I’d rather punch walls or spar with Kross.
“I love you, son.” Then he tapped my heart. “This should be reserved for the right woman,” he said with conviction. “Now, see how your mom is doing. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I left with my head swimming in a sea of mixed emotions from worry over my mom, to relief that I hadn’t left the safe open, to his words of wisdom. Right now the only woman in my heart was my mom. She was everything to this family, and if she relapsed, it would rip all of us to shreds, especially my father. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Slipping past the kitchen where Kross, Kody, and Lacey were whispering, I wound my way down through the house, not knowing what to say or how to rewind time and change the past—or even the past two days. I should’ve told Kade on Friday night. I should’ve told him yesterday. It wasn’t Lacey’s fault. This was on me. If I hadn’t gone over to Dillon’s, then he wouldn’t have approached Kade.
My parents’ bedroom was tucked away in its own wing. The door was cracked open. I poked my head in. Kade was sitting in one of the oversized chairs while my mom sat in a chaise longue. The seating area of the bedroom faced the French doors. It was pitch black outside, so it was hard to see anything.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Can I come in?”
Mom turned her head, her black hair shining from the soft glow of the floor lamp next to her.
I padded in on the plush tan carpet and settled onto the edge of the chaise longue. Kade rose then kissed Mom on her forehead and left.
She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Do you ever think of Gracie and how she’s doing?” she asked.
I placed my free hand over hers, soft and fragile. “I do.” It was the truth. Of course, Lizzie had dominated my thoughts over the years, but I’d occasionally wondered about Gracie.
“You know it’s supposed to snow again tonight. Maybe the angels will watch out for Gracie.”
“I’m sure they will, Mom.” I hoped they did.
“How is Elizabeth doing?” Sadness was stamped in her pretty blue eyes. “Have you seen her?” A lone tear escaped, trickling down her porcelain face.
I was officially going to hell. A son should never make his mother cry. “Briefly. I guess she’s doing okay.” I wasn’t certain about that. The girl didn’t want to see me or talk to me.
“I would like to see Gracie,” she said. “Is the family in Boston?” She withdrew her hand from mine then snagged a tissue from the box on the side table.
My mind raced. My father had just mentioned Mom never wanted to talk about the Reardons. “I don’t know.” Lizzie was in town. But did that mean her family was too? “Let’s talk with Dad first.” This was a decision for my father to make, although if it helped for Mom to talk with Gracie, I was on board. Although that meant I would have to see Lizzie again, and that alone scared the fuck out of me.
* * *
I bounced my knee as I sat in Mr. Davenport’s office, waiting on him to finish reading my résumé. He was poised behind his desk, pen in hand, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled three quarters of the way up his arm. Every now and then he traced a chunky finger over his bushy gray eyebrow.
I started to bounce my other knee as I fixated on Boston’s cloudy skyline. My nerves had been doing a number on me since Sunday. I hadn’t been able to think about much or focus, mainly because my old man had asked me to contact Lizzie. My mom had asked to see Gracie Reardon. My dad was elated. He’d been trying for years to bring up the Reardons with Mom. According to him, this was a huge step in the right direction for her, maybe for all of us. I wasn’t so sure about me. The more I saw Lizzie, the more her presence would tug at my heart, pulling and reeling a little at a time as though she was wrestling with a king mackerel. I was afraid I’d flop in the boat and confess my undying love, only for her to disappear.
Mr. Davenport cleared his throat. “Why do you want to be a lawyer, Mr. Maxwell?” He sat back in his leather chair, pen still in hand.
I squeezed my kneecaps to steady them. “To defend the innocent.” Ever since I’d begun watching the legal series Perry Mason with my mom, I’d wanted to be a lawyer.
He cocked an eyebrow. “And what if your client isn’t innocent?”
“I don’t plan on representing those who are not. If they’re guilty, they can find another attorney. Here at your law firm, don’t you choose who you represent?” The last sentence came out a little cockier than I wanted.
He harrumphed as he studied me over his reading glasses. “Sometimes clients lie.”
