24
Nathan pushed out the door of his apartment building, and a wave of heat smacked him in the face. Hades had nothing on August in Baltimore. He was running late, having unexpectedly slept in until Moonlight's plaintive cries jerked him awake. The thing was tearing at its bandaged leg like an alien was trying to invade her body. He figured if she got the stuff off, she deserved the win, so he'd left her to it.
Starr had gone and had left him a cryptic note about needing to run home, a request to meet her there, and her cell phone number. The best part of the note? She’d signed off with an “XO.” He'd texted her immediately with an, “I’m on my way,” and deleted the part about how she should have woken him so they could have gone together. He wasn’t her warden.
He rounded the corner that led to the parking lot.
Ruark Fucking MacKenna leaned against Nathan's beat-up Toyota. He shouldn't have been surprised. MacKenna was bound to cross the line and invade his personal space. With any luck, rust from his beater would stain the guy's cheap-ass suit.
“Why are you here?” He was so damned sick of taking his bullshit.
“Visiting old friends.”
“Sure you are.” He strode to the man, half hoping he'd get clocked so he could at least go to his parole officer with evidence he'd been mauled. Nathan crossed his arms as he stood four feet from him. “Still playing this game.”
Ruark pushed off his car and closed the distance between them. “A game? Not a game, and I’m not playing.”
“You sure you want to be caught harassing me?”
Ruark dramatically swiveled his head from left to right at the empty parking lot, then turned his mug back to Nathan. “Caught by who?”
“What the fuck, MacKenna? Want me back to prison? Not happening.” He had something to live on the outside for, a certain red-headed dancer. This guy wasn’t goading him into shit.
“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “That would be too easy. I want something far more than that.”
“Pound of flesh?”
“More than a pound, my friend. Way more than a pound,” Ruark called as he sauntered toward his Porsche, illegally parked in the handicapped spot across the lot.
He’d had enough. He had things to do, like placate Erin and go to see Starr. Fuck, Starr. Had MacKenna seen her exit his building? Alone? “Keep threatening—”
“I don't make idle threats.” The guy spun to face him, spittle flying from his lips. “You took something away from me. Get ready to lose everything, inmate number 167842FLN.”
Nathan charged the man and stopped just inches away from Ruark. The guy scoffed, and he almost snapped--almost. Fuck this guy. Fuck his family. Fuck the consequences. Showing up here, acting like he knew everything about him?
Ruark grasped his arm before he could land the punch sitting in his fist like an unlaunched rocket. Nathan jerked away from Ruark’s hold so violently, he nearly dislocated his arm, and stepped backward, his muscles twitching from head to toe.
One fucking punch, that’s all he wanted. He couldn’t have it, though, not if he wanted Starr or any life at all.
MacKenna's face didn't lose his smirk, but he released his grip and sauntered to the driver's side of his car. That's when Stu, his building manager, a short, squat guy with a shiny bald head, stepped out of the maintenance truck parked next to MacKenna's Porsche. Before lowering his sissy-suited ass into the front seat, starting his car and pulling out of the lot, Ruark gave the building manager a nod.
“Hey, man. You got a minute?” Stu called to Nathan.
“Sure.” Why not? He needed to calm down before seeing Starr anyway, and the worst was over for the time being.
“I hate to do this to you...” Stu dropped his eyes to the ground.
Yeah, it could be worse. The man didn't need to say another word because he knew what was coming. “What's MacKenna got on you?”
Stu scrubbed down his face. “I've tried to keep it straight and narrow since I got out. Can't go back in, man, but they threatened to have the place searched and ...” He shrugged.
“They'd find something. Yeah, I get it.” Man, did he ever.
“Sorry, guy, it's just. Fuck. You got messed up with the MacKennas, and I don't want any trouble.”
There was a time and place to fight, he reminded himself. This wasn’t it. “How much time do I have?”
“You're gonna have to find a new place at the end of this month. So, I'll ask around for you, okay?”
