Impulse

by E. B. Walters

  Jillian didn’t know anything about Armenians, but she was listening and trying hard not to be skeptical. A lot of the eastern Europeans her father employed in the Bay Area Circus claimed lineage to royalty, too. Most of them were Gypsies.

  “He might not have approved of my love for Khosrov, but he loved me and wanted me to be happy, so he allowed us to marry. Soon afterwards, we moved to America. Your grandfather knew how to talk to immigrants, and they loved working for him. He treated them well. He was a good man. He was making his name in the garment industry when your father was born.” She smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “Jivan was such a happy child. He made our life complete. The business was doing well, or so I thought. It turned out our competitor did not like an Armenian immigrant taking a slice of his business and was doing everything to undermine and destroy your grandfather. To cut costs and make deadlines, Khosrov started doing business with, uh, bad men. Criminals.” She muttered something in Armenian, and when she continued, her accent became stronger. “I had no idea how bad things were, until Jivan died.”

  Jillian fidgeted. They’d fled New York right after he died. If her mother had stayed, would Jillian have met her grandparents? Moved to Armenia? Never met Lex? Funny how one incident could change everything.

  “Your grandfather believed his competitor killed your father. He left his nephew to run the business, and we went home to bury Jivan.” Mrs. Petrosian became quiet. When she continued, she spoke slowly as though reliving the past. “Instead of coming back, we opened another clothing factory in Yerevan. I believed it was because we had no reason to come back to America. That changed six months ago when your grandfather had a stroke.”

  She paused and cleared her throat. Jillian glanced at the others to see how they were reacting. Her brothers looked worried while her father didn’t bother to hide his dislike of Mrs. Petrosian. Lex stared at the woman without expression, which changed when he caught Jillian’s eyes. He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her. She sunk against his side, so grateful for his warmth and strength.

  “Just before your grandfather died, he told me everything. How our Jivan had a child with an American girl, Mira Lipinski. Your mother. He’d known about their relationship and discouraged it because your mother was a local dancer. An orphan with no roots or background to speak of.”

  Annoyance zipped through Jillian. What a snob. “He married you, but my mother was beneath his son?”

  Mrs. Petrosian sighed, her eyes sad. “You misunderstand, my dear. It wasn’t easy for Khosrov to join my family. My father never missed a chance to make him feel less than what he was. That’s why we came to America. He didn’t want the same for your mother. My father was still alive, and he would have made your mother’s life miserable.”

  No wonder her mother had collected her from school and run. Jillian back pedaled, but not her father.

  “But he was willing to take Jillian from her mother instead,” Daniel Finnegan barked from across the coffee table. He leaned forward, his cheeks flushed. “No, Mrs. Petrosian. Your husband worked hard to leave his humble beginning and become accepted into your family. His son marrying a little Miss Nobody was going to ruin his plan. But his grandchild...” He wagged his finger. “She’s the last of the Zakarians with your royal blood flowing through her. She would have secured his position in your society and redeemed him in your father’s eyes.”

  Fury flashed in Mrs. Petrosian’s eyes. “You insufferable man! My Khosrov had no prejudices. If he was guilty of anything, it was being heartbroken by the death of our son. He wanted what was best for Jillian.”

  “By trying to take her away from her mother? What about that was best for Jillian, huh?” Finnegan snapped.

  “Dad, please,” Jillian said. “Remember, your heart.”

  “She”—he pointed at Mrs. Petrosian—“gave me the first attack. Now she wants to finish me off with her lies.”

  What? Jillian blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Her father’s theatrical side was rearing its head, though. Once he started, there was no stopping him.

  “And she calls me insufferable,” her father continued. “Bet you hung around to make sure I croaked.”

  Jillian glared at her brothers and mouthed, “Do something.” But they just shrugged. The cowards. “Dad, please—”

  “Control yourself, Finnegan,” Mrs. Petrosian snapped. “I called the paramedics and stayed with you until they arrived because it was the right thing to do.”

