Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5)
Page 17
“You should report Brady to the police,” he softly suggests.
“No.” My tone is firm. “I was drunk, and I willingly went to his room, and besides he didn’t do much. Not really.”
Brad scowls, opening his mouth to argue no doubt, when a loud commotion erupts from the TV, distracting us all.
“I’ll turn it off,” Ky offers, raising the remote control in front of the screen. A news reporter is standing in front of the Wellesley Police Station, and the headline screams “Fugitive’s wife arrested.”
“No, leave it,” Brad says. “I want to hear what they’re saying.”
Nothing nice, it seems. An angry mob crowds the footpath outside the police station where Brad’s mom is still being held. Reporters are claiming she came in voluntarily to give a statement but was arrested for being uncooperative. They speak to some of the bystanders; many are victims, or related to victims, of Brad’s dad’s fraud. Emotions are running high, and people are understandably angry.
“Shit.” Brad drags a hand across the top of his head. “Have you spoken with your father?” he asks Ky.
“Briefly. I told him we’d meet him at the station. We’re to enter at the rear of the building for our own safety.”
“You don’t have to get dragged into this. I can go alone.”
“Shut. Up. I’m coming with you. It’s not up for debate.”
“What about the girls?” His gaze jumps between Faye and me. “Should we ask Kev to come over?”
My cheeks flush. In my manic state earlier, I’d been borderline hysterical. Between being violated, and the threat the monster poses, I was on the verge of completely losing it. I begged Kev not to leave, but he had prior engagements and he had to go. He obviously said something to Ky, and now I’m embarrassed for overreacting. I need to calm down. Kev has tons of precautionary stuff in place. He’s not getting to me without Kev knowing.
“It’s okay. We’ll be fine by ourselves. I was just freaking out earlier after you know…” I can’t even say the words. It’s humiliating how easily I put myself in a precarious position. It was stupid and dangerous, and I should’ve known better. It’s as if all my hard work these past few months has been unraveling this week in the aftermath of that text, and I’ve got to get a grip.
Brad steps up to me with fury in his eyes. I instinctively take a step back, wondering what I’ve done to annoy him this time. His facial features immediately transform to concern. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. I should’ve been there last night, and that asshole wouldn’t have dared go anywhere near you. I’m really sorry, Rachel.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” I take a step closer, lightly touching his arm. “I’m the one at fault for getting trashed and having such little regard for my own safety.”
“No.” Faye jumps in. “Neither one of you is at fault. That asshole is responsible. Yes, you were foolish in your actions, but when you said no, he should have respected your decision. He didn’t, and that’s why he’s the only one to blame.”
I don’t want to debate it. I know the part I played, but arguing is only going to delay the guys, and Brad needs to leave. “You need to get out of here. Your mom needs you.”
Surprising me, he bends down and kisses my cheek. “I haven’t had a chance to say thanks for the clothes and stuff. My sisters were thrilled.”
“Even Kaitlyn?”
His lips tug up. “Not that she’ll ever tell you to your face, but, yes, even Kaitlyn. She couldn’t conceal her excitement when she pulled the iPhone out.”
That cheers me up enormously. “That makes me happy.”
I can’t discern his expression as he looks intently at me. From the corner of my eye, I watch Ky sweep Faye into his arms, dipping her down as he kisses her passionately. Brad and I stand in awkward silence, waiting for them to finish. Faye looks like she might melt into the floor when he finally lets her come up for air. Entwining her arm in mine, she swoons at her boyfriend before sending a cautious look at Brad. I frown, my gaze swinging between them.
“Come on.” Ky slaps Brad on the back as if he’s been the one holding things up. “Time to hit the road.”
I take a long bath after the guys leave and change into clean trackie bottoms and a vest top. The buzzer chimes just as I step into the living room. Faye hops up, attending to it. “It’s Lauren,” she confirms when she returns, making a running jump for the couch.
“I didn’t know she was dropping by, but her timing works. I can give her the dress.” She looks back at me from her horizontal position on the couch. “And she still doesn’t know?”
“Nope. I wanted to surprise her.”
“She’s going to love it. You’re very talented, Rachel, and you should definitely show some of your designs to Alex.”
Faye was the one who first planted the idea in my head of studying fashion design. When I visited her in Wellesley, I spoke to Alex and became really excited by the idea. I’ve always loved clothes, and the girls were constantly telling me I had a great eye for pulling an outfit together. Since my parent’s lottery win, I’ve invested in a top-of-the-range sewing machine, and I have the best of materials to work with. I’ve made tons of stuff since then, and a lot of the dresses in my wardrobe are from my own collection. My long-term goal is to open my own fashion design company, probably specializing in haute couture or high-end women’s fashion, but, in the meantime, I need to learn the ropes so the plan is to find a job after I graduate working for a leading fashion house and put everything I’ve learned to good use.
“I will when I have more pieces to show her. I’ve only got a few items worthy of showcasing.”
“You’re way too modest,” she hollers to my retreating back as I walk to the front door to let Lauren in.
She envelops me in a humongous hug the minute I open the door. “How are you feeling?”
