Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2) (13 page)

“
G
et out
! Get. Out!”

“Trisha, baby, calm down. You’re not thinking straight,” I pleaded, holding my hands up in the air. I took several steps back until my heels dug into the front door. I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t leave her like this. Not when she was throwing one of her fits.

Trisha was thirty-two weeks pregnant now and
massive.
In the past forty-five minutes, her awkward, bulky frame had laid waste to our living room, ransacking drawers, smashing dishes and tearing photographs. Psycho Trisha had once again reared her jealous head, destroying the careful serenity we’d worked so hard to build over the last two weeks. Trisha pulled out another porcelain plate and hurled it toward my head. It missed my left ear by a few inches and shattered into long shards at my feet.

“Trisha, please. Deep breaths,” I said, my chest rising and falling fast. “Think of Kara. Please, think of our baby.”

Trisha’s face was manic and distraught, her brown eyes bulging out of their sockets. “I knew it. I knew there was something going between you and that gyno slut! I thought you were better than that. Sleeping with my fucking gyno? You’ve got no fucking standards, Kieran.”

My fingers curled into fists, and I held back the urge to throttle her. “For the last fucking time, I’m not sleeping with your fucking gynecologist!” She was delusional and violent, and I couldn’t stop her. Short of physically restraining her, I couldn’t stop the madness. But I didn’t want to touch her again. The last time I tried to calm her down by pinning her wrists, she called the cops on me. Luckily she changed her tune by the time two officers knocked on our door. But still. She wouldn’t hesitate to turn on me. Anger blinded her. She was out for blood.

“Stop LYING, Kieran. I’m not some retarded, naive, nineteen-year-old girl anymore. I see things. I see fucking everything!”

“Baby, c’mon. Let’s go take a walk. Go for a breather, what do you say?” I offered.

Trisha gestured to her belly, her double chin wobbling. “Do I look like I want to go for a fucking walk? I’m hideous and filthy and fatter than an African elephant! I fucking hate myself. You-You did this to me! You knocked me up and now I’m stuck with you. I’m fat and ugly and
stuck
with you, you disgusting bastard. I’m stuck with a dirty, cheating asshole!”

I shouldered all her insults, too heartbroken to defend myself. What was the use? She wasn’t listening to a word I said anyway. She was hysterical. Maybe even high. Last week, I discovered angry, red track marks on her arms. She covered them up and said it was nothing. But I knew the damage had already been done. I tried dragging her to the hospital, but she fought me with every ounce of energy she had. And she won. The last thing I needed was to get locked up for abuse. Somehow, I just knew she could make it look like it was all my fault.

I contemplated calling the cops now, but I didn’t want to risk having them haul her away to the psych ward. Kara was due any day now, and my daughter was not going to be born in a bloody mental ward full of crazies. I didn’t want that kind of life for our innocent baby. Kara deserved better parents than us. She deserved the moon and the stars, not two shitty, broken cons living in a run-down, rat-infested hovel.

“Get out of my fucking house. Now. I’m done. I’m leaving you. You hear me, you dirty prick? I’m fucking LEAVING.”

“No,” I said. “I’ll go. Don’t leave. Stay here and I’ll go. Please, just stay safe. I need to know you’re somewhere safe.”

Trisha folded her shaking arms across her chest and turned away. Her once lustrous hair was brittle now; and all the light in her soul had been replaced by bitter darkness. She had no good left in her, only rot and hatred and anger. Darkness had swallowed my lover, and I knew then I’d never get her back.

I couldn’t fight her anymore. I needed to pull back. Step away. I slipped on my leather jacket and baseball cap. “I’m going to go, Trish. Call me if you need anything.” Just as I reached for my cellphone on the counter, there was a sharp rap at the door. “NBPD, open up!”

I shot daggers at Trisha, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Trisha shook her head from side to side so hard I thought she might get whiplash. “No, no, no, no, don’t let them in,” she hissed. Her wide eyes had a crazy look to them, and her nostrils flared wildly. Trish backed up against the window and sank to the floor, surrounding herself in the mess she made. She began picking up shards of glass with her bare hands and smearing her blood on the floor.

I crossed the distance between us in three steps. Gripping her shoulders, I whispered, “What did you do, Trisha? Answer me.”

Trish continued shaking her head, tears erupting from her bloodshot eyes. “Save me, Ki, save me. I don’t want them to take me away. Think about Kara. Kara…You gotta save me.”

“You have on the count of three to open the door,” a voice said. “One..two…”

I placed a soft kiss on Trisha’s forehead before walking to the door and unlocking the deadbolt. Running a hand through my messy hair, I asked, “Officers, how can I help you?”

“My name is Officer Blunt with the NBPD. We have a narcotics search warrant…”

My mind blurred. Black dots danced across my vision and blood whooshed through my head. I saw the warrant, but my vision was too shaky to read it.

