there’s another, but his hair’s shabby and uneven. His shop’s a mess. Which one do you go to?”

  I stared at him trying to figure out if he was serious. When he didn’t say anything, I wrinkled my nose. “The one with great hair.”

  “No. A barber can’t cut his own hair.” He pointed to the car. “Just like neither of these cars has dents on the front. They both backed into their space. They parked away from everyone else. They didn’t hit anyone. They were hit.”

  It actually made sense. I refused to tell him that, though. “I never thought about it that way.”

  “Most people don’t. That’s why no one else wants to park near them.” He pushed open his door and stepped out. “I was gonna ask if we should go check out the apartment first and then carry shit up, but I’m rethinking that now.”

  I slid out of the beast of a truck and stared across the lot at the building that seemed extremely far away. “I say we take as much as we can. And lock everything else in the cab.”

  He nodded. “Good plan.”

  I pulled two suitcases behind me, one in each hand, thankful for their wheels, and carried my backpack. Rob piled three boxes in his arms. I tried not to admire the way his muscles flexed and bulged as he carried the heavy weight.

  “You really haven’t been here?” I asked as we paused and I pulled the main door open for him.

  He took a few steps and stopped, propping the door open with his body so I could ease by him. “I wanted to come make sure it was clean, but Jenny assured me it was. I never got a chance.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I followed him down a bright, well-lit hallway that completely contrasted with the outside of the building. As he stopped in front of an elevator and pushed the call button, my curiosity was too much to handle. “Who’s Jenny?”

  He adjusted the weight of the boxes as the doors slid open and motioned me ahead with a jut of his chin. “A friend.”

  A friend. Last week he’d told me that Jessie was just a friend. It seemed like they were much, much more, though. She’d certainly thought so.

  “Will I be meeting this friend?” I asked, a hint of bitterness creeping out.

  “You met her at the clubhouse.” He entered into the little space behind me. “We’re on the eleventh floor.”

  The woman behind the bar. She’d been kind, but had acted just as terrified of Shooter as I’d felt. It made me wonder what kind of history the two had.

  I pushed the button and the doors closed almost immediately. “Is this her apartment?”

  “I actually don’t know.”

  Well, that was helpful.

  “It may have been,” he said a moment later. “Slash gave me the keys, but Jenny gave me the address and said the place was furnished and clean. She seemed surprised that we were gonna be stayin’ here. That’s all I know.”

  The lift stopped with a jerk and an ear-splitting squeal that made me think climbing up eleven flights of stairs wasn’t such a bad idea. I was afraid that we were going to end the ride in a ball of flames in the basement. I rushed out when the doors finally opened.

  Rob chuckled but paused to get his bearings. “We’re number three.”

  Apartment number three was all the way on the other side of the building. My calves burned from the length and pace we’d walked. Rob practically sighed in relief when we found our door.

  He leaned the boxes against the wall. “Key’s in my pocket,” he told me with a tip of his head toward his left side. “Wanna grab it?”

  “Not a chance.” I’d left both suitcases standing on their own, and I was anxiously waiting to get inside, but I could wait a few minutes more. I held out my arms. “Give me the boxes and get the damn key yourself.”

  With an exasperated sigh, he dropped the boxes and pulled the key from his pocket. “Nothing in there that would bite.”

  Whatever I’d been about say was lost as he twisted the handle and the door opened.

  The first thing I saw was a wall of exposed brick. And another. We had a corner apartment—and the living room was huge.

  The view on the other side of the giant windows was breathtaking. Without thinking, I left Rob and everything in the hall and hurried inside, sidestepping furniture I didn’t really see, transfixed. The city spread out in front of me, completely unobstructed.

  I turned, a smile on my face, ready to explain how excited I was, how gorgeous I thought our new place was. Rob wasn’t paying any attention. He’d carried the things in from the hall, piled the boxes on the small table on the other side of the room, parked the suitcases next to it, and stood there scowling.

  “It’s amazing,” I told him, as my eyes danced around the space.

  Rob didn’t acknowledge me, or look my way, as he hurried toward the door in the corner and flung it open. He swore loudly, his features twisted in fury. Before I could ask what was wrong, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the entrance.

  I thought he was leaving. Panic had just started to crawl its way up my spine when he stopped and yanked open another door—one I hadn’t even noticed. He swore again, more vicious than the one before it. When he looked at me, I took a step back involuntarily.

  It took me a second to realize he wasn’t looking at me, but behind me. I blinked, and followed his gaze around our new home. My heart sunk as I realized what had him so upset. I hurried over to him, hoping I was wrong.

  The first door he’d opened, the one in the corner, was a closet. The second led to a small bathroom, with barely enough room for the tub/shower combo, toilet, sink, and closet it housed.

  I backed into the main room and sunk onto the arm of the couch. I wasn’t just sitting in a living room. I was in the middle of my new apartment. The entire thing.

  There was a galley kitchen across from the bathroom, a half wall separating it from the rest of the space. Other than that and the bathroom, this one large room was it. All of it.

