Stolen: A Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Kathryn

"What the hell were you thinking, running off like that?" My father stared at me from the other end of the table. He was almost visibly frothing at the mouth. The dining room table. Where all the screaming matches, speeches of disappointment, and accusations occurred. I dreaded this fucking table, and had ever since I got my first lecture there.

It wasn’t hard to see why. Watching the vein in my father’s forehead throb as he looked at me in anger and disappointment was enough.

I'd been home a whole thirty minutes, and we were already having this discussion.

"I was thinking I needed to see if I could make it out there on my own without my father helping me every step of the way," I said, truthfully. It was only a partial truth, but that was the best way to handle him. I had to give him some of the truth or he would never believe anything I had to say.

I got out of a lot of shit that way as a teenager.

"And did you?" he asked. I could tell by the smarmy smile on his face that he was trying to prove a point.

"For a while," I admitted. I wasn't ready to admit defeat. Not yet. But I knew the truth. I'd never really be able to survive for long without help.

"For a while," he conceded. "Holed up in a den of shit with a bunch of punks."

"You knew where I was?" I asked. My adrenaline spiked. What else did he know?

"Of course. You're my daughter. You think I don't know where you went? What you did? You think I didn't have eyes on you?" His smile vanished. "As soon as Janson came and got you, I was relieved. You are one of mine. You belong to me. You might find your way into the arms of a man like that scum ball you were staying with, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who you are with or who you sleep with. You are mine."

I blew out a breath. As much as he thought he knew, he didn't know about Janson and me, or if he did, he wasn't letting on. My father had the ability to hold onto most things, but when it came to this family, I highly doubted he would've let that slide. He didn't know about Michael, about Janson. About our plan.

He couldn't. He saw the world differently, thought of his children differently.

His possession. That was exactly how he saw me.

And it was why I had to get the fuck out of there the first time. But now, I was trapped, and there was no going back. I'd made a promise. To Janson, to Michael. This was all part of the plan.

"So, your brother had to go and rescue you, and then what?" he asked.

"Then I came back and stayed with him." But he knew that. "Why didn't you rescue me?"

"Because it was your own damn lesson to learn. I wasn't going to teach you that you needed me. That you needed this family. You take off, you either fly or sink, and it has to be all on you." That fat cigar hung from his mouth as he said it and I knew that he was telling the truth. He didn't really give a shit about me. He only cared about where I went to, like I was his lost watch or cellphone, but that wasn't what it was about for him.

No, it was about the fact that I defied him. I needed to eat crow in order to be accepted back into the family, and that was hard as fuck to do.

"You're right. I sank. I sank like a big, fat rock. I was getting high and drunk and not doing much of anything, and if it wasn't for Greyson and his little minion, I would've probably gotten addicted to worse."

There it was. That was what he wanted to hear. That was exactly what he was looking for. And it fucking hurt to say.

Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have come home and started this.

Maybe I was better off in Chicago playing my violin.

At least then, I wouldn't have to deal with any of this shit.

"James, don't you think that's enough? My baby just got home, and I am pretty sure she's learned her lesson." My mother's voice was a gentle reprieve as she came through the kitchen door to the dining room. She was always trying to protect us from him. First as children, and then as adults. But it usually ended in tears.

"Maeve, I didn't ask you, did I?" my father said as he looked up at her. He was still angry, and she was going to be the one who took the brunt of the anger.

"Look at her. She's exhausted. Just let her go up to her room and get settled in. You are staying with us, aren't you sweetie?" I’d already spent the night, but I hadn’t made my intentions clear yet as to where I was staying. I knew one thing, though, and it was that I could not, under any circumstances, let them know I’d been staying with Janson.

"Why would she stay anywhere else?" he asked. “My children stay under my own roof. Unless they fucking run away.” That anger, it popped up again.

"She's an adult, James. She can make her own decisions,” my mom countered. She’d always stood up for us, but only so far. She knew her duties as a wife of a mob boss. She knew who was really in charge.

I felt for her.

"That's what got her in trouble in the first place." They tried not to have out-and-out arguments in front of us, but it was always there. The anger, the resentment. My mother had put up with so much from him, could anyone blame her?

I swallowed. I just wanted to go back to Janson's. I didn't actually want anything to do with either one of them. But I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Not if I was going to do what I came here to do.

"Of course I'm staying, Mom. I'm home. I should get upstairs. I have a gig tonight."