I lifted a shoulder. “If they do, then I drop them. I believe in the law. It’s there to protect people and to reprimand those who disobey it. Why would I want to defend someone who committed a murder? I’m not about making a name for myself like some attorneys who just want to be on television. I’m about protecting people, and since I don’t want to be a cop, I can at least protect their rights.” I didn’t exactly need to get a job at this law firm. However, I did want to make my old man proud.
“I see you worked at Brady, Schlenk, and Schiel last summer, and you’re now working as a model for an art class. Elaborate on the modeling job.”
“It pays well.” Mr. Brewer paid me a hundred dollars an hour to pose. He’d said I kept his classes full of students, which in turn was job security for him. “And it’s only two hours a week, which gives me time to concentrate on school.” My old man had said my modeling job might raise questions with Mr. Davenport.
“My daughter Trudy tells me you pose naked?” His dark eyes were appraising.
“With all due respect, Mr. Davenport, what does me posing naked have to do with a job in your law firm?” He probably didn’t like his not-so-innocent daughter ogling naked men in a prestigious learning institution.
He sat forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “Mainly that I run a tight ship around here, and a clean one. I don’t need naked pictures of the summer intern floating around the office. Neither myself nor Human Resources would be pleased when complaints started rolling in.”
“I can assure you, I won’t be passing them around.” I didn’t need the hassle—or women groping me. “And the pictures of me are tastefully done paintings. Mr. Brewer is also very strict about his rules regarding no camera or cell phone use during class.” Brew had caught one student snapping a picture with her cell phone, and he kicked her out, but not before he’d deleted the picture.
He fiddled with the expensive pen, the pressure building between us. “Have you ever been in trouble with the law? A police record?”
A background check had been part of the application process, and as I’d stated then, I said, “No, sir.” Sure, I’d been in fights, but Kade had taken the blame. Or I’d gotten lucky. Like the time Kade, Hunt, and I had gotten into a brawl with Greg Sullivan and Aaron Seever. Thanks to Pitt’s relationship with BPD, we hadn’t been thrown in jail that night.
“Good. We don’t hire anyone who’s on the wrong side of the law.”
He went on to explain what he expected out of me if I were selected. Thirty minutes later I left, undoing my tie. I’d answered the questions truthfully, and I’d been polite and professional. From there it was a waiting game. Three candidates sat in the reception area. One was whiter than the handkerchief poking out of his suit pocket. I did want the job, but at that moment, my mind was elsewhere. My future was important, but not as important as my family.
It was time to hunt down Lizzie, as my father had asked. I just had to restrain the feelings I had when I was around her.
10
Lizzie
I was surprised at how close the hostel was to Zach Malden’s place. Apparently he was living in an affluent part of Boston known as Beacon Hill. I gaped at the richness of the neighborhood. Townhomes in Louisburg Square listed upward of eleven million dollars, and the area was one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the USA, according to the Internet.
I clenched my fists. If Zach Malden lived in one of those homes, h
is father had to be filthy rich. Hopefully my inheritance hadn’t contributed to the purchase of an elegant piece of property. Snow crunched beneath my boots with every step I took down the brick sidewalk. Maybe I would get lucky and Terrance would be home. I let out a nervous laugh. I was ready to threaten him into giving me my money back. The Taser Dillon had given me was secured in the backpack I had draped over my shoulder. I’d never threatened or harmed another human in my life. But as the cliché said, desperate times called for desperate measures.
I checked Zach’s business card. I was looking for number twelve. The number fourteen was tacked on the brick townhome on my right. The street was quiet for a Wednesday morning, the scenery reminding me of a postcard picture, with fluffy snow blanketing the park that split the street in half and old-fashioned streetlamps poking out every few feet.
As I approached my destination, I saw a girl sitting on the stairs bundled up in a parka and a light-blue, furry knitted hat. She was wiping tears away with her gloved hands when I stopped at the bottom of the stone steps.
“Chloe?” I rarely forgot a face.
Her eyes were red, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “Emma? Do you live around here?” She sniffled.
