Run (Run Duet #1) (2 page)

This novel is dedicated to all the usual suspects who have supported my career for the past five years.

It’s also dedicated to those in hopeless situations and who are reading these words right now. It will end – the pain and the anguish. I know because I am still here, and I’ve been through it. Sometimes we have to go through the worst moments of our lives to get to the good part yet it’s worth every minute we had to suffer in the end. Keep your head up because nothing lasts forever.

When I began
Run
, I was so proud because it was going to be my first stand-alone novel in forever. I love doing series, not because I’m greedy for money but because my characters become like family, and I want to revisit them again, just from someone else’s point of view.

I start with an idea and sometimes that idea takes on a life of its own. That is how
Run
became the
Run Duet.

On The Run
will be released later this month. There was still so much I wanted to explore about Liv and Shaw. Now, many of you may not feel this way, and that is why this can be read as a
stand-alone novel
. There isn’t a cliffhanger at the end so if you decide to follow Liv and Shaw’s continuation in
On The Run
, it’s because you want to, not because I put a metaphorical gun against your head and proclaimed, “You wanna know how this duet ends or not?”

I hope I don’t disappoint too many readers but like I have stated before, their story isn’t finished. However, at the same time, it will be a full-length novel unto itself, and it didn’t feel right to tack it on. There will be a darker, violent, psychological romance feel to
On The Run
that isn’t quite there with
Run
.

In the meantime, enjoy and I hope you really like the characters I have created.

SE Chardou

April 29
th
, 2016

Boston - Four Years Ago

I
t was and always would be just the three of us.

Carrick, Cathal and me.

Although we’d all grown up in the heavily populated Irish neighborhood of Neponset, we would just tell outsiders we were from Southwest Dorchester. They wouldn’t understand all the racial and ethnic politics of the neighborhood anyway.

Our names gave us away before we could say anything so we all came up with nicknames for one another. Carrick became Shaw, short for Shaughnessy, he and his brothers’ last name. Cathal became Ness and I became Chiv for a while because with a name like Siobhan, we didn’t know what to call me exactly. Shortly after my fifteenth birthday, Chiv somehow became Liv because both Shaw and Ness said I could get us out of any sticky situation we ever came across.

It was true.

The Three Musketeers we were called.

At St. Joseph High School, there was speculation that maybe I was a slut—just like most girls from South Dorchester were considered—and fucking both brothers at the same time. Shaw didn’t have to suffer from it since he’d graduated the previous year—unofficially, when he stopped going to school and became a full time drug dealer. He was known as a local badass. Ness and I, unfortunately, caught hell because we shared all the Advanced Placement classes with the kids who drove BMWs, Range Rovers, Porsches and Mercedes to school.

In truth, Ness wasn’t sure what he wanted except to get out of Dorchester. He’d been accepted at MIT, and I was off to Boston University. I should have been going to Harvard but they only offered me a partial scholarship despite my grades, extracurricular activities and volunteer work. With BU, I got a full ride so that was pretty much decided where I would end up going to college.

After our recent graduation, we attended one of the famous parties held at Preston Carson’s family’s mansion in the prestigious Beacon Hill area where we could only dream to own property one day.

“Seriously, Shaw, how did you get an invite?” I inquired as I sat in the back of his graphite Dodge Challenger. It was only three months old and neither Ness nor I were stupid.

We knew he’d been working with Niall Carter who had a direct pipeline to the local Russian Bratva. They mostly traded guns and weapons with each other. Although there was no love loss between the two groups of criminal factions, I knew it was a no-no to bring a Russian or Polish guy home. It was still the same as it always had been. Stick to my own kind and I’d be safe.

“How else do you think? I’ve been fucking Nathalia Povikova. She’s always high on coke and invited me along. I’m their drug connection tonight but I pretty much gotta stay all night so you two enjoy yourselves.

