Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  Without even thinking, I reverse my car and go onto the opposite lane. The closer I get to the moving figure, the more horrified I am by her condition. She's wearing a black jacket over a white dress that almost reaches the floor. She's virtually limping as she trudges her way forward. She recognizes my car as she stops and changes direction, coming straight at me.

  I stop by the road and open the passenger door. She jumps in, and I drive at full speed, hearing more and more bullets aimed at us.

  I don't know how I manage to avoid all of the shots, but somehow, I do. When I'm out of range, I keep driving around to make sure no one is following us. I exit the highway and do a few rounds within a neighborhood before parking at a gas station.

  As I stop the car, I'm breathing hard. The shock of what just happened still hasn't worn off as I raise my hands and look at my trembling fingers.

  I can't even bear to spare a glance to Bianca, knowing that once I see the state she's in, my heart is going to break. We sit in silence for a while, and I'm getting progressively more concerned that she's not saying anything. I'm even afraid to ask her if she's alright.

  "I'm fine." She finally utters the words I'm dying to hear. I close my eyes and take a big breath.

  She continues, "Really. You should have seen how many I took out." What? Is that what she's concerned with now? Does she think I care how many people she killed?

  "You fool..." I mutter, and not being able to help myself any longer, I grab onto her arms and drag her towards me, hugging her close, more for my benefit than hers.

  "You fucking fool... how could you even think to do this?" There's a pressure building between my eyes, and I hold onto her even tighter.

  "Ah." She whimpers, and I'm jolted back to reality. Is she hurt? What's wrong?

  "Shit. Are you ok? Where are you hurt?" When she's not replying to my question, I start to look for myself, surveying her clearly swollen cheek and internally wincing.

  I continue to probe at her, almost wrenching the jacket off her shoulders in my attempt to look for further injuries.

  She stops my hands and removes the jacket herself. But when I see that her dress is torn in the middle, her breasts hanging out, her entire upper body bruised, I lose it.

  "Tell me nothing happened." I beseech her, already feeling myself spiraling into the what-ifs.

  "Please tell me nothing happened to you." I don't know what to do anymore. I feel so helpless, seeing her in this state, and knowing I did nothing to stop her. I hold her close to me, and I rock back and forth with her.

  "Nothing happened. I promise." She whispers, but I don't believe it.

  "You're sure?" I cradle her head between my hands and look her in the eyes, praying that she's not lying to me. "Don't ever do that again. Ever... You have no idea what hell you put me through, B. Please... Never again." I'm imploring her at this point, but I don't care. The thought of losing her... I can't even contemplate that.

  "Yes, never again." She assures me, but I don't know if I believe her. "Promise..." She trails off, and I feel her drop limp in my arms.

  "B?" I ask tentatively, and when she doesn't answer, I start shaking her. "Bianca?"

  "...stop...tired...sleep." She mumbles incoherently, and I let out a deep sigh. She's fine.

  I then notice the blood on her arm and the gaping wound right below her shoulder.

  Shit.

  I carefully place her in her seat, buckling her seat belt, and then I drive back to our motel. It's not entirely easy taking her inside, especially with all the blood. I try to cover her as best as I can with the jacket she was wearing, and I proceed to carry her inside.

  When I reach our room, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of pure relief. I put her on the bed and make another trip to the car to take the shopping bags, feeling extremely satisfied with myself for having the foresight to plan ahead.

  I undress Bianca, and with a wet cloth, I start cleaning her body, feeling a little bit more comforted when I see the paint coming off her skin.

  So, this is what Vlad meant when he was telling me about her preparation. When I've washed her from head to toe, only a couple of real bruises are left. I apply some pain-relieving ointment to those areas, and then I start focusing on the wound on her shoulders.

  The wound is pretty deep. I bathe it in saline water, and then I start applying super glue to hold it together until we can get a doctor to look at it. I pinch the skin so that the glue takes and then hold it.

