Mr. Preston is on duty today, a retired police chief from a small town not too far from here. His wife works as a cook in the home of the Spencer's, a bigger gossip than my mother. What was about to happen here today would be all over the community before we made it to the gate. Officer Preston pulled the cart so it blocked Zach from immediately leaving. Ridiculous if you ask me, he could just back up and be gone in a flash.
"Mrs. Forrester, what seems to be the problem?" He questioned as he adjusted his ball cap. His pepper spray and radio were housed in the black utility belt that sagged around his hips.
"Officer Preston, I need you to remove this hooligan from my property. He is trespassing and unwelcome." This was easier than I thought, words meant to embarrass Zach would ignite the spread of the gossip. Officer Preston turned his attention to a slightly smiling Zach, leaning against the seat of the bike. Looking sexy as hell with his amused expression and lickable lips.
"Sir, can I see some identification?" I didn't expect that, but it was going to make what was about to happen that much sweeter.
"I don't want to know his name. I want him escorted off my property, immediately."
Officer Preston ignores my mother, signaling to Zach he did indeed need to see his identification. "Ma'am, I have to know who we are escorting off the property so we can place him on an alert list. If he returns after I escort him off, he can be arrested." The pleased smirk, which appeared on my mother’s face, would be short lived. Preston took Zach's driver's license, adjusted his eyeglasses and addressed him with respect. "Zachary Michaels, you are hereby asked to remove yourself from—"
I've never seen my mother do anything quickly, with the exception of handing her credit card over to a sales lady. However, the moment the officer spoke Zach's last name she shouted a firm, "Stop!"
All eyes turned in her direction. "Wha...what did you say?" This was my moment. I wouldn't get the opportunity to watch my father ask her for a divorce. To witness him separating her from the life she craved and the reality her reign was about to end, but I could see the beginning of her dethronement.
"Oh...did I forget to mention I was dating a Michaels?" I placed my hand over my mouth and widened my eyes in mock surprise. "Well, it must have completely slipped my mind." I turned to see Zach placing his driver's license back into his pocket; a smile forming, as he knew this was pure enjoyment for me. "Doesn't really matter now though, because you've asked him to leave."
"Wait!" The desperation was vibrating in her voice, a nightmare being created right before her very eyes. "For what, Mommy? You've asked Zach to leave, which is what we're doing. I wouldn't want to get him arrested knowing his mother would be upset. Although, I'm not certain she won't be, once she learns how you asked him to leave when he was invited by your daughter." Not wanting any real response from her, I turned my attention to Officer Preston. "Thank you so much for your quick response, we’ll be on our way. Please give your beautiful wife, Carol, a hug from me. I do hope she is doing well."
Turning away, I ignored my mother calling my name, pleading for me to stop and listen. I straddled the bike wrapping my body around Zach. He gave her a two-finger salute and tore out of there as if we had just stolen the bike from her. I reveled in the feeling of freedom. Not only from riding on the back of this monster of a bike, but freedom from the chains my mother had shackled me with, dominating my every move, thought, and controlling every action and reaction. I can finally place that part of my life behind me, like the distance we were traveling, the memories faded with each passing mile.
Squeezing Zach's midsection tighter, I place all my trust in his skills. I enjoyed the rush each twist and turn along the back roads gave me. With a final switch of gears, he pulled the bike over onto a secluded dirt road, adjacent to a small pond. Not a word was said as we held each other, and gazed out over the still water, enjoying the moment. The hard ground caused my butt to become numb and I finally relented, needing to get up and move around. Attempting to free myself from Zach's caged arms was a struggle as he wasn't ready to let go.
"Just a second more," he whispered against my temple. His fingers found my cheek turning my face toward his. "I was proud of you today. I know it took a lot of courage to stand up to your mother." His eyes flicked back and forth between mine, searching for something; reassurance, courage, I didn't know. What I did know, was the man who sat silently and gave me the stage to handle the situation as I chose, was my entire world. In a perfect move that completed a perfect day, his lips touched mine, reverent and respectful.
"You are an amazing woman, Kennedy. You always try and see the positive, even when nothing but negativity is looking back at you." He pauses, but the way he looks at me, tells me everything I need to hear. “I love you. It was easy as breathing to fall for you." His touch tells me this is for real, that it's okay for me to admit what I kept hidden for so long. Too worried he wouldn't return my feelings.
"I love you, too."
As the sun took its final dance against the peaks of the water, I embraced the man who had, not only rescued me from my dreary life, but also gave me hope something much better was on the horizon.
***
"Surely you can understand my concern, Claudia."
Emma Michaels had the voice of an angel, even when she was telling someone something they didn't want to hear. Just as I suspected, the ladies in my mother's neighborhood had spread the news of Zach being asked to leave the property.
"I have spoken in great length with my son, and your daughter, for that matter. Everyone's story is exactly the same, except for yours."
Zach had driven me over to his parent's house after our confession, Emma was in the developmental stages of getting a group of ladies together for a new campaign she wanted to start. Just like at my mother's home, Emma was waiting on her front steps, only she was smiling and welcoming me with hugs and praises.