He shook his head and crossed the lot to his car, lowered himself into the front seat, and slammed the door. He wasn’t taking charity from Stu or anyone. But, with any luck, the cat he wasn't supposed to have in his apartment had pissed all over the place.
He'd been fortunate to find even this place to rent. He'd gotten a line from a guy he’d met in prison. “Go see Stu,” he'd said. “He’s the manager of an apartment complex and has done time. He'll understand what it's like, and he'll treat you fair.” Yeah, until the MacKenna family showed up.
He waited for anxiety to rear her ugly head. She didn’t, so he supposed that was one win for the day.
Nathan started the engine. For now, he needed to check in with his parole officer, didn’t he? “Welcome to the fine line of post-prison life,” he grumbled to his windshield.
“Jesus, Nathan, you didn't think to tell me all this before?” The tapping of Erin’s pen came through the phone.
He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. He should have told her before now that the MacKennas were hanging around. He cranked the A/C higher as his car idled in his soon-to-be-ex parking lot.
“We've got a real problem here.” The creak of her chair sounded. “Ruark MacKenna is not on parole. He can go wherever he wants. You can't. Stay away from him.”
“It'd help if he stopped showing up where I work and where I live.” Or his now temporary address.
“You giving me attitude?”
His blood pressure rose. Of course he had an attitude and no ability to swallow any more injustice. How could she not see the obvious? “They're threatening me.”
“You got proof?”
“Verbal threats, nothing in writing. He gets others to do the messy stuff. That’s how the MacKennas operate.”
“Until you have proof, this is going nowhere.” Of course she didn’t believe him. He was the guy who killed a man. The guy who couldn’t fucking defend himself and stay on the outside.
An odd chill broke out over his skin. “One more thing. I need to find a new place to live.”
“What's wrong with your old place?”
“I got notice.” His head fell back onto his headrest.
“What did you do?”
His whole body numbed, but thankfully his mouth still worked. “MacKenna threatened the building manager.”
“He willing to go on record around that?”
He scoffed. “Doubtful.” The drugs Stu was likely dealing would be revealed. Again, he didn’t have proof, but Stu fit the profile. Nathan understood “profile” now, which disturbed every nerve in his body.
“Then we're finding you a new place to live.” A keyboard tapping as fast as a snare drum came through the phone. “Best thing you can do is lie low and ride this thing out.”
Ride it out? That’s all he’d been doing. The problem was, Ruark MacKenna wasn’t about to cooperate with that plan. The guy wanted Nathan to slip up. He just had to figure out how to keep everyone around him out of it when it happened. He killed the call.
He dialed Starr. Her voice would snap him out of the shit cloud that lived over his head.
“Hello.”
“Starr.” Thank God. “Headed your way.” He tried to stay calm. He really did. “And, about Moonlight, she's ours to keep.” Ours. “I’m going to find a new place—a better place—that allows cats.” Man, that rolled right out of his mouth despite the fact he wouldn't have a home in less than two weeks, let alone a place for a cat. “Of course, he can be just yours if you want him,” he added.<
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“Her.”
“Yeah, her. Your note said you needed me.”
“I was hoping you’d come with me somewhere.” She sounded too hesitant, which was not like her at all.
“Of course. Where?”
She drew in a breath and let it whoosh through the phone line. “To see my father.”
Shit.
She then explained how she and her sisters had had a huge fight that morning and that she’d “handle the guy once and for all.”
This was not a good idea, but something was wrong. Then again, “wrong” was everywhere today. No matter, as he was going with her and put his body between this “father” and her if it was the last thing he got to do as a free man.
25
Starr stared at the Sunset Home sign that boasted the Lao Tzu quote, The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. What a crock. She turned and waved at Nathan. He’d agreed to stay in the car—with some convincing. She loved how he wanted to fight her battles, but this was one she needed to do alone. He only agreed after she said she’d never be alone with the man, which might have been a lie, but no way would deadbeat dad try something here.