  I shook my head, desperate to deny the truth. My eyes darted back to Rob, hoping he’d have some brilliant reasoning to explain the mix-up. We’d obviously been given the wrong key.

  “This can’t be where we’re supposed to live.” I motioned around the room. “There’s not even anywhere to sleep!”

  He took a deep breath. “I think you’re sitting on it.”

  I jumped up and spun. “Oh, my God.” The dark grey sofa was beautiful and looked expensive, but it was short. Even if it was a pullout, it couldn’t have been any larger than a full-sized bed. “You’d barely fit on that!” I told him, waving my arms like a maniac. “No way in hell we both will!”

  “We aren’t sharing a goddamn bed,” he hissed.

  “I was making an observation.” I snapped, my frustration coming out.

  He rolled his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Stay here. I’ll figure this shit out and be back.”

  Neither of us bothered to say good-bye as he headed for the door and I crossed back to the windows, willing the beauty of the bay in the distance to calm me. This was complete and utter bullshit. After I heard the door slam, I shrugged out of my backpack and sank into the overstuffed chair in the corner between the two brick walls and stared at the room.

  The color scheme was fantastic, all the furniture in varying shades of grey. Dark wood floors were accented by three light scatter rugs. Bright white interior walls were decorated with dark paintings of underwater sea life.

  The room was practically bare, yet it was perfect for someone who wanted a relaxing space to get away from everyone. Other than the two chairs at the kitchen table and the couch, there was only the recliner where I sat. Whoever had furnished the apart
ment had not planned to entertain.

  There wasn’t much other furniture either. A coffee table in front of the sofa and two long distressed grey dressers placed in the middle of each brick wall, snug between the floor-to-ceiling windows. One housed a television and the other a stereo and pillar candles. That was it.

  The studio was perfect for me. Just me. I would’ve loved to live there. Alone.

  I adored Katie. I enjoyed living with her and couldn’t imagine a more perfect roommate. There were times when we needed to get away from each other and retreat to our own space, though.

  If I couldn’t even fathom the idea of staying in this small space with my best friend, I wouldn’t be able to share it with anyone. Especially not Rob. His personality alone barely fit inside the small area. We’d constantly be in each other’s way.

  This was a nightmare.

  I’d promised myself and Katie that I’d do whatever it took to make the most of this horrible situation. I’d convinced myself that living with Rob was for the best and that I could get along with him for a few months.

  That was when I thought we were going to have a normal apartment with our own rooms. Thankfully, Rob was just as appalled. He’d figure it out.

  When he pushed open the door a little over an hour later, I practically pounced, ready to go and get settled into our actual apartment. I came to a screeching halt when I saw the bag on his shoulder and the box in his arms.

  “No.” I shook my head in total denial.

  With a long sigh, he slid the cardboard onto the table and dropped his bag with a thud. “Yeah.”

  “Holy shit.” I rubbed my hands on my thighs, unsure what to say or do.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned to face me. “I should have come over earlier last week and checked it out. At least then we’d have been prepared.”

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  His eyes widened, his face showing surprise as he registered my words. I couldn’t believe I’d said it either. It was the truth, though.

  “In fact,” I continued, “we should have assumed. This is all about punishment, remember? Even you and I could live in peace in a regular apartment for a little bit. Throw two people who hate each other in this place and it’s like watching Celebrity Deathmatch.”

  The blank look on his face made me roll my eyes. “The show on MTV?” He clearly had never seen his sister’s favorite guilty pleasure. “It’s stupid,” I told him. “Clay versions of celebrities beat the crap out of each other in a boxing ring. One of them always kills the other.”

  “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. We are not watching crap like that.”

  I snorted. “I don’t watch it. Katie does.” I ignored the way his face contorted in disgust, returning to the previous topic. “So, if you think about it, we should have expected a twist like this. What’re we going to do?”

  “Slasher knows I lied. He just can’t prove it.”

  I felt myself frown. “Lied?” I didn’t understand. “About what?”

  “You. Last week in the clubhouse when I told everyone you were mine.”

  “When you claimed me?” I sneered, hating the term that he continued to throw around.

  “Yeah.” He stared at something over my shoulder, avoiding my eyes. “I know you don’t understand. I get it’s hard to wrap your head around. Doing what I did, threatening Shooter like that? It’s…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word, and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I got that.” I hated how stupid he thought I was. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  “Never said you were,” he argued. “But I need you to understand the rules I follow are different than yours.” I opened my mouth to say something snarky, but his eyes landed back on mine. “The club thinks you’re my ol’ lady.” He tipped his head. “My property…” He pursed his lips when I groaned in exasperation. “To them, you’re mine. No one is allowed to look at you sideways without expecting a beat down from me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? That’s a bit archaic, isn’t it? I’m sorry, did we go back in time on the trip here? Jesus. Women aren’t property.”

  “Your rules versus mine, remember?”