Ness looked back at me and sighed though it was swallowed up the loud hip-hop music Shaw played.

“Listen, you know Liv and I can’t get into any trouble, right? I mean we can’t do anything to risk our futures—”

“What do you think, bro? I’m fuckin’ stupid. I know that.” Shaw turned to face me quickly, his crystal blue eyes bright with emotion. “The cops have been paid off. You know I wouldn’t do anything to stop you from getting out of this shithole. You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”

Ness’ face turned crimson as he tucked a lock of his longish dark hair behind his ear. “Your way is gonna get you killed or thrown in prison. Wasn’t that stint you did in juvie enough or are you so anxious to do hard time with the big boys?”

“Stay the fuck out of my business, Cathal.” Shaw clearly was angry in not in the mood to be fucked with at the moment. “You don’t know shit, and just remember, I’m your older brother, not the other way around.”

We arrived to an opulent gated mansion where there were cars parked galore. The gates were open and there were more than enough teenagers about for it to be obvious this was indeed a graduation party.

I leaned up from the back seat and wrapped my arms around Shaw. “Calm down. Ness and I will look the other way.” I kissed his cheek several times before he flipped me and I landed in his lap.

Shaw turned toward Ness. “I don’t want you two getting separated. If anything happens to Liv—”

“She’s like my little sister too,” Ness cut him off. “I’ll guard her with my life.”

We left the car, Shaw pressed the key fob to lock the doors, and I walked into the party with Ness while Shaw strode in another direction.

No doubt he would make money and sell out the whole half kilo in cut baggies he’d brought with him.

Although he was far from stupid—Shaw’s IQ rivaled his brother’s but he had no interest in school or higher education period—he’d earned his PhD from the University of hard knocks. It wasn’t even something the Shaughnessy family discussed anymore; it was a foregone conclusion that Shaw would spend his life in and out of jail like his old man while Ness would do something with his life.

Their mother and my mother had been best friends since we’d moved into the neighborhood. They also bonded over both their husbands being old school Charlestown guys—before the neighborhood gentrified and became a Yuppie mecca overnight. They also shared the fact that they’d probably never see either one of their husbands again. Both my dad along with Ness and Shaw’s, were serving twenty to life sentences for Armed Vehicular robbery and manslaughter charges.  Cedar Junction Correctional Institution—also known as Walpole—had been their homes longer than Southeast Dorchester ever had.

I loved both Shaw and Ness like my brothers—hell, they could have been for the amount of time we spent together but they
weren’t
. My mom and Mrs. Shaughnessy expected me to marry Ness, despite his androgynous behavior and his inability to tell me truthfully if he liked guys, girls or both. It didn’t bother me but it’s not something I was looking for in a long-term partner.

I’d drank, more like OD’d, on the romance Kool-Aid, asked for seconds, thirds and fourths. I wanted someone like Shaw. A bad boy with tattoos, a don’t-give-a-fuck-attitude, and someone who could fuck me until I passed out. Not that I knew much about fucking either—both my surrogate “brothers” had prevented any guy getting close enough to feel me up, yet alone get to second or third base. I was their Madonna virgin, and they planned to keep me that way—fucked up Catholic religion and all.

It didn’t take much for me to separate from Ness in the party. He found some wealthy guys he was friendly with that shared his bisexual behavior, and he was in heaven as he spoke to them. They talked about MIT, and the differences between the prestigious university versus CalTech on the west coast.

I walked off and realized perhaps I was a little overdressed for this party. In my own bohemian style, I’d chosen a white maxi dress with bright violet flowers I’d sewn on myself, violet ballet flats, and my long, strawberry blonde hair flowed over my shoulders in waves. I hadn’t bothered to straighten it—what was the point? I wasn’t looking for a date. My eye-catching feature—the rich guys who couldn’t take their eyes away from me happened to be my ripe breasts, still upstanding and pert despite being a small C-cup and my eyes.

