Promises

by Aleatha Romig

  “Like a child being locked in her room,” Lorna said, completing my sentence.

  I looked up to her emerald stare. “Yes.” My lower lip began to tremble as salty tears burned my sore eyes. “I-I can’t do this.”

  She reached over to take my hand.

  Tentatively, I relinquished it to her, but quickly took it back. “I-I also don’t know if I can trust you.” My filter was gone. “I think he sent you to me, like you’re here to smooth this over for him. Sterling doesn’t deserve for you to do that. He screwed up. My friend’s life and her baby are at stake.”

  She nodded. “I guess it may look like that, but that’s not why I’m here. My intentions were what I said—I’m glad you’re here.”

  I exhaled, wanting to believe her.

  “Five days.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Five days was the longest. I had no communication with any of them. This place was as secure as it is now. We’re always well-stocked on food. Shit, if I’d made a dinner for the three of them, I could live on it, three meals a day for five days. But the isolation and uncertainty were unbearable. I’ve seen some things no one should see, but the unknown is the worst.”

  I nodded, currently feeling the fear and total isolation she was describing. “Sterling said he’d call, but he hasn’t.”

  “Reid and I had a serious knock-down, drag-out when they got home that first time. He was oblivious, not seeing my point of view. It was all about safety and protection.”

  My stomach turned. “Do you know how sick I am of hearing those words?”

  A small smile skirted across her lips. “I have an idea.” Lorna went on with her story. “Well, I told him that I loved him, and if he loved me at all, he’d never put me through that again. I needed communication.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. “That was right after we were married. This life was new to me. I swear, I thought I was a caged animal. I spent five days afraid he was dead or Patrick or Sparrow or all of them. I worried that if that were true, I’d never get out.”

  “But you have the handprint thing, right?”

  “Yes, but they can change it, making it so no one but them can get up and down. I mean, what if something happened to them and I’d been trapped?”

  “So now?”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t make it work either. Lockdown means that these two floors and our apartment level are the only accessible floors. No garage and no bat cave.”

  “Bat cave?” I asked.

  “It’s where Reid spends most of his time. When he’s gone from here, I know things are bad. He usually runs things from within while Sparrow and Patrick take to the streets.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I really don’t know. I’m telling myself he’s on two—the bat cave.” She pulled her phone from a pocket on the side of her pants and laid it on the table. “He promised me a call or text message. That’s what we do now. Even if he’s on two, if the world is in emergency or lockdown, I may not see him for days.”

  I sighed. “Lorna, I don’t know how you do it.”

  “I’d tell you that you get used to it. I could say that these otherwise considerate men are overprotective assholes and you get used to it, but honestly, it isn’t that easy.”

  Overprotective assholes.

  That made the tips of my lips move upward until they fell again. “My friend is...missing.”

  “I didn’t know for sure. Reid only told me it had to do with Boulder. I know that’s where you’re from.”

  I swallowed the tears forming. “Her name is Louisa. We’ve been friends since high school...” For the next hour or more I rambled on, telling Lorna everything about Louisa—high school, college, and Sinful Threads. I talked about her family, her parents and sister. I told her about Jason and how they’d met. I even included how since Sterling came barreling into my life, I had been an awful friend. And how that now, I believe it’s because of me that she’d been taken.

  After I was done, Lorna got up and came to my chair. “I’d like to hug you.”

  I nodded, standing as I let my new friend give me support for my dear one.

  “Hey,” she said after taking a step back, “I looked up your company after I learned what you did. Damn, you guys are good.”

  “Thank you. It’s been our baby, both of ours.”

  We were still standing.

  “Goodness, it’s nearly one in the morning,” Lorna said, “but would you like to go to the kitchen and get something?”

  I narrowed my gaze. “That sounds like Sterling.”

  She lifted her hands. “No, it’s me. I’ve been pissed since Reid informed me of the lockdown. I’d love a glass of wine. Maybe some cheese and fruit.”

  I was tired, but the crying and worrying had me too wound up to sleep.

  “Do you have a kitchen besides the one downstairs?” I asked.

  Her eyes widened. “I do. Would you like to visit?”

  “And get out of these two floors, hell yes.”

  “I’m not sure if—” She stopped and squared her shoulders. “Fuck them. Let’s go.”

  It wasn’t much of a rebellion, but I’d take it. “Let me grab my phone. I’m hoping for a call.”

  Sterling

  A few hours earlier~

  News came as soon as Jana and I entered the secured car. We weren’t taking any chances. Like most of our vehicles in Chicago, the one we were riding in had reinforced metal and bulletproof windows. The driver was a man I recognized from our Chicago outfit, and I knew that Patrick had arranged for his temporary relocation—as well as for others from our outfit.

  Patrick had also contacted an outfit—a cartel—in Denver. It would cost us, but they were helping with the rescue. The deal was something about allowing a percentage of their heroin to be sold on the streets of Chicago.

  Quid pro quo.

  That was how this world worked. Patrick negotiated the deal, and I’d authorized it.

  “A new package just arrived,” Patrick said through the phone. “There’s a cell phone in it. Kennedy is supposed to call the programmed number.”

