Broken Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 2)

by Lia Fairchild

  Something Megan says pulls me back to reality just as Logan and Mollie enter the living room.

  “…and thought you were in this for the long haul…”

  “Should we go back in the kitchen?” Logan says.

  Megan and I both shake our heads but then Mollie speaks up. “I’m actually feeling pretty beat, and I’ve got an early shift in the morning.”

  We say our goodbyes and the shutting of the front door triggers an uneasy aura around us. She flits around the room with purpose, closing blinds and turning off lamps. I eye my coat and debate whether or not I should stay the night. But that would only be falling into a comfortable habit, which feels too late to do now. “Do you want to get married?” I blurt out.

  She freezes and shoots me a wide-eyed look. “Marriage?” She laughs. “Honey, it isn’t even on my radar. I told you that when we first started dating.”

  “Yeah, but I just thought… I don’t mean now. I just mean, is that where you see us heading?”

  “Do you?” she shoots back.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Well, then”—she turns off the last lamp, leaving us with only the kitchen light coming through the doorway—“I guess it’s not fair for you to ask me.”

  I give a single nod. “I suppose you’re right.”

  She walks over to me. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see other things in our future. Fun things.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “Exciting things.” She pulls my neck to her and kisses it. “Lucrative things.”

  “Oh yeah?” I whisper, attempting to sound confident amongst my confusion.

  “Sweetie, when we first met, I saw great potential in you. I knew you’d go far and with my help you—”

  I pull back and take hold of her wrist. “Potential?” I say, narrowing my stare at her. And with her help?

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m actually afraid I do.”

  “Mason, you’ve done an incredible job with Bridges Construction. No one’s doubting you.”

  It sure as hell feels that way, not to mention I hear a but coming.

  “But The Meyers Group can help you get to that next level.”

  I take in a deep breath, ensuring I take the time to reply without turning this ugly. Mixing business and pleasure is always risky and brings emotions into a potentially uncertain situation. “You’re right, Megan.” I walk to the table and grab my suit jacket. “Bridges is going next level. But I don’t need The Meyers Group for that. Logan and I will do it.” I walk to the door, watching her reaction, seeing the confusion cut across her face. “And as soon as we’re done with the Westfield job, that will conclude our business with your company. But tell your dad, thanks.”

  I reach the door and pull it open. She takes a couple steps toward me. “You leave Meyers, then you’re leaving me too.”

  “It’s just business, honey,” I say before I close the door behind me.

  Chapter 4

  Mason

  As I walk quietly up the drive of the property Logan and I visited yesterday, my head spins, and I question my own motivation. Logically, I’m taking care of business, dealing with a problem. If a vagrant is living on the premises, I need to clear them out before work starts. I’ve even called the police on a trespasser before, though the man left before they arrived. But this time is different. I fear for the young woman’s safety. I trust my guys but it’s a dicey situation.

  I stall at the door, thinking about last night, the fight Megan and I had. I thought about it most of the night. Was it my ego reacting badly? Growing up in a family of mostly men doesn’t help in that department, even though I’m the odd man out from my Neanderthal brothers. Still, I needed to make sure I did the right thing, not just for the business but for me. I honestly don’t know what will happen with Megan and me, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was right. Then this morning, all I could think about was the girl I’d seen. And those haunting dark eyes of hers. If I’m being honest, that’s part of the reason I’m here now, feeling drawn to her by something beyond words. This girl needs help, which is why I’m here early, hoping to catch her before she takes off again.

  I slide the key in as quietly as I can and slowly turn. I open the door just slightly and peek in. The sleeping bag is gone from where it was before, but I still slip into the room and close the door with a soft click. Scanning the room, I’m once again startled by the image on the wall. I’d almost forgotten about the other mystery woman, the mother rocking her unborn child. I pan down to the floor, in the corner, and see the sleeping bag with someone in it.

  I take a hesitant step forward with the jarring thought that there’s a chance this isn’t her. Just because I saw her out back doesn’t mean she’s the one who’s been sleeping here. When I’m a few steps away, I stop and kneel down. I can see the side of her face now, her sleek black hair, fanned across a make-shift pillow that looks like a sweatshirt. So peaceful. The opposite of yesterday, which almost makes me not want to wake her.

  As I stare down on her my heart races. What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t because now I’m watching her like a creepy slasher villain and when she wakes up, it could get ugly. No turning back now. I reach over and place my hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper. When she doesn’t move, I add a little more pressure and tug her shoulder back toward me gently. “Hello?”

  She rolls to her back and her eyes squint open before popping wide in fear. She sits up quickly and presses her back to the wall. “Back off, pendejo!”

  I raise my hands, level with my shoulders to show I’m not a threat. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I start to lower my hands and she looks around frantically.

  “I’m pregnant and if you kill me that’s two murders…and you’ll burn in hell for killing a baby!”

  My eyes go wide. What the hell have I gotten myself into? “I understand you’re scared, but I’m really no threat to you.”

  I can see in her eyes, the fear leaving like she might just believe me. Still, she rummages through a bag that is beside her, and I’m praying it’s not for a weapon. When she pulls something out, I stand and step back. “Please, I’m really not going to hurt you.”

