“It’s going to be the best snowman ever.”
I don’t know about that but just knowing she believes I can do it, well, it makes me feel good. It gives me fucking hope, and that’s a precious gift for a man like me.
“Have you heard anything else about Connor?”
“No,” she says softly. “I don’t think I’ll have much to report back until the birthday party. No one wants to overcrowd him, you know?”
I’m still a little shocked that he welcomed them so freely and felt inclined to talk. During our supervised visits, it was always a struggle for me to get him to open up to me. I guess it’s true what they say about children being the best judge of character. They know good people from bad.
“Did he uh…bring up his uncle?” I ask, grinding my teeth at the thought of that cunt.
“No, and neither did we. The purpose of the intervention wasn’t for Connor to tell us what happened but rather an attempt at having him feel comfortable around us and we succeeded. I think the plan going forward is for Six-Pack to tell him the club will be with him in the courtroom, but not until the party is over.”
“You’ll be there too, right?”
“At the party? Yes, I wouldn’t have told you to call—”
“I mean at court.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I’m fully invested in Connor’s well-being despite…never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“It’s nothing…I…uh just have some personal stuff going on, but don’t worry it won’t interfere with anything I’ve committed myself to.”
It’s the first time she’s sharing anything about herself with me, but I can already sense she’s not willing to share much more. I can push, peel all those layers back, but it won’t do either of us any good. I’m here and she’s there. I’m the last person she should be confiding in.
“Peaches,” I call.
“You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”
Never.
Not in a million fucking years.
Not even if by some chance I get that ass.
“No,” I reply, finally.
“Goodbye, Bishop.”
“Later, Peaches.”
She’ll always be Peaches to me.
I’ll always want to sink my teeth into that forbidden fruit.
Saving myself the torture of having her hang up on me, I do it first and as soon as the phone touches the receiver, I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. Backing away, I tuck the photograph into my pocket and as I walk out of the call center, I feel like I’m leaving a piece of me right there in that room.
That’s what my life has become.
A million scattered pieces.
-Sixteen-
Charlotte
Present
“Charlotte, wake up! Mr. Schwartz is at the door.”
Connor’s voice rouses me from sleep and my eyes instantly spring open. Ignoring the violent pounding of my head, I stare into his crystal blue eyes. He smiles widely, his two front grown-up teeth on full display and I move to sit up. Every part of my body aches as I glance around Connor’s bedroom.
“You fell asleep in the chair,” he supplies, and I divert my eyes back to him. The last thing I remember is reading the text from Bishop and coming in here to watch Connor sleep. I don’t recall sitting in the chair much less closing my eyes.
“What time is it?” I groan.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t want to wake you. I made my own breakfast.”
This boy.
He’s so sweet.
So absolutely adorable.
Running my fingers through his hair, I smile softly at him.
“Did you?”
“Yep, and I didn’t make a mess.”
“What did you have?”
“Lucky Charms and guess what? They really are magically delicious. I fixed you a bowl too, only I didn’t pour the milk because then it gets soggy.”
“Look at you being a little chef,” I say just as the doorbell rings. Connor looks over his shoulder and back at me.
“That’s Mr. Schwartz,” he reveals. “I checked the window to see who it was and didn’t answer because you and Daddy said I can only answer the door if it’s him. That’s why I woke you up.”
“It’s okay, Bud, you did the right thing by not answering. Why don’t you go brush your teeth and I’ll let Mr. Schwartz in?”
“Okay. Can I call my dad after that? I want to see what time he’s coming to pick us up.”
Taking a deep breath, I force a smile. Somewhere in between the excessive crying and over-analyzing a text message, I made the decision to follow through with the trip to the zoo. I reminded myself this wasn’t just about me and Bishop, and we needed to think of Connor. I knew it would break his heart if I told him we weren’t going, but now I don’t how I should feel or how to act around his father. Do I give him the chance to explain? If I do, what am I supposed to say afterward? Should I beg and plead for him to turn his back on the Satan’s Knights? I’ve already done that. Maybe we don’t talk about it at all, maybe we go to the zoo and pretend nothing happened. Connor gets his day, and all is well.
Until it isn’t.
Eventually, we’re going to have to acknowledge what happened. The thing is, I think I need space to clear my head and figure things out.
“Charlotte?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, bringing my focus back to Connor. “Yes, you can call your dad after you brush your teeth.”
His grin widens and he jets for the bathroom. Unable to move as quickly as him, I get up and make my way through the apartment and head for the door. Schwartz never bothered coming in after he and Bishop had words and I was thankful for that.
He didn’t know how not to be a lawyer and last night I was far too emotionally spent to be on the receiving end of his questions. Honestly, part of me regrets calling him in the first place, especially because now I have to deal with him. At least he comes bearing coffee.
With a sigh, I pull open the door. He turns to face me, jutting the tray of coffees at my chest.
“Jesus, you look like shit,” he mutters.
If I wasn’t sure I’d give myself more of a headache, I’d roll my eyes at his charming disposition. Instead, I take the tray of coffees and move aside, allowing him room to enter.