"You're playing the violin?" my mother said, ignoring the angry stare on my father's face. "How nice."

"Greyson hooked me up with several gigs, and every place that I've played has wanted me back, so I'm finally getting paid to do what I love." I beamed up at her. “He convinced me to come back, Mom. Convinced me to stay.”

“I’m glad you’re home, honey.” My mom had always been supportive, even now. She was the real reason I was doing all of this. I wanted her to be free from this life. From him. She’d be tethered until the day he died, but she deserved a little relief. That woman had seen and put up with so much.

She’d supported me through everything. Even playing the violin, especially when no one else did. Not my father, not my sisters. She’d been there for me, though. Got me lessons for my birthday present and made sure that I always had what I needed, even if she didn’t think it was a reality.

It wasn't what they had in mind for me, but it was better than nothing. Besides, whatever I did was just a hobby in my father's eyes until I attached myself to a man. It was easier to sell me off to the highest bidder in order to gain political favor.

"Well then, go get settled," my father said finally, but the anger blazed in his eyes. I dared not defy him when he got like this, so I rose and headed up the stairs towards my room. They always waited until we were just out of sight to start arguing, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t hear them. They were always fighting, it was a way of life, but I bit my lip and ascended the stairs, ignoring the screams.

Soon. I had to get the fuck out of here soon.

Janson

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” I asked as I looked over at Greyson. He was trying to keep his cool, I could tell. But this shit was fucking ridiculous. He was crossing over into enemy territory and about to find his way into the lion’s den.

We were going to fucking knock on the second largest crime boss’s door in all of Baltimore and ask him for a damn parley. It was crazy as fuck.

“I need to do this, Janson. I need it for my daughter. One day you might just understand.” He smiled at me, the new look in his eye something I couldn’t ready distinguish. I’d never seen him look that way before.

I honestly hoped he was right. I hoped one day I would understand.

“I have a feeling I already do,” I said truthfully. I could only imagine the things I’d do for Kathryn, but if she had a baby… hell, I’d obliterate the whole world if I could.

We pulled up to the house, out in the suburbs of Millersville, and I knew as soon as the men outside saw us that we were in trouble.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. My first priority was to take orders, but I still had my own instinct of self-preservation. I reached for my gun but Greyson held his hand up, motioning for me to stand down.

“We talk, Janson. Right now. We talk,” he said as he looked me in the eyes. He was so very serious. In the past year, he’d turned into a totally different person. His anger, his cynical nature, it was all gone. Transformed through love, as corny as it sounded to me.

I was beginning to understand exactly what that meant.

Greyson got out of the car and raised his hands over his head, looking at the men. “We’re here on parley, boys. Not to fuck anyone over. As you can see, we are laying down our weapons. We just want to talk.” He motioned to me with his eyes to get out of the car. I knew he wanted me to do the same. So, I stood and laid down my weapons.

All but my knife.

No one would even notice it hidden there, in a false pocket in my pants. I could feel it, but no one else would.

I was confident of it. As long as I felt like I could protect us, I knew that it would be all right. Or I would go down trying.

“What do you want?” the beefy guard on the right said to Greyson. He’d certainly gotten his attention.

Not to mention the fact that no one wanted a shootout in a sleepy suburb outside of Baltimore.

“I want to talk to your boss and his brother. We have some news. Some good news.” Greyson didn’t back down. He didn’t turn and run. He never would. That man was a born leader and it was my job to be his muscle. Always at his side.

Even now. Especially now.

“Let them in,” a voice bellowed from the inside of the home. It was a beautiful McMansion, the kind I’d expect to see upper-level management in, not a damn mob boss. But then again, the same could probably be said for Greyson’s father… 

None of them looked like what they were. They were older, wrinkled, overweight. They didn’t have the muscle and handsome looks of their youth.

I wondered if we would turn into that as we grew older.

I followed Greyson as we stood and walked towards the inside.

“Stop,” Beefy said as soon as we entered. We stood in our tracks and looked around. The place was nice but it wasn’t anything special. That wasn’t what I was looking at, though. I was looking at the exits, the number of men stationed.  I was getting a feel for the layout in the event we needed to get the fuck out of there.

“You need to be frisked.” He put his hands over Greyson and then turned to me.

A little part of me was nervous, just like it was every time someone did this, but it was foolproof.

He did a quick frisk and then it was over. “They’re clean.”

I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t know I held.

