Rebel Roused (Untamed #5) (14 page)

Pierce did not look surprised in the least when I walked into his office a couple of hours later. He held up a hand as soon as he saw me.

“I’m working on it, I promise,” he said. “But there are a LOT of powerful figures at play here, so it’s taking longer than it should.”

“How is that fair?”

“It’s not, Reagan. It never is.” He shook his head. “But I’m working on it and will have him out as soon as possible.”

I slumped down in the chair opposite his desk. “He won’t let me see him.” Pierce simply shot me an apologetic look and didn’t say anything. “You’ve talked to him? Is he okay?”

He nodded, opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and closed it again.

“Just spit it out, Pierce. It’s me.” I waved my hand at the newspaper on his desk. “I assume you’ve seen it?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “It’s a very flattering photo.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re trying to think of what to throw at me, aren’t you? Always so transparent, Reagan.”

“It’s Ree, now.”

“Ree?” His eyebrows shot up as he tried out the name, nodding slightly. “It suits you.”

“My point is, it’s not like I can’t handle whatever you have to say. Because, really, can it be any worse than that?” I pointed at The Times. “Or the fact that the man I love is in jail?”

He sighed and sat forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Dare is okay, as far as I can tell. He’s a bit…abrasive.”

“Well, he’s in jail and probably thinks our father is trying to keep him there…which is very likely true.” I sagged against the back of my chair. “What am I going to do?”

“You’ve given your statement, right?”

“Yes, last night.” I leaned my head on my hand, and told him I’d also filed a report about the rape.

He looked surprised and maybe even a little impressed. “So,” he said, “it’s been a big morning for you.”

“To say the least.” I tried to smile, but failed. “I could have done without all this.” Then I realized what day it was. “Oh, shit. I’ve still got the art show with the kids at the shelter this afternoon.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “I should already be there.”

I shook my head, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t let the kids down. They needed people who came through for them. But with Dare and everything—

“Go,” Pierce said. “Go, get your mind off of this. I can see it’s important to you.” I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off. “I’ll keep working on Dare’s case, okay? I promise, Reaga—
Ree
. I’ll call you later when I know more.”

“The MOMENT you know.”

“Not even a nanosecond later. I swear.”

twenty

A
s I walked the streets of New York, it felt like everyone I passed gave me a second glance, the way you do when you recognize someone. I felt exposed, raw…hunted. Especially after I noticed a few people taking pictures with their cell phones. Whispered conversations bombarded my ears as I walked by, and though I couldn’t make out what people were saying, I was sure they were all talking about me.

God, I needed to get out of my own head. My body was aching to walk if only to break the exhausting cycle of thoughts circling through my mind, but I couldn’t stand the looks I was getting. So I grabbed a cab up to Harlem, desperate to get to the art show as soon as possible.

At the shelter, I braced myself for more of the same, but no one looked at me any differently. The kids, of course, wouldn’t have any idea what was going on, but even the adults didn’t seem to know, or maybe to them it wasn’t that big of a deal. They’d all been through their own personal dramas, and had bigger worries to deal with.

In the end, we were all human. No matter how you dressed—secondhand clothes or designer wear—we all had issues.

The show went beautifully, and the pride I saw painted across the kids’ smiling faces made my heart swell and my eyes overflow. I kept turning to look for Dare to tell him something, only to be hit with reality again. I’d had crazy hope that maybe Pierce could have gotten him released in time and he would have surprised me by coming.

I was just starting to clean up—after being hugged and squeezed repeatedly by my kids as they said goodbye—when my phone buzzed.

“Pierce?” I said, not even giving him a chance to respond. “Is Dare getting out tonight?”

“Have you seen the news, Ree?”

“What? No. Is Dare okay?”

“It’s not Dare—he’s fine. It’s Jackson.” Pierce paused and took a deep breath. “Apparently after seeing the article in the paper this morning, several women came forward with similar stories about Jack, and they filed reports.”

A cold chill washed over me. Oh my god. He’d done it to others too? If only I’d said something, if I’d pushed my parents—

“It’s not your fault.” Pierce broke into my thoughts. “So don’t even go there. This is on Dad and Mother. You and I both know that.”

“But—” I took a deep breath, trying to collect my ricocheting thoughts. “So what’s going to—”

“Jackson committed suicide.”

“Oh my god, Pierce.”