Mimi had met her at the receptionist’s desk. “Why, Miss O'Malley, we weren't expecting you.”
“He called for me,” she lied. “Okay to see him?”
Mimi rocked back on her heels and eyed Starr. “You okay, honey?”
“I'm fine.”
Mimi’s mouth screwed into a frown, but with puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, she had to look terrible. Her throat ached from choking back emotion, which did not go unnoticed by Nathan. He kept glancing over at her, clutching her hand as if she might flee or something.
Then there was the message from Ruark MacKenna voice asking her out. First, how did he get her number, and second, like she'd ever speak to that guy again? She should have told Nathan right away. It’s just when she woke that morning, his sleeping face had held such beautiful vulnerability. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, and for one brief minute she glimpsed what he might have been like back in college—full of youthful hope and trust. Then the scar on his cheek twitched, as if he reacted to a dream, and she’d nearly cried at the evidence of the cruelty he’d endured.
One thing at a time, she’d told herself. First, she’d handle her father. Then, she’d move on to making peace with her sisters. Then she’d fill Nathan in, and together they’d handle whatever was next.
Mimi led her down to the “common room” as she called it. Starr paused in the doorway.
The man who’d fathered them stood stooped over, his hand on the windowsill, gazing out on the lawn in the back.
“Dad? It's me. Starr.”
He turned slowly, cocked his head. “I know which one you are.” He faced out the window. “You came to tell me to stop calling Luna.”
“Yes.”
He finally pushed off the window and turned to her. He was shorter than she recalled, and his shoulders curled forward.
“Luna made a mistake.” Starr was going to fix this. She had once. She could again. “How much?”
He chuffed. “My straight shooter. You come all this way just for that? To pay me off to go away again?”
Ah, so he did remember their not-so-little deal ten years ago. Her chest tightened over the one and only secret she'd kept from her sisters—until very recently. I wanted to see him first. See if he was safe to see. Then I was going to tell you. But he wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. Then, we were done with him, which was good, remember?
She dropped her purse in a nearby chair. “So, you do remember it.”
He’d been stone-cold drunk. Kept calling her Cara, her mother's name. Then when he rose from his chair and lurched for her? She'd nearly split his head open with a lamp. He’d ended up sprawled on the hotel’s filthy bedspread, spitting mad, yelling he'd call the cops. So she'd paid him off with all the money she had in the world—three thousand dollars. He clutched it to his chest, not a single ounce of remorse evident in his cold eyes.
His head bobbed up in down in understanding. “You never told them, did you? About coming to see me when you were eighteen?”
“Seventeen.”
He grasped his chin. “Yeah, seventeen. Luna keeps referencing how you all were still kids, so I reckoned …”
He reckoned? “Yes, kids. Taken away. Split up. You remember, old man. We had a deal to keep the details of our meeting secret.” She strode forward so there was only a foot between them. “Luna knows, but you break Phee’s heart again, I swear—”
“Furthest thing on my mind.” He looked down on his gnarled hands then back up at her. “I hurt you all. A lot. I know that. But I miss my girls.”
She managed to swallow back the sharp tingles that threatened to cut up her insides. “You miss the past. Vast difference.”
“Don't you? I mean the early days?”
Her skin pebbled as he leered at her. “No. There is no point missing something you can't have.”
“I know you want to tell me to go to hell, but don’t bother. I’m already there.”
She almost said “good,” but stopped herself. Hell was too good for him.
He eased himself down to a chair and gestured for her to take the one near him. Fat chance. “Luna tells me you have a boyfriend?”
God, she hated Luna had told him that. Every detail of her life that this man knew felt like a violation, and she’d be damned if anything about Nathan—even just knowing he existed—got shared with her father. She didn’t respond, just glared down at him.
“What’s his name? He good to you?” The wrinkles in his forehead deepened.
