Promises

by Aleatha Romig

  “Not talking about that one.”

  I shook my head. “Then tell me, what is your job? Is it to intimidate me? Is it to scare me? As I said, my husband and I are doing everything we were told to do. She’s loved and cared for. What someone else does isn’t up to us. If your boss has a concern, voice it. Otherwise, leave us alone.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes until I turned to see Renee, now wearing the team’s long pants and sweatshirt, coming my way, climbing higher and higher between people as her cleats clicked upon the metal bleachers. She was already taller than me by quite a few inches and nearly as tall as Byron.

  “Go away now, or I’ll scream,” I whispered to the man.

  “Not a good idea.”

  Taking a drink from a water bottle, Renee sat on my other side. “Did you see the baton pass?”

  I laid my hand on her knee. “Of course, I did. It was perfect. You did great. Good job. Do you know your time yet?” I was talking fast, trying to keep her attention on me.

  “No, the coach said she’d get them to us later.” She leaned forward, looking around me. “Hi.”

  The man nodded. “Nice to see you again.”

  “This man was just leaving,” I said.

  He stood. “Until next time. Stay safe.”

  Once he was gone, Renee leaned closer and whispered. “Who was that? He seemed kind of creepy.”

  “If you ever see him again, let me know.”

  “I don’t remember seeing him before,” she said.

  “Still, will you promise?”

  “Sure, Mom.” She smiled again. “I need to get back down to the team.”

  I reached for her hand. “Seriously, Renee, that hand-off was great.”

  A glow of pink filled her cheeks, a mixture of the cool air, sunshine, and her reaction to my praise. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Araneae

  Lorna and I sat together in the penthouse kitchen waiting for the men to return from what she called the bat cave. After we all ate—together for a change—the three of them disappeared. Other than Patrick who was with me the rest of the day, I had the feeling that Sterling and Reid had been working on this since he and my mother left my office.

  “I feel like there’s hope,” I said, sipping a glass of wine—the sweet stuff that Sterling disliked.

  Lorna also had a glass of red in front of her, a thicker, more full-bodied wine than mine. She spun the glass, twisting the stem and watching the liquid slosh. “I can’t imagine all the changes you’ve gone through.”

  “In the last month or my whole life?”

  “Both, I guess,” Lorna said with a scoff.

  “The last month has been...overwhelming. I’m glad Sterling has been with me...” I smiled at her. “...and all of you. I really feel comfortable here, more than I could have imagined.”

  “You know, he’d been watching you for years. I wasn’t really supposed to know, but after years of his digging into your life, your name came up with Reid occasionally. When Sparrow decided the time was right, I was worried.”

  “About?” I asked.

  She inhaled and exhaled, her green eyes moving away from her glass and toward the now-dark windows with the lights of Chicago below. “We have a dynamic that I can’t explain. I wasn’t sure how adding another person to it, someone who Sparrow wanted and who didn’t know she was wanted, would be.”

  “Has it always been the four of you since you and Reid married?”

  “There was some tension at first. They weren’t used to having a woman around and then with Mason...”

  My chest tightened at the mention of the friend Sterling had told me a little about when he’d explained the darker side of Sparrow and McFadden. “I don’t know much about him really. I know he was with Reid, Patrick, and Sterling in the army.”

  “And afterward for a while.” She reached out and covered my hand. “It’s why I always tell Reid I love him. Things can happen in the blink of an eye. These three...” She lifted her hand as her eyes became glassy. “...have always—as long as I’ve known them—been inseparable. Three is a different dynamic than four. When there were four of them, they’d often branch out in twos. It was usually your man with Mason and mine with Patrick.” She shook her head. “That isn’t to say...”

  My pulse had kicked up. “What can I assume about Mason?”

  “Nothing. That’s Sparrow’s story.”

