Saving a Legend: A Kavanagh Legends Novel Read online

  Saving a Legend is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept Ebook Original

  Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Robinson

  Excerpt from Becoming a Legend by Sarah Robinson copyright © 2016 by Sarah Robinson

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Becoming a Legend by Sarah Robinson. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  ebook ISBN 9781101885598

  Cover design: Diane Luger

  Cover photograph: vuk8691/istock

  randomhousebooks.com

  v4.1

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Sarah Robinson

  About the Author

  The Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Becoming a Legend

  Foreword

  Saving a Legend has many stories built into one, and one of those deals with a very sweet child named Shea (pronounced Shay), who has autism spectrum disorder.

  Autism, now autism spectrum disorder, has changed a lot in the last few years in the way it’s defined, the terminology used, and the symptoms considered, thanks to the latest Diagnostic and Statistic Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edition. It’s also likely that it could change more in the future.

  This novel does its best to represent an accurate experience and was proofread by a child psychologist. Four mothers who have children with autism spectrum disorder, including the New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, read Saving a Legend and helped with any edits needed to create the most accurate depiction possible. Please note that the author takes this topic very seriously and hopes to bring more awareness to the disorder.

  Thank you for taking the time to open your heart to Shea! For more information on autism spectrum disorder, please visit Autism Speaks at www.autismspeaks.org.

  Prologue

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “What the hell did you do, Kavanagh?”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Run!”

  Kieran Kavanagh’s sneakers hit the cement hard as he pushed off and sprinted toward the edge of the empty swimming pool. Glancing down at his hands, he realized they were covered in blood, and it wasn’t his. He pulled the wrap tape off them and threw it to the side as he ran, hoping to rid himself of the evidence.

  Gripping the top edge of the pool wall, he hoisted himself up to the ground, his biceps straining with the swift movement, only to come to a dead stop when confronted by three uniformed police officers, their weapons drawn.

  “Hands where I can see ’em!”

  Kieran’s eyes went wide, his breathing ragged, his hands slowly rising in the air. Nearly everyone who’d been watching and betting on the illegal fight had cleared out. The few stragglers who weren’t fast enough were being cuffed and read their rights.

  “Hands behind your back.” The officers pulled his arms down behind him, cuffing his wrists and holding his forearms with an iron grip.

  Looking over his shoulder, Kieran saw the bloodied mess of his opponent lying motionless on the empty pool floor. Police were already climbing down to help him when he spotted Rory, his older brother, in the mix. Rory’s eyes found Kieran, and the look of shock and disappointment was enough to gut him.

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter 1

  TWO YEARS LATER

  “Kavanagh! Up! Let’s go, you’re being processed out,” a burly guard announced from the hallway outside his cell.

  “About fucking time.” Kieran jumped down from the top bunk he’d been stretched out on. It had been his home for two years, and yet each night he’d had to come up with a new way to fold himself onto the tiny metal platform with a sorry excuse for a mattress pad. Either his feet hung off the end—the steel edge digging into his calf—or one of his arms fell to the side, or his head was crunched up against the dingy gray wall.

  “Hands through the slot,” the guard instructed, pulling out a pair of cuffs.

  Kieran pushed both hands through a small opening in the bars and waited as the guard slapped the cuffs over his wrists. Once secured, Kieran stepped back from the bars and the guard called his cell number into his radio. A buzzer sounded and the bars slowly slid open, grunting and complaining the entire way.

  “Let’s go.” The guard motioned for Kieran to move, which he did. He wanted to get out of here just as much as this guard didn’t want to have to deal with him anymore.

  At this point, he was double the size of most of the guards, and even most of the inmates. He’d spent his prison sentence working out because, frankly, there was nothing else to do. He needed to keep busy, stay active, in order not to let his mind dwell on the fact that he was wasting his youth behind bars.

  “Is anyone here to pick me up?” Kieran asked the guard as they walked through the prison.

  “What do I look like? Your fucking babysitter?”

  “Um.” Kieran paused, considering saying something snappy that would no doubt earn him a nightstick between the shoulder blades.

  “Shut the fuck up, Kavanagh.” The guard unlocked two doors in a row, escorting him into the processing area of the prison. “Go get your clothes from over there.”

  Kieran glanced in the direction he was pointing to see another guard sitting at a desk behind a glass pane. Once uncuffed, Kieran headed toward her and pulled his inmate badge off, pushing it through the slot.

  “Kavanagh. All right, here’s your stuff. Go get changed and bring your coveralls back when you’re done.” She pushed a clear plastic bag through the slot, and he recognized his jeans and shirt.

