“Out!” Christi shouted into the room, her eyes landing on a shocked Patrick.
“Babe?” Patrick questioned.
“I fucking said everyone get the fuck out!”
“Christi? Honey ... ?”
“If you don’t want everyone hearing this, you’d better order them out ... now!”
She watched as Patrick stood from his chair, slowly reaching out his hand to her.
“Christi, honey, calm ...”
“Fuck you!” She shouted and then slapped his face. She watched as his head snapped to the side and she had the desire to do it again. She wanted to slap him repeatedly over and over until he felt as bad as she did. But she would never be able to hit him hard enough to quiet the rage she had inside her. Turning her attention to the men in the room, she spoke the words that begged to come out.
“I bet all of you knew about this, didn’t you? You sorry, motherfuckers! Were you laughing behind my back? High-fiving him each time he did it?”
“Christi, sweet ...”
“No, Thomas, I wouldn’t believe you, either!” Her hand was raised in the air, her palm facing him, giving no room to continue. “You’re most likely doing the same fucking thing to Nora. Is she expected to turn her back, too? Allow you to have a little side action when things get rough or boring at home?”
“Christi, seriously, can you please calm down?”
“No, Patrick, I won’t calm down!” She slammed the panties and condom on the table for all to see. “I found these in your jacket, the one I bought for you. The one you wore while you fucked your whore.”
“Babe ...”
“No! I told you from the very beginning,” she slapped her hand on the table after every word, stinging her palm, but she didn’t care. “I told you that I refused to turn a blind eye to you having a fucking mot on the side!”
Patrick didn’t respond this time; he and Thomas both remained silent. Both dazed and confused, completely lost as to what she was shouting about.
“You swore to me, over and over, that you couldn’t do that. You said you didn’t have it in you.”
“Christi, I can see why you’d be upset,” Thomas started in a calm voice. He was trying to calm her down, knowing stress wasn’t good for her or the baby.
“Oh, no! I passed upset when Theresa told me she and Patrick had been fucking behind my back for months. Months, Patrick! You fucked her for months!” She shouted as she again pounded the table, enunciating every word.
“Christi?” Caleb questioned, attempting to be calming, but to Christi it was futile.
She refused to listen; all of his men would stand behind him. She left the room and as she entered the hallway, she clearly heard Thomas tell Patrick, “Let her go, Son.” These words only confirmed for her heart, what her mind already suspected was completely true.
Christi had never been so grateful for kind people as she was when she entered her OB/GYN’s office. She informed the receptionist that she had an urgent personal matter to discuss with her doctor. The nurse, taking one look at her appearance, motioned for her to come on back. Once she was seated on the exam table, the doctor came in. For the next thirty minutes, she cried as explained what she had recently discovered and shared her current fear that she was walking around with some life threatening STD. Her doctor agreed and ordered some blood work, requesting the results as soon as possible.
As Christi lay on the crinkling paper, humiliation and despair set in. She had gone against her basic instincts when it came to Patrick; ignored the voice that had screamed at her she wasn’t the type of woman he needed. Now she would have to live with the decision she’d made, against her better judgment. With her knees in the air and her pride no longer a character flaw, she vowed she would never again ignore that tiny voice ever.
Once she was back in the car, she remembered Shane McIntyre was Patrick’s lawyer. She knew it would be a conflict of interest to ask him to represent her, but maybe he had the name of someone she could use.
When she called McIntyre’s office, she didn’t disclose to him what she needed an attorney for and he didn’t question her. He informed her that his daughter was trying to build up her clientele up, that she was sharp as a tack, and tough as nails. He gave her the number and Christi called her immediately. Ms. McIntyre agreed to meet with her. Once again, she told the twisted tale of betrayal by her husband and supposed best friend.
“Well, Christi, I have good news and bad news,” Ms. McIntyre said from across her desk.
“Trust me, your bad news will never compare to mine.”
“Well, Illinois law prohibits pregnant women from petitioning the courts for a divorce.”
Gretchen McIntyre was a red-haired beauty. Her shoot from the hip attitude gave Christi the sense that she could trust her, even after informing her who Patrick Malloy was and what his business entailed. Gretchen voiced that she couldn’t wait for the challenge.
“They feel you aren’t in control of your emotions. The good news, however, is that I can get the paperwork together and I can have it filed the moment you give birth.”
Gretchen asked several more questions about Patrick’s infidelity. Then she asked Christi a question Christi hadn’t really thought about.
“What demands do you have for compensation? Child support? Alimony?”
With fire in her eyes and a pat to her swollen belly, she replied with conviction and determination. “The only thing I want is my name back and him out of my life.”
Gretchen extended her hand and a deal was struck. Patrick would receive the divorce petition the second Declan was born. Christi offered to pay extra if Gretchen would serve them while he was shacking up with his new whore.
By the time she arrived back at home, it was well after dark. She was so tired, both emotionally and physically, that she parked the car in the driveway and made her way into the house. Everything was just as it was when she had left; it didn’t appear that Patrick had been by. She suspected where he was, but chose to push those thoughts from her mind. She looked at the couch that sat facing the fireplace. She questioned if he had ever fucked Theresa in this house; on that couch or on the floor where they had made love so many times.
