Promises

by Aleatha Romig

  Lifting my chin again, Sterling brought my gaze to his. “No.”

  “No?”

  “That is something I can control and do. You’re safe. You’re as safe there as you are here.” His lips quirked. “As you were on that bike ride.”

  I exhaled. “That’s not what I mean. I know you and Patrick...” I peered over his shoulder. “...and any of these other people will keep me safe. It’s just...I don’t know. Maybe afraid wasn’t the right word. I’m trying to decide why I feel...anxious. I think it’s because I need to talk to my...mother. I’ve been thinking about it the entire trip and well, it’s time to face it. Face her.”

  “I’ll be with you, if you want.”

  I nibbled my own lip as I thought about it. I didn’t know if that was the right answer; then again, if I learned something, Sterling had promised to be with me. Avoiding an answer, I asked, “Should I go to her or should she come to me?” My eyes widened. “Maybe we should meet at a neutral point. A cafe or something?”

  Sterling’s head shook. “No neutral place.” His finger caressed my cheek. “I want to trust her, for you. However, under no circumstances do I trust McFadden. Wherever you meet, I need to know it’s secure.”

  I turned back around, facing the railing. “How long until we’re back to Chicago?”

  “Right now, we’re moving at approximately twenty knots.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something?” I pointed out to the water. “If I could see land, where are we?”

  “Since you can’t see land, we’re in Lake Michigan. We have been the whole time, except when we were in the Straits of Mackinac.”

  “You’re being an asshole.”

  He pointed to where I’d pointed. “Wisconsin is over there. If we went to the other side, it would be Michigan.”

  I shook my head. “Seriously, Sterling, the sun is moving that way. I know west. I also know geography. Give me a city.”

  He spun me back to face him. “I have, Araneae. Chicago is yours.”

  A smile came to my lips. “You’re lucky you’re handsome.”

  “Approximately, south of Milwaukee to the west,” he said, “and south of Holland or Grand Rapids to the east.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In nautical miles we’re seventy-five away from Chicago.”

  “And at twenty knots, we should be back to the yacht club in...” I left the sentence unfinished.

  His broad shoulders shrugged. “Three hours.”

  I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Well, I’m going into the cabin to retie my swimsuit.”

  Sterling’s gaze darkened as he slowly shook his head. “No, sunshine. When I get you in the cabin, I’m going to untie the rest of those cute little knots until I have your sexy curves and every inch of your tantalizing body at my disposal.”

  With my heart beating faster, I eyed the man before me up and down, taking time to visualize what was under his swim trunks. “I believe my deal was that I’d agree only if you were dressed accordingly.”

  He reached for my hand, tugging me toward the cabin door.

  As he was opening the door, a gentleman dressed all in white named Willis came around the deck. He’d been very attentive the entire cruise. “Mr. Sterling.”

  Something resembling a growl came from Sterling’s throat, bringing a smile to my face.

  “Willis, I mentioned that we’re not to be disturbed.”

  “Sir, I understand. It’s that—”

  Sterling lifted his hand in a way that would stop most people.

  Nodding, Willis backed away. “Sir, I thought that you’d want to know that Mr. Murray is on the secure network. He said it’s important.”

  Araneae

  Our five days of bliss washed away with Sterling’s news, no even before. From the second he returned from talking to Reid, I knew something was wrong.

  “I told the captain to go as fast as possible,” Sterling said, standing, still wearing his swim trunks in our suite on the yacht.

  I paced back and forth, wringing my hands as I tried to comprehend his words. They were playing on repeat in my head yet I couldn’t grasp that they were true. This couldn’t be happening.

  Sterling continued to speak, “We’ll be back in Chicago in close to an hour.” His tone was reassuring, though by his expression, the tenor was solely for my benefit—as if anything could reassure me. “I could have a helicopter sent out to us, but by the time it gets here and back, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

  My knees gave out as I sank to the edge of the large bed, and my mind filled with memories. “W-where could she be?” I looked up at Sterling. “You told me she was safe.”

