No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1)

by Chloe Adams

  “The Abbottt-Renous are entitled to keep their family business private. Mia will cooperate.”

  I don’t know what that means or if I can go home tonight or not. The DA doesn’t look satisfied with Chris’s answer either. Chris is good at that.

  “Do you have a plan for dealing with the publicity this is going to generate?” the DA asks slowly. “It’s a concern for my office. The potential magnitude of interest in these incidents is about to skyrocket.”

  “Our preparations are not the concern of your office.”

  “Let me rephrase.” The DA sits forward. “I am willing to hold onto this for a short period of time, before we go public, as we finalize our case. It is clear to me that the Senator and his daughter are not on the same page. We need her testimony and cooperation. We don’t need phone calls from the President telling us to back off.”

  I flush and look at Chris. He’s quiet for a moment, considering.

  “At least two weeks,” he says at last. “On October first, Mia will be eighteen and able to make her own decisions legally.”

  Daddy’s ditching me. I know he would.

  “We are considering pulling her out of school on her eighteenth birthday, and she’ll be assigned a team of bodyguards,” Chris adds. “We are fully aware of the type of negative attention this trial has the potential to generate. If you will concur, what hours she owes on her community service after you go public will be dismissed.”

  “We can do that,” the DA agrees. “I’ve asked Kiesha and Dom to attend meetings, their duties allowing. I think they make you more comfortable, Mia?”

  I nod.

  “Kiesha was one of the responders for three of the eight rapes, including the last one. Rape victims normally respond better to female officers, but I understand now why you’ve been open with Dom, since he reminds you of your grandfather. Was your grandfather a cop?”

  “No,” I reply. “But I lived with him for a few years growing up.”

  “That explains it. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “What happens next?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

  “We’re finalizing investigating the case. In a few weeks, we’ll call you and the other girls in for a line-up to identify your attackers, present our findings to the DA’s office and arrest the assailants for interviewing. Chances are, they’ll lawyer up, go to arraignment and be released on bail. After that, we wait for a court date or see if they’ll plead out,” Detective Wilson said.

  It sounds overwhelming. “Do I have to be here for all of that?”

  “No. We’ll call you in when we need something,” the DA says. “You won’t be back for two weeks. My office will release a statement to the press today saying you were here as part of your probation. No one will know we’re pressing forward until October first.”

  I look at Chris. I want so bad to ask him what happens when I turn eighteen.

  “Thank you, Mia, for coming forward.” The DA’s small smile is sincere. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Too late now,” Chris says.

  I roll my eyes at him. The DA is studying me.

  “You have a minute, Chris?” he asks, gaze going to Chris.

  “I do. Mia, wait for me outside the conference room.”

  The rest of us in the room take the dismissal and leave. Kiesha holds out her arms when we step outside the conference room, and I hug her hard.

  “You did so good in there!” she says.

  “Thank you for being here,” I whisper, shaking.

  “We’ll get ‘em. I know it.” Her resolve makes me feel better. “I’m happy to see you’re healed.”

  “It’s been rough,” I admit.

  “You’re a fighter. Dom pegged you right.”

  “My card, Ms. Mia.” Detective Wilson says from behind me.

  Kiesha releases me, and I turn to take the card.

  “We’ll be in contact,” he says then joins the other man in a suit. They walk down the hall.

  Kiesha glances at Dom then squeezes my arm and walks the same way the detective went. I look at Dom, who’s standing quietly across the hall from me. He gives me a small, distracted smile.

  “I’m proud of you, Mia,” he says. “I really am.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not gonna help me in two weeks when I’m homeless and lawyer-less.”

  “Chris won’t let that happen.”

  “I wonder if your sister has room at the shelter or if I should just pick a ditch?” I joke. At least, I mean for it to be a joke. The last word catches in my throat, and I’m embarrassed by the pain in my voice.

  “You’re better off in a ditch than with that family of yours.”

  His blunt words – and the hard emotion in his voice – startle me. If he’s angry, it means he cares. It dawns on me that he really did make a choice at the ball, after I issued my ultimatum. I can’t believe he chose me. No one ever chooses me!

  “You got my number,” he says, upbeat once again. Dom has a game face, too, like everyone else in my life. He puts his back on as he pretends not to care. Except I know the truth now.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  “No problem,” he says too easily. He starts away.

  “Dom, wait,” I say, touching his arm.

  He faces me. I drop my hand, searching his gaze for some sign of Dom-my-friend, not Dom-the-police-officer.

  “Seriously. Thank you for caring about me enough to be here,” I tell him. “It means a lot to me.”

  He hesitates then mumbles, “You’re welcome, Mia” before he moves away.

  I’m not sure why I’m disappointed by his response, maybe because he’s still hiding from me. I’m sick of that shit where everyone has two faces. Not my Dom, now that I know he does care. Irritated, I call out after him.

  “I’ll text you from my ditch!”

  “You know it won’t come to that,” he replies over his shoulder.

  “Whatever you say, hero.”

  That stops him. He lets out an aggravated sigh that almost makes me smile then faces me once more.

