Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5)

by Siobhan Davis

  I only start breathing normally when we leave the building, and I know it’s behind me. For now. The months ahead will be challenging, but I’ll take it one step at a time.

  Brad flags down a taxi, and we go to the airport to meet the others.

  As I step foot on the plane, I’m sad to be leaving Ireland behind. Even though I’ve made a new life for myself in America, and being home reminds me more acutely of the horrors of my past, returning to Boston fills me with trepidation.

  Because my brother is in the wind, and I know he’s gunning for me.

  With what I know now, I can tell he’s more unhinged than normal, and that scares me worse than anything has ever scared me in my life.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Brad

  We got in late last night, and then we were both out early this morning—I headed to the library to catch up on some assignments, and Rach went to meet Lauren to work on their project. It’s the first time all week that I haven’t spent every solitary minute of each day with Rachel, and I’m missing her something special. I want to tell her how I feel. That I love her and I’m in this for the long haul. To promise her I’ll be there to support her through the next few months, but I’m afraid it’s too much heavy with everything else she’s dealing with. I’ve been letting her set the pace, so perhaps I should continue to let her do that, but I want to make this formal between us.

  I want her to know I’ve fallen for her, and she’s my whole world.

  But I’m not sure she can handle it, and I don’t want to pressure her.

  These thoughts are still churning through my mind in the afternoon as I make my way toward the stadium for the game. Chances are Coach is going to toss me out on my ass, but I’m going to give it a go. I’m hoping he might’ve cooled down by now.

  No such luck.

  “McConaughey!” he barks out the instant I land at my locker. “You’re off the team, and you’ve no business in here.”

  I open my mouth to beg—I’m not opposed to groveling if it’ll help—but he holds up a meaty palm in front of my face. “Don’t want to hear it, son. Everything that needed to be said was said on Tuesday. You’ve left me no choice.”

  “Coach, I rea—” Ryan is cut off with one vicious look. I pick my bag up and walk back out of the room. My former teammates are silent as I pass them, but they all nod in my direction, and I can tell by the expressions on their faces that they’re feeling this with me. Until I come to Brady. He’s leaning back against the locker with his arms folded and a smug grin across his face. Typical. He goes around sexually assaulting girls, and he’s allowed back on the team. Apparently, there isn’t enough evidence to kick him off the team, let alone charge him with anything.

  If this had been a few months ago, I’d be virtually suicidal walking out this door. But a lot has changed since then. Perhaps, I didn’t really want the whole football career as much as I thought I did. Maybe that was something else I latched onto at a time when most other things in my life were a mess.

  I’ve just reached my car when Ryan catches up to me. “Are you okay, man?”

  “I’m fine.” I unlock the door and throw my bag inside. “Not like I can do much about it.”

  “Coach will come around.”

  “I really don’t think he will, but I’m not going to regret it. Rachel needed me, and if I had to do it again, I’d still go to Ireland with her.”

  “I don’t get why you can’t come clean with him.” I haven’t told Ryan what the trip was about, but he knows it was to do with police and legal stuff and that it was important. “I’m sure if he knew the facts, he would be more lenient.”

  “I’m not divulging Rachel’s secrets, and I’m not asking her to do that either. She’s already had to repeat that shit to plenty of strangers, and it’s taking a toll on her.”

  Ryan leans back against my car, smiling. “You’re really into this chick.”

  “I am. I’m crazy about her, and Coach can kiss my ass.”

  He slaps me on the shoulder. “I hope it all works out.” He starts backing away. “Better get back before he kicks me off the team for sneaking out. Later, dude!”

  Faye and Ky are in the apartment when I return a short while later, but they leave as soon as I’m back. I know they were only keeping Rach company in my absence. “I got takeout,” I confirm, swinging the brown paper bag in front of her face.

  “Thanks.” There’s no hint of a smile on her face.

  I put the bag on the counter and reel her into my arms. “Bad day?”

  “I don’t want to be afraid, Brad, because that gives him power over me, but I spent the whole day looking over my shoulder. I hate that no one knows where he is. That he’s planning on ambushing me when I least expect it. It has my stomach tied into knots.”

  “He’s not getting near you, babe. I’ve spoken to Nate”—that’s Rachel’s assigned bodyguard—“and he assured me you would never be out of his sight.”

  “I know, and he was really great, today. So discreet that no one even noticed, but whenever I looked around I could see him, and that did offer some comfort, but I’m still petrified. I’m such a wuss.”

  I cup her cheek. “You’re the least wuss-like person I know.” That raises a small smile. “You’re incredible, Rachel. You’ve been through hell, but you keep fighting, keep getting back up. You’re my hero.”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head or something. “Are you high?”

  I laugh. “High on love.” The words come out all by themselves, and I stiffen, worried at her reaction.

  She goes rigidly still, and my heart is jumping in a wild panic in my chest. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispers, averting her eyes. “You’ve been amazing, Brad. So amazing that I know I wouldn’t have gotten through this without you, but you don’t owe me anything anymore. We’re even-steven.”