  “She was. Reid and Patrick are trying to find out what happened. They’ve sent others there or have them on their way. I told you there were eyes on people you care about. There were. I don’t have all the information. Louisa and her husband were last accounted for around eight o’clock last night, Boulder time.

  “Reid said this morning that Winnie was awakened to a deliveryman. Inside the package was a note telling her not to contact the police—any law enforcement. The note said they knew she’d been in contact with the FBI. It also said that Louisa wouldn’t be harmed if Winnie followed the directions and to wait for further instructions.”

  Who besides us knew about the FBI?

  My head was shaking as my stomach twisted in revolt. Tears stung the back of my eyes. “What about Jason? What about the baby?”

  “Araneae, I didn’t talk to Reid that long. After he told me, I wanted to get back to you.” He let out a long breath. “From what I understand, immediately after Winnie received the package, she tried calling Louisa and Jason. Then she thought to call Patrick.”

  “I didn’t realize he’d given her his number.”

  “He told her to contact him if Agent Hunter called again.”

  I nodded.

  “Patrick told her to stay put,” Sterling said. “She didn’t. She went to Louisa’s house. It was empty.”

  “Empty? Like all their things?”

  “No, empty meaning there were no people. The note didn’t mention Jason, only Louisa.”

  “I could try to call him.”

  “So far, all calls to either of the Toneys have gone to voicemail.”

  My stomach roiled as my body quaked, trembling uncontrollably from my fingers to my toes. I held my own hand, trying to make the shaking stop, yet it was as though the temperature in the cabin had plummeted to twenty below. “God, she’s pregnant. Someone took her? Who would do this?” I found the strength to stand as the acceleration of the yacht propelled me forward, causing me to lose my footing and fall into Sterling’s arms. Immediately, I backed away with my head shaking. “Will they hurt her? Is this about me? Is this about you? Sinful Threads?” I took another step back. “This doesn’t...” I shook my head. “No...tell me this wasn’t you.”

  Sterling staggered backward as if my words had physically struck him. His dark eyes sent bolts of lightning my direction as his chiseled jaw tightened. “Do you believe after everything that I would harm your best friend or have her harmed?”

  I wasn’t certain what I thought.

  “I-I don’t know.” Tears were now trickling from my eyes. “You threatened them.”

  Sterling’s hand ran through his hair. “Fuck, Araneae, I care about who you care about. It wasn’t a threat as much as me capitalizing on your weakness. I told you that. I wouldn’t—” Like a caged lion he turned a small circle as the cords in his neck tightened.

  “Sterling, you’re the one who keeps telling me you do bad things,” I said. “Whoever kidnapped my pregnant best friend is doing a bad thing.”

  He nodded. “Yes. That’s why we’ll get her back.”

  I started thinking about what he’d told me. “Wait. Winnie woke up to the first message?”

  Sterling nodded again.

  “I-it’s evening. There’s only an hour difference in time. Why are we just
now finding out?”

  “Patrick’s already in Boulder. Reid waited to contact us until they knew more.”

  “Do they,” I asked expectantly, “know more?”

  “More than this morning. It’s why he contacted us. Whoever has Louisa sent a new message: they want to talk to you—Kennedy Hawkins.”

  “Me?” I stared up at the granite features as my pulse increased, my blood flowing too fast, making the room waver. “Okay. If that will help her, I’ll do it.”

  “Fuck no.”

  I took a step toward him. “Sterling, this isn’t a time for you to be overprotective.”

  “The hell it isn’t. It’s exactly the time for me to be overprotective. Someone kidnapped Louisa. Jason is missing. Patrick is with Winnie who wants to call the police. He’s convinced her not to do that yet. Shelly, the person who was supposed to be watching everyone, is searching for Louisa.”