“I had an epic meltdown this morning, but I’m grand now. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
She removes her denim jacket and silk scarf, placing them on the back of the couch. “I heard Brad put the guy in the hospital.”
“What?” I shriek. Of course, I’d suspected Brad had gone after him when I’d seen the bruising on his face, but I’d dismissed it quickly. Why would he jump in to defend me? Beat one of his teammates and risk sanction?
“You didn’t know?” Lauren asks, glancing between Faye and me.
“No one told me.” I slant a stern look in Faye’s direction.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” she coolly replies.
I chew on the inside of my mouth. “Am I a sick bitch if I admit it pleases me?” I’ve always dreamed of having a guy to jump to my defense.
“Totally sick,” Lauren agrees, smiling.
“Twisted and evil,” Faye concurs, grinning too.
Lauren plops down on the reclining chair, and I perch on the edge of it. “Just admit it. You like him. There’s no shame in that.”
“I …” I pause for a minute and then I think feck it. “I think, maybe, I might like him. When he’s not being a dickhead.”
“Ho. Lee. Shit,” Faye exclaims. “I need to freeze frame this moment for posterity.”
I swat the back of her head. “No need to get carried away. I said might. Emphasis on the word might.”
“Yay!” Lauren says gleefully, clapping her hands. “We can go on triple dates.”
I palm my forehead. “Crap. Now you’re both going to gang up on me.”
“Too right.” Faye points her finger in my direction. “You deserve some love in your life.”
I almost choke to death. “Steady on there. How did you get from might like to love? I think you two fell off the crazy tree and hit every branch on the way down.”
Besides, I think Faye’s forgetting the elephant in the room.
Brad’s in love with her.
I’m nervous as I step into my bedroom. I hope she won’t think this is overstepping the mark. “So, you know how you were disappointed that you didn’t have time to make something yourself for the wedding?” Gavin’s older sister is getting married next weekend, and Lauren is flying to Chicago on Friday with him to attend the wedding. She had wanted to create something herself but ended up buying an off-the-shelf number that I know she isn’t mad about.
“Yeah. Between classes and work, I ran out of time, although that’s really just an excuse.” I quirk a brow, as she drops onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t think my strength lies in fashion design. I get more glue on my hands anytime I’ve done a project, and I don’t have your eye or your creative flair. I’ve been thinking of pursuing a career in merchandising as a buyer or something.”
“I considered that too.”
She rests back on her hands, sending me in incredulous look. “That would be an absolute travesty, and a waste of your talent. You were born to be a fashion designer.”
A huge smile graces my lips. “You’re so sweet, and I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda made something for you.” I whisper the last few words. Shock splays across her face, but I can’t tell if it’s happy shock or wary shock. “It’s just I had tons of time on my hands this week, and I pulled together a few pieces, and this one had your name written all over it, but you don’t have to wear it if it’s weird or if you don’t like it or … yeah, shutting up now.” I walk into my wardrobe without further ado and retrieve the green and black three-quarter-length dress. It has a full skirt and a snug bodice with tiny spaghetti straps that crisscross over the back. It’s sexy and sophisticated without showing too much of anything.
“Oh my God, Rach.” She almost runs to my side, her fingers gently caressing the slinky material. “This is exquisite.” She’s bubbling with enthusiasm. “Seriously, you made this for me?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
She flings herself at me. “Are you kidding? This is awesome! Now I won’t have to wear that dowdy number from Macy’s. Thank you so much!”
“Aw, I’m thrilled you like it,” I say, as my phone buzzes on my locker. “Go try it on while I check that.”
All my euphoria dissipates. It’s the same every time my phone has pinged with a message this week. Get over yourself, Rachel. It’s probably nothing. I can’t keep thinking every text is from him. Anyway, Kev got me a new sim and triangulated the signal, or some such stuff. When I check the screen, I’ve received no new messages, and I scratch the side of my head. Then I remember my other mobile. The one I keep purely for communicating with my folks. They think I’m living in Spain, so Kev set this one to reroute to a location on the Spanish mainland just in case they check. I want it to look legit, to throw the monster off the scent. I open my bedside locker and remove it with trembling hands. Trepidation washes over me. Apart from the odd phone call and text message, I haven’t had much contact with either of my parents. They’re too busy swanning around the world with their much-younger partners and pretending they’re teenagers again.
I flip the phone over and over in my hand, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. The screen confirms I have a new message. Drawing a brave breath, I tap into it, and my legs almost collapse from under me.
Nice try, but I’ve got your number. You know, I actually really like America. Think I might stay.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brad
I barely managed to sleep at all last night. When Ky and I arrived at the Wellesley Police Station, they refused to let me see my mother. I flipped out, and they almost locked me up too. James and Ky managed to calm me down. All it took was mentioning my sisters for me to sober up. Kaitlyn and Emma need me so I came back here last night and stayed with them. Dan is working on getting me in to see Mom today. I’ve been sick with worry all night.
“When’s Mommy coming home?” Emma asks, as I place a plate heaped with pancakes in the middle of the kitchen table.
