Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Read online

  The next Sunday, Patrick and Jenna went ice skating. When Patrick took Jenna home, she invited him to stay for "a spot of supper."

  Patrick laughed out loud as Jenna made chili cheese dogs for them to eat. She laughed, "This is an American dish I love."

  Dessert had been tastier than a chili dog, and a lot more than a single kiss. Patrick left knowing he was completely in love with this Celtic enchantress.

  Patrick went home for Thanksgiving. He saw how much his father still mourned his mother's death. He watched his younger sister who had seen her mother die. "Bratikin," he said draping his arm around her shoulder as she stood and talked to Townes Johnson. "How ya doin'?"

  Trista gave a scornful look. "You're too damned happy, Patch. She held up her hand in a tight clench. "June." One finger popped up followed by another with each word. "July, August, September, October, November. Five months. I'm not ready to laugh." She took Townes's hand and led him away.

  Patrick let out a long puff of air. "Need a friend?" Parker Reynolds asked at his shoulder while pointing at Trista and Townes. "Uncle Raif already had me sit between those two. I'm a little worried their hormones are on full throttle."

  "Mine too."

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I'm okay. What does Aunt Larkin have planned for the weekend?"

  "Same stuff."

  "Anything new on Mom's murder?"

  "Dantzler and I are trying to track Latrice's mother. That's really all I can tell you."

  "I get it. Open case."

  "Yeah."

  The holiday continued with Larkin's annual tree-trimming party. Patrick found he was able to laugh though he worried about his sister whose face remained in a perpetual frown. As he went to talk to her, his phone rang.

  Stepping away from the crowd, he answered, "Jenna, what's wrong?"

  Her voice shrill and frantic, Jenna wailed, "Patrick! I canna do it anymore. I was assaulted at work."

  "I'm on my way."

  Patrick made an excuse about a school project falling apart and raced back to New Orleans.

  The second Patrick pulled in front of her apartment, Jenna burst out the door. Patrick took the stairs three at a time to the second-floor balcony.

  "Jenna, what happened? What's wrong?" he demanded.

  She sobbed, "I canna work there any more, Patrick. I'm not a whore, and I will not be sold and treated like one."

  "What happened?"

  "Some skin-headed man asked for a private dance. 'Is idea of dancin' and mine aire not the same."

  "Did he hurt you?"

  Jenna slipped off the cardigan sweater she wore to reveal obvious finger imprints on both her arms.

  "Is there anything else?" asked Patrick, eyes and nostrils flaring.

  "No. Falon threw him out and brought me home. But I'm so scared, Patrick."

  Patrick started back to his car.

  "Where are ya goin'?" she yelled.

  "To kill the bastard."

  "No! He won't be back in the club."

  Patrick returned to Jenna.

  He pulled her close as she wept. "Don't cry. Quit if you want to. I'll take care of you," he soothed.

  "How?"

  "We can make it work, Jenna. I love you. Marry me."

  "Married, Patrick?" She pushed up from his embrace.

  "Do you love me, Jenna?"

  "Yes, but marriage?"

  "I know a place where we can get married tonight. We can drive there and be back for classes on Monday.

  "Patrick! Tonight?"

  "This afternoon actually. Yes. Say, 'Yes.' You won't have to quit your job if you don't want to, but I'll be there every night to protect you. I love you, Jenna. Say, 'Yes!' We can make it work."

  Jenna caught Patrick's enthusiasm and answered, "Yes. Yes, Patrick."

  "Go find something to use for a wedding dress."

  Jenna came out of her bedroom dressed in a simple white linen suit. "You look beautiful," whispered Patrick.

  Patrick stopped by his dorm and got a suit to wear. The two, then, headed out of New Orleans on I-59 toward Meridian, Mississippi, where they stopped to eat and Patrick dragged Jenna into a jewelry store where he purchased an inexpensive simple set of plain gold wedding bands.

  They continued their journey east on I-20 to the small town of Butler, Alabama, infamous for eloping couples. They found a justice of the peace who scrutinized them. The old man performed a simple ceremony and joined the two eighteen-year-olds in holy matrimony.

