“The news reported Cane Warren and his wife Lavinia were found deceased in their home this morning,” Wilson said, not looking up from his keyboard.
“They mention anything else?” Mark asked.
“Authorities believe that it was a home invasion, possibly a burglary gone wrong.” Wilson’s inflections were slightly off, and I realized after a moment that he was mimicking the newscaster exactly. He’d memorized what they’d said.
“Alright. Meet us in the kitchen in five,” Mark ordered.
“If I’m finished,” Wilson replied.
I followed Mark out of the room, my feet practically dragging. I was so fucking worn out. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d just had a baby or everything else that had happened, but I seriously just wanted to go back to the bedroom and lay down. The baby tilted her head back, completely awkward and uncoordinated, and I swallowed hard as I kissed her forehead.
I was doing a pretty fantastic job not thinking of anything beyond keeping her safe, but eventually, I knew that I was going to have to deal with the fact that her mother was dead. My best friend, who’d wanted her so badly, would never get to watch her grow up. She’d never get to dress her in all the frilly outfits she’d bought, or go for mother-daughter pedicures, or help her pick out her outfit for the first day of school, or all the other things Liv had told me she was excited for.
“Did you eat?” my mom asked as we walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah.” I let her pull the baby out of my arms.
I hoped that at some point I’d take to motherhood as well as my mom had. I don’t know if it had been the fact that she’d helped out with my cousin Will before any of us kids were born, or if she was just a natural, but she’d always seemed at ease with us. Like she knew exactly what to do, no matter the situation we found ourselves in.
“Round table,” Mark announced to the room. “We’ve got shit to go over. Where’s Cam?”
“He went outside to call Trix,” my mom replied, her cheek resting on the top of the baby’s head while she swayed from side to side. “He’ll be back in a minute.”
“You name that baby yet?” Eli asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“I still say you name her Cecilia,” Lu said as she hopped up on the island.
“Ooh, after you,” my mom pointed out, raising her eyebrows.
“That’s the idea,” I replied, my mouth twitching. “I’m not naming her that.”
“Why?” she said. “It’s a beautiful name. You can carry on the tradition.”
“Tradition?” Lu asked.
“Cecilia was named after me,” my mom said proudly.
“Not exactly,” I argued.
“I thought your name was Farrah?” Eli asked. “Shit, have I been callin’ you the wrong name?”
My dad chuckled.
“No, Farrah is my name,” my mom clarified. “But my dad and step-mom actually named me Cecilia. I was raised by my mom, and she named me Farrah.” She shrugged.
“See?” Lu said just as Cam came through the door.
“Everything all right?” my dad asked.
“Yep,” Cam replied. He made his way over and slung an arm over my shoulder.
“Wilson,” Mark called over his shoulder. “Get your ass in here.”
We waited.
“You know he ain’t comin’ in here until he’s damn well ready,” Forrest said with a grin, leaning his chair back on two legs. “You wanna get started, I’ll fill him in later.”
“He’s a serious pain in the ass,” Mark muttered.
“But he gets the job done,” Forrest replied.
“We need to lay out everythin’ we know and everythin’ we don’t know,” Mark said. He looked at me and paused. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”
“What?” I looked at him in confusion.
“You okay?” my mom asked. “He’s right. You look like you’re going to tip over.”
“I’m fine,” I replied.
Mark didn’t continue speaking, he just stood there staring patiently at me.
With a huff, I pulled away from my brother and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.
“So,” Mark continued, “we know that the couple in the house were named Cane and Lavinia Warren—”
“Hold up,” my dad said, raising his hand in a stop signal. “Cane Warren?”
“That name mean somethin’ to you?” Mark asked.
My dad met my brother’s eyes across the room and my stomach sank.
“You could say that,” Dad said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “He’s the head of the Free America Militia. Shit, I’d forgotten those fuckers even existed.” I recognized the look in his eyes. Something was clicking into place, like he’d just put the final piece in a puzzle.
“You gonna fill the rest of the class in?” Mark asked.
My dad didn’t answer.
“Right,” Mark spat, clearly frustrated. “Okay, is there anything else you can tell me?”
“They’re a bunch of skinhead white supremacists,” my dad replied darkly. He looked at me. “I’m guessin’ he had no idea that you were part Mexican.”
“It never came up,” I said softly, the realization making my stomach churn.
What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? Cane was a white supremacist? I’d willingly eaten at his table and hung out with him and carried his baby. My mouth started to water as bile burned the back of my throat. Had Liv known? Had she married the guy knowing that he believed in some master race bullshit? The world spun.
“She’s going down,” Lu barked.
Within seconds, someone pressed my head between my knees, the hand on the back of my neck cool and comforting.
“Shit,” my brother said from somewhere above me. “She’s definitely got a fever.” Ah, it was Cam’s hand on my neck.
“A fever?” my mom asked. “What? She’s sick?”
“Come here, baby,” Mark said into my ear as he lifted me into his arms. “Why don’t you lay down for a while?”