  “You were snooping around.”

  “Dad!” Jillian snapped, drawing his attention. “Enough. Let her finish.”

  Mrs. Petrosian lifted her chin and harrumphed. “Thank you, dear. I’m trying to explain things to you the way I know them. I’m sorry your grandfather tried to take you from your mother. If I had known…” She pulled out a hanky from under her sleeve and dabbed the corners of her eyes, her hand shaking.

  Jillian felt a little sorry for her. She tried to push aside the past two weeks and see things through her eyes. Her husband and son dead. She was about to face the future alone. Her family lineage about to end with her. Then she discovered a granddaughter she never knew she had.

  “It’s taken me months to find you, Jillian,” Mrs. Petrosian continued. “I’ve shamelessly used my husband’s old connections and relatives to help me in my quest. I’m not proud of my methods. When he”—she pointed her finger at Jillian’s father—“told me he’d buried you alongside your mother, I knew he was lying. In my heart, I knew you were still alive.”

  Jillian’s eyes widened as they flew to her father. “Why would you lie about me being dead or about me having other family?”

  Her father shot her an apologetic look. “I promised your mother I would keep you safe. She was scared they’d take you away from her and made me swear to never let them know of your existence.”

  “I can understand that when I was child or after she died, but I’m twenty-nine, Dad. Old enough to deal with how my father died and my grandfather’s attitude toward Mom.” Her voice trembled to a stop. She was so pissed. She lifted her chin and took a deep breath before adding, “You should have told me everything, especially when she came to see you. All of this could have been avoided.”

  Her father looked down. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me, Dad,” Jillian snapped. “Surely you can’t still be worried they would take me away. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”

  “Now that she’s found you, they will too,” he said.

  He spoke so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “What? They who?”

  “The bluebloods from New York. That’s what your mother called the people who killed your father. She saw them. You”—he nodded toward Jillian—“saw them too.”

  Jillian blinked. “Me?”

  “What?” Lex snapped, tensing.

  “She knows the person who killed Jivan?” Mrs. Petrosian asked at the same time.

  Jillian’s father glared at her. “No, she doesn’t. Jillian might have witnessed it, but she didn’t remember afterwards and her mother wanted it kept that way.”

  “It is inside her head,” Mrs. Petrosian said.

  Jillian’s father glared at her. “No, it’s not, but your queries could have easily alerted them if they’re still alive. That’s why I wanted you to believe Jillian was dead. There was no way of knowing who you’d talked to.”

  Jillian shivered. The knowledge of her father’s killer was buried inside her head?

  Lex studied her face. She saw the concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

  She started to nod, then changed her mind and shook her head. “All this… It’s too much.”

  “Do you want her to stop? We can go home right now and put this behind us.”

  Could she? Somehow she doubted it. She tried to remember the events before she and her mother left New York, but she came up blank. “I wish I could remember. I was only seven and can barely remember my own father let alone
something that traumatic.”

  “Maybe you blocked it,” Lex said. “Or your mother assumed you’d seen it when you really hadn’t.”

  Her mother had always been very protective of her, so that was possible. The thought that she had witnessed her father’s death left her queasy. It also explained their crazy trek across the country. The states they’d lived in didn’t exactly line up. Her mother had kept looping, probably making sure no one found their trail.

  Jillian glanced at her father. “Is that why she wore a mask while performing?” It was where she’d gotten the idea to wear one as the Phantom Rider.

  Her father nodded. “I got suspicious when she asked me for a job. With her looks and talent, she could have gotten a job anywhere, especially in L.A., yet she’d chosen the circus. I knew she had to be running from something. She told me her story, and I believed her. Her worst fear was that someone would recognize her.”

  They were married right away. Maybe they’d done it so he could protect them.