  Getting up, she walked out the archway toward the back elevator. When she returned, she sat back down. “I know what they want me to know. One day, if Sparrow wants you to know the details, it’s up to him. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. His name is kind of off-limits around here. I’ve been thinking about your mentioning it a while ago. You even knowing it means that Sparrow trusts you more than you can know.

  “For years he carried around this cloud.” She blinked away the moisture from her eyes as a smile bloomed. “It’s been gone since you arrived, not lessened, not intermittent. We’re all happier for him than you can imagine. I know this place gets weird. I understand better than anyone how you felt the other night. I just want you to know that having you here...the first time I met you, I knew immediately that I didn’t need to worry. It’s like you’ve always been meant to be with us—with him.”

  I took a breath. “I can’t explain it, but it feels that way to me too.”

  The sound of the pocket door caused both of us to turn toward the archway where Lorna had just been.

  One by one, the kitchen grew fuller as all three men entered. No longer in suits, they were all casual. It was the one in the gray sweatpants and charcoal t-shirt who had my attention, the one staring at me as if he hadn’t just recently eaten and I was his dinner.

  “What did you learn and decide?” I asked, ignoring the way my body twisted and nipples hardened under his gaze.

  Stop it, Araneae. You’re in a room full of people.

  That shouldn’t happen, yet it did.

  “We might be on to something,” Sterling said.

  Reid was holding the key, no longer attached to my bracelet. In his large hand, it appeared even smaller. “This is brass, covered in an imitation gold. That’s why it appeared to be flaking.”

  “Do you think it can open something?” Lorna asked.

  “I do. I’ve been researching keys and lockboxes all afternoon and evening. There are many that have a similar key. Most are antique or made to look antique. Based on the size, I think the lockbox is small, about the size of a letter box.”

  “So my mother helped?” I asked.

  “We hope,” Sterling said, sitting down at the table with us. Reaching for my wine glass, he took a sip and immediately his lips and nose scrunched. “Ugh. How do you drink that?”

  I took it back. “I like the sweet stuff.”

  “That size of box,” Patrick said, “one they couldn’t open, if it was at the church could easily have been moved or discarded. The only way to know is to look. Tomorrow, the church is going to be searched.”

  “Really?” I asked excitedly. “I want to go.”

  Sterling reached for my knee under the table. Similar to the night of the lockdown, I was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt, and soft socks. He squeezed it gently with his large hand. “We’ll talk about it upstairs.”

  My lips came together, physically stopping me from arguing, yet the words were right there. I understood he didn’t want to do it in front of others, but by God, we would be discussing this.

  Less than an hour later, up in our room with my hand on my hip, I declared, “I’m going with you.”

  “You’re the one who never wants to leave Sinful Threads,” Sterling said, “always concerned about taking time away.”

  I stripped my shirt off, pulling it over my head and stepped out of my yoga pants. Sterling’s t-shirt was on the floor of our closet joining the pile of discarded clothes.

  My eyes went to him, the way his sweatpants hung low, the trail of dark hair going down into the V created by his trim waist and hip
bones. Making a concerted effort, I moved my gaze higher until it met his. “Don’t throw my own words back at me. This is about me. Besides, it’s a church in a small picturesque town in Wisconsin. It’s not like when you were headed down to Boulder in the middle of a kidnapping. We can leave and drive first thing tomorrow morning and be back before afternoon. We can both work after if we don’t find anything. I’ll let Jana know.”

  Sterling shook his head. “Nothing to Jana yet. And we aren’t driving. It’s only two and a half hours, but we’re concerned...” He seemed to weigh his words.

  “About what?” I asked, wearing only my bra and panties as I walked to the bathroom to ready for bed.

  “What your mother said could have been a plant,” he said following me, “to throw us off. Or it could be a setup. There are too many possibilities.” He came up behind me, his dark eyes peering over my head at our reflection as he wrapped his arms around me. His jaw was tight and brow furrowed, his expression adding more warning to his words.