“We’re having a meeting,” I argued weakly. If I was being honest, I didn’t give a shit about the meeting. I did just want to lay down for a little while.
“Wilson didn’t show up, either,” Mark said as he carried me up the stairs. “We’ll brief you both later.”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed as he laid me on the bed. “I feel like shit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. He strode over to the closet and pulled out a pillow wrapped in plastic and a blanket. “Just get some rest.”
As he unwrapped the pillow and put it under my head, I groaned. It felt like it had been days since I’d gotten any rest instead of just hours. After covering me with the blanket, he left the room, leaving the door cracked open.
I stared at it for a long time, my mind racing, and when I finally closed my eyes, all I could see was Cane, laughing at something I’d said.
He hadn’t looked like a monster.
Chapter 8
Mark
“Is she okay?” Farrah asked as soon as I got back to the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I replied, scratching at the whiskers on my cheek. “She’s laying down.”
“Well, let’s get this over with so I can go up there,” she ordered.
“Okay, so Cane’s the head of the… what?”
“Free America Militia,” Casper supplied.
“Alright. We know anything about them?”
“Not much,” he grumbled.
“I’ll get Wilson on that, pronto,” Forrest chimed it.
“Right. So, we can probably assume that his kid is a member, too.”
“Fair to assume his kid is leadin’ it now,” Casper corrected. “I’m bettin’ it’s run like a monarchy.”
“Put’s a different spin on things,” I mumbled.
“Spin on what?” Lu asked.
“Cecilia was a surrogate—”
“Oh, shit,” Lu mumbled, her eyes widening.
“What?�
�� Eli asked, looking between us.
“She carried the baby, but it’s not hers,” Lu said to Eli. “Safe bet it was the Warrens’.”
“Yep,” Cam said, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Cecilia.”
“You know what, man—” I growled. I was stressed, tired, and overwhelmed, I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to listen to Cam listing all of Cecilia’s faults again.
“Enough of that shit,” Casper snapped at Cam. “You don’t got somethin’ helpful to add, keep your goddamn mouth shut.”
“Cody,” Farrah said softly.
“No,” he replied. “I’m done with that shit.”
Jesus Christ. Finally, when Cecilia wasn’t even around to hear it, the man spoke up. I scrubbed my hands over my face.
Forrest waded into the awkward as fuck silence. “So, the kid’s after the baby, then.”
“Yeah.” I grabbed a kitchen chair and spun it around so I could sit down. “Legally, the baby is still Cecilia’s. The way it works is the parents were supposed to legally adopt her after she was born.”
We went over everything, turning and twisting it so we could try to see it from all angles. After almost an hour of talking it out, we still hadn’t figured out much beyond probable motive. We had no clue how the son had found Cecilia at my house so soon.
“I’m going to go check on her,” Farrah finally said. “Who wants the baby?”
“I’ll take her,” I replied, lifting my arms. As soon as Farrah had handed her over, I felt a weird sense of relief. Discussing her fucked up family had made me antsy as fuck, and the warm weight of her calmed me.
And wasn’t that some shit?
“We need to get her back up to Oregon,” Casper said after Farrah had gone. “We’ve got the resources up there to keep them safe.”
“We’ve got resources down here,” I argued.
“Man,” he replied, shaking his head, “you’re all in a motherfuckin’ safe house because you don’t know how they found you.”
“Wilson’s workin’ on that,” Forrest pointed out.
“You’ll be doin’ the same damn thing,” I said to Casper at the same time. “You’ll lock them behind the clubhouse gates until you end this shit.”
“At least she’ll be at home.”
“That hasn’t been home to her in over ten fuckin’ years,” I shot back.
“And whose fault is that?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t put that shit on me,” I replied, my voice just as low. “She was tryin’ to escape that place long before anything happened with us.”
Casper opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything as Farrah came back in the room.
“She’s got a nasty fever,” Farrah announced. “Does anyone have something she can take to bring it down?”
“Fever?” Forrest asked.
“I’ll get something out of the med pack,” Eli said.
“It must be at least one-oh-one,” Farrah told Forrest. “She’s warm.”
Forrest looked at me.
“Go check her,” I ordered.
“Why you sendin’ him?” Cam asked.
“Because he’s a doctor—was a doctor.”
“No shit?”
“And why isn’t he one anymore?” Casper asked.
“Because in his last year of residency, he tore his meniscus,” I replied, holding his stare. “And got a taste for narcotics.”
“Clean now?” Casper asked.
“As a whistle.”
“Got a soft spot for disgraced doctors, do ya?” he said, fighting a grin.
I stood without replying and headed upstairs. I wasn’t going down that road with him. My father didn’t have any bearing on why Forrest was a part of the team. It hadn’t even been my decision when we’d been placed together the first time. The fact that both Forrest and my father had gone all the way through medical school and ended up with no letters after their names was the only similarity between the two.
“You have any other symptoms?” Forrest was asking Cec as I stepped into the bedroom.