  “I’m sorry I said I never adopted you,” her father continued. “It was cruel and not true. You are a Finnegan, just like your brothers.” Her father glanced at Mrs. Petrosian. “Her sudden appearance, the heart attack… I had to do something to keep you safe, so I got rid of your pictures and pushed you away with lies. You are my daughter. No matter what blood flows in your veins, you’ll always be a Finnegan.”

  Cian and Ricky grinned and gave her thumbs-up. Jillian glared at them. They frowned. Even knowing that she was truly a Finnegan didn’t eclipse the betrayal.

  “You knew?”

  “He told us after you dropped off the money and stormed off,” Ricky said quickly. “Not before.”

  “We tried to find you and tell you, but you disappeared,” Cian added.

  “Perhaps I should have told you the truth, but I just wanted her,” he said, shooting a glare at Mrs. Petrosian, “gone.” He focused on Jillian once more. “You should keep the money. I don’t need it.”

  She didn’t need it either. Maybe Cian and Ricky could split it. “We’ll talk about it later.” Jillian glanced at Lex. “The money in that bag”—she slanted her head to indicate the duffel bag she’d dropped on the floor—“is Rod’s. It was his apology for the pictures.” Lex didn’t seem surprised. Mrs. Petrosian wore a bewildered expression. “I guess the three-fifty belongs to your, uh, nephew?”

  “Three-fifty what?” Mrs. Petrosian asked.

  Jillian opened her mouth, but Lex gripped her arm to get her attention. “Your father doesn’t owe anyone money, Jillian.” His eyes flickered to her father. “Do you, Mr. Finnegan?”

  Her father shook his head. “No, I had to explain the men’s presence. They kept coming to the house and scaring my granddaughter and daughter-in-law. I was hoping that if the troupe was gone and I disappeared, they’d never trace Mira or Jillian to us again.”

  Jillian’s mouth dropped. “You were disbanding the troop to protect me?”

  “Of course not,” he said, but she saw through his denial. “I’m old and tired, and it’s time your uncle and I retired. He knows this place in the Caribbean we could hang out and teach local kids a few bike tricks. Your aunt would love that, too. Ricky is looking for a job working with bikes, and Cian is taking accounting classes.”

  Jillian shook her head. “You’re really serious about this? What about… me?” She looked at her brothers, who looked uneasy, then her Dad. “I wanted to come back.”

  “I know, Jilly,” her father said. “If you want to keep everything and start a new troupe, go ahead. Like you said, you are a grown-up, but I don’t think you’ll be safe. Of course, I’ll have to put my days in the sun on hold to keep an eye on things. Too many bikers cut too many corners. Your brothers…” He glanced at Cian and Ricky.

  “Elena is pregnant,” Cian said, his cheeks pink. “She wants a normal life, but I can help out on weekends.”

  “And Sophia wants a baby brother,” Ricky said. “But I promise to bring them to watch you. We Finnegans support each other.”

  Tears rushed to Jillian’s eyes. They didn’t get it. It would never be the same without them. The whole point was being with them, her family. They were home. She glanced at Lex. No, they used to be home. Her anchor. Home was Lex now. It was only temporary, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be with him.

  “No, guys. I don’t want a troupe. Only Finnegans ride in the Fearless Finnegan Troupe.” She glanced at Lex. “Maybe Eddie could use Ricky’s help. I learned everything I know about bikes from him. He knows engines and bike performances. If there’s still an opening…”

  Lex chuckled and stroked her cheek. “There is. I’ll let Eddie know.” He explained about the position of bike road testers.

  Ricky almost tripped over the coffee table as he hurried forward to shake Lex’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald. I promise you won’t be disappointed, sir. I’ve seen Leed’s bikes, and they are exceptional.”

  After Ricky finished acting like he’d won the lottery and went back to his seat, Lex shot Jillian a glance. “You realize he’d be taking your job.”

  “Her job?” Mrs. Petrosian asked, a weird expression on her face.

  Jillian nodded. “I was going to test ride bikes for his company.”

  “Is that what you do for a living?”

  “No. I’m a stuntwoman.”

  “The best in the field,” Lex added.

