Unfinished Business: A Bastards of Boston Novel

by Carina Adams

  I stood, ready to leave without question, but before I could move, he shrugged out of his cut and draped it over the back of his chair. The move shocked me to my core. The only time Rob took his cut off was when he went to bed, spent the day in his apartment, or testified in court.

  “Where you going?” I fought to keep my voice light, curious.

  He pursed his lips. “Got somethin’ to do. Nothin’ for you to worry about.”

  Another lie.

  “Why’d you bring the Yamaha?”

  He headed for the door. “Why not?”

  He was hiding something from me.

  “Lock the door when you leave, yeah?”

  He didn’t let me answer before he was gone. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  39

  Rocker

  It was the call I’d been waiting for. I’d been having Ali—or Sadie Wang, as she was known now, followed for days. Long enough to have learned her routine. A stalker’s dream come true, she did the same thing almost every single day.

  Except for Wednesdays. The one weekday she didn’t work. Instead of heading to the hospital after she dropped her kids off at school, she went to a therapist’s office. After she left, she’d stop at the florist and make one more stop on the way home.

  I slowed, turned into the parking lot, and stopped near the gate. Turning off the engine, I didn’t have to look around or search for her to figure out where Ali could have gone. I knew.

  It was a miracle I hadn’t run into her here before. Or anywhere, really. Boston wasn’t that big. I would have done this years ago if I’d found her.

  I’d looked for her. For years. Just like I’d searched for my sister Elizabeth. They’d both disappeared – fallen off the grid completely.

  I’d assumed Ali had died with a needle in her vein.

  In reality, she’d moved away and started over with a whole new identity. Now she and her perfect little family had relocated to Massachusetts from Seattle, so Dr. Wang could take a surgical position at Beth Israel. Now that she was back, Ali’s history had been too much for her to ignore.

  You can run with the lies from your past. But you can’t hide from the truth forever.

  I’d walked the path more than I’d wanted to, but not as much as I should have. It was too hard for me to see it. Most days, I could pretend that it wasn’t real. I couldn’t deny it when I was there.

  It really sunk in when I saw it in stone.

  My feet never made a sound, muffled by the immaculately manicured grass. Yet, somehow, she knew I was behind her. She tensed as I stopped, towering over her as she’d knelt to replace the wilted flowers with fresh ones. Her head hung low, either praying to a God who couldn’t save her or begging our daughter for forgiveness.

  With one hand on the white cherub that was etched into the black headstone and the other on her lap, Ali lifted her head, but never turned toward me. “It’s a beautiful stone,” she told me, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t gotten it for her. Hannah deserved more than a tiny rock in the ground with just a number to mark her plot. The eternal light that stood next to the gravestone had been a gift from my Angel. She hadn’t wanted Hannah to be alone in the dark.

  “She would’ve been twenty-one this year.” Ali’s voice was heavy, full of emotion she didn’t have any right to feel. “Sometimes I go sit over at the college and watch for girls who make me think of her.” Her voice broke. “And, sometimes, I see one who has her dark curls or chubby cheeks. And I pretend it’s her.”

  “That make you feel better?” Hatred had me narrowing my eyes. “Pretending she’s happy and healthy, living her life, so you don’t have to face reality?”

  She shook her head but still didn’t look at me. “No. Nothing can take the pain away.”

  “Yeah,” I spit. “You seem like you’ve been living a life full of pain.” My words were full of spite. “Up there in that big house, with the rich husband and the two perfect little girls.”

  By the way she jerked, my verbal blow had hit its mark.

  “They know what kind of monster you are? How many times did you think about shaking them when they cried? How often did you hurt them when they couldn’t defend themselves?”

  Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t make a sound.

  “When they called for you, scared, did you think of her? Do you even care about them at all? ‘Cause I think this loving-mom bullshit is just an act.”

  “Their names are Anina and Aviva. Ani and Avi. Hannah would have loved them.”

  Palindromes. Just like Hannah. Because Ali had wanted our daughter’s name to be spelled the same forward and backward. I hated that she’d continued that with her other kids.

  “Don’t you say her name,” I snarled between clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever say her name.”

  I hadn’t realized the gun was out and in my hand until I was shoving the barrel against the back of her head.

  “That’s my daughter’s name,” I growled. “She was all I had. And you took her away. You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to mourn over her.”

  “Please,” she sobbed, “please. Don’t hurt them.” Her shoulders shook harder as she cried. “Please. They’re babies. They’re innocent.”

  “So was Hannah.”

  “I know. If I could do one thing over, just one, I’d leave her with Liam.”

  I couldn’t respond. As hard as I fought it, I couldn’t shut the emotion off. My chest was tight, and the lump in my throat refused to move. I didn’t want to hear her shit. Yet I didn’t pull the trigger.

  “She asked for him every day. She wanted Pop-Pop. And Ris. She’d call for them when he’d hurt me. I’d try to get her to be quiet, so he’d forget she was there. I tried to hide her. She just wanted her Pop-Pop and her Ris. And she’d cry for them.”

  The wetness on my cheeks surprised me as images of a terrified little girl, hugging her knees to her chest, bombarded me.

