Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2) Read online

  “Not even for a friendly visit?” I asked.

  “Beat it,” Holtz said, waving me away. “I got shit to do.”

  I followed Rachelle to her car. I had absolutely nothing except the clothes on my back and ten bucks left over from commissary. And here she was, this goddess willing to take me as I was, broke and broken. In the past two years, she'd visited me at least three times a month. Made the treacherous drive here no matter what the weather, just so we could sit around a table and talk about nothing. And I’d loved every second of it.

  She talked about her boss's kid, her job, her friends' dramas...I talked about books I'd read, the shitty cafeteria food, my troubled childhood, and the riots and the guards. Somehow, with Rachelle in my life, two years flew by. I never felt lonely, and I looked forward to her visits more than anything. My cellmates, Tim and Weasel, constantly joked about me proposing to Rachelle after I got released. I'd laughed with them, but honestly, I was afraid she'd flat-out reject me. Sure, she visited me almost every week. But it might've been out of guilt more than anything else.

  A couple months into my new sentence, Rachelle had confessed that she wrote a note to the Chinese delivery guy begging for help. She’d insisted that that was the reason the cops found me before I reached Seattle. Through racking sobs, she explained how sorry she was and I just sat there and listened. When she was done, I told her that the cops found me because they put out an APB for me and Marvin, the hippie motel manager, called the cops on me after we left. Rachelle was both relieved and upset.

  She didn't have to continue her visits, and they became particularly difficult when her father got lung cancer last winter. But she did not quit on me. She kept her promise. She even visited Kara every couple of months, and from what she’d told me, they were very close now. Bianca visited me (without Kara) four times a year. Brought me thick photo albums and shared stories about Kara and her own kids. Kara was almost thirteen now, and a sassy, picky teenager. She was starting high school in September. And she knew about me. Rachelle told Kara everything, over time of course, and Kara accepted the facts with an astonishing degree of maturity. Kara wanted to meet me as soon as I got out, but I didn’t know if I was ready yet. Thirteen years, and I still wasn’t prepared to see her. The one girl for whom I’d risked everything.

  Rachelle and I, we never really discussed how we felt about one another. Whether this was friendship or something more. I didn't want to push the subject and I was simply grateful she wanted to be near me at all. She told me that her friends thought she was crazy, and that she'd gone off the deep end after meeting me. I agreed. Gone was the meek girl who wanted to stay in her safe bubble forever. The new and improved Rachelle even learned to ride a motorcycle (Cam taught her) and she grinned like an imp when she told me she'd gone skinny dipping in the Dalton every month during the winter. “I did it for both of us,” she said. “It was fricking amazing.” I was even more impressed when she showed me the selfies to prove it. Too bad the photos didn't show any naughty bits.

  “So, where do we go now?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.

  “You can crash at my place until you find one of your own,” Rachelle said. “It's small, but it's home.”

  After breaking up with Rob two years ago, she’d secured her own condo in Westbridge and bought a car. Westbridge was only a quick drive across the bridge from Northbridge, and offered much more affordable housing. She still worked at Morgan and Associates, but was almost done her Juris Doctor degree now. Soon, she’d be a lawyer. I was damn proud of her. And damn glad she made me a part of her life. She never gave up on me. Never ran, the way Trisha did. She was a keeper. A gem I did not deserve. A gem I wanted to treasure forever.

  “Thank you, Rachelle. For everything. I’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as I can,” I said, opening her Camry’s passenger side door.

  “No rush,” she said, climbing into the driver's seat. “We've got all the time in the world.”

  “So, this is me,” Rachelle said, unlocking her door and letting it swing open.

  I scanned the room. The walls were painted a bold orange and decorated with photographs of her and her friends. “Looks like you’ve been busy these past two years.” I walked up to a photo and brushed a thumb along the frame. Rachelle was geared up and wearing a yellow helmet lamp in it. “Where is this?”

