Coming Undone (4 page)

He shivered at the cold room and closed the window over his bed before falling facedown on the mattress with a sigh. A headache was coming on, brought on by lack of sleep and all the stress, no doubt. He didn’t want to reach for the pills, so he turned off all the lights and heaved a sigh.

This was a mess he hadn’t anticipated coming home to. His brother AWOL, the old man lost in his work and the bottle, and Stella gone. Without a trace.

Something clanged—most likely the ancient plumbing lines—but he couldn’t keep his body from tensing up, his hands forming into fists. Five years was a long time to be on alert, to be watching your back, waiting for the unknown to strike. Almost a year free, but he hadn’t gotten used to sudden movements and loud noises yet.

Try all he might, he hadn’t left his prison behind.

Location wasn’t helping, not when the mess he’d created all those years ago had escalated into a full-fledged catastrophe. He’d let down the one man who’d stood by him and Carter. If only RJ had acted differently. Maybe Stella would be around now, maybe he’d have given her what she’d wanted. What he’d denied her since they were teenagers.

RJ rolled onto his stomach with a groan.

He hadn’t lied when he told McKenna he wanted to kill Salim. He would, one bullet right between the eyes. RJ looked forward to that day, but he had to know first. He didn’t trust himself to approach Salim, to sit down opposite him all civil and shit, and ask calm questions. He’d lose it and get locked up for sure with no answers.

That wasn’t a chance he dared to take. Not when the old man relied on him, when he bankrolled everything. RJ had begged Carter into talking him into it, into hoping again, and he had to deliver.

End of story.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what success meant. Was it bringing Stella home, safe and sound? Knowing where Salim had dumped her body, if he had indeed killed her? Finding out if she’d died peacefully?

How did he measure success for something like the situation he’d stepped into?

RJ couldn’t help thinking that no matter what happened, at the end of the day he’d failed. Failed to protect his brother, failed to protect Stella, failed to live up to what the old man expected of him.

Stella was the reason he’d left the house he’d grown up in, snuck out in the middle of the night after leaving that stupid note.

I can’t stay. I’m sorry.

He’d kept it vague since he knew the old man would see it first when he went downstairs the next morning. But that note was for Stella. He ran from her, from what he’d known she wanted, what he knew he couldn’t give.

And now? Now he’d give anything to go back to that night when she’d crawled into his bed, naked and willing. Seventeen-year-old Stella had been strong willed, hell-bent on making him see how right it was for them to be together. He’d wanted to, wanted her like he’d wanted his next breath, but he’d owed the old man more than that. He couldn’t take advantage, couldn’t wreck her life. Carter deserved to be in a stable home, and RJ swore he wouldn’t do anything to make the old man regret bringing them into his home.

He’d turned her away, and when she’d slunk out of his bedroom, so defeated and humiliated, he’d run. When they saw each other again, RJ was working for Salim as a bodyguard and Stella was in the bastard’s bed. She hadn’t said the words, but he’d seen it in her eyes. His
payback. Sleeping with his boss right under RJ’s nose was his payback for leaving her alone all those years ago. When he’d tried to get Salim to leave her alone, RJ found himself in an Irish prison, unable to do anything. Now he was back and Stella was nowhere to be found.

Pain lanced through his skull, and he groaned, grasping his head in both hands. Nothing would stop him from getting answers. That was the goal, answers. The old man deserved to know what happened to his only daughter, and RJ needed to do his penance, but only after he got answers.

McKenna Lacey had answers and he’d get them.

****

Sunrise the next morning found him camped out inside the tiny coffee shop three doors down from McKenna’s place on the opposite side of the street. He sat at a small, round metal table with two chairs, nursing a cup of peppermint tea, his gaze on McKenna’s front door.

Carter had grumbled when RJ stumbled downstairs with the intent of shadowing Salim’s bedmate all day, but RJ reminded his little brother of what exactly they had at stake. Carter kept his trap shut after that. RJ had no intentions of missing anything, any clue from McKenna.