  “Shit. Bridget looks like her; does she sound like her?” I asked.

  “I sure as hell hope so.”

  “Isn’t she with you?”

  “She is,” he said, “and to me she doesn’t, but I know Araneae. To someone else, maybe.”

  Fuck.

  “What about the courier?”

  “He was legit, but the customer...” His voice trailed away as if he were distracted.

  “What?” I asked, my ire growing.

  “Carlos’s men followed him to an old trailer in the middle of nowhere up in the mountains.”

  Carlos was the Denver cartel leader who was now welcome to sell drugs in my city. Not drugs—heroin—one drug. I’d have some upset gangs and dealers, but it didn’t matter. My city, my streets. They deal with me or they don’t sell. At least if they’d found the location where they were hiding Louisa, the deal with Carlos was paying off on our end.

  “What are the logistics?” I asked. “What are the chances that’s where they have Louisa?”

  “Logistics are awful. It’s high enough in the mountains that the trees are few. There’s no good way to surprise them other than to rush it. Chances that she’s there, I think, are good. Reid has been searching for aerial views. He’s tapped into some real-time satellites and according to what he’s seeing, there’s only one access road. Carlos has drones that are able to see if the road is guarded, so they’ll go in prepared. His drones also sense temperature. Soon we’ll know how many people are in the trailer.”

  “Fuck. Drones? Won’t they hear them?”

  “He says,” Patrick went on, “that they’re used all the time to watch for DEA and ICE. Says they’re so common out in the mountains and desert areas around here that people are as used to them buzzing around as fucking mosquitoes. His words, not mine.”

  “The call can’t be made until we’re there.
Remember, Araneae...” I looked at Jana sitting to my side. “...is with me.”

  “We know. So do they. The note said that as soon as she arrives, she needs to call.”

  “You’re being watched.” I hated having an emotional attachment to this mission. It was a liability, and McFadden was capitalizing on it. I looked at maps on my phone. “We should be there in less than twenty minutes. No news to the women until we know for sure, until we have Louisa safe and sound.”

  “I’ll pass that along to Reid. At this moment, he’s too busy comparing images and watching to say a word.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint Araneae,” I said. “Fuck, we need to do this tonight.”

  “See you in twenty.”

  I turned to Jana. “Winnie’s place is being watched. I’m going to need you to walk in the house with me.”

  She nodded and let out a long breath.

  “You’re going to be safe,” I said.

  “I believe you.”

  I spent the rest of the drive looking at images Reid sent as well as corresponding with both him and Patrick. Though the resolution on the satellite images weren’t great, it was interesting to see how close to the ground a satellite in space could focus. Those images were nothing compared to the drones. The FAA regulations limited the drone’s altitude to no higher than four hundred feet. Higher than that and they would interfere with national airspace and potentially set off alarms. We didn’t need to let that happen. The problem was that the tree line or timberline in the Rocky Mountains varied from 11,000 to 12,000 feet.

  The trailer in question was in a sparsely populated, secluded area outside the national park.

  PATRICK came on my screen.

  * * *

  “REID JUST CONFIRMED THREE PEOPLE IN THE TRAILER. ONE IS THE WEASELLY GUY THEY FOLLOWED FROM THE COURIER.”

  * * *

  I texted back.

  * * *

  “WHAT CONFIRMATION DO WE HAVE ON MCFADDEN’S LOCATION?”

  * * *

  PATRICK replied:

  * * *

  “LAST SEEN IN WASHINGTON DC FRIDAY NIGHT AT A DINNER WITH HIS WIFE.”

  * * *

  I doubted that Rubio would be here in Boulder. It wasn’t his modus operandi to get his hands dirty. That didn’t mean he hadn’t ordered it. My skin itched with determination, the need for retaliation. However, I didn’t want to have it done in front of Louisa. She didn’t need to see that any more than Araneae did.

  I sent another question.

  * * *

  “ARE WE SET TO RUSH THE TRAILER?”

  * * *

  PATRICK:

  * * *

  “YES.”

  * * *

  The car came to a stop in front of a simple house in South Boulder. From our earlier research we knew that Winifred Douglas’s house was a rental. She’d lived in it since before she became employed by Sinful Threads. The financials were all solid. South Boulder, where she lived, was south and east of Boulder while the trailer in question was west, up into the mountains.

  Hurrying with my hand again on Jana’s back, we practically ran into the house. As we did, she kept her face down, her cheeks covered with the coat’s collar and her long blonde wig secured in a ponytail similar to one Araneae would wear.

  The door opened immediately to Patrick, and we hurried inside, the door shutting behind us as we entered the house full of people. This had become Patrick’s command center, yet from the outside it didn’t appear as so. The cars for all of these people had been hidden so as to not alert the kidnappers. Quickly, Patrick made introductions. Most of the people were from Chicago, Patrick confident in their loyalty. Only one man present was one of Carlos’s cartel.

  “Where is Winnie?” I asked.

  “She’s in her bedroom with Jason.”

  I looked down at my wrist. “It is nearly eleven. Are you sure they’re secure?”