I didn’t know how to feel—my mind was blank. Slowly lowering myself to the floor, I felt hot tears streaming down my face and my body was rocked by sobs. A mess of emotions flowed through me, but mostly relief that it was over. Really, truly over. Jackson would never hurt anyone again.

“Ree? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m just…” I couldn’t finish that sentence because I didn’t know how.

“I know. Why don’t you come spend the night at my place tonight? Then I can take you to the precinct in the morning—they’re dropping the charges. Dare’s going to be released tomorrow.”

That night at Pierce’s, I couldn’t sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, images of smiling kids from today’s show filled my mind’s eye. Despite the hardships their families were going through, those children somehow managed to bring happiness to the face of every mother there.

As their giggles echoed in my mind, I was haunted by a conversation Dare and I had several nights before.

“What would you name her…or him?” I’d said, my hands drifting to my stomach, dreaming of our future baby.

He’d shaken his head. “I don’t know. But no ‘D’ names. There are already enough of those.”

“And definitely no political names.” I shuddered. “Quinn just went totally overboard with little Harry Truman.”

“Poor kid.”

“Right?”

Dare laced his fingers through mine, our hands intertwined on my stomach. “We’ll figure it out,” he’d said. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make as many babies as we want.”

Except it was never going to happen. Dare had lit up when we’d talked about having children—it was clearly one of his dreams. And if he stayed with me, he’d never realize it. I couldn’t be the one to take away his future, but I also couldn’t just let him go.

All I could think that night as I lay there waiting for morning to dawn was: I wonder if Dare was still mine.

I was outside the police station the next morning well before nine. Pierce had said Dare was going to be released around ten, but I wanted to make sure I was there for him when he came out—that mine would be the first face he saw.

That he’d know I’d been waiting for him all along.

I just hoped he still wanted me.

He had to, right? After everything we’d been through, I had to believe that we were meant to be together. Dare was the reason my heart beat every second of every day. The reason I breathed. The whole reason I’d had the courage and strength to become the person I was today.

In all that had happened, starting with how we’d begun three years ago, I’d come to believe that I was made for Dare. I’d never known anyone like him—so loyal to those he loved, so fiercely protective and willing to put his life on the line, to always place his family first.

Family was so important to him.

Which scared the shit out of me now that he knew we wouldn’t be able to have one.

I glanced at the large clock in the square across the street. Ten-thirty, but still no Dare. What the hell was going on?

That was it. I couldn’t wait any longer. It didn’t really matter whether I waited for him out on the street or if I was inside.

I ran up the steps and spotted the officer I’d talked to the other day.

He nodded as I approached the desk. “Good morning, Miss McKinley. What can I do for you?”

“I’m waiting for Dare Wilde to be released. My brother said he was supposed to get out at about ten. Do you know what the hold up is?”

A frown wrinkled his forehead as his fingers clicked along the keyboard.

He shook his head. “Says here he was released a couple of hours ago. Eight-thirty, to be precise.” He looked up at me, his eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry. Looks like he’s already gone.”

Already gone.

Oh, no. No. I couldn’t stomach a repeat of what had happened three years ago. This couldn’t be happening again.

But then why hadn’t he called to tell me he was out? I hurried out onto the street, my arm already up, hailing a cab before I was fully through the door. Why wouldn’t Dare have waited for me? He had to have known I was coming. Pierce was supposed to have told him.

And why the fuck hadn’t he called me this morning when he got home to an empty apartment?

I pulled my cell phone out right now as a cab pulled over to pick me up. Shit. Dead. I’d forgotten to bring my charger to Pierce’s and now I couldn’t even make the damn call.

“FUCK.”

“Excuse me, miss?” The cabbie turned and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Sorry.” I pocketed my phone and gave him the address, then sat back and wished the city would go by faster.

As soon as the driver pulled over in front of our building, I shoved money into his hand, then sprinted for the door, fighting to get my key in the lock, hoping beyond hope that I was not about to enter a half-cleared out apartment.

Flashbacks of Dare’s empty apartment in Brooklyn three years ago flickered in my mind as my shaking hands finally got the key in the lock and turned it.

“Please, please, please,” I said, throwing the door open.

My heart stopped, then shattered.

Suitcases stood by the door. A laptop was open on the coffee table, the browser loaded to a travel agency website confirmation page.

Dare had booked a ticket to Paris.

twenty-one