So this was it. This was how it would end.

Figures shouldered inside, dark uniforms clad in latex gloves. They pulled out drawers and ransacked our closets. Took photos of the chaos and asked me questions I couldn’t quite understand. “Why was there blood everywhere?” “What happened? Was there an argument?” Everything was a huge, disorienting blur.

Within minutes, one of them emerged from the bathroom, holding a small, dripping wet plastic baggie. “Found this in the toilet tank.”

“It’s mine,” I said without thinking. “Trisha doesn’t know anything. It’s all on me.”

“
S
o
, you’re doing all of this just to see your daughter again?” I asked, feeling a knot surfacing in my chest. He had a daughter. Somehow, I never pictured him as a family man. He was just too rough around the edges. Too reckless and mouthy to be a dad. I thought about my own father: a respected and tenured Chemistry professor. A true family man with morals and a sterling reputation. Kieran was nothing like my dad.

“Not again,” Kieran said. “For the first time. I've never met her.”

“What? How...”

“I got arrested before she was even born,” he admitted. He didn't look at me. I could see shame burning up his earlobes.

“For what?”

“Heroin possession with intent to distribute,” he said.

“You're a—”

“—It wasn't mine,” Kieran said. “It was Trisha's. She was my ex. And Kara's mom.”

Everything suddenly made more sense. Why couldn’t he have told me this before? It could’ve saved us both a ton of stress. “So you took the fall for Trisha because she was pregnant?”

Kieran nodded. “I couldn't possibly send her to prison thirty-two weeks pregnant. The stress alone might've caused her to kill herself. She was very unstable. Once put out a cigarette butt on my hand while I was sleeping just to see if I’d wake up. And she was always sick. But…I still loved her. Twisted though she was.”

Kieran and I took a seat at a cafeteria table. Absently rubbing stains on the lino, he continued, “I took the blame for her, on the condition that she'd go to rehab and stay with her sister, Bianca.” Kieran ran his hands through his hair. “Of course she never kept her promises.”

“What happened?”

“She stayed with a drug dealer friend. Paxton. After she gave birth to Kara, she dropped our baby off at Bianca's doorstep and vanished. Some people said she ran off her with her 'friend'.”

“No.” I gasped. My head spun...Did shit like this happen in real life? No wonder Kieran was so jaded. No wonder he kept this wall up around him. I couldn’t imagine living with something like that.

“Bianca's been raising Kara as her own for the past ten years,” Kieran said. “I owe her everything.”

“Is that why you're giving her this money?” I asked. “To repay her?”

“No. Bianca wouldn't take any of it. She said she raised Kara out of love, not because she expected a payday.”

“So...”

“Bianca has three kids of her own. She's a struggling single mother. I want to personally give this money to her kids, as well as Kara. For their college fund, or whatever they need.”

“All of this sounds noble enough,” I said. “But why are you running from the cops?”

Kieran sucked in a deep breath and stared at his dirty fingernails. “I’m on parole after ten years in hell. My P.O., this uptight bitch named Mya, refuses to let me leave Northbridge. She refuses to let me see my only child; a daughter I’ve been separated from for a decade. Says a convict like me would have nothing to offer her. That I’d be a terrible influence. So I had to save up money. Get a gun to defend myself, in case there was trouble. Fuck Mya. I’m going to see my daughter no matter what. But I broke almost all the rules...and I'll have to suffer the consequences.”

“Can't you get a re-trial? I mean, you were innocent,” I said.

“I pled guilty,” Kieran replied. “Took a deal.”

I sat stunned and speechless. The cafeteria was eerily silent and no one noticed us. A chill gripped me. Life had been unfair to Kieran. Supremely unfair. His story was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. My nose stung and I bit back tears. “Kieran...I...I'm sorry I didn't listen to you sooner,” I said. “I wish…”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault,” Kieran said. “I was just…I didn’t feel comfortable admitting my weakness. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess. I was an idiot for involving you. All my life, I’ve been tough. Put up this indestructible front. Left home when I was seventeen and never turned back. I didn’t want anyone’s pity and I didn’t want them to ask questions about my past. But now…the truth is, I’m just a man who wants to reunite with his baby girl. A daughter he’s never met.”

I nodded. “Now that I know the truth, I want to help you. Any way I can. Maybe I can call my friends and ask to borrow their car...?”

“No. No phone calls,” Kieran said. “We need to be stealthy if I'm going to make it to Seattle undetected.”

“How far is Seattle from here? Maybe we can take a bus.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Kieran said. “Let's go ask around to see if there are any Greyhound terminals nearby.”

We spent the next thirty minutes asking around the hospital. The general consensus was that we should take a taxi to the bus depot, and then board a Greyhound to Seattle from there. So we ordered a taxi and hopped back on to the Interstate.