  I hadn’t been there. I hadn’t saved her. That shame would never go away.

  “I miss her. Every day.” She tried to catch her breath, but the sobs wouldn’t go away. “I love her more than you’d ever believe. I miss her. I want her back!”

  Talk was cheap. Actions always spoke louder than words. You don’t hurt the people you love. You protect them at all costs.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for eighteen years.” She leaned her head back into the gun. “I knew you’d find me one day.”

  I’d been waiting for it, too. Planning for it. I’d taken off my cut so the club couldn’t be tied to this murder. This was personal.

  “Please, Robby,” she begged one more time. “Please, leave my girls alone. They’re sweet, innocent. They don’t know what I did.”

  I wasn’t going to touch her girls. I would never hurt a child, no matter how much I hated their parents. I refused to give this bitch any peace of mind. She didn’t deserve it.

  “Go to hell, Ali.”

  I was ready to pull the trigger, to finally get justice for Hannah Jean, when a hand closed over mine, startling me.

  “Robby.” Cris’s eyes met mine. “Don’t do this.”

  “I have to,” I told her quietly. “Go. Get out of here! You can’t be here for this.”

  She’d already taken the hit for me once and almost been saddled with a murder conviction. I wouldn’t fire until she was far enough away that everyone knew she had nothing to do with it. She would not go down again for something I’d done again.

  “Give me the gun,” she insisted.

  “You need to leave. Now.”

  She shook her head. “I’m right where I need to be.”

  “Cris.” It was a warning, the last that she’d get.

  Instead of listening, she tried to pry it from my hand, leaving her goddamn DNA all over my piece. “Give me the gun.”

  Ali didn’t try to break away, as if she knew she’d never make it to her feet alive. Instead,
she sat where she was and cried.

  I didn’t hide my pain as I stared down the woman trying to stop me. “Because of her, this is the only time I get to see my daughter. Instead of visiting her at college, I come here.” I lifted my chin. “Talk to a stone.”

  “If you do this, her children will visit her here. They won’t ever hug their mom again. You want to do that to two innocent children?”

  “She had her chance. She didn’t care about my innocent child.”

  “She’s paid for that. She pays for it every day.”

  “That doesn’t bring my little girl back!”

  “Our little girl, remember? She was mine, too.”

  One more reason I needed to do this. Ali had broken Cris all over again. The loss of Hannah had been too much for her to bear.

  “Don’t do this.” Tears filled her eyes. “You heard her. Our little girl asked for me. It was me she was calling for when she was scared. She died thinking I didn’t save her.” Her nostrils flared as tears flowed down her cheeks. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to keep me from seeing the hurt. “I have every reason in the world to pull the trigger. I won’t.”

  Cris didn’t understand. There was nothing—no imaginable loss—that could compare to losing a child. Children were supposed to bury their parents. A parent was never supposed to sit at a stone and grieve for their baby. I would never be healed.

  “She took everything from me.”

  Cris’s eyes were bright. “Don’t let her do it again. You do this, you lose everything once more.”

  “This is all I have. All that’s kept me going.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You have me. You promised. Remember? We’re unfinished business. We have a lot left to do. I need you here. With me.” She swallowed. “You have the club. Your family. We need to find Lizzie. There is so much left to live for.”

  “I can’t.” Hannah deserved retribution.

  She grabbed my other hand, tucking something into my palm. I didn’t have to look to know it was Hannah’s keychain.

  “For her, you can. Because that little girl loved everyone. And she’s already forgiven her mom.” She closed my hand around the locket. “She’s already forgiven you.” Her eyes peering into mine. “We need you. I need you.”

  Ali started sobbing again. Every fiber of my being wanted me to pull the trigger, to spill her blood. Yet, something stopped me.

  A feeling I couldn’t explain, a peace I’d never experienced, washed over me.

  I wasn’t that lost and lonely kid anymore, the boy who longed for a family to love, or the teen desperate for revenge. I had a family who depended on me, brothers who loved me, and kids who needed me. I’d helped hundreds of children over the years, and I knew that I could help hundreds more.

  I’d never understood how the needs of one were greater than the needs of many. I couldn’t save Hannah, but there were others I could still save. Babies who had never known a kind hand, children who feared their parents and went to bed hungry. If I did it, I was saying my revenge mattered more than the innocents who still needed me.

  I couldn’t do it. All this time and I couldn’t fucking pull the goddamn trigger. Because killing Ali wouldn’t bring my baby girl back. It would take away her pain, though. If I had to live with this hurt, Ali should have to bear it, too.

  Cris, sensing the change, lifted the Canick from my fingers. For a moment she hesitated and I had a vision of her lifting and shooting, but then she tucked it into the pocket of her jacket. She reached for my hand and clutched it like she was clinging to it for dear life.

  Then, without warning, she let go, dropped to her knees, and pulled Ali into her arms. Ali didn’t hesitate, pulling Cris closer, holding her, either for support or in comfort. For a heartbeat, I watched the woman I despised and the woman I loved more than anything supporting each other, crying for the child we missed, for the little girl we’d lost, and for the future we’d never have. Together they mourned.

  My heart broke all over again.