  Bianca winces once or twice in her sleep. Once I'm satisfied with the glue, I start wrapping her arm up with a clean bandage.

  Sitting on the floor, I unscrew a bottle of water and take a few gulps.

  I keep staring at Bianca's sleeping form and debate how to move forward.

  She arouses so many emotions in me that I can't think straight... Not when she's risking her life and putting herself in harm's way. Those hours spent in my car, following the movements of the watch's hands, were the most terrifying of my life. The worry and the countless what ifs... I don't think I ever want to go through that again.

  It was also when I realized that for all the heartache she's caused me, I can't have her out of my sight. I'd surely go crazy wondering if she's taking other unnecessary risks. And then there was the moment in the car when I'd seen her so worn out but still smiling at me.

  That's when I knew I could never let her go...

  I comb my fingers through my hair and let out a frustrated groan.

  I'm an idiot. I know I am.

  After all, she's done to me, I'm still the same besotted fool. And I can't imagine my life without her...

  I own up to it. I fully admit it may not be the sanest decision, but it is the best one for me.

  I just love her... I love her with her obsessive tendencies and her stubborn streak. I love her with her devotion and selflessness because I don't believe for a moment that she doesn't feel love for me. Not when she just put her life on the line to help fulfill my wish.

  Who does that if not someone who loves deeply?

  I watch over her for a few more hours, and when I see signs that she's about to rouse, I take out some of the food I'd purchased before and make her something to eat.

  "Adrian?" Her voice croaks as she slowly opens her eyes to look at me. I set the food on the night table next to her bed, and I crouch down next to her.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Good... I think. Water?" I take a bottle of water and hand it to her, helping her sit up, so she doesn't choke on it.

  "Thanks," she mumbles and proceeds to empty the entire bottle.

  "Here. Eat this, and we'll talk." I give her a sandwich and watch as she zooms in on the food and dives in with a hearty appetite.

  "Easy." I stroke her hair and give her a lazy smile, which she briefly returns before going back for more food.

  "You... have no idea... how hungry... I was." She says in between mouthfuls of food.

  She quickly finishes everything I'd gotten her, and I'm happy to see she's regained some color in her cheeks.

  "You did this?" She points towards her bandaged arm, and I nod.

  "Those bastards... I was too tired at that point." She tries to excuse her injury as if that's the main issue at hand.

  "B... I told you I didn't want you to go." I sit on the adjacent bed, ready to pour my heart out to her.

  "I know." She lowers her eyes and actually looks ashamed. As if. "But I couldn't pass this up. I know how much this means to you...

  "And you mean more to me." Her expression freezes at my words as if she can't quite believe it.

  "Are..." She quickly shakes her head. "Do you mean it?" Those words are imbued with so much hopefulness that my heart is about to burst.

  I take her uninjured hand and squeeze.

  "I do," I confirm.

  "Still... you told me I disgusted you." Her voice is small as she repeats the words I'd flung at her in anger.

  "I was angry... bitter. You lied to me about so many things..."
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  "How can you? How can you still care about me?" She shakes her head again in disbelief.

  "I don't just care about you, B... I love you." I confess, and her eyes go wide for a second before tears start running down her cheeks.

  "B?" I ask, not knowing what's happening. She gives my hand a tug before lifting it up and holding it to her cheek.

  "I know you'll probably never be able to believe me, but I do love you. You're the only thing I've ever cared about in this life. I swear to you. I know what I did hurt you... I understand that, and I'm not looking for excuses where there are none. I knew fully well what I was doing."

  "B..." I start, but she silences me.

  "No, let me. I don't regret what I did... It's true, and it's messed up. Fuck, it's probably borderline insane. But I do regret one thing... and that is that I caused you pain. When you hurt, I hurt. I may not be normal, but you are my one link to normal." She brings my hand to her lips for the ghost of a kiss. "You are my tether...and for you, I can try to be better."

