Untamed (Untamed #1) (7 page)

It had happened years ago—they couldn’t find out about it because no one knew. No one except my parents, and they’d buried that dirty little secret themselves.

My eyes sought out my father’s. Nothing. He didn’t even bother to look my way. Mother? Nope. It’s like they hadn’t even thought about it. And why would they? We’d spent four years pretending it had never happened.

McKinleys were skilled at keeping skeletons locked inside our walk-in closets.

“Yes, we will find out everything.” Eleanor assured me as if it were a comforting thought.

“Pierce has a DUI that needs to go away,” my father said. A DUI? A freaking DUI. My father had dealt with what happened to me in the exact same way—like it was some infraction that could easily be erased. “I will call up someone in the state attorney’s office and have—”

“No.” Eleanor held up her hand. “As the future mayor of New York City, you can’t be seen pulling favors in the legal system. We’ll get someone not involved with the campaign to take care of it. And quickly.” She typed something into her phone. “Are there any more transgressions I should know about, Pierce?”

Pierce smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but I kicked his shin and shot him a dirty look.

He rolled his eyes, then said, “That’s all.”

“Quincy?”

My sister pursed her lips. “Of course not! And Eric is in the clear, too. His father is the CEO of Truman Inc. They can’t risk a scandal.”

“Since we are addressing you and Eric, Quincy, I think we should talk wedding dates.” My mother wanted to talk weddings? NOW?

Quinn frowned. “Wedding dates? We’re getting married next June. We already sent out the save-the-date cards.”

My mother looked over to my father. “Your wedding needs to be this November, not long after your father’s announcement. It would be best for the campaign if the family was publicly seen as being connected with the Trumans. Not just a fleeting engagement. A full commitment.”

“But…but…” Quinn sputtered. “But…that’s only two months away! I can’t plan a wedding in only two months…and my dress, the venue, the caterers…” She was on the verge of tears. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

“Your father needs this, Quincy,” my mother said. “It is not up for discussion. We’ll hire several wedding coordinators to ensure everything gets done. And done well.”

Looking shell-shocked, my sister nodded. “Right. I know. Of course.”

“That settles it. Wonderful.” Eleanor moved on to me. “So, Reagan? Anything we should know about? Speak now or have the investigators drudge it up.” She smiled and winked.

My father answered before I could open my mouth. “Reagan is fine.”

“Yeah, peachy,” I said. Since you say so.

“
Yes
, Reagan. The word is
yes
.” My mother sighed dramatically, which only made me want to say it again. “Mayor’s daughters do not talk like uneducated degenerates.”

“
Yes
, Eleanor. I’m
fine
,” I said. “No arranged marriages in the works for me this year.”

Red splotches colored Quinn’s cheeks. “At least someone loves me, Reagan. At least I behave like a respectable person, unlike you—”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Why don’t we take a moment to let the news sink in, enjoy the lovely dinner Olivia has prepared, and go over some rules of conduct for the family?” He phrased all his requests like we actually had a choice in the matter.

Quinn sat back and smiled smugly at Eric.

“Stop scowling, Reagan.” My mother leaned over and clasped my hand in hers, clenching my fingers. “
Smile
.”

My head pounded and my heart hurt, but I forced my lips into a smile and pretended everything was okay.

As always.

nine

T
he moment the dinner was over, I jumped into my car and drove. I didn’t even stay for dessert. I needed to be as far away from my family as I could. My parents had tried to convince me to spend the night, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of staying. Every second I spent inside the walls of that apartment, being told that my future would be filled with even more rigid rules and control, a little piece of me cracked.

“From now on, you all need to be extremely vigilant,” Marcus had said. “Today’s political campaigns rely heavily on video trackers—college students with cell phones who try to further their own political careers by catching the candidates and their family members in compromising positions or provoking them to say damaging things. You will be especially vulnerable at Columbia, Reagan. It’s vital that you stay alert and not get filmed doing or saying anything that could hurt your father’s reputation.”

“That includes openly lobbying your idealistic, liberal philosophies,” my father said. “We must present a united front, and my views are the ones that count.” There had never been any democracy in our house, but at least I could think for myself when I walked out the door. Now they wanted me to curb that, too?

Um, no.

My foot pressed down on the gas pedal with so much force I was certain my Mercedes was literally going to take flight as I turned onto the parkway headed north. I wove in and out of traffic, trying to get out of the city. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I needed out.

And speed. I needed speed.

Of course, a speeding ticket was definitely against Marcus and Eleanor’s rules, but I didn’t care.

By the time I turned onto 95, the throbbing in my head had grown in intensity. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? How hypocritical was it for a future mayor to limit those very rights for his own daughter?

At dinner they’d discussed hiring permanent bodyguards for me, for god’s sake. Which meant they would know where I was every single second of the day. More so than they did now. No more escaping to La Période Bleue. No more partying wherever I pleased. No more guys who didn’t pass their scrutiny. No more semblance of a real life. Of
any
life.