  We couldn’t go back. We couldn’t change the past. We could only be better. For Hannah.

  Cris ended their embrace, and without a word, stood, wiped the tears away from her cheeks, and grabbed my hand. As we walked back to the parking lot in silence, I pulled her to me, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and melding her body into mine. I needed her close.

  Her bike was parked right next to mine, but she’d draped my cut over my seat.

  With a long sigh, I slid the leather over my arms and became the president once again. Hannah would always be a part of me, but there were others who needed me now.

  Cris stood next to me while I threw my leg over the bike I loved almost as much as I loved her. At first, I thought she was making sure I was leaving. Then she climbed up behind me, wrapped her arms tight, offering comfort and support.

  My princess. My angel in blue jeans. Always there when I needed her, whether I knew it or not.

  “Take me home, Robby.”

  She was offering me a way back to her.

  She didn’t have to ask twice.

  Epilogue

  Cris

  “Come on,” Rob coaxed, “just one more.”

  “You’ve gone soft in your old age,” I teased as I playfully rolled my eyes and stepped closer to him.

  He lifted the cellphone in front of us and snapped a selfie, the force of the waterfall behind us so strong that it filled the air with mist so thick we could barely see the river below. He’d wanted to document every leg of the trip. And he’d had the freaking camera in my face more often than not.

  It was completely out of character for him, but as much as I picked on him, I didn’t mind. He was too adorable to complain about. I knew how important capturing this moment was for him. When you lived life the way we had, the good times were over in a blink; you needed to cling to them as long as you could.

  Satisfied with his shot, he pressed a kiss to my temple and moved away. I turned and stepped closer to the metal railing. I could just make out a large boat in the water below, and I watched, completely fascinated, as it moved closer and closer to the giant waterfall. Fear gripped me and my palms got sweaty as it got too close.

  “Angel.”

  I pulled my eyes away and glanced over my shoulder, ready to call him over to see. My words were lost as I found him taking yet another picture. I lifted both middle fingers and sent him my own signature wave.

  The bastard laughed, hard, and snapped a few more shots. I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and turned back to the scene in the canyon below. The boat had turned around and was headed away. Thank God.

  We probably looked absolutely ridiculous—the giant biker in his brand-new jeans, un-scuffed boots, and crisp white tee-under his dark, menacing cut and the woman with makeup done to perfection, windblown hair, who was dressed in a flowing empire-waist beige mini with a white lace overlay, and a leather jacket that proclaimed to the world that I was ‘Property of Rocker’. I didn’t care. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

  Niagara Falls was like nothing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t think of a reason we’d never taken the ride before. Well, other than the fact that it seemed like a destination for lovers and we never really had a free moment to just joyride. Plus, it was one hell of a long ride on the bike. Especially for two people on one bike, saddlebags and trunk packed to the brim, because in early fall, temperatures could vary from obnoxious highs to frigid lows and you had to be prepared for everything.

  Rob moved into me and wrapped his arms around me, hands settling over my still flat stomach as he pressed a kiss into the nape of my neck.

  “Mrs. Doyle,” he practically purred. “You look absolutely stunning. Like you belong on the runway.”

  I laughed happily. “I’m wearing Chucks.”

  “Which completes the crazy runaway-bride look you’ve got going on.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I felt him smile. “It’s like the guardian angel and the devil
on your shoulder merged into one. The blushing bride in white and the badass biker chick in black. And you couldn’t decide which to be, so you became both.”

  I giggled harder, sure his description was what most people saw.

  “And which do you think I am?” I probed.

  “The most beautiful woman in the world who just made me the happiest man.” He bit my ear gently. “But if one more asshole looks at you the way that douche on your right has been, I’m going to knock his fucking teeth down his throat.”

  I sighed and patted his hand. “Still such an ass.”

  “And you’re still a brat, so we’re even.”

  I twirled his wedding ring around his finger. I’d probably never get used to seeing him wear it. Just like I’d never get used to mine.

  A few months ago, when he’d asked me to run away with him, I’d asked him how fast I needed to pack a bag. Rob had laughed, pulled me onto his lap, and whispered, “Marry me.” My first thought had been to jump up and down and scream it from the rooftops.

  Then I remembered that we’d only been back together for a little over six months. We’d had years to work on us, but we’d failed. There was no guarantee that we’d be able to make it work. Hell, the way we fought, I wasn’t even sure we liked each other.

  I’d taken a deep breath, looked into his eyes, and told the responsible, nagging part of me to shut the fuck up. I loved Rob. I’d loved him for the majority of my life. I didn’t want another moment to pass us by. So, I’d jumped up and down, and screamed it from the windows.

  He hadn’t wanted to wait. And neither of us wanted to overshadow Matty and Jo’s big day. Or hurt Barbie with a big, drawn-out production.

  When Rob suggested that we elope in a place only a handful of people had gotten married, I’d lept at the chance to visit the white sand beaches of some tropical island I’d only dreamt about. Then he’d clarified. We were going to exchange vows, just the two of us, in a helicopter flying over Niagara Falls.

  It was unconventional, a little scary, and totally worth it. Just like the two of us. It was the perfect idea.