  “My six-year-old niece uses that tone with me when I won’t take her for ice cream. You know what I do?” he asks. He walks towards me, pausing a couple feet away.

  I smile and shake my head. The mention of his niece brings warmth to his features, replacing the tension from the conference room.

  “I hang her upside down by her feet. And then we go get ice cream.”

  “I’ll pass on being hung upside down,” I say with a small laugh. “But you can take me for ice cream.” Too late, I realize what I’ve said. I’m surprised by my words and even more surprised to realize I don’t regret them. At all.

  Dom studies me for a moment. “There’s a line right here” he draws an imaginary line between us “that we can’t cross until you’re eighteen.”

  I flush and look down.

  “If, in a few weeks, you want to cross it, call me,” he continues in the same soft voice. “I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

  My breath catches at his words. I meet his gaze again. He’s serious.

  “Totally up to you,” he says. He raises his hands in surrender and takes a few steps back.

  “After all this, you really want anything to do with me?” I can’t help the note of disbelief in my voice.

  “Just, if you’re … whatever. Interested. No pressure, though.”

  For the first time since I met him, Dom seems less-than-certain. Or flustered. Or … nervous?

  “Take care,” he says then turns and strides down the hall.

  I watch him. Then I smile. I don’t think this went the way either of us thought it would, but I’m thrilled by the idea that he just sort of asked me out. I thought I’d never want anything to do with men, but I’m beginning to think I want something to do with Dom.

  He disappears around a corner. I’m feeling close to the happiest I’ve been since the nightmare began this summer. Until the door to the dreaded con
ference room opens.

  “We need you to read over your statement and sign it,” Chris says, standing in the doorway.

  There goes any happiness. I trudge in. Rereading the long, long statement takes me to tears again. I sign it and pass it back to the DA. It’s near midnight when I walk out of the courthouse. Chris says nothing to me as we walk to the awaiting car and nothing when we get in.

  Finally, I ask him. “Did Daddy kick me out?”

  “No.”

  “It sounds like he did.”

  “The situation is not good,” Chris says vaguely.

  “Chris, please tell me what’s going on,” I beg. “And how Daddy found out about … about Saturday.”

  “I’m not sure, Mia. The leak didn’t come from Molly or me. I can’t inquire too much, or someone else will find out. How did Molly coordinate with you?”

  “We met for brunch and she texted me the room. And we talked about it over the phone once or twice.”

  “Has your phone been out of your possession?”

  “No, of course not. Well, actually, yeah,” I say. “For cheer practice.”

  He holds out his hand. I grudgingly hand over my phone.

  “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”

  “You think someone did something to it?” I asked, surprised.

  “It’s a possibility.”

  He looks out the window. I sense there’s a lot he’s not saying. I fidget without my phone.

  “You did well tonight,” he says. “I’ll deal with your father for the next few weeks. We have to prepare for the investigation to hit the papers, once they name Robert Connor.”

  I nod. “Are you serious about pulling me out of school?”

  “I’ve already called the school. You’ll finish out the school year online and with a tutor.”

  “Sounds awesome,” I mutter. “Why did you ask them to wait until I’m eighteen, if Daddy’s not gonna kick me out?”

  “I can’t guarantee he won’t,” Chris said, frustration in his voice. “Legally, he can tell the DA no up until your eighteenth birthday. Your mother is supporting you, but all he has to do is file a motion revealing her mental state is less than stable.”

  “Oh.”

  “We keep it quiet for two weeks, and then you’ll be eighteen and can decide for yourself.”

  “Chris, why are you helping me?” I ask.

  “Every once in awhile, I grow a conscience.”

  His tone is serious. I want to laugh but don’t. Before this summer, I never knew Chris was anything other than Daddy’s lackey. He’s been more of a father to me than my own.

  “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you.”

  “You keep me on my toes.”

  I snort. “I’m not cut out for the political life. I never understood it until my … incident. I never got that there are two faces to everyone around me. I never understood why I’m not like Molly or Mom.”

  “You understand now?”

  “Yeah. In two weeks, are you no longer my lawyer?”

  “I’ll handle this until it’s through.”

  “Just another issue, huh.”

  He looks at me. His game face is still on. “You’re doing the right thing, Mia. Stay focused on getting through this. I’ll be right beside you.”

  I don’t know why, but his words make my throat tighten again. I’m so tired and sick of always crying. Daddy hates me. Chris supports me. My two dads finally show their true colors.

  “Stay out of trouble and the press. Go to school, go to cheer practice, go to your community service. Don’t raise any suspicions, and don’t tell anyone about this, even Ari.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Shea’s working up a publicity package and damage control,” Chris says. “The Connors are going to know before the rest of the world.”

  “It sounds like we’re planning a war.”

  “Yeah. We are.”

  I don’t like the way that sounds. I’m happy I have a place to live, at least until I’m eighteen.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, I’m pissed. Chris took my iPad as I walked out the door, and I couldn’t coordinate with Ari about where to meet before class. I waited for her at her locker until I was late for class. I walk in and duck my head. Everyone stares at me as I make my way to the back of class.

