Unfinished Business: A Bastards of Boston Novel

by Carina Adams

  “You guys finally decide to come take some classes?” Nick joked, knowing we’d never convince either to shed their jeans and step onto the floor.

  Tank shook his head. “Nah, man. We were in the area and wanted to bring Princess a birthday coffee.”

  I glanced at my desk. There was no Dunkies to be seen. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. The ass shrugged.

  “You didn’t pick up,” Matt held up his cell. “I didn’t know if you needed breakfast, too. So, we came here first.”

  My eyes narrowed. I didn’t believe him. “I already ate.”

  He nodded then glanced at my boss before glaring back at me. “We’ll let you get to work, then. See you tonight?”

  My lips moved into a smile on their own. Liam was supposed to come tonight. It felt like it had been years since I’d seen him instead of months. That much had happened. “Yep. I’ll be there.”

  After they left, each kissing a temple before they did, Nick frowned. “Why do they call you Princess? You’re the least pompous and snobby person I know.”

  “My boyfriend started it years ago. I was, like, thirteen and he had an obsession with Xena.” I bit my lip remembering how much Rob and I had laughed that day. “As we got older, he used it to be a dick. Apparently, it stuck.” I squished my face in disgust. “I hate it.”

  “Then I’ll never use it.” He drummed a tempo on the top of my desk. “It’s your birthday; don’t stay too long this afternoon. Okay?”

  With a wink, he headed for the line of punching bags.

  “Liam!” I squealed in delight, and launched myself into my second dad’s arms. “You made it!”

  He chuckled. “Of course, I did! Not every day your little girl turns twenty! Let me look at you.” He held me at arm’s length, his eyes moving over me in awe. “You’re bulking up!”

  I rolled my eyes and batted his hand away, too happy to care that he was picking on me. He’d laughed uncontrollably when I’d told him that I’d started a kickboxing class. Apparently the thought of someone as clumsy as me trying to hit something was humorous.

  I grabbed his hands and smiled up at him. There was no denying that he and Rob were related; they were almost the same height, very close to the same size, and both rough around the edges. However, where Rob was dark and dangerous, Liam was light and safe. His beard was long and shaggy, but his light gray hair was buzzed. The more I looked, though, the more similarities I saw.

  Both had wide foreheads and full, thick eyebrows. Triangular faces with pointed chins and wide cheekbones. Liam lacked the dimples that Rob had whenever he broke into a real smile. Being around his uncle made my heart ache and miss the man I’d realized I kind-of-loved even more.

  “I saw him today.” Liam read my thoughts.

  My fingers dug in. “How is he?”

  “He misses you. Had lots of questions about you, in fact. Is there something you want to tell me, young lady?”

  “Ohoo,” my brother answered as he threw his arm over Liam’s shoulders. “Somebody forget to tell you that they’re an item?” My face flamed. “Yeah.” Matty nodded as he continued, “It’s as awkward as it sounds. They’re either screaming at each other or sucking the other’s face off. Weird as fuck.”

  I flipped him off.

  Liam’s eyes narrowed a bit as he chuckled. “Interesting.”

  “Let’s eat!” I clapped my hands and turned back to the kitchen, desperate to change the subject.

  After a few hours of good food and laughs, the guys started to trickle out. Uncle Liam was staying at the duplex, so he left with Jeremy. He promised he’d come to the gym to see me the next day before he left for Maine.

  When it was just Matty left, he wrapped his arms around me and settled his chin on my head.

  “You gotta stop growin’ up, kid. You’re makin’ me feel old.”

  “Because twenty-three is so old, Matthew,” I teased.

  “Twenty-two for four more months!” he pointed out with a laugh. Then he turned serious. “Did Mom and Dad not come because they’re being assholes? Or because you didn’t invite them?”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to talk about it. My mom was still pissed I’d moved without telling her. And my dad and I were on rocky footing anyway.

  “Yeah.” My brother sighed. “Did you have a good birthday?”