  “Right…that’s why you creeped in here while I was sleeping.” She points a pink plastic cylinder at me that I can only assume is some kind of mace or pepper spray. Her expression tells me she’d have no problem doing it, too, especially given her size compared to mine. She’s probably around five five or five six and I’m six foot.

  “I admit, it wasn’t the best plan, but after I saw you yesterday…”

  I see recollection in her face, but she’s still holding her weapon pointed right at me. “That was you.” It’s not a question. She pushes her body up the wall until she’s standing. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Scaring the ever-loving shit out of me and all.”

  I take a couple more steps back, into the middle of the room. “I’m sorry. Now, can you put that thing down?”

  She actually straightens her arm and points it out farther to reaffirm her stance. “Just because that was you, doesn’t mean you’re not a stalker or something.”

  I give her a small grin. “True. But I’m here because I have to be. My company is renovating this place. Which means…”

  More recollection and then sadness take over the brave front she was struggling to keep. “That I have to go.”

  “Well, yes. But maybe I can help you. That’s why I’m here.” I slip my hands into my pockets, hoping I appear harmless. “I’m Mason… What’s your name?”

  She tilts her head to the side as if I just asked a stupid question.

  “Can you at least tell me how old you are? You look…too young to be in this situation.”

  “Whatever that means.” Her lids lower for a moment and she sighs. “I’m…seventeen.”

  “Oh.” Damn, seventeen and pregnant. When I saw her yesterday, I couldn’t tell how old she was. This confrontation made me think she was at
least an adult, so this is surprising. And, makes my next move much clearer. I pull my cell from my pocket and tap it on.

  “Wait! What are you doing?”

  I look up, startled but more concerned about the panic in her voice. “I’m calling the police. I’m sure your parents are the best people to help and make decisions.”

  She lets out an exaggerated laugh. “Are you for real, man?” She seems to have forgotten her spray as it’s wrapped in her fist, which is now planted on her hip.

  “What?”

  “First…join me in the real world for a sec. Do you think I’d be here if parents”—she manages to make air quotes for the word parents while still holding the pink container—“were an option?” She has confidence, a little fire, and by the end of her sentence, I detect a light accent.

  “What do you mean? Who takes care of you?”

  “I do, obviously.” Her hands go out to the sides exaggeratively.

  “Look, I want to help but if you keep giving me the runaround, I’m just going to call the cops and let them deal with you.”

  Her mouth falls open and she actually looks insulted. “Oh, so this whole good Samaritan bullshit was just an act. Tipico.” She huffs, her arms waving around now as she speaks and grows angrier. “You just want someone to come and take the trash out so you can get on with business. Verdad?”

  I find it hard to believe this is a teenager but then again depending on how long she’s been on the streets, I’m sure she had to grow up pretty damn quickly. “That’s not true at all. When I saw you yesterday…” I trail off because I can’t seem to find the words. I don’t want to appear once again as the creepy stalker. I look over her shoulder to the image on the wall, irrationally looking for some guidance from the mother in the rocking chair.

  “What? You felt sorry for me?”

  “No…but I could tell you needed help. Actually, yesterday I thought…” Probably smarter not to say she seemed to be asking for my help. “Look, if I’m going to help you, I need more information. Give me enough to know what’s going on, why I can’t call your parents…something.” My voice is almost pleading by the time I get to the end.

  Everything about her softens then, and she lowers her head to the container in her hand. She leans down and drops it into her bag before bravely facing me and then, surprisingly, she reaches out her hand. “I’m Ari.”

  I step forward and take her peace offering. Her hand, small and delicate in mine, contradicts the powerful front she puts out. “Hi, Ari. I’m Mason.” I smile.

  “I know,” she says and steps back. She glances over her shoulder to the woman on the wall painting. “That’s my mamá. She raised me alone and then she died. As I’m sure you can imagine, foster homes for teens are not so great. The last one I was in was pretty horrible.”

  She looks sincere and I do feel for her, but there’s no way I can know if this is true and a teenager’s perspective on horrible…that can mean anything. “Don’t they screen the families? I know the system isn’t the best but—”

  “You think I’m lying?” The fury burning in her dark-chocolate brown gaze tells me I just made a big mistake. She steps up on me and pulls her thick mane of hair over one shoulder and tilts her neck to the side. “You see that mark? That’s from nails digging into my neck, trying to pull me into a kiss. And it wasn’t a goodnight kiss at tuck-in time either, cabrón.”

  Though I don’t know her, my heart stutters and heat flushes my skin. This is unacceptable and I’m fuming while my head spins with ways to protect this girl. “All the more reason to call the police. Have him arrested.”

  She shakes her head. “And then what? They put me in another home where it can happen again? No thanks, man. Look, I’m literally weeks from turning eighteen and then all this goes away. They can’t touch me.”

  “So, you thought you could hide here until then?”

  She shrugs and then looks away when she sees my genuine concern.