Seriously? Me, live around here? In a month I would have debt collectors on my butt, or at least a large-bellied landlord hunting me down. I wouldn’t put it past the man to send out his search dogs. Dillon had said he didn’t want the mafia on his ass. Well, I didn’t want a raging Latino man on mine. His temper probably surpassed that of any mafia man.
I pressed a booted foot onto the bottom step, quickly glancing at the number twelve above the green door. “Did Kelton hurt you? I can kick his ass for you.” I had once or twice when we were kids. I wouldn’t mind tussling with him again, if only to touch him, to feel what it would be like to roll around on the ground with his hard body tangled with mine.
She smiled, but it never reached her brown eyes. “No.”
Then it dawned on me: if Chloe was there, was Kelton? I had to think. I couldn’t walk into Zach’s house if Kelton was there. I wasn’t sure if he would recognize me with the red wig on or not. So what if he did? He already knows who you are. That might be, but he would have questions, and if Kelton made a scene and I had to expose myself, I couldn’t risk Zach seeing the real me. We’d met once years ago. I didn’t know if he knew his father’s friends. If he did, then he certainly would at least know the name Reardon. At the moment, he didn’t know my full name. The other problem I had was that Kelton didn’t know what I was up to. He definitely would try to stop me. Or if he and Zach were chummy, Kelton would more than likely protect his friend.
“So are you waiting on Kelton?” Please say no.
“Kelton and I aren’t together anymore.”
She was a sweet and beautiful girl. “I thought you two were getting married? You seemed happy at the art gala.” Kelton hadn’t, but she had.
She wiped her nose. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice rose. “There isn’t a girl on this planet that could snag Kelton. He’ll never settle down.” She flicked another worried glance at the townhome.
My heart was doing a happy dance that they weren’t an item. But in an instant, I squashed it. Single or not, I couldn’t get involved with Kelton. “Does Kelton live here?”
The door to the townhome opened with a click, causing Chloe to jump to attention, blocking my view. I was reluctant to move to see who was coming out of the house.
“Chloe, why did you leave?” Zach asked in what sounded like a sleepy voice. “We need to talk more about—”
A mousy sound escaped me. She didn’t waste any time finding another man. Then heat thawed my frozen cheeks. I liked Chloe and didn’t know the whole story. Shame on me for judging her. Zach could be painting a portrait of her. Or they could be friends. But the tension between them was telling me differently.
“Zach, I have to go.” Chloe moved to her right, exposing me.
Like an idiot, I waved as if I was the queen in a Fourth of July parade.
Zach’s eyelids were droopy. He rubbed his hand over his bare chest then the curly hair matted to his head. He checked his watch.
“On the phone, you did say Wednesday at ten a.m. But I can come back.”
Chloe stood on the stairs as if the cold had turned her into a statue. “I have class.” She bolted like white lightning.
“Chloe!” Zach called as he stomped out in his bare feet. “Shit.” Then he mumbled other words I couldn’t make out.
Awkward was an understatement. I thought to say something snarky to him or even kick him in the balls for making her cry, but one, I had my own problems, and two, I couldn’t piss him off.
“Seriously, I can come back.” I didn’t want to postpone my plan, but I needed his full attention. I had to befriend him before he would tell me the whereabouts of his father. Or maybe I had to revert to my other plan of kidnapping him. I wasn’t ready for the latter. I had to find a place to hide him first. I could tie him up in my room at the hostel. No one would be the wiser. I hardly ever saw a cleaning lady, and the place was pretty loud most of the time. People would just think he was grunting from great sex. I held in a laugh.
“No, Brew wants me to help you.” He waved his hand toward the open door. “Come on.”
I trudged up the steps and into the warm foyer. My eyes bugged out. I was like one of those bobbleheads as I took in the palatial home. A curved elegant staircase commanded the room, reminding me of a snippet out of Cinderella. Shiny wood floors ran throughout the first floor. A formal dining room sat to my right, a library to my left.
I twitched when the door closed. “Wow. Nice place.” My voice was sweet as I envisioned beating his father until he gave me my money back. “Are your parents home?”