  “I did.” I twisted my lips. “I wish he could be here. The only thing getting me through is knowing he’ll be here soon. Only a few more weeks, and this nightmare will be over.”

  Matty tensed.

  When he didn’t say anything, I pulled away and spun to face him. “What?”

  He swallowed.

  “What?” I demanded again.

  He cracked his jaw and sucked on his teeth. Whatever it was had to be really bad.

  “Tell me!”

  “It’s your birthday,” he explained meekly. “I don’t want to ruin it. We’ll talk tomorrow.” When I only stared at him, his nostrils flared. “They’ve found new evidence.”

  “What kind of new evidence?”

  “I don’t know. The DA hasn’t disclosed yet. All I know is that Rob’s lawyer is worried and no one is saying much. He told Liam to expect a guilty verdict.”

  “No!” I shook my head. “He can beat whatever it is. It can’t be that bad. There wasn’t any more evidence.”

  My brother nodded, but he looked completely deflated. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  He didn’t believe a word he’d just said. He thought Rob was going to be convicted. Matt had given up.

  After he left, I locked the door and got ready. I scrubbed my face clean, changed into jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt and slid into my flip-flops. Then, I headed for my closet.

  Buried in the bottom suitcase, the same place I’d put Dale’s letters, was the terrycloth bundle I’d hidden weeks ago. I didn’t know what the new evidence was or why it’d just come out, but I knew I held the smoking gun. Literally.

  The day I’d found the second gun, I’d created a plan. I’d spent hours on the computer at work, researching, to see what my options were. I’d hoped I’d never have to use it. But, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  I wasn’t letting Rob get convicted. There was no law I wouldn’t break. No line I wouldn’t cross. I would do whatever it took to save him.

  29

  Rocker

  New evidence. Two words that can break a man’s spirit. Especially when he’s behind bars and can’t get the answers he needs.

  I’d been awake all night, truly terrified for the first time. My lawyer hadn’t known what the new evidence was, but we’d known it was bad when neither the detectives nor prosecutors came to talk. They’d been trying to convince me to accept a plea deal for weeks, just so they didn’t have to take my case to trial. Whatever they’d found was concrete enough to change that.

  I sighed in relief when the guard came to take me to the visitation room. The unknown was a hundred times worse than having a visible threat. If I knew what was looming, what I was facing, I could make another plan, find a way around.

  My lawyer was grinning like a fool. He stood as soon as my cuffs were unlocked, and held out a hand.

  “Congratulations!”

  I stared at his hand wearily. “For what?”

  “They’re dropping the charges. In a few hours, you’re walking out of here a free man.”

  I didn’t understand. “You said there was new evidence.”

  “There was.” His smile got larger. “Evidence that proved your innocence.”

  I didn’t smile. I didn’t move. Instead, my mind whirled as I wondered what in the fuck my friends had done to get me out. There was not a single shred of evidence that could prove I was innocent.

  “And what type of evidence is that, exactly?” I probed.

  “Someone else confessed.”

  Harleys filled the front yard and overflowed onto the street. Thankfully they’d left a spot just big enough for us to park the truck in the
driveway. The music was loud, the booze was flowing, and people were everywhere.

  When I opened the passenger door, they all cheered. It seemed like hundreds of people crowded me at once, all congratulating me. I smiled and shook hands, but my eyes searched for the one person I wanted to see.

  “Robert!” Liam pushed his way through the crowd and hugged me, his relief clear.

  “You’re still here!” I slapped his back, grateful. When I’d seen him the day before I thought I’d never hug him again.

  “Where else would I be?” He stepped back and looked around, clearly uncomfortable.

  I laughed. “You don’t have to stay.” My friends were overwhelming on their best day.

  “I’m gonna head home, actually.” His eyes roamed around the room once more. “I have a feeling you won’t be here long.” He offered me a smug smile. “Bring that young lady of yours for supper soon, yeah?”

  I shook my head in mock confusion and fought a laugh. “Young lady?”

