“I would indeed, Miss O'Malley.”
“Oh, and that goes for Nathan, Declan, and my sisters, too.” She stepped closer to Carragh.
Nathan wanted to pitch himself between them, but watching this bizarre exchange, he found his feet frozen.
“We've always been a hardy bunch. It would be unusual for the stress of this situation to impact our health.” She laughed lightly. “In fact, I do believe we'll all live to be a hundred.”
“Then that is where we are the same.” MacKenna's face slowly stretched into a grin. He looked ... amused? “To a long life, Miss Midnight Starr, for you and your sisters.” He nodded his head at each of them and turned to walk away.
Holy shit. She’d tried to broker a peace deal. Even if she could, the MacKenna's would never honor such a thing. Besides, Ruark was going to do time. The law didn't take kidnapping lightly.
“Come on.” Erin inclined her head. “Car’s out front. We’ve gotta go.”
“I’ll go with you.” Starr hooked her arm in his. He reveled in her warmth, in the softness of her skin against his. It helped with the pain a little, though the good feeling wouldn’t last. He was going to have to let her go for real this time.
47
Bus exhaust and summer heat smacked his face as soon as he was through those double glass doors of the emergency room. A pinkish dawn had broken outside. Holding Starr’s hand, he took time to drink in the scene, letting the humidity as thick as being smothered in wet blankets, coat his skin. Two cops kept watch over them; Erin moved twenty feet away to yammer into her cell phone.
They’d been told he had ten more minutes before he’d be taken away.
Lowering heavy eyelids, he concentrated on the sounds all around him just in case he might not get to hear “normal” again. When he popped open his eyes, the sky’s light had given way to a bright yellow, morning sun. That’s how fast life changed. One minute you’re a college student. Then you’re a felon. One minute you might get your life back. Then, you don’t.
Declan pulled up. Phoenix and Luna rushed out of the car immediately to embrace their sister. He still didn’t let go of her hand. He was unable and unwilling to break contact with Starr, even when they hugged, chattered, and fussed over her. Knowing she had such family back up soothed his worry a bit.
Declan positioned himself in front of him. “My attorney will meet us at the court office.”
“Thanks, man.” No legal mind was going to change the fact the law considered him a parolee who’d broken his agreement by way more than just crossing a state line. He appreciated the futile attempt anyway.
The glass doors whooshed open, and Carragh sauntered out with two more cops, one of them laughing at something MacKenna had said. Nathan's skin chilled. The level of familiarity, not to mention friendliness between the men, shouldn’t have been a surprise.
Then the inexplicable happened. Declan strode over to Carragh.
Before he could puzzle out what was happening, Phoenix spoke to him.
“What was that?” He hadn’t really heard her, his eyes not believing that he saw the two men talking in hushed tones.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For saving our sister. When you guys didn’t show up at home, well … we didn’t know.”
Home. Yeah, he’d almost had one, hadn’t he? “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.”
“We know.” Luna squeezed his wrist.
A shadow fell over them as Declan and Carragh joined them.
“Declan, take care of her for me. Please.” His eyes shot up to Carragh. “You fucking go near her—’
“Back down, Baldwin.” His bored tone matched his lids hanging half-mast as if he’d been through this scene a million times.
Declan thumped his cane. “They aren’t going to harm her or anyone else. I’ve made sure of it.”
He couldn’t promise that.
“See you around, cousin.” Carragh slapped Declan across the back and swaggered over to meet a black Mercedes that screeched to a halt in the fire lane. Sunlight gleamed off its perfect exterior.
Nathan stared hard at Declan. “What was that? Cousin?”
“I can explain later.”
A man rose from the back seat, adjusted his glasses, and drew a briefcase from the floorboard. Another older man, silver-haired with a face as still as stone, stepped from the front passenger side. The two of them stared at him, and then their gazes drifted lazily over each of the others.
The elderly gentleman's nose appeared as if it had been broken more than a few times, but he wore his expensive suit as if it were made for him. They left the car with its driver sitting in the fire lane as if they owned the place. They might. Carragh met them halfway and shook their hands.
Nathan turned to Declan. “Why do I have a feeling that's Ruark's legal team?”
A muscle in Declan's jaw twitched. “Not exactly.” He swung his gaze to him. “It's Papa MacKenna. When in doubt, go to the top.”
“You know him?”
Declan didn’t answer but squared himself behind his cane when the elderly man nodded at him.
The guy then turned to Carragh. “Button it up, and don’t take too long.”
Carragh simply ran his finger over his bottom lip but trailed behind the two men as they stepped through the glass doors to go inside.
A cop broke into their group and raised his eyebrows. “Gotta go, man.”
“Just a few more minutes,” Starr pleaded.
“Sorry, Miss O’Malley.” He gave her a compassionate half-smile. “We’ve stretched out the time all we can.” He unhooked his cuffs from his belt. “Sorry, man, gotta do this. Hands behind your back.”
Nathan turned away from the cop and put his hands behind him. He forced himself to stare into Starr’s Caribbean blue eyes one more time.