  “Yeah, Jason woke.” Patrick tilted his head to a woman sitting on the couch who he’d introduced as a physician. “Dr. Moore has been watching him.”

  The woman nodded.

  “He doesn’t remember a thing of what happened,” Patrick continued. “She had to give him something to calm him down. Now he’s groggy and keeps asking for Louisa.”

  I shook my head. “I want to get them both back in their home with a twenty-four-seven bodyguard and let them think this was a bad dream.”

  If only the flashy things in the old movie Men in Black existed. It would make our job a lot easier.

  Patrick nodded and handed me the last package. “Here’s what arrived.”

  “Mr. Sparrow.”

  I looked up to the unfamiliar voice. She’d not been present during introductions. Her eyes were a darker brown and there was something different about her lips, but I had to agree: this woman’s similarities to Araneae were astounding. “Bridget, I presume.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances.”

  “If you pull this off, you will be well compensated.”

  She inhaled sharply. “I’ve spent hours with Winnie and Patrick, trying to know the answer to any proposed question.”

  “Where were you born?” I asked.

  “I was told Chicago, but recently I learned it was Wisconsin.”

  I nodded. “Your name?”

  “I was born Araneae McCrie, raised Renee Marsh, and at the age of sixteen became Kennedy Hawkins.”

  “Family?” I continued asking basic questions.

  After she answered with knowledge of the Marshes and limited knowledge of the McCries, she mentioned the fictitious Hawkinses, killed in a car accident.

  “Louisa?”

  “My best friend since high school. Pregnant with her first child.” As she answered, her voice cracked with emotion.

  “Your voice is too deep,” I said. “Try again.”

  “My best friend—”

  I lifted my hand. “Much better. Remember that.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, her tone closer to Araneae’s.

  “Eventually, they’re going to want to meet with you in person. Go along with whatever they say. We need to know their plan. Even if we get Louisa tonight, we need to understand what they’re after.”

  She nodded.

  “Very good.” I turned back to Patrick. “I agree, during the call is the time to do it. We’ll have eyes and ears in the trailer if they allow Louisa to speak.”

  She was our wild card. If they allowed her to speak, would she play along with Bridget pretending to be Kennedy? It was why we’d decided to rush the trailer sooner rather than later.

  “Are Carlos’s men set?” I asked.

  “We are,” Mandy, the man from the cartel, said. He was shorter than most of my men, but in no way did it diminish his aura of power. This wasn’t Carlos, the head of the cartel, but he was a trusted associate.

  Patrick nodded, his eyes on the tablet in his hand as well as a laptop open on the table. He’d been on the ground here for nearly a day. I had faith in his command of the operation.

  “His men are set,” Patrick said, “and our men are waiting to take her after Carlos’s get her out. His men know this area better.”

  My heart was beating incredibly fast, though on the exterior I appeared as calm as Patrick. “Let them know—”

  “Mr. Sparrow?”

  I turned to see Winnie standing in a narrow hallway, eyeing her living room and kitchen that were filled with people. Her complexion paled as she came closer.

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about what happened in Chicago. If any of this with Louisa is my fault—”

  “Ms. Douglas, when we make it through tonight all is forgotten.”

  Swallowing, she nodded. “I want to forget it all.” Her glassy eyes moved from me to behind me.

  Looking the other way, I saw Jana, still wearing the blonde wig, standing quietly while leaning against the wall. I tilted my head from Jana to Winnie. Jana nodded as she moved through th
e room and made her way to Winnie.

  “How about a cup of tea?” Jana asked, wrapping her arm around Winnie.

  “If we can get in the kitchen,” she replied.

  I turned to Patrick and Bridget. “Let’s do this.” I spoke directly to Bridget. “Remember, try to speak to Louisa. If you do, we’ll have confirmation that she’s there and alive.” I hated saying those words—of admitting doubt. That was why this wasn’t Araneae in front of me but a professional.

  Josey

  Twenty-three years ago~

  I leaned against the kitchen counter as Byron shrugged his shoulder in response to my question. I was beginning to get used to his blond hair and the shape of his nose. The old Neal had been hit in the nose when he was younger, making it wider and less defined. The plastic surgeons had straightened as well as thinned it. Remarkably, it gave him a completely different look. What would never change were his green, almost golden, eyes. I don’t know what I would have said if they’d talked about changing our eye color.

  Probably nothing.

  It wasn’t like we had a voice in what was done.

  They’d even put veneers on our teeth, giving our mouths a different shape.

  Three years ago when it all happened, we both lost days, maybe a week. Much of the surgery, oral and facial, was done while we were under anesthesia. We literally woke as new people.

  Sometimes it was easy to forget, to fall into the routine our lives had become. It was as if we had awakened into a fairy tale in suburban America, the nearly perfect family. We didn’t have the 2.5 children, only one, our Renee. Yet last year we’d added a gray kitten to our family. Renee named him Kitty. It wasn’t the most masculine name for our tomcat, so we added a mister to the front. Mr. Kitty came to his name as readily as the three of us had adapted to our new names. Most importantly, Renee adored him. And even though he was a big cat, he tolerated her affection to a fault.