"Honestly, Claudia, I had you on my short list as chairperson for the committee. You can certainly understand why I will need to remove your name, as this incident shows me exactly the type of person you are."
Last night, we sat around Emma's kitchen table where I spoke in great detail about why I did what I did. I shared with the both of them how good it felt to speak my mind and not what was expected of me.
"Claudia, he was wearing a five thousand dollar leather jacket! It was not something I bought on the clearance rack at one of your resale shops." It was a jab, and a good one. Mother's biggest charity was her thrift store on the lower east side. She had never stepped a foot inside it, but boasted about how it helped the neighborhood.
"I fail to believe you would not recognize the maker of the jacket since I know for a fact you were in a bidding war for a handbag with Lauren Wilkins last fall.” I remember the event fondly. The same company who made Zach's jacket released a line of handbags, only five of which were sold in the US. Mother was determined to have one in her collection. When she learned Lauren was bidding against her, the gloves came off. I don't know the particulars, but Lauren owns the bag in question.
“Furthermore, the death machine you are referring to, is a custom made motorcycle and we won't even speak of the costs. Claudia, we can have this conversation for as long as you wish. I can appreciate your explanation of the events, which occurred; however I cannot be swayed to change my mind as to your place on my team. I refuse to have a member who shows such distaste for a human being, only to flip on a dime when it's discovered who he is or, more importantly, who his family is. Do not think for one moment I have not heard how you abandoned your own son due to his choice in occupation. And ordering your grown daughter to the confines of her room because she showed up on the back of an expensive motorcycle, instead of the back seat of a Rolls-Royce."
My eyes bugged out my head and my hand covered my mouth. Emma's voice was slightly elevated and I detected a slight attitude in her tone. It was joyous, yet frightening at the same time.
"My daughter!" Emma shouted into the phone, her hand
coming to rest on her chest. “If you would have kept the lines of communication open with your children, not shutting them out because they’ve chosen to avoid the mold you crafted for them, you would know that my daughter is practically living with your son—the tattoo artist. And while we are on the subject, you might want to remind your oldest daughter to use an alias when checking into an Atlanta hotel with a man other than her husband."
After Emma's declaration, the room fell silent and I could tell by the look on her face the conversation was at a standstill. I could mentally see my mother, standing in her ten thousand dollar shoes, gasping for air. This was so much better than anything I could have planned myself. Jason would only be upset he didn't get to watch our mother fall apart with his own eyes.
"You need to take a minute and do some serious soul searching, Claudia. Get a handle on the things in your life before it's too late, if it's not already."
***
The hearing to decide if my petition for a restraining order would be granted was this afternoon. Dad and Zach showed up as a unified front, dressed in tailored suits with shaved faces. We climbed into my father’s town car, his normal driver holding the door open wide for us. Zach wrapped his arm around me, tucking me into the protection of his body. As we made our way into the city, the car swayed with the irregularities in the road as we approached the Court House. Dad assured me I had nothing to worry about, and the way Zach held me confirmed his words to be true.Today must have been a busy day for hearings; the hallway outside the courtroom was filled with men in orange waiting to have their time before the judge. I was about to tell Zach we could go sit down, when a deep voice to my left spoke my name.
"Kennedy?" Jerking my attention in the direction of the voice, I came face to face with Ethan. Dressed in jeans, a button up shirt and boots, with his left arm in a sling, and a bandage over his right eye. I would have thought the horse defending me would have been a deterrent; apparently this was not the case.
“Ethan.” Fear tickled at the edge of my resolve, causing me to pull at Zach’s arm involuntarily.
"I’ve told you we’re meant to be together, why you fight it I cannot understand. If I were you, I would find something else to do besides testify at this trial." The threat coming from his menacing voice hung in the air. I was frozen, until I heard the response from behind me, a response that was equally as menacing.
Zach's fingers dug into my shoulder, pushing me toward my father. "You’re really gonna do that here? Threaten her like that?"
Ethan never responded with words. With a sneer growing on his face, he looked to Zach, and then to my father before walking into the courtroom. Zach pulled out his phone as the door closed behind Ethan.
“He can’t hurt you, Darlin’.” My father assured me as he kissed my temple.
The door opened again and a man in uniform stepped out. “Forrester?” he called in a raised voice, the sound echoing in the massive hall.
“That's us, Darlin’. Remember what I said, he can't hurt you.”
Zach is still on his phone when I turn around to look for him, his eyes full of anger and determination as they lock with mine. I watch as he tells whomever he is talking to he will see them later, ending his call.
I’m not sure what I expected out of the hearing, but in less than seven minutes, after my father stood before the judge presenting the facts, I was granted an order of protection. As the gavel came down on the wooden desk of the judge, Ethan laughed, shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he left the room. Having this order of protection gave me permission to let out the breath I had been holding since he walked into the stables.
