David j schow, p.1

Rear View, page 1

 

Rear View
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Rear View


  Also available from K.C. Harper

  Shadowed Moonlight

  Shattered Moonlight

  Rear View contains descriptions of sexual content, cursing, domestic violence, blood, mild gore, discussion of suicide and stalking.

  Rear View

  K.C. Harper

  NOTE TO READERS

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  For Gram

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Xavier

  Eight Years Earlier

  I stared through the blinds in my dad’s study, out to the dark road of our street. Surer than shit, he was comin’ for me. His security app would’ve notified him the front porch camera was out, and he monitored that thing because control was his MO. It wouldn’t be pretty when he got there, but it’d be worth it.

  Footsteps approached me from behind and I eyed the room’s door.

  Alec crossed over, his body coiled. “Everything’s good to go.”

  Dragging a hand through my short, dark-brown hair, I gave a tight nod. The guy’d been my best friend since we were six, from climbing trees and chasing girls, to back-alley brawls. For ten years, he’d been there. If he said stuff was ready, it was ready.

  “How’s it goin’, Sean?” I asked, voice level, heart beating like a kick drum in my chest.

  He wheeled the leather office chair closer to my father’s mahogany desk. “The encryption on these files is decent.”

  “What’s that mean for our time?” Alec asked.

  Sean pulled his long black locs back from his face, his attention fixed on the computer screen—pulling up the documents my father was about to go down for. “I should be through in less than a minute if you shut the fuck up and let me work.”

  Alec’s hand fisted, tendons straining beneath his deep-brown skin like he wanted to introduce it to the back of his older brother’s head. The two got along…kinda. The Hawkins boys didn’t hate each other. But they had fuck all in common.

  Not like me and Fallon. My brother’d been my damn idol. Whatever he liked, I liked. Whatever he did, I wanted in. We’d been tight. Until he’d died and we weren’t.

  Rolling his neck, Alec chucked his chin my way. “How ya doing, X?”

  My eyes grazed the diplomas and all the other bullshit accolades lining the bookshelf across from me—my father’s shrine to himself. None of it would mean a damn thing soon.

  An eager grin tugged my lips. “I’m good.” Real good. ’Cause what was fixing to happen had been a long time coming.

  I pulled the keys I’d snatched to my dad’s candy-apple-red 1970 Chevelle SS454 from the pocket of my jeans. His car, not the family’s. The asshole’d made that clear. They clanked when I flipped them around a finger, the room’s piss-yellow walls reflecting off their metal.

  Sean’s hands clacked over my dad’s keyboard, doing…whatever the hell he did, when he said, “I’m in!”

  My chest tightened. Let it still be there. Let it still be there!

  “Jesus, man,” Sean cut in. “Your dad was up to some shit.” He half-turned to look at me over his shoulder. “What’d he do to piss you off anyway?”

  Sean knew what Sean needed to know, which was pretty much nothing. But Alec had been there, seen the aftermath. He’d kept his mouth shut and helped me work my plan—every part of it. I trusted him with my life. And Sean? Only reason I’d pulled him in was his talent for hacking. With him, I had two things I could count on: his thirst for cash, and his need to not get his ass caught. Both of which worked for me. He was predictable, and predictable was good.

  I cleared my throat. “He did enough.”

  He clicked something that set the printer off and sheet after sheet came out. The stack got deeper, and my adrenaline spiked, ’cause my father’s fall was inbound. And I couldn’t wait to bring him down.

  “The files are up, and ready. Everything you need is here. Your dad’s good as screwed.” Sean swiveled his chair to face me. “What about the rest of my money?”

  Alec shoved his brother’s shoulder. “The job’s not done yet, dickhead.”

  I tugged the hood of my navy sweatshirt up and eyed Sean. “Alec’s got the rest of your cash at home.”

  Sean flipped his brother off and Alec smirked, but it was tight, ’cause the hardest part was yet to come.

  “How long before the security cameras reengage?” I asked.

  Flipping his wrist, Sean checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

  Good. “Are the emails sent?” The ones to dad’s clients—the clients he’d stolen a hell of a lot from.

  “Done!”

  My nod was sharp. “Wipe the keyboard,” I told him. “Get ready to move.”

  He did, spraying it down before he scrubbed his prints from the trackpad and keys, then bagged up the cleaning supplies.

  A familiar engine roared off in the distance, headlights speeding closer when my old man’s SUV barreled down our wealthy, suburban street. The houses were all two-story, six-bedroom, three-car garage beasts with white picket fences and a shit ton of secrets.

  “It’s go time, Alec.” I straightened and rolled my shoulders. It all came down to what happened next, and the rest was on me. “Make the call.”

  He pulled a voice modulator and burner phone from the black bag on the desk.

  Sean’s hand shot out, stopping him, words for me when he said, “Once he does this, there’s no going back.”