  Benji smiles at me as I slide into the desk beside his.

  “Ari said to tell you she’s got the flu,” he whispers.

  “Seriously?” I ask, irritated. “Why’d she tell you and not me?”

  He shrugs. “Said she couldn’t get you on the phone last night.”

  Bitch. Leaves me alone at school to face Jenna and the rest of the world alone.

  “You wanna go out sometime?” Benji asks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but you’re hard to catch sometimes.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I just want to survive the next few weeks, until shit hits the fan and I’m trapped in my house for the rest of my life. “I’ve got a lot going on.” I can’t help thinking I’d rather have ice cream with Dom and his niece than go out with Benji.

  “Yeah, I know. It’ll take your mind off things.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I turn eighteen Friday. I’m having a party.”

  No way in hell. I never, ever want to go to another party.

  “Or we can go out Saturday,” he says at my silence. “You’re a September baby, aren’t you?”

  “October first,” I answer. “Thanks, but I’m not much of one for parties anymore.”

  “Oh, god, I didn’t even think of that,” Benji says, his eyes widening. “I mean, I don’t …”

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Sorry, yeah.” His face is red. “Maybe Saturday? Sound better?”

  I hesitate. Benji is tall and handsome, and I would’ve totally dived at the chance to date him last year. Or even, this summer, before the incident. So much has changed.

  “I think it’s just too soon for me,” I tell him honestly. “If you need a date, I can hook you up with Ari.” I almost laugh when I say the words. Normally, Ari has a line of men and I’m watching her try to pick which one.

  Our whispering draws the attention of the teacher, and we are quiet for a few minutes.

  “Hey, can you?” Benji asks, once the teacher turns her back. “Ask Ari?”

  “I can. And I know she’ll want to,” I tell him.

  If I had my damn phone or iPad, I could text her. I’m fidgeting again. By the end of the day, I’m ready to kill someone. I feel vulnerable and anxious without my phone. At cheer practice, Jenna won’t even look at me, probably because of something Chris said to her legal team. I dance hard and stay long, needing the outlet, until I see Fabio walk across the football field.

  With no phone, I have no concept of time. I arrive to the women’s clinic late, dressed in my cheer practice clothing, and still in an awful mood.

  Gianna passes me twice before stopping. I eye her.

  “Okay, rough day, I get it,” she says.

  “This has been the longest day of my life,” I moan. “I have no phone. I can’t stand it.”

  “You play sports?” she looks at my outfit.

  “I cheer.”

  “I noticed you’re a bit more talkative on days you cheer.”

  “I feel like I’m gonna explode most days.”

  I see her click into counselor mode and groan as she pulls up a chair. I rest my forehead on the desk, hoping she’ll take the hint.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I already have a shrink. I see him four days a week,” I reply.

  “How do you release stress?”

  “I don’t knoooooooow,” I groan.

  “I go to cheer practice, Gianna,” she says in a funny voice.

  I can’t help my smile. Sensing my thaw, she keeps at me.

  “Are you good at any sports?”

  “You’re not gonna stop bugging me are you?” I ask.
>
  “Persistence runs rampant in the family.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out.”

  Gianna doesn’t move.

  “Yes, I’ve played sports.” I sigh.

  “Which ones?”

  “Basketball, soccer and field hockey. Beating up the girl at school was really nice, too.”

  Gianna laughs. “Martial arts, maybe? You know, we encourage women to learn self-defense. It might help you adjust and get rid of some of that pent-up emotion.”

  “Never thought about self-defense,” I say. “A little late to learn.”

  “It’s never too late to learn.”

  “I’ll think about it. Do you have classes here?”

  “Yep. We have a gym here. Dom and our oldest brother, Tony, the other cop in the family, and a few other cops volunteer to teach self-defense a couple times a week.”

  “Um, maybe I’ll stick to basketball,” I say at Dom’s name.

  “I’ll show you. You can try it once and if you don’t like it -”

  “Wait, that’s the same thing you said about group counseling.” I frown.

  “I told you, I help people. Come on.”

  I follow her grudgingly. We walk through the medical area and through a hallway I haven’t explored yet. The door at the far end leads to a sagging gym that smells of old gym socks. Worn blue mats are set up on one side. Women are paired up and practicing throwing each other down.

  “Tonight’s class,” Gianna says, motioning to it. “Basketballs are there. We leave the mats out, in case people want to come and do yoga or stretch or anything.”

  My eyes are on the instructor. He’s not Dom, and he doesn’t look like he’s an older brother of the two siblings. I look over the gym.

  “You’re welcome to come here whenever,” Gianna says. “What other ways can you relieve stress in a healthy way?”

  “Daddy’s got a gym in the house,” I say.

  “Okay, good. Basketball, gym, cheer squad. Do you know how to tell you need to do something or do you hit the boiling point and snap?” As she talks, she moves back into the hallway, and we walk towards the medical clinic.

  “Snap usually,” I admit.

  “Maybe you should start doing something every day in the morning.”