“Connor is brushing his teeth,” I inform, closing the door. “And when he’s finished, he’s gonna call Bishop, so if you’re here to rip his dad apart, now really isn’t a good time.” I don’t make eye contact with him as I move to step around him, but he quickly grabs a hold of my wrist, rooting me in place.
“Charlotte, you bring me coffee, not the other way around, this isn’t a social visit. You called me in the middle of the night to get Bishop off your front lawn. I deserve some kind of explanation.”
One glance at his stern face and I know there’s no chance of sweeping last night under the rug. Schwartz has been tiptoeing around me for a while now, ever since I told him I was applying for guardianship of Connor. He reamed me out, accusing me of losing my mind and we had had words which led to me storming out of his office. At the time, I didn’t care if he fired me and to prove that point, I didn’t show up for work the next day either. We were swamped, working simultaneously on Blackie’s sentence modification and Bishop’s. While it was clear I was somewhat obsessed with Connor and Bishop, it didn’t show in my work. Schwartz needed me. He sent two dozen roses to my house and the card attached said, please come back to work, I’ll mind my business.
It wasn’t that much out of character for him. I was learning there was a heart buried under all those silk suits. Schwartz wasn’t as hard as he wanted the world to believe. He’ll never admit it, but I know he’s just as touched by Connor’s predicament as I am. He just has better control over his emotions than I do.
I also believe his change of hard had something to do with Gabby. My cousin must’ve gotten her hooks into him and warned him once I had something set in my mind, there
was no talking me out of it.
Anyway, he dropped it and overlooked the fact that I was spiraling out of control. But I after last night, he’s not going to ignore it anymore.
“All clean,” Connor exclaims, running into the room. He looks between me and Schwartz and the smile he was wearing all morning, slips from his face. Kids, they’re perceptive little creatures. “Is something wrong? You’re not here to take me away, are you?” he questions, his lower lip quivering in fear. Before I can wrap my arms around him and assure him no one is taking him anywhere, Schwartz steps to him and drops to a knee in front of him.
“No, Connor, I’d never do that,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I just came to say hello and tell Charlotte, I gave her the day off.”
“But she already has the day off,” Connor replies, sniffling. “We’re going to the Central Park Zoo with my dad,” he exclaims, turning his blue eyes back to me. “We are going, aren’t we?”
My heart plummets at the sad way he stares at me. It’s been a while since he’s looked at me like that and I hate it now just as much as I did then. There’s no way I’m disappointing him.
“Of course we are,” I whisper hoarsely. “But David and I need to discuss something about work, so can you do me a favor and go to your room? We won’t be long and as soon as we’re done, we can call your dad.”
I don’t dare look at Schwartz. Instead, I smile at Connor, hoping he doesn’t notice how badly my heart is breaking. There truly is nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I realize in that moment, I’m in big trouble. If I lose this boy, I’ll be destroyed.
“Okay,” Connor says. “Can I use the iPad? I want to watch videos of the penguins again.”
“Sure,” I rasp. “It's in my bedroom charging and the headphones are right next to it.”
With a nod, he takes off for my bedroom. I wait a moment before following him. Taking a peek inside, I watch as he gets situated on my bed. Plugging the headphones into the iPad, he fits them to his head and leans back against the pillows.
I swallow the lump in my throat and blow out a breath before making my way back to the kitchen. There Schwartz sits on one of the stools, sipping his coffee as he stares at me.
“Don’t,” I warn, reaching for my cup. “I can’t let him down.”
“I didn’t say a word,” he volleys, setting his coffee on top of the counter. Crossing his arms against his chest, he cocks his head to the side. “He gave me the gun.”
My hand pauses before the cup reaches my lips and I lift my eyes to his.
“He also told me it wasn’t his, that it was Parrish’s. After he left, I figured you weren’t in the mood to talk, so I paid our favorite biker a visit.”
I finally allow myself a sip of coffee and welcome the bitter flavor on my tongue.
“I bet he didn’t appreciate you waking him up in the middle of the night.”
“Actually, he was just getting home when I pulled up,” he reveals and instantly a sense of dread creeps into my belly. I won’t pretend that I’m well-educated with the Satan’s Knights, but I know enough to assume Parrish wasn’t out buying a container of milk in the middle of the night.
“He confirmed the gun was his and that he gave it to Bishop when they followed Pete home from a bar.”
A gasp flies past my lips and I lift a hand to my mouth to cover it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. There’s only one reason why Bishop would follow Pete. “Is he dead?”
“That, I don’t know and honestly, I don’t want to. But whatever did happen, didn’t happen at Bishop’s hand.”
“Parrish told you that?”
He nods, taking another sip of his coffee.
“He also took the clip out of the gun and showed me that it was still full. There was no residue of gun powder either. Bishop didn’t fire.”
“Why would he tell you all of that?
Schwartz shrugs, drumming his fingers against the counter.
“I told him I would walk away from Blackie’s civil case against the city if he didn’t.”
My eyes widen at that.
“You threatened Jack Parrish?”
“Yeah, and it felt damn fucking good to give him a dose of his own medicine.”