  “Bracken Cave. Home to the largest colony of bats in the world,” Rachelle said. “Want something to drink?”

  “Water’s fine,” I said. I moved on to the next photo. “And this one?”

  “Pottery class I took in South Africa.”

  “I love the new Rachelle,” I said, smiling. “She’s really badass now.”

  Rachelle handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down. It was a warm January day and sunlight streamed through her windows. She had a fantastic view overlooking the bridge and the rush-hour traffic below. It was a cozy, but homey apartment, and I liked it already. But I fully intended to find my own place as soon as I secured a job. “So, know anyone who’ll hire an ex-con?” I asked. Though my tone was light, the concern was very real. Most half-decent employers wouldn’t look twice at an ex-con with twelve-years and nothing more than a high school diploma. Sure, I’d read a lot of books, and started working toward an Accounting degree at Maxfield, but I didn’t complete the program yet. I was virtually unemployable at the moment.

  “I’ll ask around,” Rachelle said. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”

  I loved the way she said ‘we’. It rolled off her tongue like a promise. “In the meantime, I can mooch off of you, right?” I asked.

  Rachelle pulled out a cutting board. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, Kieran. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

  I walked up to Rachelle, who was slicing open an orange. Her long black hair was scraped back in a ponytail, and her face was pinched with concentration. She was so goddamn beautiful. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I said softly, “Can I stay here forever?”

  Rachelle tensed a little, and I wondered if I was being too bold. We’d spent the last two years constantly flirting back and forth…but now that I was out, maybe she didn’t find the situation so attractive anymore. Maybe reality had finally set in and she wanted to leave. I wouldn’t blame her. I was damaged goods.

  “Kieran…” she began.

  “Did you enjoy the kiss we shared outside Maxfield?” I asked. I had to know how she felt about me. No more fucking beating around the bush. Where did we stand?

  After hesitating briefly, she nodded. I rotated her hips until she faced me. My mouth was inches away from hers. Her lower lip trembled. “Rachelle, I—”

  “Have some oranges,” Rachelle said quickly, shoving a plate full of fresh wedges between us.

  “Rachelle.”

  Rachelle rinsed her hands and said, “It was a long drive. I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.”

  I groaned. I took the plate and walked over to the couch. Then, I watched her disappear into the bathroom and wondered if I’d said something to tick her off. I couldn’t read her right now, and I was damn exhausted. It’d been a long day. This conversation could wait.

  I ate four citrusy slices before curling up on her couch and falling asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rachelle

  Have some oranges? That was the best I could come up with? I’d spent the last two years visiting this man almost every week, in prison, and when he asked me how I felt about him, I gave him oranges?!

  I squeezed body wash into my palm and lathered it up. I was so screwed. Things had been so much easier when he was behind bars. Not that I wanted him to be stuck in Maxfield. It was just simpler. There were no expectations. We flirted, but didn’t define any explicit relationship boundaries. It wasn’t as if we were in a long-distance relationship. In fact, during that first year, I’d dated men on and off. But none of them stuck. I’d always find some reason to dump them, not all of which had to do with Ki
eran…Right? The one man I’d liked better than all the others, Josh Hart, dumped me when he realized I was visiting ‘a dope dealer’ every weekend. I didn’t blame him. Even though I knew visiting Kieran would negatively affect my love life, I didn’t care.

  He needed me. He had no one else. I wanted to be there for him.

  Kieran made me laugh. Made me think. The more I got to know him, the more I realized how intelligent he was. In fact, he read more books every week than I’d read all year. I guess he had the time for it. And he worked out. Boy, did he work those muscles.

  Kieran stirred up strange emotions in my belly, none of which could be easily identified. At first, I resisted the butterflies in my stomach with a passion. But by the time year two rolled around, I embraced them like old friends.

  I washed my body, taking extra care to clean my armpits and breasts. The wet, muddy drive up to Maxfield had been long, and doubly torturous because I knew it was release day today. I was an absolute mess, and nothing Terri, Sierra or Callista said could calm me down.