  “The woman you’re dating.” He tipped his head sideways and watched me closely. “I’ve been told her name is Princess.”

  I snorted at that. Fucking Matty, with his need to talk in code. “Yeah, well, I call her brat.”

  “Funny.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I just call her Cris.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. Someone shoved a beer into my hands. I laughed before I took a long drag. “What’s the fun in that?”

  “How long has that been goin’ on?” He wasn’t upset, just curious.

  “Truthfully?” I bit my cheek. “A few days before I went away.” I shrugged. “Seven years in the making.”

  The old man nodded. “’Bout fuckin’ time, son.” He slapped my shoulder. “I’ll see you both soon.”

  Before he could leave, I grabbed his arm. “Speaking of the brat, have you seen her?”

  He frowned. “I haven’t. Maybe she couldn’t get out of work.”

  Work? I thanked him and went in search of my best friend. Not once on the way home from the jail had Matt mentioned that Cris had gotten a job. Hell, not once in all the time he’d come to visit me had he said anything about her working.

  I found him with a group of Bean Nighe whores. Of course.

  “Welcome home, Rocker!” One cooed as she put her hands on my shoulders and pressed herself against me. “Can I get you anything?”

  I grabbed her wrist to stop her hand from sliding down my chest. “Yeah,” I snarled. “You can back the hell away from me and tell me if you’ve seen my girl.”

  Instead of retreating, she pushed closer. “I haven’t. We have time.”

  I lifted my head and glared at Matty, barely hanging on to my temper. He stepped in and gently guided the woman away before coming back. “Bean Nighe whores—really?”

  He swirled his bottle. “Actually, no.” He cleared his throat. “Our whores.”

  “Ours?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. They came with us.”

  I didn’t have the words to deal with him. Not right then. I ignored the bit of information and demanded more. “Where’s my girl?”

  His jaw ticked as he stared at me. Then his arms opened wide. “Plenty of ‘em here. Pick one.”

  “I already have one, asshole. Where’s your sister?”

  “You lied to me.” He rubbed his chin, looking everywhere but at me. “You coulda just told me about Slash.”

  “You wanna do this right now?”

  “Fuck, no.” He met my eyes. “Not really.” He took another drink. “She doesn’t know you’re out.”

  Fucker thought he was funny.

  “Really,” he continued. “She was pissed at me last night and hasn’t returned my calls. I left her a message to call me as soon as she got out of work.”

  Work. There was that word again. “Mind telling me why in the fuck my ol’ lady has a fucking job?”

  He shook his head in disgust. “You have no fuckin’ clue, brother.”

  “We said no. She said yes. We forbid it. She took the job,” Tank chimed in, throwing an arm around me and pounding my back. “Good to have ya back.”

  “Good to be back,” I told him. “Someone tell me where in the fuck my brat is.”

  Jeremy reached out a hand for me to shake, but I hugged him, too. I didn’t give two fucks if it made him uncomfortable. He needed to get used to it.

  “I’ll take you,” Jerm offered. “I want to get outta here anyway.”

  I didn’t bother to say good-bye to anyone. Me being home simply gave them another excuse to have a rippah. I doubted any of them would even notice I was missing.

  Jerm threw me my bike keys and told me to follow him to my apartment. Instead of going inside, he directed us down the street.

  “A gym?” I laughed, looking up at the sign. “She works at a fucking gym?”

  “Oh, it gets better,” Jeremy muttered before pushing open the door.

  The space reminded me more of a karate studio than a gym. The man behind the counter stood. “Jeremy.” He held out a hand.

  “Juliano.” Jeremy shook it. “We’re lookin’ for Cris. She around?”

  The Juliano prick surveyed me suspiciously. Apparently not liking what he saw, his face scrunched in disgust. “Haven’t seen her.”

  Jeremy stepped forward, not intimidated. “She was on at nine.”

  I didn’t know what pissed me off more. The fact that my girl worked in this place, the knowledge that her co-workers were keeping her from me, or the idea that Jeremy knew her schedule. Jesus, I hadn’t been gone that fucking long.