  I shook my head. “I remember that name—Shelly. She drove me. She’s the one who helped Jeanne Powell.” I reached out, laying my hand on Sterling’s arm, remembering the cats and Jeanne’s new place to live. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t you, but it has to have something to do with me if they want to talk to me.” I shook my head. “Isn’t the fact that they asked for Kennedy and not Araneae a clue? I’ll do whatever they want.”

  “It’s a clue or a smoke screen. When we get home, we’ll know more.”

  “What about Lucy and Calvin, Louisa’s parents, and Lindsey, her sister?”

  “We’ll ask. Reid didn’t mention them.”

  My head fell forward on my neck as more tears came. “I’ve been such an awful friend. She’s due to have a baby soon, and I’m sailing all over Lake Michigan. I should have been at Sinful Threads. I should have been in Boulder. I don’t understand...” My words came between gulps of air as memories of Louisa and I played on a loop, from our time in high school, to college, to Sinful Threads. The last time I’d seen her was weeks ago when I left Boulder. Memories came of her wedding, her talking about naming her baby Kennedy, and times with her family. “...if Reid and Patrick have known, they should have alerted us. We could already be back in Chicago.”

  Sterling’s arms came around me, holding me close to his bare chest and surrounding me. This time, I didn’t back away. I lingered, enjoying the way his protective cage around me made me feel.

  “I can only assume that Reid and Patrick thought they could handle it.” His words reverberated through me—not only hearing them but feeling them. “I extend a lot of leeway when it comes to Reid and Patrick, more than with anyone else. I trust them to make the right decisions. I believe they thought delaying telling us was right.”

  I tilted my chin upward and stared at his handsome features, his strained neck, tightly clenched jaw, and furrowed brow. “Sterling, there’s more that you’re not telling me.”

  He nodded his chin above my head. “They were also making sure we’re safe—you were safe.”

  I exhaled. “Right now, all that matters are Louisa, Jason, and baby Kennedy. I’ll do whatever Louisa needs. I’ll tell them to take me and let her go.”

  His embrace tightened. “They are not all who matters. You’re first on that list. There’s always a concern that when something outrageous happens—like this—it’s a diversion to let down our guard. And as for changing places, the answer is hell no. I won’t allow you to do that. We’ll get this figured out. If it’s money they want, paying it goes without saying.”

  “I can’t ask you to—”

  “You didn’t.”

  Laying my head against his chest, the rhythm of his heart and scent of his skin eased a bit of the tension as our yacht sped south.

  I looked back up as Sterling continued his embrace. “I-I—this has to have something to do with me.”

  “We don’t have answers yet.”

  My brow scrunched. “I’m surprised that you’d be willing to make a deal. I guess I thought you, Reid, and Patrick were more the guns-blazing type.”

  He took my hand and led me to the bed where we both sat. Exhaling, he said, “Reid believes this is a statement to get your attention.”

  I let out a long breath. “Fuck, send me a text. Don’t kidnap my best friend.”

  The pad of his thumb gently ran over the top of my hand. “We’ll confirm that she’s safe, and then we’ll find out what they want.”

  “Do you think this is my uncle?”

  “You know I do.”

  Josey

  Twenty-six years ago~

  The infant’s cries came through the baby monitor, waking me as the clock on the bedside stand read 2:40. The darkness beyond the windows confirmed it was the middle of the night, or perhaps more accurately, the early morning.

  At two weeks of age, Renee was waking every four to five hours, and although I was exhausted, the baby in the nursery next to our bedroom had already stolen my heart. Rolling out of bed, I left Byron—using our new names was the hardest part of this assignment—sleeping in our bed and made my way to the nursery.

  Our new home was everything we’d been promised and more. With three bedrooms and two and a half baths, set in a quiet cul-de-sac in a picture-perfect neighborhood, it was a dream. Living in Mount Prospect, Illinois—a northwest suburb of Chicago, a suburb with the motto “Where friendliness is a way of life”—was nothing like our flat in South Chicago.