  Kieran was finally getting out of prison.

  Holy shit. It felt like this day would never come. The first few months, I’d used a calendar to mark off each day, but that only caused me more anxiety. Now it felt like it’d come too soon. I wasn’t ready for this!

  Could we still be as close, now that he’d be sharing my apartment with me? What if he tried to seduce me? Would I let him? I wasn’t seeing anyone right now, and of course, the idea of sleeping with Kieran had crossed my mind a thousand times over the years but…I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. That’s what we were: friends, right?

  Then there was that kiss. It was anything but friendly…It’d lasted less than a second, but it was enough to make my knees weak. Friends didn’t kiss friends.

  After my shower, I patted myself dry and wrapped a towel around my body. I slapped some lotion on my face, arms and legs, then slipped out to check on Kieran. Tiptoeing across the carpet, I said, “Kieran, what do you want for dinner?”

  He was fast asleep, his large chest straining against his shirt every time he inhaled. Orange juice dribbled down his chin.

  He deserved to rest. Both of us did.

  So why was I thinking about anything but sleep as I watched him?

  Kieran shifted a little, and I noticed how large his arms were. They bulged with sinew and veins. Strong arms. Protective arms. He was wearing his old t-shirt and jeans. The outfit he’d worn the night he was arrested. I frowned at the memory. Even though he said it wasn’t my fault, I still felt guilty. If Marvin hadn’t called the cops, my note might very well have alerted them. I’d betrayed him. But he never held it against me, not for a second. That’s what I loved about him: he forgave and forgot. He let me sleep well at night, even though he could’ve held it over my head.

  Kara. I could just imagine her heart-shaped face lighting up when she met Kieran for the first time. I saw her quite frequently, and she even had four or five sleepovers at my place over the years. I’d see her during summer vacations, and she said I was like the cool aunt she never had. We went on a few short camping trips together, and shared a lot of great memories. Once she opened up to me, Kara seemed like an entirely different person. Like her father, she enjoyed reading as much as she did adventures. She was bright, and we often engaged in lively debates about all sorts of topics, ranging from which genetically modified vegetables tasted the best to who was the ideal presidential nominee. Despite the rough start she’d had in life, I had no doubt she would blossom into a self-sufficient member of society.

  I’d already arranged for Bianca and Kara to pay us a surprise visit in three days. She’d leave her biological children with her visiting parents so traveling wouldn’t be so overwhelming. I felt giddy. I missed Kara; I hadn’t seen her in almost five months. She was turning thirteen in two weeks, and I intended to give her the best birthday ever.

  Most of all, it was high time for father and daughter to be reunited.

  I let Kieran sleep and walked over to the window to draw the blinds. The sun was sinking behind the bridge, painting the sky with a harmonious mixture of reds, yellows and pinks. I drew in a deep breath, trying to still my stampeding heart.

  Kieran mumbled something incoherent. I wondered if he still sleep-talked. I pulled down the shades and opened up my laptop. Only one month remained before I completed my J.D. Asher already told me he’d give me a promotion as soon as I passed the course. I was proud of my accomplishments over the past couple of years. Not just the academic ones, but life accomplishments as well. I bought this condo when my lease was up and I learned that the landlord was selling. I went spelunking, rock-climbing, mountain-biking and tightrope-walking. Even my parents were impressed. They were never usually impressed by anything I did. Of course, they constantly worried about me spending too much time with that ‘dangerous criminal’. But I’d told them, two years back, that I planned to keep visiting Kieran no matter what they thought, and that Kieran was a part of my life now, whether they liked it or not. Mom nearly fainted. Chris thought I was pretty badass, and started calling me a ‘Rebel Chick’ whenever we spoke on the phone. He’d brag to all his friends that his big sister was dating a felon. Then I’d have to remind him that Kieran and I were not a couple. That didn’t stop him from spreading rumors though. Pretty soon, everyone in my extended family knew about Kieran. They thought I was spiraling downhill. Suffering from an early mid-life crisis. After all, who in their right mind gave up a comfortable life with a millionaire’s son for a life with an ex-con? They were certain I would somehow end up homeless or addicted to heroin because I was, to quote my Auntie Linda, “in love with a smack dealer”. I stopped trying to explain things to them after a while. It was just too confusing for them to wrap their heads around. I followed my heart instead, and did what I felt was right for me.