  That pisses me off. “Do you really think that?” I tip her chin up so she’s looking directly at me, and I note the old Rachel determination burning fiercely in her eyes.

  “Truth time?”

  “Please.”

  “I want to believe that you like me as much as I like you, but there’s still that thing with Faye and—”

  I place a finger to her lips, killing those words. “There is no thing with Faye. There never really was. She was right; I was projecting stuff onto her. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for Faye. Maybe, at the start I did a little, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I’ve been envious of what her and Ky have, because I’ve always been more of a relationship kind of guy.”

  Her eyes almost bug out of her head, and my lips curve up. “I know. It’s hard to believe because I’ve been such an ass these last couple of years, but it’s the truth.” To hell with it. I’m going to go with my gut and tell her I want her. “And I want a relationship with you. Really badly, Rachel. I want to stop pretending and start living my life with you.”

  The confidence in her gaze gives way to a mixture of awe, fear, and vulnerability. “Even after everything? Knowing I’m broken?”

  I curl my hand around her neck. “You’re not broken, baby. You’re hurt, and you need time to heal, and I will give you as much time as you need. I will do whatever it is you want me to do, but if you feel the same way I do, don’t shut me out. Give us a chance. Give me a chance, and I’ll prove I’m worthy of you.”

  She circles her arms around my neck, beaming at me. “You’ve already proven that and more. I feel so much for you, Brad, and that terrifies me. I’ve never done this before, and I’m afraid I won’t be any good at it, and you deserve the best because you’re a pretty awesome guy.”

  My grin is so wide it threatens to split my face. “I am?” I puff out my chest, and she slaps it.

  “I can see I’ll have to rein your ego in.”

  “You can rein anything in, baby. An
ything. I’m down with whatever you want to do to me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  I kiss her after that, and we don’t move for ages, both content to just kiss and hold each other. After, we eat cold takeout in bed and watch Netflix, and I can’t remember ever feeling happier in my life.

  I nuzzle her shoulder, pressing a searing kiss to her neck.

  “What was that for?” she asks, turning away from the screen.

  “Because you make me so freaking happy, Red.”

  She curls around, snuggling into me. “The feeling is definitely mutual, dickhead.”

  I chuckle. “I think I’ll have to punish you for that, and you definitely need to find a new pet name for me. Dickhead doesn’t quite convey the right tone.”

  She thrusts her bare leg through mine, and my cock hardens. “What kind of punishment did you have in mind?” she purrs, instantly going there with me.

  “The kind where you’re on your back, completely naked, and I’m sliding inside you.”

  “Hell yeah,” she says, sitting up and whipping her top off. She’s not wearing a bra. “That’s my kind of punishment.”

  In the blink of an eye, she has her pajama shorts off and she’s lying under me completely bare. “Well?” She fake glares, tugging on the hem of my shirt. “What are you waiting for? Get naked and punish me!”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Brad

  I “punished” her three times last night and twice this morning, in bed and in the shower, and I’m still insatiable. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I just can’t get enough. She’s laughing and joking with me while she cooks pancakes from scratch, and it feels so natural to be with her like this.

  “How did you learn to cook?” I inquire from my position on the stool. I’m facing the stove so I have a fantastic view of her gorgeous ass, and my eyes have been glued to her shapely butt for the last five minutes. She’s wearing cut-off denim shorts that fit her perfectly and a cropped off-the-shoulder white top. Although she’s wearing a bra, her nipples are hard and poking out through the flimsy material, and I’ve had a raging boner the entire time I’m watching her. I suspect that may become a problem in social settings, but in this moment, nothing could be more perfect.

  We’re on the same page, and she appears as happy as I am.

  I’m on cloud nine.

  Sign me up for the pansy-ass club. I’m right there with Kyler and Kalvin. Good for a repeat subscription.

  It’s the most amazing feeling in the world.

  “Santa gave me a cookbook when I was six, and Mum and I made every recipe in the book at least a few times over.” She sweeps hair off her face, and a melancholy look appears in her eyes. “That was when she had time for me. Before she had to go out to work. After that, I used to cook with Faye and her mum sometimes, and I did home economics in school. I’ve always found cooking therapeutic. A lot like sewing,” she muses.

  “You’re good with your hands,” I say with a saucy grin.

  Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “I’m always flirting with my girlfriend because she’s smoking hot.”

  She abandons the pancake mixture, racing to my side and throwing herself into my lap. “Would you think I’m one of those stupid, giggly girls if I tell you that you calling me your girlfriend is doing funny things to my insides?”

  “You couldn’t be stupid if you tried, and giggles are good.” I kiss her mouth quickly. “Giggles are great.” I don’t need a crystal ball to know there hasn’t been much frivolous laughter in Rachel’s past.

  She rests her forehead against mine. “How did I get so lucky with you.”

  “Hey. Stop stealing my lines.” I ease back, staring into her eyes. “I’m the lucky one.” I wind my hands through her hair. “I’m crazy about you, Rachel. Like head over heels crazy.”

  “Ditto, babe.” She kisses me slowly and sweetly, and I never want to let her go.