  I spun in his embrace, my eyes coming to his bare chest. Placing my hands over his broad shoulders, I looked upward. “This is not a lockdown situation.”

  “Sunshine—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “Absolutely not. If that’s what you’re thinking, get it out of your mind right now.”

  His chest inflated as he inhaled. “You have to trust—”

  I laid a finger over his lips. “I do trust you. I trust you, Reid, and Patrick, just like you told me to do when we were at the cabin. It took me a while, but I understood what was happening when you went to Boulder. I didn’t like it. That situation was dangerous. This is where my parents were married. I want to see it.”

  He kissed my lingering finger. “What about the other thing your mother said?”

  That it’s also where I was buried.

  “I’ve been thinking about that too. I want to see it.” When he didn’t respond, I went on, “I want to see it with you. It’ll probably be emotional, but remember, you promised to be with me when I learned good and bad. I’m not really buried there, but a child is. That makes me sad.”

  “The three of us talked about lockdown,” he admitted.

  My head shook.

  “I want to trust your mother.”

  “Me too.”

  He ran his hand through his hair as he took another step. “If she’s sending us on a wild goose chase, it could be to make you vulnerable.”

  “You said that McFadden agreed I was off-limits until Labor Day. We still have five days.” I followed him back into the bedroom. “Won’t I be safest with you?”

  He spun toward me, the tall windows behind him. In the dark reflection of the glass, I saw the way the muscles in his back tightened. Facing me, his gaze darkened, raking over my body, both exposed and unexposed parts, and warming my skin. Lower, an erection was coming to life.

  A smile came to my lips. “Aren’t I?”

  “Not right now,” he said matter-of-factly.

  My cheeks rose higher. “You don’t scare me, Mr. Sparrow.”

  He came closer, running a finger over my cheek. “I never want you to be scared. I want you to always know you’re safe.” He reached for my waist and pulled me closer until his growing erection probed my stomach. “The only one to touch you is me.”

  I craned my neck, looking up at him. “You’re the only one I want touching me. However, if you don’t agree that I’m going with you tomorrow, I’m going to give you a dose of your own medicine.”

  “Oh yeah? What would that be?”

  “What’s good for girls is good for boys.”

  “Sunshine, I’m not a boy.”

  “No, you’re very much a man. I’m also not a girl; nevertheless, if you’re not good...” I left the sentence open-ended.

  He reached behind me, unsnapping my bra.

  “Sterling.”

  “You should know by now, I’m always good.”

  I took a step back. “Promise me that I’m going to Cambridge, Wisconsin.”

  All at once, I yelped as he lifted me, placing me on the edge of our bed.

  “That’s not a promise,” I said, trying to ignore what his lips were doing, how they were kissing and nipping the side of my neck from behind my ear to my collarbone. “Sterling.”

  He took a step back, his dark eyes closing before opening again. “Be ready by six. We want to get to the church before people are there.”

  My head tilted as I smiled beneath veiled lids. “Now, where were we?”

  His answer wasn’t verbal, though it did involve his mouth—all of it. His lips, tongue, and teeth.

  Araneae

  Sterling’s plane touched down in Madison, Wisconsin, at a private airport. When Sterling said to be ready by six in the morning, he meant wheels up at six. I didn’t mind. I’d hardly slept with my thoughts on what we may find. If we didn’t find the evidence that Sterling had alluded to in our talks, we were back to no answers. If we did, I didn’t want to see it. I wanted the rose-colored glasses he described.

  It was hard enough to know that beyond the stories things like child exploitation occurred, that men and women placed dollar signs above the lives of children, that there were really people out there who paid to fulfill sick fantasies. Knowing it was enough to turn my stomach. I couldn’t see it.

  The flight from Chicago to Madison was less than an hour, yet the tension in the plane was palpable, radiating off Patrick and Sterling in thick waves reverberating through the air. After the initial greeting, Keaton stayed away from the three of us, aware of our moods. There was a lot riding on this theory and we all knew it.