I didn’t look like the average Irish girl at all—if there was a such thing as average. We differed from black Irish—dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin—to whatever. We could have ginger hair and freckles, peaches and cream skin with flaxen blonde hair and blue eyes. There was no typical “Irish” girl but I didn’t look like her if there was.

My skin was lightly tanned—not a tan but my natural skin color—and I possessed my grandfather’s Nordic bone structure despite him being Irish. I was slender but not frail, and at the height of five feet, seven inches, I was no waif. My facial features were a mixture of Irish, Nordic and my mother’s other heritage she’d refused to speak of. I had high cheekbones, a slender nose, a heart-shaped face that was also slightly oval, rounding out my figures, including my mouth that was full but not Angelina Jolie big. My most heart-stopping features were my eyes. They were a strange mixture of violet-blue along the peripheral of my irises while the color circulating my pupils was pale green.

No one could explain them except my father’s violet-blue eyes had somehow mixed with my mother’s hazel-green eyes and created something else.

They were my most arresting trait; both boys and men wanting a better look at my gorgeous face, and more than adequate body had chased me down on more occasions than I could count.

Despite everything I had going for me—gorgeous looks, a great IQ, Boston University—I felt terribly inadequate here with these people. They all looked at me and I knew what they were thinking.

What was I doing here with no back up or protection? Where was Shaw and Ness because if they weren’t around, it was open season?

The most popular blonde and brunette at St. Joseph’s High stepped to me. They both were going to good schools—Vassar, since their parents couldn’t buy them into Harvard, Princeton or Yale.

“Well, well, well—look who it is, Ashley,” the brunette remarked with sky blue eyes as she donned the latest couture fashion courtesy of Versace and a sky-high pair of Yves Saint Laurent heels.

“Brittany, don’t tell me you’re jealous of Dorchester trash,” the blonde responded as she walked around me in a slow circle. Her outfit was the latest Vivienne Westwood with Chanel Mary Jane heels. Very avant-garde meets virgin.

Ashley slipped an arm around me. “Listen,
Shevonne
,” she began, pronouncing my Irish name correctly. “High school is over. You don’t have to feel like you’re not good enough to hang with us now.”

Brittany shoved a drink in my hand. “Half the guys in here want the first crack at you but we’ll take care of you. Only because I want a crack at both Shaw and his goodies—”

“What?” I looked between them both before I stared down at the drink. “Did he send you two over here?”

“Course,” Ashley said in a clipped tone. “Relax, it’s just an Adios Motherfucker for God’s sake. Why would I put anything in your drink when he’s promised us a threesome later? I’m not stupid. Down it, you’ll loosen up.”

I knew they were right. If Shaw had promised them goodies later on, they wouldn’t fuck it up, not even to have a go at me.

I sipped from the blue drink and surprisingly, it was very good. Before I knew it, the drink was gone and I held an empty cup while Brittany and Ashley walked me around the party.

Ashley grabbed my glass, put it on the tray of a waiter walking through and grabbed another. “They’re good, aren’t they? Drink up. You need at least three to let loose and have a good time.”

“Just think, you have the whole summer to be a good girl but you only have tonight to break out of that mold and have a good time.”

Brittany’s words made sense and I downed another and another.

By this time, I was definitely in a state of feel-good drunkenness. Nothing bothered me as we entered another room with pyrotechnic lights and dance music playing loudly.

“Live it up!” They both yelled before disappearing into the crowd but I didn’t care. I felt too good, too alive to feel embarrassed about dancing by myself to all the great DJs.

David Guetta’s “Where Them Girls At?” played and I gyrated to the music all by myself, feeling the rhythm as it seeped into my skin, through my veins and I actually felt myself become one with the music. It was a beautiful thing and even better when the music changed and Kaskade’s “Dynasty” replaced the previous song. I’d never felt this alive or free and realized what a gilded cage both Shaw and Ness has kept me in over the years.