  They're wedding night lacked the fairytale romance Jenna would have liked, but she was married, at least on paper. Yet, she had given herself freely to Patrick. His every touch pulled her deeper into the abyss of love that swallowed her. Early the next morning, she called her grandmother in Dublin and gave her the news. Turning to her new husband, she said, "Aren't ya gonna call your da?"

  "Um. He's dealing with so much with my mother's death. I'd rather tell him in person."

  "We 'ave classes in an hour."

  "I'll tell him later."

  Early December, Patrick made a trip to Timeless Tattoos for a second time since the place had been closed on his first visit. He wanted a tattoo just like Jenna's, a Celtic cross on his shoulder blade. His eyes almost bulged when he saw Neely Rivers, the tattooist, and the woman's talk about his father planted a seed of hope in him that Raif might be happy again.

  He returned to the apartment and showed his wife his matching tattoo, stroking her shoulder. "I know I said you don't have to quit your job, but maybe you should look for something safer?"

  Jenna scowled and growled, "I'm not rich like my 'usband."

  "I'll talk to my dad. He'll help us."

  "So, you've told 'im aboot me, 'ave ya?"

  "No. Not yet. I will—when I go home for Christmas."

  "Without me?" She walked away.

  "Patrick Gautier! Excuses are like asses—we all have one."

  Patrick looked around. "Mom?"

  A year after his mother's death, Patrick discovered his father had made a trip to New Orleans. Apparently, Raif and Neely Rivers were in a relationship. Patrick also regretted not talking to his sister. He'd just watched his father give his pregnant sixteen-year-old in marriage to Townes Johnson. I should tell him about Jenna. But how can I add to his problems? No. I'll wait.

  Trista was absolutely nasty to Neely. She and Patrick argued and he tried to tell her about his wife. Damn it! I can't tell anyone. This would kill my dad. Not me on top of Trista.

  His mother's voice came again. That's my conscience. I'll figure it out.

  "You'd better hurry if you don't want to lose the girl."

  Patrick became an uncle. Another Thanksgiving. Another Christmas. Raif and Neely married. Jenna never said a word, just gave him a look that tore out his heart.

  The one thing she did at breakfast at the beginning of summer was to place their marriage license by his plate with a note:

  Is it just on paper? Am I simply an unpaid whore?

  Patrick almost threw up when he read it and raced out the door just in time to see his wife catch the bus to work since she had added Saturday morning shifts.

  He paced and fretted until his conscience had him buy flowers and make dinner. When Jenna got home, he seduced her and felt things we right again. Still, the voice niggled at the back of his mind.

  Summer brought a trip to Virginia to visit Trista and Townes. When Patrick walked out the door he heard glass shatter against the wood. He cringed.

  "Patrick Gautier, excuses are like asses." Chris's voice was loud and clear. "You are just being a horse's ass."

  23

  Never Look Back

  April, 2030

  Christopher Reynolds was exceedingly happy to get home and finish his senior year with the rest of his classmates. However, Saturday trips to Baton Rouge became habit since he enjoyed spending time with Kimberly LaFontaine.

  For several weeks, Neely made the weekly pilgrimage with Christopher. Kyle had done everything he had prom
ised. Neely, too, kept her word to the boy. Week after week she worked to remove Kyle's unwanted tattoo using a combination of salabrasion and staged excision. Kyle endured the pain stoically. After six weeks, Neely probably knew Kyle better than even his twin knew him.

  The boy looked at his chest in a mirror. He sighed. "Neely, will it always be scarred like this? Will it ever completely go away?"

  "Kyle, it's a lot easier to get a tattoo than to get rid of one. They're meant to be permanent. Yes, there will always be some residual shadow unless you want laser surgery. I'm sorry. That's the best I can do. I'm not a cosmetic surgeon."

  "I deserve some sort of scarring after what I did to you. I am so, so sorry."

  "Let it go. Your scars are far deeper than anyone can see. Kyle, you aren't evil, honey. Why do you think you're so bad?"

  "I don't want to be like my dad, Neely."