  I was already too far down that road. No matter how things shook out, I was screwed. I’d already calculated that loss. But as things sat, my life hovered on a ledge. Had done since everything with my brother went down. If I didn’t act… Nah. Not an option. I’d waited long enough.

  “Do it,” I told Alec.

  Dialing, he lifted the phone to his mouth.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s the address of your emergency?” the woman said from the other end of the line.

  Alec’s electronically distorted voice recited his script. “There’s a domestic in progress at 49 Summerfield Street. Send the police.” He hung up.

  The cops would come, but they wouldn’t rush. They knew our house well enough. Knew what they’d be walkin’ into. They’d never been useful before. But this time was different.

  Dad whipped into the driveway with Ma in the passenger seat. Her head jerked forward when he slammed the brakes, tires screeching as he skidded to a stop. The driver’s door launched open.

  “Go. Hide,” I told Alec and Sean, then grabbed the stack of printouts and headed for the hall.

  “Xavier.” Alec’s dark eyes pinned mine and held. “Handle the fucker.”

  My nod was sharp.

  He and Sean bolted for the door that connected to the garage while I picked up my pace, my pulse pounding in my ears as I beelined for the front entrance.

  A second later, my father barreled inside. I dropped the documents, pages scattering as my fist flew and found his face. A loud crack filled the house when his nose broke. Blood spattered the light gray walls as he rocked back and collided with the doorframe. The whites of his eyes stood out under the chandelier before they tracked to me.

  I bared my teeth. “Welcome home, asshole.”

  He dragged the back of his arm across his mouth, streaking his dress shirt sleeve in red. His pale blue eyes—the twins of mine—glared back at me. “Think you’re tough now, huh, boy?”

  The smile that split my lips held a lifetime worth of vengeance. But I wasn’t like him, and I never would be. I didn’t react. I planned. I knew what he’d do before he did, ’cause Peter Bosch was a walkin’ time bomb. Predictable as hell. If you knew what buttons to hit, he’d detonate. And the prick had a lotta buttons. Hit first, ask questions later. That’s what he did. Every. Damn. Time.

  And I was done living his way.

  He swung, and I ducked. His punch arced wide, and the momentum threw his

torso around. I launched a hit, connecting hard with his cheek. The blow split the skin and drove him back. He smashed into the family portrait on the wall—one done two years before, when Fallon was still alive. It dropped to the floor. The frame cracked. Glass shattered.

  Dad blinked hard. Blood leaked down the side of his face. His eyes went wide, more from shock than fear. Not a surprise, seeing as it was the first time I’d swung on him. Or fought back. Ever.

  We were the same height. He had a good fifty pounds on me, but I was prepared. I’d made sure of that.

  His nostrils flared, a tell. He kicked off the wall and bent low to tackle me. I sidestepped and my fist flew again. He tried to duck, but I was ready for him. So goddamn ready. His movements were slow, uncoordinated, and when my hit found its mark, colliding with his temple, he dropped like the two-hundred-pound sack of shit he was.

  Flipping him onto his stomach, I pulled a zip tie from my pocket, hogtieing his hands and feet. I dragged him into the living room, then lifted him, settling his crooked ass into the chair there.

  He groaned.

  I picked a clump of pages off the floor and the duct tape from the coffee table, then strapped that evidence to his chest and him to the chair. Taking a black marker from my back pocket, I wrote what I needed the cops to see.

  A gasp snapped my head up. Ma stood in the doorway, hands over her mouth. The wind from outside flipped the strands of her bleach-blonde hair around her face and blew the papers at her feet across the floor. “Xavier,” she breathed. “What are you doing?”

  I eyed the bruise over her collarbone—the one she’d done a decent job covering with makeup. Practice made perfect, and all that.

  “What no one else will, Ma,” I said. “He’ll never hurt you again. This ends tonight, yeah?”

  Her emerald-colored eyes darted between us, then turned red and glassy, her terror rooting her feet. It always did, but too much was on the line. I couldn’t let her freeze. It wasn’t like she’d tell the cops everything he’d done. She never did. But she couldn’t let me down again. Not this time.

  I stepped in front of her to cut her off from Dad and force her attention my way. “Take the SUV. Start a new life. There’s a folder with everything you need on the passenger seat.” One Alec would’ve slipped there by then. Directions to a safe house. Cash. A new identity. All of it.

  Something like hope filled her eyes until she scurried closer, and it flickered out. “Are you coming too?”

  “I gotta handle things here first. You go, I’ll catch up.” I wouldn’t, and even if I tried, sure as hell, my old man would rat me to the cops. My fate was sealed, but hers… I needed her to move, and the lie was the only way she would.

  She reached for me, palm settling over my wrist. “I can’t ask you to do this, Xavier.”

  “You didn’t.” I shook my head. “He killed Fallon, Ma. I won’t let him kill you too.” My father tried to break free, papers crinkling as he struggled. I planted my foot on his chest and drove him back.