She swung her arms around his neck and crashed her mouth into his. Pain exploded in his chest, his shoulder, but damned if he’d have stopped her, even as the cold cuffs snapped around his wrists.
She broke the kiss but didn’t loosen her hold on him.
He’d give anything to brush her red hair from her forehead. “Sorry I’m not going to be able to get you that boat.”
“I don’t care about boats.” She rose higher on her tiptoes.
“You should. You deserve it and more. Listen, Starr, I—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it,” she whispered into his mouth and then kissed him again. He would never, ever forget the taste of her, the softness of her lips and skin, the flash in her eyes.
His gaze floated over all the people left on the sidewalk. Declan, Luna, Phoenix, and even his parole officer, stood there as if a show of force would change his circumstances. It wouldn't, but a curious sense of belonging overcame him. A crushing sense of loss washed it away just as quickly.
The cop lowered him into the backseat and slammed the door. He searched Starr’s face and committed to memory every freckle. He only broke contact with her when the glass of the window went up. He couldn’t watch those blue eyes fill up with tears. He faced the front seat, stared at the back of the cop’s head, and didn’t dare look back again.
48
Three Months Later
Welcomed, bright sunlight cut into his eyes. The noisy clank of the chain-link gates closing behind him startled him. He finally stood on the other side of those cold, silver, diamond-shaped twists of metal that had caged him for three months. He drew in the bus fumes and the scent of some distant fire that smelled of burning leaves.
As if on cue, a leaf skittered across the cracked asphalt, and the distance hum-rattle of a bus accelerating urged him to step forward.
“Hey, handsome. See you still have your beard.”
He pivoted to look up the street. His eyes weren't working properly in the sunlight because a voluptuous figure sat on the hood of a white mustang, leaning back, her hands splayed behind her, her legs swinging a little against the side of the car. Her red hair lifted in the wind.
>
He hung his head, his gaze falling to the ground and then back up sharply, expecting her to be gone—just gone.
He tapped his bottom lip with his index finger. “Nice car.”
“It's not mine—yet.” Starr jumped off and leaned against the car. “Declan bought it for Phee, who, of course, refused it. She'd rather drive around in her old VW relic. It’s a little cliché but …” She shrugged one shoulder.
And just like that his mind catapulted to Shakedown, the scent of oranges and furniture polish, the clang of beading on costumes, and horns blaring the music.
Her hair danced in the wind. “Thought you'd walk away without me, didn't you? Good luck with that.”
His heartbeat stirred and then built to a furious rhythm. His body took over, thank God, because his mind was useless. The distance between them was gone, and his arms were full of Starr with her cinnamon scent and soft flesh. She’d said she was coming, but he hadn’t let himself believe it until now.
“Hey.” She grasped both sides of his face. “Guess you missed me?” Her lips came up to his, and for long minutes his world was full of nothing but the moist heat of her mouth.
When they broke their kiss, she pushed him backward. “Declan made me promise.” She pulled out a cell phone from the back of her jeans and hit a number.
“I’ve got him.” Her gaze never left his. “Okay ... here.” She handed him the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Now? “Hey.” He scrubbed his chin.
“Nathan. Welcome home. Look, I know you and Starr have some catching up to do …”
Understatement of the century. He turned away from Starr and stared back toward the prison where he'd been held for the last ninety, untenable, days. He swung his gaze back to Starr. Much better view. “S'okay. What's up?”
Starr grasped his free hand with both of hers as if he might run. No fucking way. He knew Declan was saying something, but he couldn’t stop staring at Starr. “Uh, say that again.”
“Ruark MacKenna. The guy's not getting out of prison for a while. Just got word this morning that his probation hearing was a bust. Wanted you to hear it first.”
“How did you hear?” He’d spent considerable time mulling over the fact Carragh had called Declan “cousin.”
“He'll be gone for at least another few months. Now tell me you're coming back to work.”
So Declan wasn't going to answer his question. There was time, he supposed. Starr was pulling him around to the side of the car.
“What's he saying?” Starr drew so close to the phone Declan had to hear her breathing.
He lifted his chin at her but kept the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I'm coming back, Declan. Thanks.” He looked at his smiling angel. She had to be an angel given she'd waited three months for him. “Yeah. Listen, about when we'll be back—”
“Whenever you need to be.”
“Thanks. And ... yeah, just thanks.” He needed to say more to the man who had basically given him his life back, repeatedly. First a job, then for sticking it out with him when he could have tossed him out on the street. Truth was, he didn’t have the words ... not enough words.
“I understand.” Declan killed the call.
He looked at Starr's expectant face.
“Well?” Her leg jogged in impatience.
“Ruark will be inside for at least a few more months. Maybe more than a few if he's not a good boy.”
“Something tells me it's going to be more then.” Unrestrained glee filled her voice. “Come on. I'll drive.”
“Where?” He slipped into the passenger side. “I don't … “
She'd slammed the door and jogged to the other side.
As soon as she settled herself in the driver's side, she inserted the key into the ignition and turned to him. “We are going to Florida.”
“Why?”
“To see your daughter.”
Jesus. He swallowed thickly.
She shifted to face him. “Then, when you ask me to marry you, I can say yes with zero reservations. I’ll only have children with a man who would never abandon a child.”