  “Unfortunately, my crew is coming this week. It’s just not possible anymore. Don’t you have other family to stay with?”

  She folds her arms across her chest and a line appears between her brows. “Yes, yes I do. Aunt Viv and Uncle Phil said I could stay with them in Bel Air”—she looks from side to side—“but this place seemed so much nicer.”

  “You’re right, that was a dumb question. I’m sorry.”

  Ari bends down and starts gathering her things. “Look, Mason. I’m just going to go now, ’kay?”

  “No, wait.” I’m honestly at a loss here. I try to think of whom I can call, anyone to help me out of this mess and help this girl. And then it comes to me. “Just give me a minute.” I turn my attention to my phone once again.

  “Who are you calling now?”

  I sigh heavily and draw my eyes up to her. “Well, I was going to call my sister-in-law. She’s a nurse. But I have no bars.”

  She nods like she already knows. “Yeah, signal’s sporadic here. Only place you can really get it is out on the front porch.” She puts one hand to her stomach and runs another across her forehead. “You know, that’s so thoughtful of you calling your sister-in-law. I’m actually not feeling too well. I think I’ll sit if you don’t mind.”

  I take a quick step forward to help, though she can’t be too far along based on her appearance—she’s got curves, but no visible baby bump. “Wow, okay, let me help you.” Once she’s seated, I glance to the porch hesitantly and then back to her. “I don’t know…”

  “It’s cool. Go head. I’ll be fine. Just probably need to eat.”

  Damn. “Okay, I’ll tell her to bring some food and something to drink.”

  She smiles appreciatively. “Thank you, Mason.”

  I slowly back away as she’s smoothing down her dark waves and pulling a section behind her back. “I’ll be right back.”

  She nods again before I turn and head out the front door. I hold my phone at face-level and take a few steps around to see what I can pick up. After a moment I step back and peek in the side window to find her casually looking threw her purse. She looks up and gives me what appears to be a condescending wave, but maybe I just don’t know her. I take a wider perimeter this time and continue my search for a signal, stopping when I see two bars. I’m not too far from the window but I’m afraid to move. I dial Mollie and wait. She doesn’t answer, so I leave a message and then I try calling Logan. What will I say if he answers?

  When he does, I simply ask where Mollie is but of course, he wants to know why. I give him the Reader’s Digest version and before he can ask any questions, I say, “Please just tell her to call me. I’ve got to go.” I click off and notice a missed call from Megan. With no time to deal with her, I slip the phone in my pocket and head back inside. Fuck! Of course. Ari’s gone.

  Chapter 5

  Ari

  I feel kind of crappy for taking off on the guy because he actually seemed like a good person. But I couldn’t risk him screwing everything up for me. With my pack strapped across my back and my other bag slung over my shoulder, I slip out the opening in the back gate and take off at a slow jog. Then reality sweeps across me like a freight train. Shit, what the hell am I going to do now? I literally have no place to go. I might be able to afford a crappy motel like I lied to Kiki about, but I can’t waste money like that, not even for a night.

  My mind spins out the possibilities as I cross the dirt lot, taking a path that will put me out far enough from the front of the house in case he’s out there. My mother had some friends in Pasadena, but for the life of me I can’t remember their names.

  Emotions begin to fill me like water on a sinking ship, rushing to the top until my eyes fill with liquid. “Don’t cry, Ari,” I tell myself, not in a comforting way, but in the suck-it-up-bitch kind of way. Because that’s what it takes to survive when you’re on your own.

  I take a left, planning to make my way out to the main drag of the city, though I have no idea what I’ll do when I get there. The small neighborhood
I have to pass is rundown, not exactly ganghood, but definitely sketchy if you don’t watch yourself.

  I slide a hand into my pocket where my pepper spray still rests from when I put it away. I should have sprayed that asshole when I had the chance. Yeah, it’s unfair but I’m pissed and scared. He has a job to do and maybe he did want to help, but thanks to him I’ve got nowhere to go now.

  I take some cleansing breaths as I walk. Blaming him is ridiculous since I got myself into this fucking mess. I can’t even blame Alex anymore, the idiot bastard. Everyone warned me, and of course I didn’t listen. No one tells Ari Mendez what to do. Yeah, that worked out great.

  A sound catches my attention and has the hairs on my arms standing on end. A sound that hits me straight in my gut because I’ve heard it before—coming from me. It’s the sound of a terrified woman…pleading. I can’t make out the words, but I scan the area in front of me and to the right and spot the source. A woman is leaning against a car, a man pressed up against her.

  I stop and just stare, panic rising in me, my breathing heavy as I feel the weight of my bags moving up and down. Suddenly the two individuals become Alex and me and I’m backed into the kitchen sink. He’s yelling about the waiter at the restaurant. I’d smiled when he said something funny. Heaven forbid that I actually experience some freaking joy in life.

  “Please don’t!”

  Those two words knock me back into reality. I take a few steps closer, but I’m still a good thirty or so feet away. I notice a hefty woman walking on the other side of the street. She could do some serious damage, so I watch her and see if she stops. Though she glances their way, she just keeps going. Holy crap.