Zach came up beside me. “My mom lives in Chicago, and I haven’t a clue where my father is, other than that he doesn’t live here. Let me put a shirt on.” He pointed to the library. “Have a seat in there. I’ll be right back.” He hesitated, apparently unsure of his next move. All of a sudden he took the stairs two at a time.
Calm down. Just get to know him. He’ll cave. I wasn’t so sure about that, at least not today. Zach’s mind seemed preoccupied with Chloe.
I made my way into the library. Bookcases covered two walls from floor to ceiling, and a leather sectional sofa sat in front of a marble fireplace. On the opposite side of the room, a massive wooden desk stood proud in front of curved windows overlooking the park across the street. I set my backpack down on the floor near the sofa then perused the bookcases, checking out the rich leather-bound works of Poe, Thoreau, Shakespeare, and other greats in literature.
Zach’s voice broke my attention. “Do you like reading?”
He’d donned a pair of jeans and a BU T-shirt and appeared to have splashed water on his head to tame the curls.
“Only when I have to for school.” I’d rather use my free time to play paintball or work out at the gym. “Your parents sure have great taste in décor.”
He strode over to the desk, his thick thighs eating up the space. “My parents don’t own this place. A friend of my old man’s is out of town for the winter. I’m just house-sitting it for him.”
“Your father has some rich friends. Doesn’t one of the Kennedys own a home on this street?” I’d read that on the Internet.
He snagged a sketchpad and a handful of colored pencils from the desk then plopped down on the sofa. “You’re here so I can show you some technique, not to discuss my old man.” The last three words were spoken with disgust. Maybe he would help me after all, since he didn’t appear to be enamored with his father. Then again, family usually stood above all else.
“Sorry.” I joined him on the couch. “I know how parents can get under your skin,” I lied. Sure, my parents and I had argued, but I’d never spoken about them as though I hated them.
He spread out the pencils and opened the sketchpad on the wooden coffee table. “You don’t know my father.” He pick
ed up a blue pencil.
Yes I do. Then a frightening thought occurred to me. If he didn’t get along with his father, would Terrance pay the ransom for his son’s safety? My plan was unraveling even before I had a chance to put the wheels in motion.
“He can’t be that bad.”
“Does your father gamble away your college fund?” The pencil in his hand split in two.
I choked. His father gambled. Which meant my money was gone. Alarms blared in my head. Don’t panic yet. You don’t know that for sure.
He patted me on the back. “Would you like some water?”
Tears stung my eyes as I swallowed and cleared my throat. “I need to go.” I stood. “I’ll tell Mr. Brewer it was my fault I had to reschedule.” I could give two cents about my art teacher.
“Wait,” Zach said.
I flew out of the library, into the foyer, and right into a hard chest. I craned my neck up and into my past. Someone please, please kill me now. I couldn’t get away from Kelton. He shouldn’t have been there. Sure, Zach and Kelton knew each other from art class, but I hadn’t gotten the feeling they were friends.
His strong hands gripped my arms, but the heat of his palms did nothing to take away the cold inside me. “Whoa. Easy. Did Zach do something to hurt you, Emma?”
I shook my head, my nose brushing his rain-scented dress shirt. My gaze traveled up at a slow place, landing on his strong jawline. It sported a menacing shadow.
He dropped his hands, and I ran to the door.
“Emma,” he called.
I turned the knob.
“Lizzie?”
I closed my eyes and almost lost all of the air in my lungs. Why was I surprised? It had only been a matter of time before Kelton connected Emma and me. I glanced at Kelton. He cocked an eyebrow. Yeah, you figured me out. And as much as I longed to stay and catch up on old times, I wasn’t in any state of mind to answer questions. I flew out of the townhome as if I was the Flash. I kept running for four blocks before I stopped to catch my breath. Then tears poured out, turning into icicles along my cheeks. I wasn’t one to give up, but I wasn’t sure how many more hurdles I had to overcome to get back what was mine.
Dare to Love (Maxwell #3) Page 10