  Kieran sifted through the bag of clothing in his hands. “That’s everything I had on me?”

  The first guard scoffed from behind him. “You weren’t exactly draped in gold and diamonds when you got arrested, Kavanagh.”

  Kieran ignore the jab and headed into a small room off to the side of the processing area. He hurried to yank the dull gray jumpsuit down his body, pushing it to the ground and stepping out.

  He slid on his old jeans, feeling they were a bit tight around his thighs. Every muscle on his body had tripled in size, even his legs. Pulling on his old T-shirt, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when it barely made it down his midsection, stretching tightly over his defined pecs and chiseled abs.

  Thankfully, his sweatshirt fit better since he’d always worn them a bit
baggy anyway. With the warmth of spring he knew the extra layer would be somewhat uncomfortable, but at least the sweatshirt covered his stomach. He was already loving the feeling of the familiar old fabric against his skin, rather than stiff, scratchy prison garb.

  He pulled his wallet out of the bag and flipped it open.

  Kieran Murphy Kavanagh. Age 25.

  He felt older, as if centuries had passed while he was staring out of barred windows. It had been a while since he’d seen his name in print, reminding him that only his family called him by his first name. He’d gotten so used to going by only his last name in here. He shoved his wallet into his pocket, then headed back to the front desk and handed his coveralls through the slot.

  “You set?” asked the guard who was escorting him.

  “Been ready to get out of this hellhole for two years.”

  “Good, don’t let me see your ugly mug in here again.”

  Keeping a firm hand on Kieran’s upper arm, the officer led him down another hallway and through two more locked doors before pointing him to his final exit. It was a plain set of solid double doors, with slivers of sunshine sneaking through the cracks around all four edges.

  Kieran’s hand paused on the prison door handle for only a moment before pushing down and out. Swallowing his nerves, he stepped into the sun and immediately shielded his eyes from the light. Until now, he had been allowed only one short visit per day to the prison yard, which was a small section of land mostly shaded by the building itself. Now, feeling the wind gently brushing over his skin, not obscured by high walls, his chest ached for all he’d missed.

  Acutely alert to all the sounds and smells he’d been missing these last two years, he walked down a concrete path leading toward the twenty-foot-high metal fencing that surrounded the prison. Birds chirping, the roar of diesel engines, and the smells of exhaust mixing with spring air hit him. All once so familiar, they now overloaded his senses.

  Guards in towers watched him make his exit along the concrete path. As he tried to acclimate to the bright sun and the feeling of being free, he decided that this was it. Taking stock of everything around him one final time, he promised himself he would never set foot here again. He was determined, he was going to follow the rules, and he would make damn sure this part of his life was over for good.

  “Kieran!”

  Snapping out of his thoughts, he saw a tiny older woman jumping up and down, waving at him, her dark red hair a halo around her expressive face. He’d know that vibrant hair and bright grin anywhere—his mother, Deidre “Dee” Kavanagh.

  Speeding up his stride, he arrived at the gate on the edge of the prison property just as it buzzed and opened for him. Seeing his mother with a big smile on her face was everything he’d hoped for, and he spread his arms wide for her. She had visited him every other weekend in the federal prison and had kept him up-to-date on life back home, but they’d never been allowed more than one quick, supervised hug goodbye each time. “Good to see you, too, Ma.”

  “I’ve missed you so much, Kieran. A boy shouldn’t be away from his mama this long.” She sniffed, let go, and then stepped back.

  He smiled at her and affectionately cupped her face, wiping away the tears. She looked older than he remembered and definitely more stressed. Wrinkles lined her forehead, and the corners of her eyes were lined with creases he’d never seen before.

  Guilt bit at him as he wondered if he was to blame for how much she’d aged in the last two years.

  “All right, Ma, stop hogging him.” Kieran finally noticed that two of his brothers were standing next to the car behind them.

  His younger brother, Quinn, pushed his jet-black hair out of his eyes as he walked up first and shook Kieran’s hand, bumping their shoulders together and clapping him on the back.

  “It’s so good to see you, Quinn,” Kieran greeted his brother.

  “About fucking time,” Quinn said as they pulled apart. Despite Quinn’s friendly smile, he seemed stiff, maybe intimidated, like he barely recognized him. Kieran felt the same way, since Quinn had definitely added even more tattoos to his lean, athletic body since he’d seen him last.

  “I’m not a mirror, you know.” Another familiar voice called out as his twin approached, grinning widely. Their blue eyes mimicked each other under the fluffy, short brown hair they both shared, even though Kane’s was a bit longer than his at the moment.

  Kieran grinned at his twin brother. “Kane, you’ve gotten smaller.”