  He cursed. “Your brother made his own choice.”

  Sirens rang in the distance.

  “Nah,” I said. “You made it for him.”

  Mom bit her lip and those tears spilled over.

  “You gotta go, Ma. Please.”

  Dad spit and thrashed. “Don’t you fucking dare, Lorelei!”

  The same words he used every time he wanted to shut her up. Remind her that when the cops left, he’d still be there, and she’d pay.

  A sob broke from her as she threw her arms around my neck. I crushed her in my hold ’cause Christ only knew when I’d see her again—or if. Pulling back, I tipped my head outside. “You got the keys?”

  “They’re still in the ignition,” she said.

  “Good.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. “Run.” I turned back toward Dad. “I got this.”

  “LORELEI!” Dad roared.

  She sniffed and there was a brief silence, like she was hesitating, before the click of her heels echoed through the open door as she fled. The sound of the SUV’s engine fading away eased some of the pressure on my chest. But not all, ’cause I wasn’t done. Not yet.

  Dad lifted his head, glaring at me through his brows. “Some mother, just leaving her kid like that.” His front tooth was broken. Blood leaked from his mouth and the gash I’d put across his forehead.

  It looked good on him.

  “It ain’t me she’s leavin’, old man.”

  “I’ll find her,” he said, the threat heavy.

  “No.” My stare locked with his when I vowed, “You won’t.”

  “You piece of shit! You have no idea what you’ve started. You’ll regret this, boy!”

  Fallon’s dead and bloodied body flashed across my mind. I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good.” There were a lotta things I regretted. Dealing with my old man wasn’t about to be one of them.

  The sirens got closer.

  Ma just needed a minute. Just one minute to get ahead. “You’re fucked now, Peter.”

  His laugh was pissed off and wet. “I’m not the only one.”

  The crank of the garage door ground out and my father’s eyes narrowed at the sound.

  Dammit! He couldn’t know anyone else was there. “You’ve been had, old man.” I tapped the documents on his chest to distract him. Ones showing the funds his dumb accountant ass had stolen and funneled into his own bank account, ’cause he was predictable like that.

  He spit blood to the side when he eyed them. His breath burst from him, and his jaw clenched hard. “Where the fuck did you get these?”

  I smiled. “Doubt your clients’ll be good with it.”

  His nostrils flared again, panic exploding deep in his eyes. “What’s the endgame here, Xavier?”

  My smile morphed to a shit-eating grin. “Gettin’ rid of you.”

  “You think you’re smart? You’re nothing. The cops will never believe you.”

  “They don’t need to. You screwed yourself on this one.” I edged back and headed for the front door. Pausing in the entrance, I gave him a salute. “Good luck in prison, Pops.” Then I bolted, exploding out into the night as I made for his car.

  “Xavier!” he bellowed, but anything else he said was cut off when I dived into the driver’s seat of that Chevelle and turned its loud, rumbling engine over.

  “It’s done?” Alec asked, ducked low on the passenger side while Sean crouched in the back, their balaclavas on to keep their asses from being seen.

  Red and blue lights tracked across the houses outside, those sirens wailing loud. They were close. Real goddamn close.

  My split knuckles ached as I shifted into reverse, but it was worth the pain. “It’s done.” I punched it outta there and careened down the driveway. I hit the road, then the brakes. When I cut the wheel, the car drifted, front end swinging around. Popping the clutch, I slammed the car into first and hit the gas.

  One of the cop cars whipped into the driveway, and the other came after me.

  Fuck! Not optimal, but I’d anticipated it. Just in case. Almost two years I’d planned that route. Knew it better than I knew the scars on my father’s fist. Had driven it with Alec a thousand times. Only obstacle I couldn’t account for was traffic, but that’s where he came in.

  “Three pedestrians, crosswalk to your right,” Alec called.

  I veered left to give ’em room.

  Weaving us through the city, I pulled ahead of the cop that trailed us. But it didn’t take long before he called in reinforcements and more joined in.

  “How many?” I asked.

  Alec eyed his side-view mirror. “Six that I can count.” His attention darted forward. “Truck blocking the right lane three intersections up.”

  Ten minutes later, the whop, whop sound of a helicopter carried. My stare flicked up just as they beamed that megawatt spotlight at the car. I’d gained a lead over the cruisers on our tail, the gap between us getting wider and wider. But it didn’t matter, the chopper had me pegged.

  “Pull the vehicle over. Stop. Pull the vehicle over,” a cop said over the loudspeaker on repeat.

  There was a creak from the back seat before Sean said, “Holy shit.”

  Cutting a hard right, I aimed for the bar district and laid on the horn. People screamed as they scrambled outta the way.

  “You’re clear,” Alec said.

  I exhaled to steady my breathing before I hit the gas. Every head was fixed on me, phones lifting as I careened through. The underground lot came into view.

 

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