  “Your rules are stupid,” I ground out. “What in the hell does that have to do with this place?

  “There isn’t a brother in his right mind who wouldn’t want to be alone with his ol’ lady. If we don’t stay here, if I fight this at all, Slasher will have his proof. He’s waiting for me to screw up. Once I do, everything is fucked.”

  “Fucked how?”

  Blue eyes bore into mine. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll get you out. I can promise you that.”

  “You’re wrong,” I snapped, slamming my hand onto the table. “I do need to worry about it. Stop talking down to me like I don’t have a stake in this. This is my life, too!”

  I could see how torn he was. “There are things I can’t tell you.”

  “Why? Did you sign a non-disclosure when you joined your stupid little gang? Write a vow in your blood?”

  His mouth quirked and I thought he was going to laugh. He arched a brow. “Somethin’ like that.”

  Of course, he had. “Fine!” I threw a hand up in the air. “What can you tell me?”

  “None of those assholes will ever touch you again. I’ll kill any one of them who does.”

  I believed him. I wasn’t worried about that, or me, right then. It was apparently all he would give me, though.

  “If I demand that you move me back to my apartment right this instant, what would happen?”

  He set his jaw; his entire body tensed. “Then I’d take you back. And ask you to make sure your brother takes care of my family.”

  “Holy hell.” I leaned my hip into the table to keep myself upright. They’d kill him. That’s what he was saying without actually uttering the words. This Slasher asshole would actually murder him. At least Rob truly believed he would.

  I’d known that his actions the week before had been dangerous, but I hadn’t realized just how much. He hadn’t hurt anyone; he’d just saved me.

  I refused to even comprehend the thought that something bad could happen to him. I’d never let it. Not if I could stop it somehow.

  “What are our options?”

  “I can drive you back to your place. Or, I call Uncle Liam and send you to him. If it were up to me, you’d be on your way to Florida right now. I don’t want you to go home yet. We don’t know enough about Glass.”

  “No. Those are my options. What are our options?”

  He swallowed. “We stay here and pretend. Or we leave and the truth comes out. It’s one or the other. There is no middle ground.”

  The choice was crystal clear to me. There was only one option. I shifted my weight back to my legs and reached for a box.

  “We’ve wasted a lot of time,” I told him as I lifted the flaps. “We should unpack.”

  “Brat.” His voice was soft, kinder than I’d ever heard it. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Seriously, Rob.” I forced myself to look at him. “The first thing you should probably remember is that I get mean when I’m hungry. And right now, I’m starving. So, save yourself and go get the rest of the stuff from the truck before I lose it.”

  “Fuck, I didn’t even think about food. Want me to order delivery?”

  I shook my head, pulling out the dry goods Katie had insisted I pack. She’d taken me shopping the day before and we’d gotten everything I could possibly need for essentials. My friend was afraid her brother was surviving on nicotine and whiskey.

  “Nope. After we unpack, you’re taking me to wherever you parked your motorcycle and then out to supper. To celebrate.”

  He didn’t move. The way he looked at me unnerved me completely. “You want to go out. With me. On my bike.”

  They weren’t questions but clarifying statements. As if he couldn’t believe I’d said them.

  “You said Slasher
thinks you lied. Fuck him. We’re going to prove you’re not.”

  “I am lying,” he pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “He will never know that. We’ll put on such a great show he’ll buy it. Everyone will. And he’ll never doubt your word again.”

  “Cris.” He took a step toward me. “Your brother. Tank. Lying to Slash means we’re lying to them.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t want to lie to Matty. I’d done it enough. I still had to talk to him about Dale.

  I shoved the guilt down deep. I’d deal with it another time. No one was going to die because I’d misled my brother. Rob and the tangled web we’d woven were my priority.

  I shrugged. “We’ll figure out the rest of it later.”

  “You’d do that? Live here with me? Pretend?” Doubt tinged his words.

  I didn’t know if it was because he had always believed the worst about me and couldn’t imagine me doing something nice for someone else. Or if it was because he was honestly surprised that I was offering because no one ever helped him. If it was the first, I refused to be insulted. If it was the last, I was sad for him.

  “Neither of us wants to be here. There isn’t another option right now. The only thing we can do is agree that we’re in this fucked-up situation together and be a team.” I turned my attention to the table, unable to look at him. “I’m game if you are.”

  He was quiet. Too quiet. “So, we’re going out?”

  “Unless you have other plans,” I mumbled, second-guessing myself. It was Saturday and I had no idea what he usually did on the weekends. For all I knew, he hung out with Jessie.

  “I’m going to help my ol’ lady unpack our shit in our new apartment. Then I’m taking her out. Those are my only plans.” My gaze slid back to him. He lifted his bag over his shoulder and grabbed a suitcase. “We’ll figure the rest of the shit out later.”

  I closed my eyes, wondering when in the hell my life had become this giant disaster zone, one close call after another. If anyone had told me a week before that I’d not only be living with Rob but also be pretending to be dating him, I’d have laughed my ass off.