“I don’t know that yet, Pumpkin, but I’m going to do everything I can to bring her home as quickly as possible.”
“I can’t believe she’s still defending that asshole,” Kaitlyn seethes, attacking her pancakes as if they’d done her some personal injustice.
“Watch your language, and this is not the type of conversation we should be having at the breakfast table.” I subtly nod in our younger sister’s direction.
“I know what an asshole is, Brad, and I know she’s talking about Dad,” Emma says very matter-of-factly, cutting her pancakes into four even-sized pieces.
“I don’t want to hear that word coming out of your mouth again, and the situation with Dad is complicated.”
“Is he going to go to jail? Because Kaitlyn said they were going to lock him up and throw away the key.”
I shut my eyes and pray for patience. “We don’t know what’s going to happen to Dad.”
Emma pauses mid-bite, looking thoughtful. Swallowing down her food, she looks up at me with so much trust in her eyes. “Daddy told me he made a terrible mistake, and he hurt lots of people who didn’t deserve to be hurt.” I nod, surprised he was so forthcoming with her and that he feels anything even close to remorse. That’s not how I remember our last conversation. He was hell-bent on avoiding jailtime, on evading punishment of any sort. There was an arrogance in the way he spoke about being caught, like he was now part of some infamous gang of fraudsters. His attitude had sickened me to my stomach, and we fought bitterly. If I hadn’t pretty much washed my hands of him then, I have now. Letting Mom and the girls go by themselves, knowing what they were most likely walking back into, is unforgivable in my book.
“He stole millions from people who trusted him, and he deserves to rot in prison,” Kaitlyn unhelpfully interjects.
“For God’s sake, Kaitlyn, can you keep your mouth shut unless you have something constructive to add. Emma doesn’t need to hear this.”
“You can’t shield her, Brad. She stopped being an innocent the day Dad took us out of the country.”
I hate that Kaitlyn’s probably right, and it’s something else to hate Dad for. “You may be right, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
“This way,” Dan Evans says, steering us forward as we enter the police station. Mom’s been held here overnight while the Feds and local police argue over her case. At least she wasn’t transferred to prison, and that’s something to be grateful for.
Once the relevant personnel are apprised, and the right paperwork is in order, I’m brought to a room with Dan, where Mom awaits. Her smile is sad as I walk toward her. Her hands are resting on top of the table, and the sight of her in cuffs brings tears to my eyes. I couldn’t despise my father any more than I do in this moment.
I lean down and kiss her cheek, pulling her into a hug. The policeman standing guard inside the room pretends not to watch. “Are you okay? Have they been treating you well?”
“I’m fine, Bradley, and they have.”
“Take a seat, Mrs. McConaughey,” Dan says, all business-like. “We have a lot to get through.”
I kiss Mom’s cheek one more time before sitting across from her. Dan pulls out a wad of papers and starts leafing through them. Clearing his voice, he removes his glasses, setting them down on top of the paperwork. “Firstly, let me apologize for yesterday. It seems the agreement we had with the police chief was null and void when faced with joint objections from both the CIA and FBI. The fact is, you aided and abetted a criminal, and now you refuse to impart pertinent details that could aid his capture. If they can’t get to him, they will happily make you the scapegoat. The administration needs a win in this case to appease the public in the run up to the presidential election.”
“I understand all that.” Mom is remarkably calm. Too calm for someone in her predicament.
“Then you understand that if you continue to refuse to cooperate they will lock you in a federal prison, and you’ll be lucky to get out before you die?” He isn’t pulling any punches, and I respect him for that.
“I can’t sell my husband out.”
Whatever tenuous hold I have on my emotions floats away. I lose it, and the words flow naturally from my mouth. “But you can sell your children out?” I lean across the table, trying to keep the rampant fury off my face. “You spoke to me yesterday about love and doing whatever it takes to protect the person you love. Doesn’t that protection apply to your children? You’re happy to leave Kaitlyn and Emma without any parents? Or you assume I’ll step into that role? How the hell do we deserve that?!”
Dan places a cautionary hand on my arm, and I slouch in my chair, unable to even look my mother in the eye.
Tension is ripe in the air, and no one speaks.
After a bit, Mom asks in a timid tone, “What are they asking me to do?”
Dan wets his lips before speaking. “They want to hold a press conference for you to appeal to your husband to turn himself in. They also want the name of the person who supplied the fake passports and your husband’s last known whereabouts.”
Mom looks pleadingly at me, and her eyes are full of pain. Her face carries noticeable strain, but I’m not going to toe the line on this. I can’t placate her. She needs to hear the ugly truth. “I understand you take your vows seriously, and that you love him, Mom, but he didn’t show you the same courtesy, because if he did, then he wouldn’t have asked you to run. He would have admitted his crimes and faced the consequences of his actions. That is what he should have done for his family, but he was selfish, and only thinking of himself. Look at what he has done to all of us. If you are feeling guilty about betraying him, don’t. Because you haven’t betrayed him, Mom. You stood by him, and you’re still trying to protect him, but enough is enough.”