She couldn’t take it anymore. The memories mixed in with the betrayal, she had enough. She pushed it all away, turned to go out the door, and got back into her car. She drove around until morning, trying to put enough space between herself and all the pain that chased her. When she could barely keep her eyes open, she found a hotel that she felt was safe. As she got out of the car, she noticed a maternity shop across the street. She made her way into the shop, where she purchased new clothes with her own personal credit card; the one she had from before they were married. She ducked into the dressing room and stripped out of the clothes that Patrick had purchased and tossed them into the trash before redressing. She wanted nothing from the man who had betrayed her in the worst way.
She checked into the hotel, using her maiden name, and the credit card that she had used across the street. The man behind the counter never questioned why she was checking in so early in the morning. When she finally lay down, exhausted, on the hotel bed, she felt the first tear fall down her face. She placed her hand on her stomach, vowing that she wouldn’t let this break her. She would raise Declan by herself. She didn’t need Patrick or his money. Her father had done just fine raising three girls by himself. A single baby would be a piece of cake.
She allowed the tears to take over, purging her sadness and embarrassment. She would allow herself this just once. Tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that, she would get up, dust herself off, and live for the little miracle that was kicking within her belly. This would be a lesson; a lesson she would learn the first time. Patrick Malloy might have fooled her, but he didn’t break her. At some point, in her self-declaration she managed to drift off, but suddenly woke with a start, a sharp pain in her lower back. She sat up in bed, only to come to the realization that her water had broken.
THIS HAD TO BE A dream. I was certain I would wake up any minute and I would be back in my bed, wrapped around my wife. I would tease her about her excessive cleaning and she would smack me, telling me to shut up. She would walk around, her belly swollen with little Declan safely growing inside her. Except, when I opened my eyes, the sad and confused eyes that looked back at me dashed any hope I had of this being just some head trip induced by too much whiskey.
No one was speaking or moving. I lowered my eyes back to the grainy lines of the table. the same table where Christi had slammed her hand repeatedly as she accused me of defiling our marriage. My stomach turned at the vile notion that such a thing could even enter her mind. I had never given her the slightest reason to believe I had done anything to ruin us.
“Patrick, I have to ask ... ?” Da’s voice shattered the silence, causing reality to come crashing down. I knew the question before it left his mouth.
“If you have to ask, then you might as well kill me right fucking now!” I seethed. “I don’t need a goddamn ring to remind me what’s important in my world.” The very ring now sat cold and dead against the skin of my finger, just like my heart, the life it once held was fleeting.
The lace scraps still sat on the table, a glimpse of a yellow condom peaked out of the tissue. How could little lies come in such pretty wrapping? Its secrets on display for anyone who dared to look. Sadly, that observer was my wife.
“So, tell me what you know about this Theresa person who has lied to our Christi.” Sherman spoke from behind me. His non cavalier attitude was refreshing, giving me something to focus on. It kept me from jumping out of my skin and filling the room with all of the rage I felt. Although, it begged, like an anxious dog, to be let out.
“She’s one of our neighbors. She lives a few houses down from us with her husband, Clark, but I’ve only seen him once at our open house. Geeky motherfucker, dressed like his mother laid out his clothes or something. Said he sold insurance, but didn’t try to get a single digit the whole night. Christi said he works crazy hours and Theresa thought he was having an affair.”
“What’s the last name?” Shamus asked.
“Johnson.”
“Couldn’t get anymore generic if he invented the fucking thing.” Shamus’s fingers stilled for just a second and then went back to warp speed across the keys. The pause between the last two words died as soon as it left his mouth.
I needed to get out of this room. I needed to go after Christi, beg her to listen to me. Either that or beat the shit out of something or someone.
“Shamus, have all of Patrick and Christi’s credit cards monitored. I want to know about any charges she tries to make.” Da was typing away on his phone, his glasses still resting on his nose as he gave the order.
“Da?”
“Patrick, she is clearly upset. She is also very pregnant and I doubt she’ll return to the house where she believes you had a mistress.”
Fuck, he was right. The house we had made a home was now a painful memory for her. I had to fix that. Hell, I’d buy her a new one if she wanted; anything just to bring her back to me.
“What about her cell phone? Can we trace it?” I added.
“Sorry, Boss, already thought of that,” Shamus responded. “She turned it off and removed the tracking card.”
“What about her car?”
Shamus could only sigh. “It runs off her cell phone.”
“What about her shamrock? We give them that fucking thing for a reason.” My voice was angry and frustrated. All the extra security we had put in place since her kidnapping and it was all shit.
“That appears to be located at an address you know well ... her OB/GYN’s office. I tried calling to see if anyone found her necklace and they said she left it behind, but they’ve not been able to reach her.” Shamus had a look on his face, a look I knew held more information, news I didn’t want to hear.
“Tell me, Shamus!” I commanded.