  I give her a warm smile. Yes, it's fucked up. We are fucked up. But I find that I don't care... Not anymore. All my life, I'd searched for some semblance of ordinary... I wanted to live the typical American life, have a house, a wife, children, and die of old age, retired somewhere in Montana.

  No killing, no bloodshed, no mayhem.

  No corruption, no mob, and no assassins.

  I wanted a life as far away from crime as possible because that was all I'd ever known for a while. But the more I tried to avoid it, the more drawn I became to it, without even realizing it. I should have known that chasing after Jimenez would put me on a path of no return.

  But as I look into Bianca's eyes, I realize I don't want to return to ordinary.

  "We can try." I finally say. Because she's not the only one who will be navigating this unknown world. And somehow, we'll manage it together.

  "I want to take this slow." She adds, almost bashfully.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I want us to take it from zero... to get to know each other as our real selves. I want to know who Adrian Barnett is, and I want you to find out who the real Bianca Ashby is. No more secrets."

  "I'd like that." I cup her jaw and go for a quick peck. "I'll even take you on a date when we get back." I smile at her, and she chuckles.

  "Can I choose what type of date?"

  "Sure."

  "Good." She gives me another quick kiss before she frowns, remembering something.

  "Wait. We can't go back just yet."

  "Why?"

  She proceeds to tell me in detail how her stint on the auction block went, including her meeting with Jimenez's son, and how Martin and Jimenez knew each other from being in the same fraternity at Princeton.

  "I've never heard of him having a son." I muse before adding. "Too bad, we can't really use any of that information."

  "Not true, which is also why we are not heading directly back to New York. We need to go to Princeton and get our hands on one of their old photo albums. When I went through Martin's stuff, there wasn't anything related to his days at Princeton, so I'm guessing the more important things were in his safe, which you know how that ended up. Anyway, if we can find a photobook from his time there, maybe we can also find Jimenez. That was the entire purpose of this mission. Putting a face to the name."

  When she's explaining it like this, I can't help but see the logic of it.

  "Fine. Let's rest tonight and head there tomorrow." Bianca still needs some rest to heal.

  "No, we need to leave now. I don't think they are going to drop the search for me, especially when it was el jefe who I offended." She suddenly springs out of bed and starts putting on clothes.

  "Shit." She mutters. "I should have thought of this before... We need to move. Like now!" At her urgency, I start packing the rest of our stuff. When we're done, we hurry towards the car, and I leave a big tip at the check-in desk for the almost hole I left in their wall. I guess I don't have the time for apologies.

  I get in behind the wheel, and Bianca joins me in the passenger seat.

  "Do you know which fraternity?" I ask as we leave the motel and head onto the highway.

  "Yes. Sigma something... We'll have to ask around. I remember he used to go to some of the alumni events when I was younger."

  "Wait... Didn't Senator Wolfe also go to Princeton?" I'm suddenly struck by that thought, and Bianca's look tells me it just occurred to her as well.

  "He did... Shit." She quickly takes out her phone, and I see her about to ring Vlad. My right-hand shoots out and stops her before calling.

  "Call Marcel," I tell her. "I don't trust Vlad." I expect her to put up a fight about this, as she's always defending Vlad, but she surprises me when she actually dials Marcel, putting him on speaker.

  "Marcel, can you please look at the list and tell us where they went to school?"

  "What?" He mumbles, clearly barely out of bed.

  "We need to know what universities the people on the list went to." Bianca reiterates, and Marcel tells us to wait.

  "Do you really think...?" Bianca looks at me and asks.

  Honestly, at this point, anything is possible.

  "Yeah... I pulled up the file." A sleepy Marcel says. "Let's see... Princeton...Princeton...Shit." A pause. "All went to Princeton."

  Both me and Bianca share a look.

  "Did they all happen to be in the same fraternity too?"

  "Yes. Sigma Theta Epsilon."