  Juliano nodded. “Yeah.”

  Another man, one a little smaller built than Juliano but just as menacing, came around the corner.

  “Hey, Jeremy! What’s doin’?”

  I needed to add the fact that everyone seemed to know my friend to my list of things to be pissed about. “

  “Lookin’ for Cris.”

  This man looked at us like we were crazy. He opened his mouth and then hesitated, as if he was going to lie. Then he let out a long breath. “She’s not here. She called out.”

  “What?” I demanded.

  The guy gave me a once-over but didn’t answer me.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Rocker, this is Nick.”

  I tensed at the name. Jesus, I’d gone all this time without one, but as soon as I was gone, they saddled me with a pathetic road name. I’d never get rid of it.

  “Nick is the guy Princess works for,” Jeremy clarified. “Nick, this is Cris’s boyfriend, Rob.”

  Instantly, Nick’s demeanor changed. He relaxed and a genuine smile broke his lips. He held out a hand. “No shit? I’ve heard a ton about you. Cris called me last night and said she had to handle stuff today and would miss her shift. Have you tried her cell?”

  I nodded. “I’ll keep tryin, thanks.”

  “The apartment?” Jerm asked as soon as our feet hit the pavement.

  “Yeah, let’s check.”

  She wasn’t at the apartment. Or at Tiny’s. Or with any of the other ol’ ladies. And she wasn’t picking up her fucking phone. I paced around our apartment, panicking, thinking through every possible solution.

  I grabbed the landline and dialed a familiar number.

  Mac picked it up after the first ring, but I didn’t let him talk. “Tell me someone has eyes on him.”

  Mac chuckled. “Hello to you, too. Congratulations on the release. I knew they’d have to let you go sooner or later. Only so long they can hold an innocent man.”

  “Mac,” I snapped. “Cris is missing. Tell me you know where Glass is.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  After Cris had moved down here, we’d waited for that douche canoe Glass to do something. Anything. When he hadn’t come near the apartment, I’d gone one step further and had Mac put someone on him. Not someone to watch every move he made, but someone to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t head this way.

  “He’s a janitor at a business complex. They’re looking at him r
ight now,” the old man told me. “And she ain’t anywhere in sight.”

  I grabbed a handful of hair. I was going to lose my fucking mind. Jeremy’s cell rang, but I didn’t pay attention. I searched the apartment, looking for something, anything to give me a clue where in the fuck Cris could have gone.

  “Rob.” I turned, giving Jeremy my attention. “We got a problem.”

  It was a goddamn nightmare. No one knew what in the fuck was going on or how in the fuck to fix it. All we knew for sure was that Cris had walked into the police station in Dorchester and announced that she’d killed someone. Then, she’d handed them a fucking gun.

  Three weeks had passed, and none of us had answers.

  “She’s holding up well,” Martin McCue, one of Boston’s best defense attorneys, assured us as he looked around the room. He’d finally agreed to a meeting after weeks of putting us off, but he didn’t seem happy to see that there were five of us.

  “It’s jail,” I growled from my seat between Liam and Christiania Murphy, Cris’s mom. “She’s manipulating the system, and the guards know it. It’s just a matter of time before they put her through hell.”

  I wanted her out of there as soon as possible.

  The lawyer shook his head. “No. She’s young. She’s sweet. She was a victim. The man she killed was a child abuser who had been arrested for numerous domestic assaults in the past. Half of those guards are proud of her. The other half are hoping she beats the charges.”

  I shook my head, completely disagreeing. A man like McCue had never seen the inside of a cell. He was clueless about the level of corruption that ran through correctional facilities.

  “The good news,” the attorney continued, “is that she kept her wits. She confessed before they read her the Miranda Rights. Once they did, she told them she wanted a lawyer and didn’t say another word until her public defender got there. The confession will be thrown out.”

  “Then why is my daughter still in jail?” Tina asked.

  “It has nothing to do with her confession. She had the murder weapon.” His eyes met mine.