  “Rach…”

  “Hm?”

  “Rach, I need you.”

  “What is it, Kieran?” I turned around and looked at the sleeping figure on the sofa. His head was lolled to one side, right arm draped over his chest. “Rach,” he mumbled. He was sleep-talking. And he was calling out for me.

  I walked over and knelt down in front of him. Clasping his hands into my own, I whispered, “I’m here, Kieran. I’m here.”

  KIERAN SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. He wasn’t lying about being tired. When I woke up the next morning, I found him curled up in a ball on the floor.

  “Morning, sunshine,” I said, handing him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. “Glad to see you’re still alive. You’ve been out for nineteen hours.”

  Kieran blinked, rubbing his dark-rimmed eyes. “Holy shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Are you seriously apologizing for getting a good night’s rest after two years of prison?”

  Kieran smirked. “You’re right, bad boys never apologize.” He sat up, kneading his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

  “You’re losing your street cred, K.”

  “You’re right, I need to toughen up,” Kieran said. “I’ll start by demanding you make me some coffee. Please.”

  I laughed. “You’re definitely losing your bad boy attitude.” I flipped on the coffeemaker. “Badasses don’t ask. They take,” I explained. “They don’t care about rules, they just do what they want.”

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Kieran said. “What exactly have you been doing these past two years?”

  “Being a badass, the way you taught me,” I said. “Can’t you tell?”

  “Badass suits you,” Kieran said, “But I also liked that soft side of you too.”

  “She’s still there. Makes an appearance every once in a while.”

  “So, Badass, what are we going to do today?”

  “I’ve got a plan. It’s been a long time coming,” I said. “We’ll head out as soon as you finish breakfast.”

  Kieran gorged himself on bacon and eggs as if he’d never eaten anything quite like it before. I
loved watching him eat; the way his eyes sparkled and he kept repeating how delicious everything was. He looked like a boy enjoying a Thanksgiving feast. Grease dripped down his stubbled chin and I handed him a tissue.

  “My hands are full. Help me,” Kieran said.

  “You just want me to treat you like a baby,” I said, folding up the tissue and dabbing at his chin. As the tissue swept over the lips, Kieran’s hand rose up and closed over mine. “Thank you. For breakfast.”

  I nodded. “Mmhm.” The curl of his lips made me hunger for another kiss. Beard burn and everything. I hadn’t slept with anyone for over a year now, and the self-imposed dry spell was getting on my nerves. Of course, the length of my celibacy was nothing compared to Kieran’s twelve years. I couldn’t even imagine how he felt.

  “I couldn’t very well have a hangry man twice my size stalking around my house, now could I?”

  “Hangry?”

  “You know, someone who’s so hungry he’s angry.”

  Kieran let out a belly laugh. “I like the way you think.”

  I wanted to reply, I like the way you laugh, but thought better of it. “C’mon, finish up,” I said.

  After breakfast, we piled into my car and I started the engine. Tendrils of frost and condensation curled across my windowpane and I turned the heat on full-blast.

  “Where are we going? How about a hint?” Kieran asked, buckling in his seatbelt.

  “It starts with a ‘W’,” I said, double checking my phone for directions.

  “Westport? What are we doing out here?”

  I grinned at him. “Recreating our first day together.”

  “Rach, it’s broad daylight…Even I wouldn’t go skinny-dipping during the middle of the day.”

  “I’m taking you go-kart racing, stupid,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  “You scared or something?” I asked.

  “Of you? No way.” Kieran grinned.