  When she wriggles off my lap, I scowl, and she laughs. “Don’t be like that. I want to make my boyfriend pancakes to show him how much I care.”

  My stomach rumbles at the same time my cell rings. “They do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” I tease, removing my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants. “Mom? Is everything okay?” I hate that that’s become my usual greeting, and I long for the day when I can just say “Hey, Mom” without hesitation.

  “That depends on your interpretation.” She pauses. “Your father wants to see us.”

  My blissful mood evaporates in a puff. I drag a hand across my bare chest. “When?”

  “This afternoon, if you can make it.”

  “The girls too?”

  “Yes, but I’m not letting Emma in to see him. She’s too young, and I don’t want her in a place like that.”

  “She’s twelve, Mom. I think that’s old enough to make her own decision.”

  “I’d rather see what’s involved first and see what state of mind your father is in before I broach the subject with her.”

  “Fair enough. What about Kaitlyn?”

  “She doesn’t want to see him.” I can understand the sentiment. Part of me doesn’t want to see him either, but I have some stuff I need to get off my chest.

  “That’s her choice, and I can’t say I’m surprised. Rachel is making breakfast, but we could be on the road in an hour. I’ll come get you.”

  “Not necessary. The Kennedy chauffeur is taking me. I’ll meet you there. I’ll send the coordinates to your phone.”

  Three hours later, I’m standing outside the FBI office in Chelsea with Rachel, waiting for Mom. She bundles both of us into a hug when she arrives. “Are you ready for this?” she asks, squeezing my cheek.

  I shrug. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t do this without you.” She grips my hand.

  “You’re worried he’s mad at you?” I guess, and she nods. “I won’t let him take it out on you. I promise.”

  We enter the building, and once we’ve signed in and gone through the security gate, a young woman with dark curly hair steps forward to greet us. “Mrs. McConaughey. I’m Agent Tori Kendall. We spoke on the phone.”

  Mom shakes her hand. “This is my son, Bradley, and his girlfriend, Rachel.”

  I get enormous pleasure out of hearing that word, and it’s as if I’m back in high school and the girl I’m crushing on has agreed to go steady.

  We both shake the agent’s hand, and then follow her up two flights of stairs and out into a long carpeted passageway. “Your husband is being kept here temporarily, but he’ll be transferred to a federal penitentiary within the next few days. I’ll make sure you’re notified of the new location.”

  “Thank you,” Mom says in a quiet voice.

  We come to a halt outside a gray door with a hatch on top. Agent Kendall slides it open, briefly looking in. “He’s inside. You can go in when you’re ready. I’ll wait here.” She faces Rachel. “You can take a seat there, miss.” She points at the two chairs propped against the wall behind us.

  Mom removes her coat, wordlessly handing it to Rachel. Rachel squeezes my hand, before leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Good luck,” she whispers. “You got this.”

  “Ready?” I grip Mom’s hand, and she nods. I open the door and we step inside.

  The room is a small square. With drab gray walls, a scuffed tiled floor, and only a table and four chairs, the bleakness of the environment matches my mood. Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared me for the man in front of me, though. Dad always prided himself on his appearance. As a leading stockbroker, he had to look the part. His closet was stuffed full of designer suits and shoes, and he was always immaculately dressed and perfectly groomed.

  The man sitting on the chair across the tabl
e doesn’t even look like the same man. His once short, dark hair is now almost fully gray, and it falls to his shoulders. A thick layer of gray stubble lines his jaw, and the wrinkles around his mouth are more pronounced. The orange jumpsuit hangs off his scary-thin frame. Dad went to the gym religiously every morning before work, and he was always in tip-top shape. This person barely even resembles my father.

  Mom tugs on my elbow. I wasn’t aware that I’d stopped moving. I’m rooted to the spot, staring in disbelief at a man I once looked up to. A man I tried so hard to impress. The man I wanted to be when I grew up.

  “Bradley.” His deep voice and piercing blue eyes are about the only familiar things. He stands up, beseeching me with his eyes. I walk to the empty chairs across from him and pull one out for my mother. Once she’s seated, I drop down beside her, placing my hands, palm-down on the table. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat, and he sits back down, looking a little dejected. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Is it?” My tone is harsh.

  “Yes. I’ve missed you. I’m glad to see you looking well. The agent told me you’re at Harvard and playing for the Crimsons?”

  “I am at Harvard, but I’m not on the football team anymore.”

  “You’re not, honey?” Mom turns questioning eyes on me.

  “Coach didn’t approve of my trip to Ireland with Rachel. Told me he’d kick me off the team if I went.”

  “You threw it away for some girl?” Disappointment is obvious in Dad’s tone.

  “A. She’s not just some girl. And, B, I choose to protect her rather than selfishly serve my own interests. Not that I expect you to understand. Instead of admitting your crime, you dragged my mother and sisters halfway around the world and you left me behind without a second thought. You destroyed our family because you were too gutless to do the right thing.”

  I half-expect my mother to jump to my father’s defense, and I’m hugely surprised when she doesn’t.