  While it was still March and cold, there were neighbors out and about, walking dogs and shoveling sidewalks. Many even came to our door to welcome us to the neighborhood.

  My cheeks were still bruised from the cosmetic surgery, as were my eyes. Thankfully, it was now more manageable and easier to conceal. My hair had been changed from brown to a darker black and cut into a popular style, longer in the front and shorter in the back. I missed my long hair, but admittedly with a newborn, this style was easier to manage.

  The last two and a half weeks had been a whirlwind. Renee was born earlier than expected, in a small hospital in rural Wisconsin. I tried not to think too much about what happened, how they convinced the woman her child was deceased, or even where they came up with an infant’s body for her to hold.

  As I reached down into the crib, the gold bracelet on my wrist reflected the illumination of the nightlight in the corner. I couldn’t explain what drew me to wear the bracelet. Maybe it was a tribute to the woman, a way for me to feel connected to her and her to Renee. She wanted it buried with her daughter. It only seemed right to keep it close to her daughter.

  “There, there, my sweet Renee. Mommy has you,” I cooed, lifting her tiny body to my chest and supporting her small head. My fingers gently ran over her soft halo of blonde fuzz, so light it was almost invisible. “You’re so strong.” She arched her back and lifted her own head before allowing it to fall back to me.

  In seconds she relaxed, no longer fussing as I hummed a lullaby I faintly recalled. Laying her upon the changing table, I continued talking, telling her what I didn’t want to forget, what I knew I couldn’t say when she was older.

  “Renee, your real name is Araneae. We’re calling you Renee for short. I don’t know exactly why we were given you—other than you are a gift—but we believe it was to protect you. One day, you’ll be stronger and so smart. You won’t need us, but before that day, sweet girl, I’m here and so is your daddy. Always know you were loved.” I fought the urge to cry, thinking of the woman who would never hold her. I couldn’t change that, but I could let Renee know she was always wanted and always loved.

  Byron had been able to piece together a hypothesis—his theory.

  It was no secret that something big had gone down with an attorney in Chicago who did work for Allister Sparrow and Rubio McFadden. It was all over the news. The FBI raided his office and house. His name, Daniel McCrie, had scrolled along the bottom of the TV screen.

  And then, we saw the obituary:

  * * *

  The McCries, Daniel McCrie and wife, the Honorable Judge Annabelle Landers, regret to announ
ce the unfortunate loss of their daughter, Araneae McCrie. The infant passed away less than an hour after birth. The family has decided that there will be no public services. Condolences may be made in the form of donations in their daughter’s name to the University of Chicago School of Law.

  * * *

  It was the name, the same name the woman in the hospital said she’d named her daughter. It wasn’t common, such as Mary or Susan. A name like those wouldn’t be identifiable. The name, Araneae, had been what the woman in the hospital had said. There was no way we could chalk it up to coincidence. The baby in our care belonged to an attorney and a judge living in Chicago.

  Why Allister Sparrow had gone to the effort to keep this baby hidden in plain sight still escaped us. All we knew was that we’d been pulled into this web. The gift of keeping the little girl safe and raising her had been bestowed upon us.

  Renee’s little legs kicked gleefully as I worked to tuck them back into the tiny pink sleeper. Her soft brown eyes stared upward as I snapped each small snap, keeping her warm on this chilly spring morning. Lifting her up, I snuggled her against my chest and made our way to the kitchen.

  As I turned the corner, Neal—no, Byron—was already there. “What are you doing? You have to start work soon. You need your sleep.” He’d been given a delay, time for his surgeries to heal.

  A smile came to his lips. “I’m warming a bottle.”

  “You are?”

  He came closer and placed a gentle kiss on Renee’s head and then one to my lips. “We’re a team. We’re going to do this and save her from whatever her parents did.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Do you think we can?”

  “This real job, the one at Boeing, comes with real money.” He looked around. “The house is paid off. Right now, our only obligation to Sparrow is keeping him updated on Renee. If he can make us into new people, one day, we can do the same.”