Read Someone To Believe In Online

Authors: Kathryn Shay

Tags: #family, #kathryn shay, #new york, #romance, #senator, #someone to believe in, #street gangs, #suspense

Someone To Believe In (10 page)

BOOK: Someone To Believe In
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Bailey’s brother shook his hand warmly.
“Yeah, hi, Senator.”

“Clay, please.” He smiled down at Rory. “Your
nephew asked if I’d read to him.”

Eyes exactly like Bailey’s were amused.
“I know. He said he wanted
that important
man
to read him his favorite book.”

Clay glanced at Rory’s choice of
reading material.
Where the Wild Things
Are
. “Now why doesn’t this surprise me? Like mother
like son.”

“You got that right. It’s Bailey’s favorite,
too. We all went to see the exhibit at the museum downtown.”

His heartbeat speeded up a bit and he glanced
behind Aidan. “Bailey with you?”

“Nope. She’s workin’ in ‘that awful
place’.”

Clay smiled. “She know you’re here?”

“She knows I was taking my man here to do
something educational. I wanted to hear what you had to say. I’ll
tell her we saw you.” He pulled out a camera. “As a matter of fact,
I’m gonna document it. My sister’s real big on Kodak moments.”

A tug on his pants. “Mister?”

Leaning down, Clay scooped Rory up. Nostalgia
washed over him once again at the heavy weight of a child in his
arms. His estrangement from his own son felt suffocating. It kept
growing every day, and this latest thing with Lawson had caused
another huge gulf. Pushing away the more-than-unpleasant thought,
he carried Rory over to a chair that fit the two of them, plopped
down, and began to read.

Rory knew all the parts. Clay could imagine
Bailey acting them out with him—he was sure she’d choose to be one
of the wild things. Halfway through, Rory nestled close into his
chest. Absently, Clay kissed his head—as Aidan did indeed take some
pictures.

When they were done, Rory perked up. “I’m
hungry.”

Refreshments were provided at the front of
the store. “Want some juice and cookies?”

“Ice cream sundae. Hot fudge,” he said
emphatically.

Like mother like son, Clay thought again. And
again, the image of Bailey eating pistachio ice cream assaulted
him.

He rose with Rory in his arms and found Aidan
across the room, flirting with a redhead. “Aidan?”

“Oh, sorry. You have to leave?”

“Actually, I’d like to treat my new friend
here to ice cream.”

“And his uncle?”

Clay grinned. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind talking
to you about a certain person we both know, anyway.”

“There’s a diner across the street.”

“You’re on.”

Soon they were settled in a booth in the
restaurant with their treats. A small afternoon crowd had gathered
in the bright, sun-drenched diner. Rory shoveled down his ice
cream, then asked if he could go look at the aquarium full of
colorful tropical fish that was the restaurant’s main decorative
touch. Since it was only a few feet away, Aidan gave his
permission and Rory scampered off. Soon his face was pressed to
the tank, mouth open in awe.

“So:” Clay began after he and Aidan had eaten
most of their dessert and had ordered coffee. “How’s your
sister?”

Aidan scowled. “Working too hard, as usual. I
try to help her out, but hell, she has erratic hours at ESCAPE and
fills in at the pub three times a week.” He nodded to the boy. “She
spends the rest of her time with this one. I don’t know when she
sleeps.”

“Can’t she forgo the pub?”

“She needs the money. ESCAPE doesn’t pay
much. The rest of us can’t afford to help her financially.” He
gazed at his camera. “I’m tryin’ to...” He shook his head. “You
don’t want to talk about me.”

“Sure I do.”

“No, you wanna know about her. I can tell.”
He smiled. “So, if you promise to get Julianne’s address for me,
I’ll tell all.”

“Julianne?”

“Moore.”

Clay laughed. “I’ll put the FBI right on
it.”

Aidan watched him. His gaze was intense, and
again reminiscent of Bailey’s.

“Aidan, why is she into the gang thing? She’s
bright, funny, interesting. She could be a lot of things. I know
she’s been offered several social work jobs with the state
government, which pay more.”

Aidan’s dark brows knitted. “Because of our
sister.”

“You have another sister?”

“We did. She died.” He stared out the window,
obviously thinking about another time. “In prison.”

Clay stilled. “Tell me,”

Aidan toyed with a napkin as he talked.
“Moira was three years older than Bailey. But she didn’t live with
us until she was fourteen. Dad...he, oh, hell, he cheated on Mom
and got caught. To give him quarter, they were fighting like cats
and dogs then and had a temporary separation. But we didn’t know
about Moira until her mother died. By then, she was into a girl
gang.”