  The old woman’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  Jillian wondered if the thugs who’d come to her house had told her about their theory, that she was a porn star.

  “I do all the action scenes for actresses,” she clarified just in case there was some cultural miscommunication.

  Lex chuckled, clearly understanding her. “Except you hate Hollywood.”

  Jillian sighed. “I know.”

  “Then you should come home with me,” Mrs. Petrosian cut in. “There’s much more you can learn about your people, tradition, and heritage. The UAN should have a Zakarian sitting at the head of their table.”

  Didn’t sound exciting, but Jillian was curious. “UAN?”

  “Union of the Armenian Noblemen.” Mrs. Petrosian smiled. “We are restoring noble dynasty and genealogy, and reinstating traditions of Armenian nobility. We need someone to bridge the gap between the old and the new aristocracy.” Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “You’re young and pretty, and can relate to the younger generation. They’ll love and adore you. Your story alone will inspire our youth.” She glanced at the others, her smile faltering when her eyes met Lex’s, but she bounced back. “You could be our country’s little princess, a beacon of hope, Jillian.”

  Wearing pearls, evening gowns, and kissing hands of babies was not her scene. “Mrs… Uh, Grandmother Petrosian, I know I have a lot to learn about my father and your side of the family,” Jillian said, “so I’m happy you came looking for me. But all this is new, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

  Mrs. Petrosian nodded. “I know, but I’m here, dear. I’ll prepare you.”

  Lex stiffened, and Jillian didn’t dare look at him. “How long are you planning on staying in America?”

  The old lady’s eyes flickered to Lex. “A couple of weeks,” she said.

  Jillian smiled. “That’s good. We can get to know each other. I’m very interested in knowing more about my father. Maybe you could show me some of his pictures and tell me about him.”

  “I would love that. I’ll contact you or you can come to my hotel. I’m at Montage. There are so many things I want to tell you.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Jillian saw the triumphant look she threw Lex. She had to make one thing clear. “However, I can’t come back to Armenia with you. I might visit someday. You never know. But right now, I already made a commitment to someone else.” Jillian glanced at Lex. She would choose him any day. She smiled at her grandmother. “You see, I’m getting married in two weeks.”

  “Married?” her father asked.

 
Jillian dragged her eyes away from her grandmother, who looked furious, and focused on her father. “Lex and I, uh, we are—”

  “No, sweetheart,” Lex interrupted, interlacing their fingers. “This is where I come in.”

  Ricky and Cian laughed. Her father scowled harder. Her grandmother still looked like she wanted to hit someone on the head with her purse. She was clutching it tight.

  “I would like to ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir,” Lex said.

  Her brothers converged around them, shaking Lex’s hand. Ricky had the nerve to add, “Thank you for taking her off our hands.” He barely escaped her punch.

  Her father and new grandmother didn’t move from their seats or look happy. But then again, Jillian didn’t blame them. Her father was going to hold back his approval until he knew Lex better. He never approved of Cian and Ricky’s wives either. According to him, Elena was too snooty and Ginger too scared of her own shadow. Ginger hadn’t helped matters either because she’d kept Sophia’s existence a secret for nearly three years before she tracked Ricky down and told him he was the father. Jillian wondered if her father’s attitude toward Elena would change now that she was pregnant. He was big on family.

  As for her grandmother, she seemed to have prematurely planned Jillian’s entrance into her society. She probably didn’t understand Jillian’s decision. Jillian was perfectly fine with it. She was trading a life that could have been glamorous for a year filled with uncertainty armed with just one thing—her growing feelings for Lex.

  ~*~

  Hours later, Lex tucked Jillian under his chin and stared at the ceiling. Jillian had chosen him. She was at home in his arms instead of packing for Armenia, yet the determined gleam in her grandmother’s eyes stayed with him. Mrs. Petrosian didn’t accept Jillian’s decision gracefully, and he wouldn’t put it past her to try something behind their backs. She would rue that day.