Madison Terminal Bus Depot was partially buried under a thick layer of snow. The flurries had evolved into a blizzard now, and I could feel the cold all the way down in my bones. It was one of the worst blizzards in years, and it felt like the gods were working against us.

About fifty feet away, a steady stream of passengers got on and off long-distance buses. The tall vehicles were lined in rows, with tinted windows and flashy logos painted on the sides. My feet were icy bricks by the time I trudged up to the ticket window. Breath fogging up the plexiglass, I said, “Two tickets to Seattle, please.”

“$120.10,” the woman in the heated booth replied. I envied her. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts and sipping an iced coffee while I froze my ass off outside.

I paid the fare, and the sour-faced vendor slid me two tickets. I shoved them in my pocket before heading back toward Kieran. “Got them,” I told Kieran when I rejoined him inside. “It leaves in about an hour.”

Kieran was mindlessly flipping through travel brochures. He seemed tense. I would be too, if I was going to see my daughter for the first time in ten years. With cops on my tail.

I placed a hand on top of his. Both of our fingers were almost blue. “It's going to be okay. You have me now,” I said. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way. I won’t leave you until you see Kara.” And it was the truth. My wedding was already ruined. The least I could do was help Kieran do what he needed to see Kara again.
Look at me, I’m a regular Good Samaritan.

“She won't even know who I am,” Kieran said. “And I don't want to tell her. She knows Bianca's not her real mom, but she doesn't know why her real parents abandoned her at birth. I don't want to be the person opening up that wound.”

“Don't you think she deserves to know? Maybe it'll offer her some closure. You two could bond and…”

“No. I can't be the father she deserves. Most likely, I'll be headed straight back to prison after I see her. I just want to see what she looks like. Talk to her for a bit. Then, at least I'll have an image to hold onto. A voice to remember.”

“If it's any consolation, I think you would've made a great dad,” I said, smiling. “You’ve got a soft side to you, despite the iciness you project to the world.”

“Thanks, Rachelle. I never wanted to be a dad...but when I learned that Trish was pregnant...I was over the moon. You should've seen me. Smiling like an idiot all day…Telling everyone I knew…That was ten years ago. Now…Now I'm so fucked up...I've seen so much...I don't think I could ever be so idealistic again. The world's a bitch.”

“Stay positive, Kieran. Things can still turn around for you.”

“You're cute, Rachelle. But things don't turn around for people like me. It's been a downhill road since my first day in prison.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t.

After we boarded the Greyhound, I seized the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. I curled up in my seat, knees pressed against my chest. Stifling an audible yawn, I folded my arms across my kneecaps and let my head droop.

I
’d never shared
my story with anyone before. At least, not the full story. I'd told bits and pieces to my cellmates at Maxfield Penitentiary but never the entire thing. Now that Rachelle knew the truth, I felt so relieved. She broke through my wall. Chipped away at it with kindness until she wore me down and I caved to her curiosity. I caved, and it felt damn good to be free. I wasn’t alone now. I had her, if only for a few more hours.

Sharing my story felt unbelievably cathartic, and I wanted to punch myself for not having done it sooner. The only downside was, now I'd burdened her with my painful past. I hoped Rachelle didn't feel obligated to help out. Yes, I'd forced her to come with me. Yes, I’d hurt her feelings and treated her like an asshole. But now those moments of impulsivity caused me unimaginable guilt. I studied Rachelle as she slept. Wisps of black hair clung to her pale cheeks. Her midnight lashes were long, and naturally curled up, like little fans. Her cherry lips were slightly parted, and her breaths, shallow and even. I resisted the urge to touch her. To pull her up against my shoulder and take in her sweet scent.

I was selfish for taking her with me. For taking her away from her home, her friends and her family.

What was I thinking?

Nothing could ever happen between us; nor should it. We existed in two different dimensions, and we had nothing in common. She could never love a broken man like me, nor should she. I held a one-way ticket to hell, and she shouldn’t have been my passenger. She was a better companion than I could’ve ever hoped for, but our time together was coming to an end.

It had to end.
We
had to end.

No matter how much I liked her, I’d never make her a permanent fixture in my life. Rachelle was bright and ambitious; she would go places. She could change the world and make it better. Do the things I’d wanted to do when I was younger. She wouldn’t fail the way I did, because she made smart, clear-headed decisions. I’d mocked her when we first met, calling her a chicken. I’d been mad that she was so comfortable with her boring life. That she shied away from risk. But maybe that wasn’t so bad after all. She was safe, and she was happy. She was where she belonged. Ultimately, her happiness was all that mattered. If Robert could give her that…then maybe she should marry him.

Slouching back, I drifted in and out of sleep. It would be a long bus ride to Seattle.