  "Thanks. We'll call you back."

  "I can't believe they missed this the first time," Bianca adds.

  "They focused only on jobs and finances. God...there's a real possibility that's where it all started."

  It doesn't take us too long to reach Princeton, and luckily, it's pretty early in the day, so when we go knocking at the fraternity house, we get a response.

  "Yeah?" A guy wearing only a pair of boxer shorts answers.

  Bianca gives me a wink, and I know she wants me to let her handle this.

  "Hi. I'm sorry for coming in so early. My father was an alumnus and he recently died. I was wondering if you have some old photo albums I could take a look at?" Her voice is almost too sugary sweet, and it seems to wake the guy up as he looks her up and down.

  I try to keep my hands to myself. It wouldn't do to go around punching college students...

  "Yeah, sure... We got some upstairs. Come in."

  "Yo, Mark, what's up." Another guy comes up towards us, but this one is wearing more clothes.

  "They want to see some of our photo albums. Her dad was an alumnus." Mark says in a bored tone. The new guy turns towards us and regards us suspiciously.

  "Who was your father?"

  "Martin Ashby," Bianca replies, and I can see the guys recognize the name.

  "No, shit... wow. He was a legend."

  "Was he?" Bianca adds, a little bit too ironically. But the guys don't seem to notice.

  "Yeah, hell... I'm sorry for your loss. I heard about his death."

  Bianca tells them to look for class of '82, and they show us to the second floor where there is a library of sorts. The walls are filled with recent alumni pictures.

  Mark goes to one wall and pulls out an album with 1982 on its spine.

  "Here." He hands it to Bianca.

  "Does this have underclassmen or upperclassmen too?"

  "It should have the full brothers from that year. Are you looking for someone else?"

  "Just another relative. He told me he was in the same fraternity as my father."

  "Here." Mark pulls a few more albums spanning the early 80s. "You might find him in here."

  They start talking about something else and leave us alone, telling us to put them back when we're done.

  We divide the albums between the two of us and start combing through them.

  "Maybe he used another name?" I suggest, but Bianca doesn't even hear me. She's too focused on the '80 album.

  "Found it!" Bianca jumps up, a
broad smile on her lips. She immediately comes over to me and points to a picture.

  "Here. Arturo Jimenez, Class of '81," She says enthusiastically,

  When I look at the picture, I'm almost shocked by what I see. He's younger... much younger, but there's no mistaking.

  "I know him..." I whisper, not quite believing the picture in front of me.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, I fucking know this man..." And the most telling feature is a big mole on his right upper lip.

  "That's Andrew Gallagher."

  Bianca stands up and looks at me. "Andrew Gallagher?"

  "Or not really…” I add dryly. “He’s the man I knew under the name of Andrew Gallagher. The man I used to fight for... I swear it's him. But... nothing makes sense anymore."

  I feel lost. He was in front of my eyes for so many years... I could have easily crushed him...

  "You mean to tell me that both Jimenez and his right-hand man were involved in the Boston fight ring... and they recruited you."

  "Yes... but why?"

  "That's probably the most important question. They must have known who you were."

  "Oh, they definitely knew." I give a bitter laugh.

  But it doesn’t matter now.

  I have a face for Jimenez.

  And it will soon be over.

  CHAPTER XLII

  We hadn't been home an hour when Adrian closed himself in his office and started drinking.

  I'd stopped by every now and then to bring him some food and water, but even I could see he was in a world of his own, dealing with the information he'd learned.

  Vlad's doctor Sasha had been over to check my wound and stitch it up properly, and even then, Adrian hadn't emerged from the office.

  I don't even know what to do with myself in this instance. I've never comforted someone...

  How does one do that? And what if he doesn't want me to?

  I'm not capable of complicated feelings, and as such, I don't understand them in other people either.

  I wish I has someone to call and ask what to do in this situation, but my only friend happens to be as emotionally stunted as me.