  "Your dad couldn't have been all bad. Ray was friends with him."

  Kyle laughed. "They haven't told you about my dad, have they?"

  "I know about Parker's mother and Larkin."

  "They would rather not tarnish his public image. I guess that's good. I would never tell Kim about Dad. The fact that he was cold and detached damaged her enough. I don't want her looking for love the wrong way. Christopher's a good guy. He'll treat her right."

  "What about you, Kyle? Do you have a girlfriend?"

  "Who would want to go out with me after what I did? Neely, that was the only time I ever"—He waved a hand as if that would make the words appear without saying them—"Well, you know."

  "Doesn't count."

  "What? Why?"

  "It wasn't lovemaking, Kyle. Just look at it as you have never made love. You're too young anyway." Neely stroked the boy's hair that was growing back.

  "What if I'm like my dad?"

  "You might want to explain that because I don't understand. From what I've heard, your dad could've had almost any woman he wanted."

  Kyle snorted a laugh. "He didn't want a woman. Not really. Neely, my dad was gay, or at least bisexual. The only person he ever loved romantically was Ray, and that WAS NOT a two-way affair. I caught him with a man once not long before he was killed. Ray made sure that part never came out in court because he cared about my dad and us. You see, the other man was Lloyd. Ray protected Robert's family even if Dad didn't. It really had no bearing on the case, so why reveal it?" The boy shivered.

  "What aren't you saying, Kyle?"

  "What if I'm like him, Neely? I'd rather die."

  "You're not. I can tell because you're worried about it, not that you should worry."

  Neely watched as Kyle chewed the inside of his mouth. She sensed there was something much deeper that he needed to talk about. Then she remembered his reaction when she mentioned what would happen to him if he went to prison.

  "Kyle," she said barely above a whisper, "is that why you were so afraid of going to jail? Were you scared of being raped yourself? Sweetheart, are you gay?"

  Without responding, he walked to a locked cabinet and jerked on the handle. "Saul keeps his liquor locked in here. I sure could use a drink."

  "Booze won't help. Answer my questions. Are you talking to your counselor?"

  With a deep sigh he said, "Yes, no, yes."

  Neely tapped an impatient foot.

  "Yes, I was scared of being someone's bitch. No, I'm not gay, but I can't imagine any girl wanting me. Yes, I've talked to the quack I'm seeing."

  "You need to start dating, build your confidence."

  "There's only one woman that I think is the most beautiful creature alive."

  "Who's that?"

  "You."

  She shook her head and set her mouth in a firm line. "Kyle, honey, you know that isn't a possibility. First, I'm too old for you. Second, you know I love Raif with all my heart. Last, considering our past, even if all the other weren't true, do you really think it would work?"

  "No." The boy averted his eyes.

  "You're right. No."

  "But who would want to go out with me if she knew about me? Thankfully, I cut that deal with the prosecution, or I would be a registered sex offender. I could never keep my past a secret. But what woman in her right mind would want to go out with me if she knew what I've done?" He walked back to the chair where his shirt lay, picked it up, and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

  "Well, I know one girl who thinks you're really cute."

  "Who?"

  "Courtney."

  "I don't think her dad would go for that. He might help me as Robert's son, his godson even, but dating his daughter would be a different story."

  As Neely stowed her equipment, she said, "Ask him."

  "You think?"

  "Can't hurt. The worst he could do would be to say no. I have an idea."

  "What's that?"

  "Ask your mother if we can replace the serpent with a Celtic guardian. It'll hide the scars and protect your heart. And, it's the one Ray has. Let's replace the bad with something good and move toward a bright future."

  "I like that idea. Neely, are you and Raif gonna have kids?"

  Neely realized Kyle did not know the full extent of the scars that had been left on her. It's best that he never knows. "Why?" she asked.

  "You'll make a great mother. You listen and you don't condemn."

  I wish I could be. She gave him a weak smile, finding it hard to hide her deepest desire. "You have a great mother, Kyle."

  "Yes, I do. I'm gonna ask her about the Celtic guardian right now."