***
Since the beginning, Zach and I have spent every possible hour together. He usually tried to bribe me to spend the night with him, kissing my neck or using his wandering hands. Tonight as I washed the final plate and he dried, placing it back in the cabinet, I waited for the groping to begin. When he grabbed his car keys and explained he had an early appointment in the morning, I nodded, trying to cover my disappointment. The ride back to my apartment was quiet and I wasn't certain if it was due to my repeated decline of his advances or something, someone, else.
I tried not to read anything into his mood, after all we are all entitled to be 'off' every once in awhile, but as I stared at the shadows on the ceiling, my mind refused to shut off. Finally, in exasperation, I tossed the covers back and grabbed my own set of keys.
It was well after one in the morning, so the streets between Zach's house and mine were empty. I tried to plan what I would do. Would I just crawl in bed with him and try to make up for all the refusals I have dished out over the past several months? He had given me a key months ago, encouraging me to come and go as I pleased.
Pulling around the house, I locked my car and slid my key into the lock of his back patio door. Oddly, his alarm wasn't engaged; perhaps he was too tired and simply forgot. Stepping into the kitchen, I notice movement to my right. Shifting my eyes, I expected to find Zach standing with a bottle of water or a late night snack. Instead, I found a dark haired, wide-eyed girl, dressed in a t-shirt and nothing else.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oh, um. Zach is—”
“No,” I interrupt, my hand extended in her direction. “No need to explain.” Turning as quick as I possibly could, I ignored whatever the girl is calling after me. Climbing into my truck, the engine roars to life as I turn the ignition, slam it into gear, and pull out of the driveway.
When did I become so desperate for love and affection that I tossed away my sense of self-preservation? How blind had I become to let a man pull the wool over my eyes? Zach came in like a superhero, dressed in camouflage and a bright smile, swearing to me he was, “just trying to do the right thing.” The irony of the situation, I’d assumed because Zach had a good story to tell and didn't ask for money, he was one of the good guys.
I watched the sun filter through the clouds as I waited to see Zach pull up to the shop for his early morning appointment, but it never happened. Jason came strutting up the sidewalk with a smile glossing his face, looking happy and content. I wouldn't rob him of that just because I had the ability to attract the worst people in the world. Taking my keys in hand once again, I powered off my phone and made the six-mile journey to my father's house.
I have always loved the condo my father kept downtown. It's quaint and has comfortable furnishings, not to mention, my mother absolutely hated how simple it was. I was taking a huge chance my father was home this morning or if he would be alone. To my knowledge, my father had still not presented my mother with divorce papers, or stopped seeing Leeann. My hand reached up, grasped the ring that ran through the nose of the metal horse, and tapped it against the door three times. I was about to turn around and leave when the door opened, revealing my father in his suit and tie, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
"Sweetheart?" My father's voice laced with concern, giving me the needed courage to throw on the fake smile I wanted to hide behind. If only for today, I will pretend my life was anything but what the evidence was telling me.
"Dad, I apologize for showing up unannounced."
He held out his hand inviting mine to join his. "This is your home, too. You never need a reason to come over."
I remember when I was six, sitting at the bar in this kitchen, swinging my socked feet back and forth as I watched my mother cook eggs. Once dad started making money, those duties fell to the staff she insisted on hiring. Now, I sit in the same chair, albeit a little more worn than before, drinking the coffee my father proudly made for me.
"I know you’re a very busy man and have more clients to see than hours in the day, but—"
Taking my shoulders in his hands and looking directly in my eyes, he responded with some of the sweetest words any man has ever uttered to me. "My day can wait. I would be honored to spend time with my little girl."
After a quick call to his secretary to
clear his schedule, we settled onto the sofa beneath the bay window in his study. I loved this room, with its abundant light and soft colors. We laughed and spoke of events going on in the city. Eventually, we decided to attend a street festival happening around the corner. Never once did he question me about where Zach was or what he would think. It was just my dad and myself, enjoying the different merchants and the arts and crafts they sold. As we visited the last booth, the rich smell of cooking food caught our attention. Dad said there was a little diner just up the block, so we began to make our way in that direction.
The diner was more of a sports bar, complete with pool tables and a plethora of television screens covering the walls. I found an empty booth and slid into the seat. The men sitting at the bar were laughing as they told tales of women and war, each trying desperately to out tell the guy next to him. I enjoyed people like this, they were real and genuine. The man behind the bar took our request for draft beers and delivered them with a smile. Dad ordered the largest hamburger they had on the menu and I followed with chicken wings.
"To more days with my beautiful girl." My father toasted, holding his glass high. I smiled as I accepted, clinking my glass and then nearly devouring the cold beverage. Dad leaned back, his face telling me the quiet and gentle part of our day was about to end. He wasn't a stupid man; he knew I would have a motive for showing up on his doorstep at the crack of dawn. However, a man yelling, "turn it up" from the back of the bar caused both of us to look at the massive television screen hanging behind the bar.
Breaking news flashed across the screen. A man in a suit with a microphone in hand filled the picture, while his lips moved as he motioned to the events happening behind him. The barman turned and pointed the remote to the screen and the indicator at the bottom showed the level of the volume increased. A hush came over the bar as the newscaster began his tale.
Signed, SEALed, Delivered (Trident Brotherhood #1) Page 17