“You may come in.” Dennis stood at the edge of what looked to be a study and invited us in. “What is it you’d like to discuss?”

“The birth of your niece’s daughter,” Greyson said. He stood tall.

“Now, that is a good thing. Congratulations.” Dennis smiled. “Scotch?”

“Thank you.” Greyson nodded.

“So, you have a daughter. And I have a new niece. What do you want from me?” he asked. “Last I checked, we were at war.”

“I want an end to it. I want an end to it all.”

“A sit down? With your old man?”

“For the sake of my child,” Greyson said as he bent forward towards Dennis. He was appealing to his sense of legacy.

I could see Dennis’s eye sparkle with greed. He was hoping for something like this. “I think something can be arranged. When do you want this little tete-a-tete to happen?”

“Soon.”

But first, we had to approach his father with the idea.

Kathryn

I’d been waiting for this day since Joanna got out of the hospital. The day she brought Jessica to the house for everyone to see. I hadn’t been alone in the house. Not for one moment. It was gigs and meetings and sneaking around to see Janson. And every spare moment, one of my sisters or my mother or even my father was there.

And their eyes were always on me.

But when there was a baby in the house, no one would notice me. I had just long enough to get into my father’s study, to find any indication of evidence. Any receipt and any note of a location could help me.

“Kathryn, could you go and get us some coffee?” my mother asked as she held that little baby in her arms. “I’m sure that Joanna could use a little pick me up.”

“Oh, I actually can’t have caffeine while breastfeeding,” she said. “But I would love the opportunity to get up and help in the kitchen.”

That smile sparkled at me, and I could tell she was tired. I wondered just how much sleep she’d actually been getting.

I just needed some time. Just a little bit. Maybe while I was supposed to be in the kitchen.

“Sure!” I said, smiling. “I could definitely use some company.”

What I needed was a cover. As soon as we got into the kitchen I grinned at her. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I don’t know, honestly. I haven’t slept for days. All I know is that my face is numb from lack of sleep, and I feel like my eyes are dragging on the damn floor," Joanna admitted. "I love her, though. I love them both."

I chuckled. “I hear that it gets better, hon. But you know that if you need anyone to come and help at any time, I will be right there.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked. "Because I really will call you up asking that very thing. I'm so lonely."

“Of course. I don’t know a whole lot about babies, but I would love to learn alongside you. It has to be hard.”

“It is. My uncle sent a card, but no one from my family has so much as come by. I’ve got to be honest, having your mom take her, if just for a few moments, was exactly the break I needed.”

I could tell, though, that she was struggling to stay in the room. So I took my chance.

“I’ve got to run to the restroom, do you think you could handle things for a few moments?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s just making coffee.”

I grinned and pushed my way through the second kitchen door, the one that went down the hallway to the bathroom and my father’s study.

No one would even notice if I slipped in there, so I ducked to the right and opened the door. I was in.

His study was always perfectly organized. A beautiful mishmash of books, documents, and personal art. He knew exactly where everything went, and he was completely aware of its place.

So I knew that I would have to take note of every little detail before I went rooting.

I pulled out my phone and took a picture of his desk. I wanted to make sure I got it right.

Then I started digging.

I looked through his top drawers first because they seemed the most logical place to find a key or some piece of scrap. Nothing. Then I worked through his bottom draws. Nothing was locked, so it was unlikely he would keep anything important in there, but anything, no matter how small, might just help.

I just needed to keep digging.

A creaking noise above me startled me. Someone was upstairs. I let out a breath. Probably one of my sisters.

Finally, I saw something in the bottom right of his deep drawer. It looked like a damn pull. Was it a secret compartment? I pulled on the little trigger and a small box popped out of the side of the desk. Damn.

A booklet sat in there. One filled with names and dates. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it was important.

I took picture after picture of the contents then stuck it back in. That had to be something. I closed it just as I heard a creak outside the door. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“What are you doing?” my father asked as I made sure everything was appropriately placed.

“I’m looking for your coffee mug. The one with the globe on it. I know you love it, and I thought you might like it.” It was a quick lie, a great one, really.

“Oh, I took it to work, hon. You don’t need to worry about that. But thank you for thinking of me.” He never betrayed a damn emotion, and I wondered if he had any at all as he stared me down. That man was a freaking shield of stoicism.

I walked back with him towards the living room. I wasn’t sure if I got anything worth while, but at least I tried, and it was something. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Hopefully, it would be something.