Just thinking about Nathan, the way he touched her—possessive but protective, tentative yet sure in his desire—loosened the invisible fist clutching at her heart. He was her new benchmark for what constituted a good man. “Very.”
“Good. You make sure he is. Don’t take any crap.” He wagged a finger at her.
God, a thousand invisible snakes crawled over her skin. “You mean like Mom did? The way we did as children?”
His eyes grew watery. “I deserve that. I just …” He studied his hands, then leaned back in his chair. “Men, when they get overwhelmed? They don’t always make the best choices. They take things out on the people they love.”
“He would never do that. He’d never hit a woman. He’d cut off his right arm before he’d hurt me.”
“That’s good.” He sucked his bottom lip into teeth, released it. “That’s real good. Men who hit women—
“Or little girls.” Her eyes ached from glowering at his lined face.
“Yeah, well, they’re the worse. Scum.”
“They are.”
When he leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, she jerked backward. Her heart stammered, and a distant memory pounded against her forehead as if it wanted out. He’d once lurched at her from that stance, hadn’t he? More than once.
“I know I have no right to ask this, but I’m going to anyway. I’d like to know…” He cleared his throat. “Well, what it’d take for a chance to make everything up to you. To all three of you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”
“It's too late.” Oh, how she wished Luna hadn't pressed to find him. She wished for so much more than ... this. She stepped backward more. “Leave us in peace.”
His lids raised, red-rimmed eyes took her in. “Will that do it?”
Stupid tears rose up at his question. She’d seen enough Dr. Phil episodes to know that sweeping him under the proverbial carpet wouldn’t erase what he’d done—or its effects. But this? Seeing him again? She stood on the edge of two minds. One part of her wanted to clutch at the opportunity to move on, to hear his apologies, to let her and her sisters finally let go of the past. They didn’t deserve to carry around his sins. They deserved to freely love—not just love in spite of what had happened to them.
Her other mind wanted to hate him forever because he did not deserve to ever b
e off the hook. He deserved their hate.
Her chest ached from the sheer exertion of holding both of those minds at bay.
One thing was clear. Luna reached for the love. Phoenix reached for the hate. She didn’t know what she was capable of reaching for.
She longed for Nathan to be here, his big hand around hers, offering support and comfort, but burdening him with this wasn’t right. He had enough of his own nightmares. He didn’t need to deal with hers. It was enough he was nearby.
Her father’s seat squeaked as he shifted. “I was just hoping we might talk now and again. Give me a chance to apologize a thousand times.” He gave her an empty laugh.
She sucked air inside, willed herself to stay in a mental limbo for a bit longer. Truth was, this decision wasn’t just hers to make, and she had to stop trying to fix everything by herself. “We three have a pact. We don’t make decisions without each other. We stick together.”
His hands shook as he raised his hand to his hair to scrub his scalp. “That’s right. You three always did.”
“I need to go.” She turned, but his hand brushed her arm. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the contact.
“Sorry.” He wisely dropped his arm to his side. “Can you give El … I mean, Phoenix, a message for me? I want to apologize to her. Luna thought it might help. She said your sister wasn’t doing well.”
The image of Phee, her body nearly lost in layers of white sheets as machine beeps, and hospital noises played a sick symphony, crowded her mind. It had been that last beating that had launched the final child protective services investigation. Hadn’t it? Who could remember the details anymore?
“You beat her until she was almost dead. I doubt there are any words that will matter at this point.”
He swallowed hard, and he nodded, short little bobs of his head angled down to the floor.
“Stop calling. Stay out of our lives. That’s what you can do for her.”
His gaze lifted from examining his hands, and a rush of words spilled from his mouth. “Okay, just tell Phoenix something for me. Tell her, none of it was her fault. It was all me. Tell her she didn’t deserve a single second of my sins. If there is a God, I’ll make sure he knows, right before I’m sent to hell, that you three kids deserve everything that is good for the rest of your lives.”
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