  “Fuck that, you got gigantic. What the hell were you doing in there?” Kane sounded a little bitter at the discrepancy between them as they hugged. This was what he needed, his other half. Their bond was more than brothers; no one else could make him feel at peace the way his twin did.

  He and Kane were identical twins, though Kieran was older by a few minutes, and he never let Kane forget that. Their family members could tell them apart, but most others couldn’t. The size difference between them would make that a lot easier now. Although, knowing Kane, he’d probably hit the gym extra hard in an attempt to close that gap.

  “Maybe I should have you training me instead of Rory. I think you might be bigger than him now,” Kane said over his shoulder as he led the way to the car.

  “No one’s bigger than Rory.” Quinn laughed, wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders, and followed Kane, with Kieran next to them.

  Mention of his older brother sparked Kieran’s curiosity. “Where is Rory? Or Jimmy? Or Casey and Dad?”

  “Jimmy’s working. I’m sure, as a cop, he’s tired of visiting prisons,” Quinn answered, trying to make a joke, but no one laughed.

  “Casey’s taking her midterms. She’s in her spring semester at New York University.” Dee climbed into the car first and slid into the back, leaving room for Quinn to slide in next to her so the twins could sit together up front.

  “That doesn’t explain Rory or Dad. I’m guessing they didn’t want to make the long trek for the screwed-up son,” Kieran trailed off, sliding into the passenger seat. No one said anything as Kane started the engine and pulled out onto the road.

  “Each of my boys is perfect in his own way,” Dee finally said, trying to change topics. “And now they will all be together again for Sunday dinner.”

  His mother’s comment brought back wonderful memories of what Sundays used to be like, surrounded by family. It was Friday afternoon now, so he was already anticipating the upcoming event. He was curious to see if it would be a happy occasion, as he remembered it being, or if he would feel unwelcome after his time away. He’d heard all kinds of stories from guys he’d met in prison who’d gotten out, only to wind up back behind bars again soon after, about how people treated you differently when convicted felon was added to your résumé.

  “Kane, you got extra room at your place?” Kieran asked.

  “Yeah, need a place to crash?”

  “Just for a few days. I’m going to go apartment hunting soon.”

  “You’re not going to stay with your father and me?” Dee asked, leaning forward toward the front seat so they could hear her better.

  “I’m a bit old to be living with my parents, Ma.”

  “Nonsense, it’s not like I’m asking you to live at home for the rest of your life, just until you’re settled. Any of my kids are welcome to live at home anytime. People are always coming and going at our house anyway, and it’s been so long since I’ve had any of my boys home.”

  “Ma, he’s fine with me,” Kane intervened.

  Dee leaned back in her seat. “You’ve spent two years somewhere I couldn’t help you or take care of you, Kieran. Let me be your momma again for a little while, just until you get situated.”

  Kieran felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, so he placed his on top and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Ma, I really don’t think I deserve to be pampered right now. I was in prison, not the Peace Corps.”

  “Don’t say that.” She smacked his upper arm from the backseat. “All of my boys ar
e wonderful and deserve everything. A little slipup doesn’t mean anything.”

  Quinn snorted at her comment. “Is two years behind bars considered a little slipup?”

  “Quinn,” Dee warned.

  “Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m sure Kane will pamper him plenty over at his place.”

  “The fuck I will,” Kane admonished, shaking his head, which earned him a prompt swat on his arm from Dee.

  Kieran laughed at the thought of his twin brother doing anything for anybody else. They might be the exact same age, minus about five minutes, but Kane seemed like he hadn’t changed one bit in the last few years. Kieran envied that, because he felt the exact opposite.

  Everything was different about him now. He was different.

  “Kieran, please stay with us,” Dee continued. “We had someone from your dad’s old boxing days staying with us the last month, but he’s since left and we’ve plenty of room. I can make you pancakes, bacon, and chocolate milk tomorrow morning. You know how you love that!”

  “You should open a bed-and-breakfast, Ma,” Quinn said. “Get paid for always being the innkeeper.”

  “Nonsense, we don’t need the money. Plus, I like having people there, especially my sons,” Dee said before leaning forward toward Kieran with hopeful eyes. “Kieran?”

  “I’ll be fine at Kane’s, Ma,” he reiterated. “I’ll visit home often, though.”

  Dee sighed, finally seeming to accept his answer. “Fine, but you better not miss one single Sunday dinner. Ever again.”

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  —

  “Will you just trust me? Rory comes here every Sunday and gets Ma flowers.” Kane sighed, opening the flower shop door and ushering Kieran inside.

  “So what, I’m just supposed to copy him? How’s that help me?”