“She uh ...” His head bowed, the typing had ended and his hands were now on the back of his neck. His eyes landed on everything but my face. “She took you off all her paperwork. You can’t get any information about her from her doctor.”
I’d been in my fair share of fights, punched by some pretty big motherfuckers, not a single one of them hurt as much as what hearing that shit did. On her first visit I gave her so much shit about spelling my name correctly, she leaned over and kissed my nose, telling me that she stole my last name fair and square and wasn’t giving it back. Yet, in the blink of an eye, one single event threatens to change everything we’d built. So, with all my resources, power, and money, I sat here, with no idea where my wife was, knowing she believed a lie.
“I have to get out of here. I have to see if I can find her.”
I didn’t let anyone try and stop me. I ran down the hall and into the elevator; Christi’s perfume still lingered there. My chest felt tight and it took everything I had not to crumble down onto the floor and cry. Instead, I pounded my fist as hard as I could into the metal of the wall of the elevator. The burn of my actions did nothing to relieve the ache in my chest and the fear that had bubbled in my throat.
The first place I looked was Coleen’s grave. She had a habit of going there when something was bothering her, but the headstone was vacant. Next, I headed to Books’s house. Her sister had just had the baby and I knew she would be home. Smiles answered the door with little Michael snuggled in her arms. My chest ache deepened as I watched him sleep safely in his mother’s embrace.
“Patrick, this is a surprise!” Always a smile on her face, ever since meeting Books and getting married. They complemented each other. I remembered when Books first came to me with the idea of asking Smiles out. He knew of my intentions with Christi; he was the one who had alerted me about Douce fighting in the lobby and how Christi was breaking it up. I pussied out that night. I had every intention of asking her out, but then the bomb was dropped about Giggles and my plans changed. Da had to keep me from killing Douce when I found out what he was up to; instead I broke his fucking jaw and three ribs.
“I’m sorry to come over unannounced, but have you seen Christi today?”
“No, she and I haven’t spoken since last night. Theresa was going over to your house and helping her with some project she has.”
Smiles began to rock her body back and forth as little Michael began to fuss.
“What happened Patrick?” Her face had concern written all over it.
I hung my head as she invited me in. I sat on her couch and told her everything that had happened in my office. I nearly lost it again when I told her about how Christi had walked out.
“Well, I have to say that I never got a good feeling about Theresa. She was just too, I don’t know, full of herself.” Smiles tossed her free hand around in the air, her red hair bouncing with her movement. This was interesting. Christi had never mentioned she and her sister had disagreed about Theresa. “As far as Christi is concerned, you know she won’t do anything foolish to hurt herself or the baby. But you and I both know that when she gets mad ...” Her voice became amused, Christi was very headstrong when she was passionate about something. I knew very well how Christi acted when she was angry. The incident with Anthony and the flowers came to mind. “I wish I could tell you that she’ll cool off and come looking for you, but I can’t.” Her hand touched my arm and I knew Smiles was right, Christi wasn’t in control of her emotions right now. I needed to find her before she let them get the best of her. Knowing she had visited her physician was also tugging at the back of my mind. “If I see or hear from her, I will let you know,” she assured me, placing her hand on my cheek. I thanked her and made my way to the door, but her voice called me back. “Patrick, swear to me you didn’t do what Theresa accused you of.” I turned and looked directly into Smiles’s eyes. “I swear on my life.” Smiles would never know how true a statement that really
was.
For the next ten hours, I drove to every place in Chicago I could think of. I went to her favorite places and even spoke to several people in her old neighborhood—nothing. It was as if she had vanished.
Finally, I decided I couldn’t keep my focus anymore and headed to my parents’ home. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in my house without my wife. The house was alive, if the amount of lights on and the number of cars that were parked in the driveway were any indication.
I entered the front door and headed straight for the kitchen, ignoring the guards who greeted me and closed the door. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my ma would be there. As I rounded the corner, there she stood, her face sad and drawn. She loved Christi, maybe more than she loved me, I honestly believed. I collapsed to my knees, buried my face in her shirt, and wrapped my arms around her, securing myself to her. She would never judge me or expect me to maintain my image, the one created by the power and guns I held. She was my ma; she loved me without question and gave comfort without being asked. “She’s gone, Ma”
“I know, Son, but we will get her back.” Her voice was soft, her fingers combing through my hair, just like Christi did when I snuggled into her side. “How?” I cried into her shirt. “Because, I believe in the truth. That, and all the information your men found while you were out scouring the city.” I immediately pulled my head back and looked up at her. Her face contained just a hint of a smile, enough that I was able to stand and comb my hair back with my fingers. “Son, come into the den and we’ll talk,” Da said behind me.
I stood, walked over to the sink, and ran cold water over my face. Ma handed me a towel and then kissed me on the cheek. Nearly my entire inner circle was in the room, all with the same expression and goal. My father handed me a cup of coffee and it was then I noticed the sun was coming up. Christi had been out there all night, by herself, unprotected. I prayed to God she was safe. “So, what have we got?” I spoke to everyone in the room.
Claddagh and Chaos (Shamrocks #2) Page 6