At fourteen. How sad.

“The Good Girls were the—”

“She was in the GGs?”

“Yeah. They got into a particularly bad
street fight just past her sixteenth birthday, and were rounded up.
A D.A. sent her to Greenfield Detention Center.”

“I know the place. It’s for hard-core
teenagers.”

“She found her niche there, too. She died
squaring off with an in-house rival gang leader.”

Clay’s heart went out to Aidan and Bailey.
“I’m sorry.”

“Bailey took it the hardest. They were the
two girls so they shared a room. She loved Moira.”

Things about Bailey made more sense now. He
wondered why he didn’t know this about her background. It hadn’t
come up in her trial, or at least he couldn’t remember it.

“Clay?”

He sipped his coffee. “Hmm?”

“I wish you two could bury the hatchet.
You’ve caused her a lot of grief already.”

He swallowed hard, glanced at Rory who was
busy tracing patterns with his finger on the glass of the fish
tank. “You mean when she went to prison.”

Aidan’s pleasant face tensed. “Uh-huh.” His
brow furrowed. “She never talks about it. I don’t think we know the
whole story of what happened to her in there. “

Clay said, “Andersonville is less dangerous
than Greenfield. Where Bailey went was minimum security.”

Her brother’s jaw hardened. “I know. But in
some ways, that’s what I was afraid of. Other prisoners had...easy
access to her.”

Clay cleared his throat. “I checked on
her.”

“What?”

“After she was convicted. I visited
Andersonville before she went up and then kept tabs during the year
she was inside. There were a few scrapes.”

“Yeah, I saw a black eye once and some
bruises when I visited her.”

Clay swallowed hard. He leaned over. “I’m not
sure about the other—the sexual stuff. The guards said no, it
didn’t happen to her, that she’d gotten the protection of an
inmate...”

Aidan shrugged. “She said she wasn’t sexually
assaulted. That somebody had protected her—a gang leader who’d
known Moira on the outside. I just, um, didn’t know what Bailey
would have to do to get that protection.”

Clay went cold. “Do you think she was
lying?”
Please Lord, don’t let her have
been.

“She could have been. I know my sister better
than anybody. She’s the baby but she’d feel the need to shelter
us.” Aidan gripped his spoon and stirred his coffee. “It’s why we
don’t know the details of what happens at ESCAPE. It drives my
brothers nuts.”

Releasing a heavy breath, Clay shifted in his
seat. “It drives me nuts, too.”

Aidan studied him. “Am I missing something
here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Guy stuff. You seem...fond of
her.”

He started to object. Then he held Aidan’s
gaze. “I...am. I never expected to like her.”

A laugh, deep and from his belly, escaped
from Aidan. “Oh, wow. This is something. Particularly because I
think she feels the same about you.”

“She told you that?”

“Nah. But as I said, I know her better than
anybody.” He sobered. “You’re not married, right?”

“Divorced.”

“Got somebody?”

“I see a woman, but nothing formal.” Jane’s
pale hair and slender form came to his mind. “It’s been on-again,
off-again for a while.” He thought about it. “I don’t believe it’s
going anywhere.”

“If it is, if there’s another woman, stay
away from Bailey, Clay. I don’t want her hurt.”

“And if there isn’t one?”

He snorted. “I’d watch my step if I were
you.”

“Why?”

“Bailey’s never taken a man seriously.”

“Not even Rory’s father?”

“She liked him well enough. But I don’t think
she’s ever been in love.” He smiled. “She and I joke that we were
both born lacking the love gene.”

“No special girl for you?”

“Nope. My brothers, they’re a different
story. Bailey and me...
nada
.
Truthfully, I don’t think she’s ever found anybody who’s man
enough to handle her. Or one she can believe in enough to trust her
heart with.”

Clay was still digesting that when Rory raced
over. “I’m thirsty.”

Aidan smiled. “Okay, champ.” He signaled the
waitress.

Sitting back, Clay watched the two of them.
“Thanks for telling me all this.”

“Just remember what I said. I’m more
mild-mannered than my three brothers, but I’ll break your legs if
you hurt her.”

“You gonna break his legs, Uncle Aidan?” Rory
asked.

Aidan ruffled Rory’s hair. “Just a figure of
speech, kid.”