The bus stopped around one. Rachelle and I, along with most of the passengers, got up and stretched our legs. We used the bathrooms, and grabbed a bite to eat at a fast food restaurant. I wasn't very hungry, and could barely force the dry hotdog down my throat. Rachelle pecked at her Caesar salad as well, pushing the soggy leaves back and forth across her plate.

“Are you having regrets?” I asked.

“No, not regrets,” she replied. “Just trying to take it all in. Absorb everything you’ve told me today.”

“It's a lot, I know. I shouldn't have—”

“My boss is a top-notch lawyer. He has all sorts of connections—”

“I'm guilty, Rachelle. If not for the original crime, then for violating parole. I'm going back, no matter what. It's just a matter of when.”

“Does it have to end this way? With you behind bars?”

“I deserve it. What goes around, comes around. I just wish I'd realized how poisonous Trish was before I knocked her up. I should’ve left her, instead of indulging in her delusions.”

“We all make mistakes. You shouldn't have to pay for them alone. Where's the justice in that?” Rachelle put down her plastic fork and wiped her mouth. “None of this makes any sense to me. Your daughter grew up an orphan and you were locked up for ten years for a crime you didn't commit.”

Was she shaking?

I shrugged. “Shit happens. I try not to think about it. I learned a lot in prison. Read at least one book a week. It wasn't completely wasted time.”

“Trish never tried to contact you again?”

I shook my head. “Not once. Ten years and not a single visit.”

“How will you contact Bianca?”

“Well, since you destroyed my phone, we'll just have to show up at her doorstep and hope she takes us in,” I said.

“Seriously? Don't you think that's—”

I laughed. The first one in a while. “I already arranged to meet her in Denny Park tonight. Back when I still had my phone. She'll be there from five to six.”

“I guess I'll just stay at the motel...or wherever you're planning on taking me.”

“I want you to come with me,” I said. I'd given it a lot of thought. The least I could do was introduce Rachelle to my daughter and Bianca.

“I don't think that would be—”

“Rachelle,” I said, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “I want you to meet them. Promise me, if anything happens, you'll go meet them.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, brows knitted.

“If I get caught beforehand and they take me away...”

“You won't.”

I traced her knuckles with my thumb. Even this tiny bit of contact felt good. Her skin felt too good. “If they do…You’re my backup plan. I’m trusting you, Princess. Bianca has bright red hair and huge glasses. And Kara...you'll recognize her because she...she's different from the other kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because Trish drank so much and did drugs while she was pregnant...Kara was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and NAS. She had a ton of health problems as a child and her health still isn't great. Her face is...slightly disfigured. It's been a rough ten years for Bianca.”

“I'm so, so sorry,” Rachelle said, squeezing my hand. Tears welled in her eyes. “I can't believe your ex was so irresponsible. What a shitty woman.”

“I tried so hard to get her to go through rehab,” I said. “But every time we took one step forward, we'd end up sliding two steps back. She'd lie about getting help, and I'd expose her lies; she'd promise to change, and I'd believe her, only to realize that she was incapable of change. It was a fucking vicious cycle.”

“I'm almost glad she left Kara with Bianca,” Rachelle said after a while. “It was probably better for Kara in the long run.”

I nodded. “I think if Trish tried to raise Kara alone, Kara would probably be dead by now. Trish had this fear of doctors and hospitals. She avoided them like the plague. She wouldn't have gotten Kara the treatment she needed.”

“Now that I know even more about Kara, I think Bianca is a hero. Not everyone would've done what she did,” Rachelle said. “Most people would’ve turned Kara over to Child Services.”

“That's why I need to see Bianca in person. To thank her.”

The driver began calling us back to the bus. I scrunched up my hot dog bun and tossed it in the trash.

Though we were destined to part ways after tomorrow, I was still glad for Rachelle's company. Somehow, with her by my side, the future didn't seem so bleak and daunting. It was a short-lived kind of bliss, but I was eager to enjoy every moment of it. “Rachelle, I just wanted to say—uh, never mind.”

“Kieran Mahoney, you're under arrest for violating parole,” someone shouted from behind me. “You have the right to remain silent...”

Footsteps slapped the concrete behind me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I knew it. I'd felt it in my gut as soon as we stepped off the bus. Call it instinct. Maybe that's why I told Rachelle the details about my rendezvous with Bianca. Because I knew something like this was going to happen.

What goes around, comes around, Kieran. End of the line, buddy.

A burly cop pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed my wrists. I grimaced as his fat fingers pinched my skin. I gave Rachelle one last look and nodded to the bus. The last of the passengers were trickling inside. I couldn't risk saying another word, so I prayed that Rachelle would know what to do.

Rachelle gave me a nod, and disappeared inside the bus. I hoped they wouldn't associate her with me and take her in for questioning at a later point. I watched the bus pull away before a rough hand shoved me into the backseat of a cruiser. “Get in, you little fucker,” someone said.