His heartbeat clattered against under his ribs—and, for once, it felt damned good. Marriage. Children. A future. “So this is what we have to do? Right now?”
“Yes.”
He drew the seatbelt across his chest. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t shoot me on sight.”
49
This was a dream. Either that or he had “road head” from traveling one thousand ninety-five miles from Lorton, Maryland to Coral Gables, Florida. He leaned forward to unstick his back from the hot vinyl of the car seat. He couldn’t make himself step out of the car onto the parking lot of the older housing complex.
The first day they’d made their way south on 81 through Virginia and then North Carolina, and he’d rather enjoyed Starr’s chatter mixing with the wind from the convertible top being down. He was going to have a sunburn from hell, but it was worth it to watch all her red hair lift and wave at him.
He'd had a lot to catch up on. She’d written to him every few days when he was away he’d learned, though he wasn’t sure where all the letters had gone. To thoroughly catch him up, she’d recounted everything.
In Virginia, he’d learned their father recovered from his coma and was back in rehab—again. They didn’t see or talk to him but got updates, which was as much as the three of them were willing to do. Declan was helping with bills, which made Phee mad, but the man refused to back down from supporting them.
“She secretly loves it,” Starr laughed. “She’ll cave one day.”
Once they crossed the North Carolina line, she’d grown lighter, happier, regaling him with tales of Shakedown. Max was dating a girl who looked as formidable as he did. “Her biceps are as large as my thighs, I swear,” she’d laughed. Rachel and Trick were married with a baby on the way. He hadn’t remembered she was such a chatterbox, but he’d listen to her forever if it meant he could be this close to her.
It was when they crossed into South Carolina, she grew serious again, making him stop and leave a message for a Dawn Mancuso. Nosy Declan, Max, and the O’Malley sisters had pulled out all the stops to find her, and her phone number, while he was imprisoned.
He was glad she’d dropped his last name—for her sake. Perhaps she’d remarried, though if she had, he might open the door to one angry husband. He’d like to avoid being punched. Somehow, he’d avoided any violence during the last three months in prison. Curious that.
His message had been comprised of some stilted words, but thank God there hadn’t been anyone to hang up on him. He couldn't even recall what he'd said. Starr, who listened to his ramblings, reported he did “just fine.” He'd dropped words like “it's been a while” and “sorry to call out of the blue” and “I'd like to see my daughter.” Starr had told him he'd said those things, anyway.
Halfway through South Carolina, they’d stopped at a cheap motel where his nerves didn’t have a chance to take hold because she stripped nude and made him do the same the second they were inside the doorway. Thank God for his greedy, eager girl. She’d pushed him back on the bed, and it wasn’t long before he had each of her legs hooked in the crook of his elbows and entered her with a satisfying glide. That earned him one of those throaty moans of hers for which he’d pined for three months. Nerves stood no chance against his love, lust, or respect for this woman.
Now, however, they threatened a rebirth.
He stared through the windshield at the front door of the townhouse where Dawn Mancuso and Madeline Baldwin lived. “I don't know. The MacKenna’s...”
His words abruptly stopped. Starr had climbed on to his lap.
“You going to make me do this again?” Her freckles stretched a little as her cheeks lifted in a devilish smile. “If I'd known this would be the result, I might have to keep talking.”
“How about we skip the talking?”
She planted a kiss on him that made his cock take notice.
She
pulled back. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Good. Let's go.”
“Wait.” He stopped her from opening the car door. “Give me a sec.”
“Just breathe, Nathan. It's going to be okay.”
How could it be? They were showing up at a woman’s door who’d divorced him and whom he hadn’t seen in ten years. He scrubbed his hair as if a delay tactic would put an end to Starr's incessant desire to deal with the past.
She crossed her arms and gave him that look. “You’re being a pussy,” it said.
He placed his hand on the door handle. “You don't have to go in with me.”
“I want to. I mean, if you want me to.”
“Why?' He turned in his seat. “I mean—”
“Because I love you. That's what people do. They don't leave when things get hard.”
He fingered his phone, the picture of him and Starr staring up at him from an overlook they’d stopped at in North Carolina. “I should have been the one to tell you about Dawn and Madeline.”
“You're not the only one with secrets, Nathan. Everyone has them. Like me and school. How I paid off my own father. Like ... my real name is Catarina.” Her words nearly ran together as if she had to just get them out. “My mom had some Russian fantasy, apparently. We go by our stage names because we wanted to start fresh. We all did.”
“Luna? Phoenix?”
“Can't tell you. It’s part of our deal.”
He’d need a spreadsheet to keep track of those sisters and their deals.
The front door of the home, pale yellow, trimmed in white, stared back at him. Shit, man, just get it over with. He cracked open the door and unfolded his cramped legs. He paused for a second, taking in the small bungalows lined up in one long, neat row, like yellow, turquoise, and shrimp-pink candy boxes with jalousie windows, opened to let in the tropical breezes. The whole neighborhood looked like it belonged in a 1950s movie when things were picture-perfect.
Tough Luck (The Shakedown Series Book 1) Page 21