She was a tough nut, but he’d dealt with much tougher.

He sipped his brackish tea then grimaced. He needed more sugar, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off McKenna’s house for even a second.
Patches.
She’d called him Patches. RJ grinned at that. He knew he’d scared her, especially that last time when he’d broken in and watched her sleep, but she’d barely shown any outward sign.

That woman had a hell of a poker face. She intrigued him. RJ could admit that. She was beautiful with that gorgeous dark skin and heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes flashed when she bantered with him, giving him hints at the fire in her. She was a fighter and the last time he’d seen her only cemented the idea that she was playing a role. She’d been so different than the first time. She’d played the weakling, the helpless little female then.

He doubted she was any of that under the façade.

She knew where her strength lay, in her body, her sexuality, and she used it well. Carter had a dozen or more pictures of her and Salim fucking in public. Parks, parking lots, bars. Anywhere.

He wondered, for the hundredth time, what she had to hide that made her hitch her wagon to Salim’s star. At one time she’d been attending NYU, doing great if the transcripts he’d read were any indication. So again, why Salim? He was a good-looking guy, sure, with money to burn, but a woman like McKenna would know better.

Or she should.

A familiar black SUV drove past the coffee house window and pulled up in front of McKenna’s door. RJ sat up straight. Moments later, she appeared in her doorway, a colorful scarf wrapped around her neck and over her thick hair. Dark shades covered half her face and hid her eyes, matching perfectly with her black jacket. The tight jeans she wore were frayed at the knees, and tan boots came up to her calves.

She descended the stairs, pulling on tanned gloves as she went.

RJ got to his feet, flipping his hoodie over his head to hide his face. He stood in the coffee shop's doorway, face angled away, and as soon as the SUV pulled away from the curb with McKenna inside, he got inside the beat up Crown Vic he’d borrowed from the same African guy who’d rented him the warehouse. He followed the SUV, making sure he didn’t get too close, through downtown Brooklyn. They traveled via Atlantic Avenue all the way up to Weeksville before making the right and crossing over to Eastern Parkway.

RJ frowned. Where the hell was she going so early in the morning? None of the possible answers made sense. The neighborhoods they passed were all low income. He didn’t see McKenna, or Salim for that matter, visiting or hanging around.

When they entered East New York, considered one of Brooklyn’s most dangerous neighborhoods, RJ shook his head. He really hoped Salim wasn’t involving McKenna in his dirty dealings with shady people more than she already was.

He should chill. McKenna was a big girl who gave no indication she wanted him looking out for her, so he wouldn’t.

The SUV turned onto Linden Boulevard, heading out of Brooklyn and into Queens. RJ gave up trying to anticipate their destination. Which would explain why his jaw dropped when the SUV pulled to a stop in front of a building called Ruby Weston Manor.

RJ squinted. The building looked like a hotel, but he didn’t think it was, especially when he saw a few people standing outside in nurse’s scrubs.

McKenna was helped out of the SUV by one of the men with her, and RJ watched as she strode into the building without a backward glance. He noticed, too, that the SUV didn’t budge from its space in front the building, which meant he’d have to get creative if he wanted to know what the hell was inside.

He parked on one of the side streets and walked the block until he reached the back of the building. Standing there, he stared at the back entrance, casting about for any way to get in. Damn.

The door opened with a click, and RJ jumped, quickly positioning himself so he didn’t look like he was trying to break in.

“Hey, man.”

He turned and nodded to the short older gentleman eyeing him cautiously.

“Got a smoke?”

“Nah, just finished my last.” RJ didn’t smoke, but he really wished he’d taken up that particular vice right then.

“Shit.” The older guy held on to the door, and RJ tried not to let his gaze linger. “You coming in?”