  Sterling had reassured me numerous times that no matter if there was evidence for us to find or if we didn’t, I was safe. He promised double security details on my friends. I didn’t want to believe that the evidence existed or that my uncle or Sterling’s father had been involved, yet at the same time, I wanted it over. I wanted to not be afraid for my friends. I wanted a life like we had in Canada or on Lake Michigan. I wanted to not need to look over my shoulder or fear being without Sterling or Patrick. I wanted to maybe one day walk down Michigan Avenue or Lake Shore Drive alone and enjoy the scenery.

  Patrick said there would be a car waiting for the three of us at the airport in Madison. Reid was back in Chicago doing what he did from the confines of their lair and watching over Lorna and the rest of Sparrow.

  I recalled what Sterling had said, that this could be a ruse to focus our attention elsewhere, leaving parts of Sparrow vulnerable. Or this could be a setup. I didn’t want to believe either of those options because it meant Annabelle purposely led us this way for Rubio.

  Along with my fantasies of walking the main streets of Chicago, I envisioned a relationship with my birth mother, one where we met for lunch at a cafe or enjoyed one another’s company as we browsed stores along Lake Shore Drive.

  We all sucked in a breath as the door to the plane opened. Beyond, the sky was filled with the purples and pinks that follow a sunrise. It was early Wednesday morning and it seemed as though Madison was quiet, waiting for the hustle and bustle of the workday to begin.

  Sterling placed his hand in the small of my back, with Patrick a step ahead. “Come on, sunshine. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  I nodded, sandwiched between the two mountains of men as we scurried across the tarmac, through the small airport to the waiting car.

  Each wearing blue jeans and a simple t-shirt, Sterling and I were both casual. It was Patrick who continued his role as bodyguard in a dark suit as he sat shotgun with the driver he’d hired, and Sterling and I sat in the back seat. The car was a simple, inconspicuous black sedan. The drive from Madison to Cambridge lasted about thirty minutes as Sterling searched his phone for more information on the church where my parents were married.

  “It’s the oldest Scandinavian Methodist Church in the world, built in 1851,” he said. “The building is protected under the National Registry of Historic Places.”

/>   If my father, Daniel McCrie, hid the evidence here, it was a smart move. He was probably confident that the building would remain standing, and as a bonus, there would have been no record, such as with a safety deposit box or storage container.”

  I let out a deep breath. “How do we get in and where do we search?”

  “Getting inside won’t be a problem. There’s no security system,” Patrick said. “And very old locks.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked and then added, “Never mind. I should learn not to doubt you.”

  He went on, “The original structure—the chapel—has a basement and a steeple with a bell tower. More recently, there’s been an addition to the building which also has a basement. From the plans I’ve accessed, the newer section’s basement is subdivided into a kitchen and classrooms. The first floor of that newer section has meeting rooms, more classrooms, and offices. The original building is where church services are still held.”

  “Are you thinking the basement of the original building?” Sterling asked.

  “That or the steeple,” Patrick replied. “My guess is that the original basement is not fit for use as part of the building. It makes sense that it would be a good storage area.”

  My pulse kicked up as we passed a Welcome to Cambridge sign.

  By the minute, the sky was lightening. Suddenly I worried that we would be seen.

  “We’ll go around back. There’s an access door that goes directly to the basement level. Take the car,” Patrick told the driver, “and wait elsewhere where you won’t be seen. Come back when one of us calls or texts.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said, pulling around into the rear parking lot.

  The church itself was small by today’s standards, yet the stone walls and tall steeple, combined with the stained-glass windows, held a romantic charm. I reached for Sterling’s hand as a small fenced-in area to the side of the church came into view.

  He followed my gaze. “You can stay in the car. You don’t need to get out.”

  I swallowed the tears bubbling in my throat, forming a lump ready to erupt, and shook my head. “I want to stay with you. Let’s go into the church first.”