  Christopher graduated with honors, and, as had become a family tradition, he celebrated at Mama Rosa's Italian Eatery. Deanna Blackwell's family joined the celebration. Deanna whispered to Larkin as they watched their children dance, "It's obvious Christopher has a serious case of like, if not downright love, on Kimberly."

  Larkin nodded and pointed the couple out to Parker.

  Parker cornered his younger brother when the dance was over. "Congratulations! I just want to ask you something. Did Daddy give you anything from his toolbox?"

  Christopher laughed. "He did that to you, too, huh?"

  "Yep. I never used mine. I waited for Sheena."

  "I hear you, Parker."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes. I haven't done anything inappropriate with Kim. She's the same age as Courtney."

  "And?"

  "It's just too soon. Parker, I can't promise to wait like you did. I'm not you, but I'm not stupid."

  "I hear you, Christopher. Just remember you have a sympathetic ear if you ever need one." Then, he deftly changed the subject. "Whatcha gonna study at LSU?"

  "Am I gonna be a cop like you and Daddy?" He shrugged. "I don't know yet. Maybe."

  "You have time to decide."

  "Yeah. Right now, I'd like to dance with Kim again. Catch ya later."

  Kyle sat at a table with Courtney Reynolds. Courtney, the constant chatterbox, hated mono-syllabic conversations. She finally asked crossly, "Kyle, are you gonna talk to me or just grunt all night?"

  "Sorry. I don't talk a lot. I've found that it often shows a fine command of language to say nothing."

  "Now that's profound, but I guess you're not planning a career in politics."

  "No. I think maybe medical school."

  "That would be good, but you'll have to talk to your patients. Any particular branch?"

  "Psychiatry. I won't have to talk, just listen and repeat what my patients say."

  The girl sipped her Coke and stirred ice cubes around before she said, "You don't like your counselor."

  "How can you tell?"

  "Your tone of voice. You don't think he's helping."

  "Nope. For what he charges, I would expect a little more guidance."

  "He must take the non-directive approach."

  Kyle shrugged. "I guess. It sounds like I'm talking to a mynah bird. He just repeats what I say." He drained his glass of root beer.

  "I think I'll be a teacher like my mom."

  "She's also a
writer."

  "Yeah, but I like to talk too much to be a writer."

  "You could narrate your books on discs for the blind." Kyle laughed. "I listen well. Maybe Neely was right. Maybe we are complementary."

  "What did Neely say?"

  "That you think I'm cute." He chewed on his straw for moment. "Do you?"

  "Yeah. You're very nice-looking."

  "Do you think I'm a nice person inside?"

  "Kyle, I think you've been hurt deeply, and you're afraid to show the real person you are."

  He dipped one eye lid. "You sure you wouldn't like to be a psychiatrist, too?"

  "Are you suggesting a partnership?"

  "Courtney, would you actually consider going on a date with me knowing what I did and all?"

  "Are you asking me out?"

  "I don't know." The boy began to tie the straw into knots. "I'm scared to ask any girl out because I don't wanna have to tell anybody about what I did. You already know. You know all about me and my dad. I wouldn't have to lie to you. I could be myself, but I'm not sure your dad would like it. He might think you wouldn't be safe with me."

  "Kyle, I'll tell you a little info." The girl bragged, "I would kick your ass and leave you in a heap if you tried anything I didn't want. I'm not afraid of you. You aren't a bad person, Kyle."

  "You're not disgusted by what I did?"

  "Yes." She gave a quick nod. "It was a repulsive action. But it's the action that's revolting, not you. Kyle, do you wanna go out with me, Courtney Reynolds, not just any girl?"

  "Yes, if your dad okays it."

  "Then, go ask him. Do it now before you chicken out."

  "I feel like I'm gonna vomit."

  "If you vomit, you won't get a kiss." Courtney's wink brought a smile to the boy's face.

  Kyle handed Ray a Bud Light. "I noticed you were empty," he said, and his voice quavered.

  Ray took the beer. "Do you think that if I'm good and drunk, I'll give you permission to date my daughter?"

  "Do you need to be drunk for me to ask?" Kyle asked looking at the floor.