But it wasn’t. Oh, Clay didn’t believe Aidan
would do him bodily harm. Probably not. He didn’t think so anyway.
But Clay could tell this brother meant to protect his sister.

As he watched the O’Neils leave, he pondered
what he’d just heard. Bailey was an even more complicated woman
than Clay had realized.

That he wanted to know all those layers, peel
them off one by one, shocked him. This was not good.

 

 

THE GIRL WAS beautiful. She looked like
Jennifer Lopez, though her hair was darker and her eyes more hazel
than brown. No wonder her father tried to whore her out. Son of a
bitch.

“Can’t believe you’re here, Angel.”

Bailey smiled at Taz. “Why? I’m just having
coffee at my favorite bookstore cafe.” The one near Columbia
University’s campus, where scads of people were around, but Taz
wouldn’t stick out. She was dressed in fatigue pants, an army-green
T-shirt, and combat boots. Around her neck were distinctive beads,
which indicated her gang affiliation. She didn’t fly the gang
colors, though.

Bailey herself had on jeans and a T-shirt. To
the casual eye, they’d look like two students having coffee.
Students and teachers alike gathered in the airy space, which
brought the outdoor sunshine in through a huge wall of windows. The
interior was redolent with coffee and a variety of breads they
were famous for.

“Nice shirt.” Taz nodded to the GIRL POWER,
glittered across Bailey’s chest. She watched Bailey keenly, with
eyes full of a wary intelligence.

Taz said, “You’re pretty young to be doin’
this for a living.”

“So are you, Taz.”

“I can take care of myself.” Her eyes clouded
though, and she began to rip apart a napkin in front of her. “I,
um, this last thing...fuck, I only did it once ’cause they said
they were gonna cut off his fingers, one at a time. I ain’t doin’
it again.”

“Of course you’re not. We have to get you out
of that house.”

“I said I can live with my homiest’

“I can get you into a shelter.”

“No way. Five-ohs bust those places on a
regular basis.”

“The shelters ESCAPE uses are havens. The
police leave us alone.” She smiled. “Anyway, they don’t know all
the locations where we stash our kids.”

Taz’s smile made her even prettier.
“Everybody says you don’t play by no rules.”

“I play by rules that are fair. So, what do
you think? Are you going to let me help you?”

Bringing her coffee mug to her lips, Taz once
again studied Bailey. Finally, she said, “For a place to flop,
maybe. Nothin’ more. Least not right now. “

“All right. That’s enough.” At least for
right now.

 

 

SIX

 

 

AS CLAYTON RODE in the taxi from his office
to the governor’s, he drew a folder from his briefcase. Opening
it, he startled at the face staring out at him. God, her eyes were
blue. They sucked you in. Against his will, he reached out and
traced a few freckles on her nose. Shit! Why had Josh included
this picture in the file? Probably to bust his balls. Josh Lewis,
his roommate from college, who ran a private investigation firm,
happened to be in New York the night after Clay had toured ESCAPE’s
offices, and had been the unexpected recipient of Clay’s
venting.

“You got a thing for her, buddy?” His most
trusted friend had asked as they’d kicked back with a beer in
Clay’s town house.

“No. Except that she gets under my skin.”

“Not a lot of women been able to do
that.”

Thoughtful, he peeled the label from the
bottle. “What if I wanted to know what she was up to for a few
weeks? Could you do it? Discreetly?”

“Yeah, sure. Nothing illegal about keeping
track of a foe. ’Course, if it was personal, it could be considered
stalking.”

“It isn’t personal, it’s professional.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Josh said dryly. When
Clay didn’t respond, he said, “What the hell? Let’s do it.”

He knew what Josh was thinking, but he was
wrong. This was purely professional. Nothing personal. Clay wanted
ammunition against her, that was all.

Then why’d you change your suit today, twice,
when you knew you were going to see her?

Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was attracted to
the Street Angel. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. She didn’t have
that sophisticated veneer he liked in women.

Disgusted with himself, he zeroed in on the
contents of the folder. By the time he got to the governor’s
office, all thoughts of attraction had flown from his mind; he
wanted to strangle her again. Hurrying from the cab, he strode into
the Public Safety Building, which was buzzing with the drone of
computers, phones ringing, and work chatter. He strode to the bank
of elevators hidden around a corner, thinking that some man really
needed to take Bailey O’Neil in hand. God help the guy who tried,
though.

BOOK: Someone To Believe In
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