Hell, yeah. “Sure.” RJ ducked into the shadowed hallway before the guy could change his mind. “Listen, I just spotted a woman come in. Dark glasses, colorful scarf. You seen her?”

“Oh yeah.
Second floor, I think. Room two-oh-five.”

Jackpot. “Thanks.” RJ ducked into the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. The place was small, so it would only be a matter of time before someone realized he was out of place.

On the second floor, he kept his head lowered, walking down the corridor before he realized he needed to be going in the other direction. He did an about-face, his sneakers squeaking loudly on the polished floors. The place was damn quiet, and he still had no clue what he’d broken into.

He reached the room he was looking for and stood next to the door held ajar, listening intently at the hushed voice inside. McKenna’s. Pushing the door slightly, RJ poked his head in. He heard McKenna, but he didn’t see her so he stepped inside and closed the door softly.

He was in a room, a neat one, too. A bed, night table, and small desk occupied the space. McKenna’s voice sounded to his left, and RJ went in that direction. A small door opened up to a caged balcony, and he made out two figures standing, looking out.

“Look, Momma, it’s us. You and me.” McKenna’s voice was soft and warm, but something else was there too. A plea?
“You and me. Kenna? You remember, right? You remember me?”

“Kenna?” A weak voice broke in. “Where’s Kenna? Where’s my Kenna?” The shrill words rose louder in confused desperation.

What the hell? RJ crept closer, standing openly in the doorway. McKenna didn’t see him, too busy trying to coax the frail-looking, dark-skinned woman next to her to calm down.

“Sh
h, Momma. It’s me. It’s Kenna.” She touched the woman’s smooth cheek. “I’m here. I’m right here.” She tried to hug her mother, but the woman shrank away in obvious fear, brown eyes much like her daughter’s wild and unfocused.

“No! My Kenna isn’t here. Where is she?” The older woman looked around frantically. “Where is she? Kenna.
Kenna.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, matching those wetting McKenna’s face.

“Momma.”

“I want my Kenna,” the woman whispered. “Kenna loves me, and I love Kenna.”

“I do.” McKenna reached for her mother then dropped her hand at the last second. “I do love you, Momma. So much.”
She wiped her face then turned.

Her mouth opened when she spotted RJ.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know why he said those words, why they left his mouth. McKenna’s face tightened, nostrils flaring wildly. She didn’t speak to him. Instead she turned back to her mother and coaxed her with soft words.

“Come on, Momma.” She pointed to the door. “Let’s go back inside.” She guided her mother past RJ and back into the bedroom where she helped her into the bed and pulled the covers over her small frame before motioning for RJ to step outside.

In the hallway, she paced, fingers sifting through her shoulder length hair as she stared off into space. RJ just stood by the door and waited.

“Seen enough?” she asked abruptly. “Did you get what you came for?”

RJ shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

She eyed him like a bug under her expensive heels. “
You're a nosy son of a bitch who has no idea when to quit.”

“I’ll quit when you say when.” RJ grinned. “It’s up to you.”

Sparks flew from her eyes as she came up to him, got in his face, and snarled. “Get the fuck out of my life.”

RJ pushed off the wall and stared her down. “Take a look at me, baby girl. You and your trick don’t scare me. Not now, not ever. I’ll get out of your life when you say when. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave you alone.”

McKenna sighed after a while. “I don’t know what you want,” she denied on a throaty breath.

Heat unfurled in RJ’s groin, and he inhaled sharply, taking her floral perfume into his lungs.
Fuck me!
He was getting a hard-on for Salim’s whore. “Don’t try that shit on me,” he growled. “It won’t work.”

Her lips curled. “A fan of dick, are you? Should’ve known.”

RJ laughed. “That’s the response you go to when a man sees through your obvious fake shit? Bet you never thought there’d be someone who just doesn’t want you, huh?”

She smiled at him, wide and bright, her white teeth dazzling. “Of course there are men who don’t want me. You’re not one of them.”