I shake my head as I backtrack, reeling from the knowledge Bishop had every intention of using that gun on the man who hurt his son.
“Did you hear what I said? He didn’t use the gun,” Schwartz says, seeming to read my mind.
But he was going to.
He was going to kill a man in cold blood and even though the son of a bitch deserved to die, I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact the man I’m in love with is capable of murder.
“He wasn’t lying,” Schwartz adds, drawing out a heavy sigh. “But, Charlotte, it’s time you come clean with me and tell me—” his words trail as his phone rings. Muttering a curse, he reaches into his suit and glances at the screen. “Shit, it’s the call service. I’ve got to take this.” Swiping his thumb across the screen, he covers the speaker and points a finger at me. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Bringing the coffee cup to my lips, I nod.
“Schwartz,” he barks into the phone.
I turn my back to him, I give in to the tears and allow myself a moment of grief, knowing as soon as that call is over, I’m going to have to be straight with my boss. The moment passes and I try to figure out how honest I need to be with my boss. I mean does he really need to know everything? I’m sure he’s not interested in knowing how deeply in love I am with our client. Some things are meant to be sacred and only between two people. Those are the things we usually hold closest to our hearts. They’re also the things that hurt us most.
“Charlotte,” Schwartz calls, interrupting my thoughts. I quickly brush away my tears with the back of my hands and turn to him. Luckily, he’s too preoccupied with the caller to notice my tears. “I need a pen.”
I open the first drawer and sift through the take-out menus. Finding a pad, I set it on the counter and continue to search for a pen. My fingers finally close around one and as I go to hand it to Schwartz, my body locks. It’s my sister’s Betty Boop pen, the very same one I had tucked into my hair the day I met Bishop. It was the first time he touched me, and I felt that electric current pass from him to me. I think subconsciously I knew my life would never be the same after that.
“I’m sorry, I have to call you back,” Schwartz says to whoever called him. The baritone sound of his voice pulls me away from my memories and I realize I’m crying again. Big fat tears stream down my face and Schwartz looks at me with a worrisome expression. It’s a rare occurrence for the man who hates to show any sort of sign of humility or compassion.
“Don’t worry, your daughter is in good hands,” he adds before disconnecting the call. Turning my back to him, I make a pitiful attempt to hide my tears. The legs of the stool shuffle against the floor and a second later, Schwartz is in front of me. With the gentle prod of his index finger, he lifts my chin.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
Reaching inside his suit jacket, he produces a silk handkerchief. Instead of handing it to me, he extends his hand and gently wipes away my tears. I guess over the months of being a thorn in his side, I’ve grown on him somewhat.
“I’m okay,” I say with a sniffle and take the handkerchief from him. Not buying it, he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Sit.”
Sighing, I thread my fingers through my wild curls.
“Schwartz, I’m really not in the mood to hear you tell me I told you so.”
“Look, I’m not going to do that, okay? You called me in the middle of the night Charlotte. You. Called. Me,” he reiterates. “And you did so because you know I always show up.”
I lift my eyes to his. I guess that’s partly the reason I called him. He does always show up, but that’s usually because there’s a nice hefty retainer fee attached to his presence. It’s nice to know I got him here free o
f charge.
“If I didn’t call you, I would’ve called the cops,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from him. As soon as the words leave my lips, I know they’re the wrong ones to say.
“Oh, please, who are you kidding? You wouldn’t have called anyone, Charlotte,” he says, shaking his head. “I fired you and not ten seconds later you were offering your time to a bunch of bikers. At that point, you had only met Bishop, not Connor.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I toy with the hem of my t-shirt. The day he fired seems so long. Isn’t that something? How much a person’s life can change in a matter of time. A year ago, I was meeting with a head-hunter, hoping to find a job and now I work for one of the most successful firms and I am the temporary guardian of a little boy.
Anyway, there’s no use arguing. If Schwartz stuck to his guns and handed me my walking papers, I would’ve probably found a way to be part of Bishop and Connor’s life. Some things are just inevitable.
“I guess you’re right,” I say finally, drawing my attention back to him. “I wouldn’t have called the police. The whole reason I threw him out is that I was so fearful he broke the law, I thought it was only matter of time before the cops or his parole officer showed up to arrest him and I didn’t want to put Connor through that. I still don’t. He’s just getting his father back, he doesn’t deserve this.” I pause for a beat, looking towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “You know, in the beginning, this was a big concern of mine,” I admit, bringing my eyes back to his. “I never told you because I knew you already thought I was nuts for getting so involved, but I feared we’d reunite Connor and Bishop only for it to result in heartbreak…”
“The only heart breaking right now is yours,” he replies, pointedly. “And maybe Bishops,” he adds, releasing an exasperated sigh. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night or why he was carrying Parrish’s gun, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the plan was—”
“He’s prospecting for the Satan’s Knights,” I blurt, closing my eyes as the words leave my lips. I swore I wouldn’t say anything to Schwartz, but that’s only because I had hope Bishop would come to his senses. Braving a glance at my boss, I watch as he narrows his eyes.
Breaking The Chains (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy) Page 12
