Page 1 of Beautiful Rush
1
Keira
Guilty. Even though I’d expected it, had sat in this courtroom every day for the past few weeks listening to the testimony, it still came as a shock. I had expected the jury to deliberate longer. For my father’s attorney to pull a rabbit out of his hat.
My father’s gaze landed on me. There was no accusation in his eyes. No anger or hatred. Only disappointment. It felt like a knife in my gut, twisting and turning, my conviction that I’d done the right thing faltering. He looked as handsome as ever in a Brioni suit, silk tie, and crisp white dress shirt. My father was meticulous about his wardrobe. Even his casual clothes were elegant. I’ve never seen his shirt rumpled or sweat-stained. Not so much as a stray piece of lint on his suit jacket. Ronan Shaughnessy was a silver-tongued devil who hid his ruthlessness behind his Hollywood movie star looks and charming smile. His trial and the months leading up to it had been fodder for every newspaper, network, and tabloid in the country.
As they slapped the handcuffs on his wrists, I traced the words tattooed on my inner wrist. “To thine own self be true.” Not very original, but the Bard’s words were fitting. I asked my brother Connor to ink the words a few days before we came down to Miami. Since then, I’ve traced them hundreds of times. Trying to find strength. Trying to believe that I had done the right thing. For myself. For my brothers. For my mother who sat next to me but was so far out of reach she might as well have been on another planet. She had only spoken a handful of words to me in all the days that we’d been here and had barely acknowledged Killian and Connor.
Now, sobs wracked her body, her pain visible to everyone sitting in this courtroom as they led the love of her life away in handcuffs. The man she’d sacrificed everything for had been brought to his knees by his own daughter.Herown daughter.
“Mom,” I said, my voice hushed. “Please…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I didn’t know what I was pleading for. Forgiveness. Understanding. Her love. She straightened her spine and wiped away the tears, her brilliant blue eyes meeting mine. My mother was beautiful in the way that marble statues in a museum are beautiful—cold, unyielding, and untouchable.
“Goodbye, Keira. Take care of yourself.” There was no warmth in her voice, no indication that she cared what happened to me. Maybe she never had.
Goodbye. Take care of yourself.
Her face was neutral, betraying no emotion and except for her smudged eyeliner, there was no sign that she was grieving. That display of grief had been rare for her, and now she regretted letting anyone see it.
She turned to my brothers for the first time acknowledging their presence and gave them a curt nod before she walked out of the courtroom, head held high, back ramrod straight. Elegant and regal. My father’s queen. As I watched her go, I knew I would never see her again. She was cutting me out of her life just like she’d done to my brothers over twenty years ago. Now, she left without a backward glance while I stood fixed to my spot, my eyes glued to the doorway she’d just exited.
My gaze swung to Connor and Killian, so handsome in their suits and ties. Tall and strong, they’d stood by me through it all. They looked so much like my mother—dark hair, olive skin, and eyes the same shade of blue. Technically, they were my half-brothers, but we were family in the truest sense of the word. They loved me, and I loved them. It was that simple and that complicated.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I was apologizing for my mother. For my father. For everything my brothers had suffered because of my parents. Left by my mother to fend for themselves when they were just kids, they’d been raised by an abusive drunk who hid his crimes beneath a badge.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Connor said, a soft smile on his face. I adored him. He was my confidante, our bond forged two years ago when he came down to Miami looking for my mother. His and Killian’s mother. At the time, I didn’t even know he was my brother. At the time, he resented me for having had her in my life. But all that had changed.
“We didn’t come down here for her,” Killian said, a hard edge to his voice. “We’re here for you.” Seven years older than me, Killian was the rock. The protector. The fighter.
“Well, at least you won’t have to postpone the wedding,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Find a silver lining in this whole mess. Killian was marrying Eden in ten days. He’d found a woman who was perfect for him and so had Connor who was back together with his girlfriend, Ava. My brothers were finally happy. Nobody deserved happiness more than they did.
“Ready?” Connor asked, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. He hated feeling constrained and was ready to bolt, his eyes trained on the exit like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
I wasn’t ready, but I nodded. I knew what awaited us outside the federal courthouse. A sea of journalists, hoping for a statement or a photo that would sell their newspapers. I reminded myself that they were only doing their job, and everyone had to earn a living somehow. Today’s sensational news would be forgotten by tomorrow when the next hot story or scandal came along.
The three of us donned our sunglasses to ward off the glaring June sunlight. Miami was at its most brutal in the summertime. The heat and sunlight and vibrant colors intensified until it was almost too much. I took a deep breath of stale air before I walked out of the courthouse, flanked by my brothers. Today I wore a pearl gray Prada sheath dress and Louboutin heels, my hair smoothed into a neat chignon. Classy, understated, elegant, and expensive. I looked nothing like myself. I looked like my father’s daughter. Every day I had dressed up for him, wearing the designer clothes that had once filled my closet, mostly unworn, some with the tags still on. As soon as I got back to Brooklyn, they were all going to the thrift store.
Instead of ducking my head in shame, I smiled for the cameras. The dazzling smile I inherited from my father. The smile that hid a multitude of sins. We refused to comment, even as they jumped in front of us, crowding us with their mics in hand, a barrage of questions coming from all sides.
My brothers warded them off, protecting me from the worst of it. As we walked away, I held up my middle finger in a salute to let them know what I thought of their invasive questions and sensationalism.
“Nice one,” Connor said, unable to hide his amusement.
Killian shook his head and muttered something under his breath while Connor and I cracked up laughing. It relieved some of the heaviness pressing down on my chest. The weeks of sitting in a stuffy courtroom, barely able to breathe as I listened to the horrible things my father had done. The lives he’d ruined. The means he’d used to acquire our luxury lifestyle.
A villa in The Caymans. A fleet of cars. A sleek boat in the marina. Our Spanish-style Coral Gables home with its opulent crystal chandeliers, expanses of marble, priceless antiques, and artwork. The government had seized his assets and now he had nothing. Except for the ten thousand dollars in cash I’d left for my mother in a plain brown envelope—guilt money—she had nothing. How would my mother support herself? She had never worked a day in her life.
Of course, that photo of me flipping the journalists the bird would be the one that graced the newspapers: Wild Child Keira Shaughnessy, daughter of convicted criminal Ronan Shaughnessy leaving the Miami Federal Courthouse with former UFC champion, Killian ‘The Kill’ Vincent and heroin addict, Connor Vincent.
That wasn’t the exact headline, but it was close enough.
We had garnered publicity that none of us had wanted. Our pasts and dirty secrets dug up and exposed. It had been inevitable. We were still young, but we had already lived a thousand lives.
“Let’s go home,” I said, the words bringing a genuine smile to my face for the first time in weeks.
Killian beeped the locks of our rental SUV in the parking garage and we climbed in, closing the doors and shutting out the Miami heat. Our bags were already packed and loaded in the trunk, ready for our evening flight.
Brooklyn was home now and had been for the past seven months. I had a job I loved, working for Tate at Atlas Motors. I’d talked him into buying and restoring American muscle cars that turned a profit. In January, I moved into my own apartment, much to Killian’s dismay. If it had been left up to him, I’d still be in the guest room of his and Eden’s loft. He’d been pissed when I rented the apartment without telling him, but Eden had a way of smoothing his ruffled feathers and he got over it. Eventually.