My fingers white-knuckled the steering wheel. It was the only thing that kept me grounded. Every so often, my eyes would dart to the passenger seat where my black purse rested. I needed something to take the edge off. A pill, two…maybe even three. Driving under the influence was also against the rules, but that was the fucking point. The anger burning in my veins made me want to break as many rules as I could. All I wanted was to shit all over my parents’ control and flush it down the toilet.

Keeping my eyes on the road, I reached over to unzip my bag. I fumbled with the contents for several seconds but came up empty-handed. Damn it. Where the hell was that orange bottle? My gaze flicked to the glove compartment. Yes! I’d stuffed it in there before going to dinner since Quinn liked to snoop through my stuff.

I pushed my foot down on the pedal and swerved around a car. Someone blasted their horn as I reached for the glove box. Another loud honk. My eyes flew back to the road. Tail lights were coming up way too fast, I swerved into the right lane.

A horn went off to my right and I turned in time to see the car I was cutting off.

Shit. Make that running off the road.

By some miracle, our cars didn’t touch, but that was only because the other one jerked out of the way, onto the shoulder, and slammed into the guard rail before coming to a halt.

I stomped on the brakes and pulled off the road.

Oh god, oh god, OH GOD.

What had I done?

I needed to lose control. I wanted to be free. But not like this. Not at the price of someone else’s safety. Fucking hell. I was the world’s biggest cliché. I started shaking as I wrestled with my seatbelt. I had to get out. I had to make sure no one was hurt.

As I jumped out of the car, the other driver descended on me, delivering a string of curses in a deep voice that would have scared the shit out of me if I hadn’t recognized it.

“Are you fucking insane?” he said, drawing closer. “You were driving like a fucking lunatic. Did you even bother to look before changing lanes? You could’ve ki—
Reagan?
”

“
Dare?
” He was stalking toward me.
Dare
. The guy I was still thinking about a week later. The guy whose touch I was unable to erase from my body and mind. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my ears.

“Reagan. Holy fuck.” He searched my face, my body, then looked over at my car. “Are you okay?”

“Am
I
okay? Your head is bleeding!”

His fingers grazed the blood on his eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he said. “No airbag, so my forehead met the steering wheel, but it’s just a superficial cut.”

“You could have a concussion!”

“I’m okay.” Taking another step forward, he took hold of my shoulders and peered down at me. “Are
you
hurt?”

“No, not hurt. Just…fucked up.” I looked down at my feet. The severity of the situation slammed into me. I could’ve killed someone. I could’ve killed Dare. “I’m sorry, Dare. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What the hell were you doing?”

It was a simple question. One that I had no answer for.

Still refusing to meet his eyes, I whispered, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” I chanced a hesitant peek up at him. “Are you going to call the police?” The thought of all the trouble I could be in scared the shit out of me. What the hell had I been thinking?

Dare shook his head. “If neither of us is hurt let’s leave the cops out of it.”

“Are you going to sue me?”

A small smile touched his lips. “Should I sue you, Reagan? Take you for everything you’ve got?” He leaned toward me, pinned me with his captivating gaze. “That’s not my style.”

“It was my fault. And your car…” I looked over at it. “Shit.”

“It looks like it’s just a blown tire and a couple of new dents. Not a big deal.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t have a spare, so I need to call a tow truck.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I said immediately. “And the repairs, of course.” I stared at his car. “This could’ve been so much worse.”

“But it wasn’t. No point in dwelling on what-ifs.” He shook his head. “Ever. Shit happens. You get over it.”

The air around us was thick with tension and the threat of an oncoming storm. His eyes heated, and I looked at his lips, instinctively licking my own. I wanted to touch him again. So very badly.

This was insane. No one had ever affected me like this. I was suddenly so glad that I’d run him—of all people—off the road. How fucked up was that?

“I’ll wait for the tow truck with you and give you a ride home,” I said, trying to shake off my crazy thoughts.

Dare shook his head. “Actually, I’m not on my way home right now. There’s somewhere I need to go first.”

“Oh, okay.” Right. He’d been driving away from Brooklyn. Which meant I couldn’t go back and crawl into bed with him. Which, actually, was a good thing. Because the last thing I needed was round two of
that
. Even if it was the thing I wanted most at that moment. I cleared my throat and shut out my thoughts. “Well, can I drive you to wherever you’re going? I owe you that much.”

He hesitated, and I realized what an idiot I was being right now.

A girl.
Dare was going to see some girl.

My stomach knotted at the thought of his mouth on hers, his hands gliding over her skin, his muscular body hovering above hers as he ravished her in the same, overwhelming way he’d consumed every inch of me. Never before had I given a thought to what any guy did after our hookup. In fact, I did everything in my power to avoid all of them. Yet here I was, offering to drive him around, so freaking happy to see him. NO WAY. I wasn’t the kind of girl who made a big deal out of a one-night stand. It meant nothing. Dare meant nothing.

Forcing my mind to chill the fuck out, I said, “Or I can pay for a cab.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll take the ride.”

“Really?” His answer made me much happier than it should have. Than was safe.

Dare smirked. “As long as you slow the fuck down.”

ten

F
orty minutes of excessively cautious driving later, I pulled the car up in front of a rundown bungalow in Harrison, and shut off the engine. As if on cue, it began to pour.