“No, I just feel like shit,” she replied, shifting a little, like she couldn’t get comfortable.
“What about your tit?” I asked, making everyone look in my direction. “Didn’t you say it was hurting?”
“Yeah,” Cecilia said. “It’s just sore.”
“Is it hot to the touch?” Farrah asked. “Do you think you have a clog?”
“A what?” Cecilia asked in confusion.
“A clogged milk duct.”
They went back and forth discussing Cecilia’s breasts until Forrest interrupted.
“If you’ve got a fever and you feel like shit, it’s probably more than a clogged duct,” he said. “Sounds like mastitis.”
“Shit,” Farrah muttered.
“What?” Cecilia looked between them. “What’s that?”
“It’s an infection. You’ll need antibiotics,” Forrest replied.
“We need to call your—” Farrah stopped mid-sentence. “We call your doctor, there’s a damn record.”
“I can get ’em,” Forrest said.
“I’m not taking some random pill that you pull out of your pocket,” Cecilia argued. “I’m not an idiot and I’m nursing.”
“He knows what he’s doing, Cec,” I said. I looked at Forrest. “Do your thing, man.”
He nodded at me before leaving the room.
“He’s a doctor,” I told Cecilia and Farrah.
“I thought he worked with you,” Cecilia said.
“He does. Long story.”
She didn’t reply, just reached out her arm and beckoned for me to give her the baby.
“You need to try and nurse her on the side that’s hurting,” Farrah advised. “And Jesus, you need to name that child already. I’m sick of calling her the baby and her. So, what’s it gonna be?”
“I was thinking Olive, after Liv. I mean, her name was Lavinia, but she never liked that name. She always went by Liv,” Cecilia said, looking down at the baby. She looked back at her mom. “Even if her parents were complete assholes,” she cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “Even if Liv wasn’t who I thought she was—she still loved their baby more than anything and she was so excited to meet her.”
“I think Olive is the perfect name,” Farrah said calmly. “Olive Cecilia has a nice ring to it.”
“You don’t give up, do you?” Cecilia said with a watery chuckle.
“Never,” Farrah whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of Cecilia’s head.
“Olive,” I said, trying the name out. “I dig it.”
“Oh, well, if you like it,” Farrah mocked jokingly.
“Hey, now,” I replied. “Me and Olive are best friends.”
“Well, your best friend needs to eat and it’s going to be a complete shit show in here while Cecilia tries to take care of this clogged duct, so out you go.”
She ushered me out of the room and shut the door in my face.
* * *
Hours later, Cecilia wasn’t feeling much better, but she came down to have dinner with the rest of us. We’d spent all day researching the Free America Militia, and I had to admit, it was nice to sit around the table and not talk about the shit we’d found.
It turned out that FAM had people all over California, but their main compound was just south of the Oregon border. And compound was the correct word for it. According to the land sale records, they owned a little less than a hundred acres in the middle of nowhere where entire families just seemed to disappear. Literally. The men popped up eventually in the form of traffic tickets and gun sales, but the women and kids were never heard from again.
From what we could uncover, once they moved onto the compound, they never left again. It made my skin crawl.
“You have any luck with those antibiotics?” Farrah asked Forrest as we dished up the spaghetti Eli’d made.
“Meetin’ up with my supplier tonight,” Forrest replied.
“Good friend to have,” Casper s
aid.
“Know him from way back,” Forrest said with a nod. “Good people.”
“Have you heard anything from the guys at your house?” Cecilia asked as I sat down beside her at the table.
“They haven’t seen anything,” I replied, putting one of my pieces of garlic bread on her plate. “Eat.”
“I have my own food.”
“You barely got anything,” I argued. “You need the fuel. Eat.”
“I don’t remember you being this bossy before,” she said.
The words dropped like a cannon ball between us. From the minute I’d seen her again, we’d carefully and deliberately skirted around what we’d been before. Beyond her teasing me about my muscles, which had been light, we hadn’t gone there. Honestly, I’d wondered how long we could maintain it. There was just too much shit between us to ignore, too much history, too many hurts.
“I’ve always been bossy,” I said, moving my attention back to my own plate. “Part of my charm.”
“Charm?” Lu asked, sitting down across from us. “You’ve never been charming. Intelligent, yes. Handsome, yes. Hell on wheels with a rifle in your hand, definitely. But charming? Nope.”
“I’m not even sure if that was an insult or a compliment,” I replied honestly.
“Just take it as one,” Eli said as he dropped down in the chair beside her. “That’s what I always do.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Lu asked.
“Pretty well, actually,” he replied, stuffing an entire piece of garlic bread in his mouth.
“You’re a Neanderthal,” Wilson said as he sat down with us. “At least chew before you attempt to swallow that.”
“This table is great,” Farrah said as she sat down on the opposite side of Cec. “We need one of these at our house. It fits everyone!”
“We don’t have room for a table the size of a yacht, Ladybug,” Casper told her as he took the seat next to her.
“Well, we should make the space.”
“All our kids are outta the house but one,” he said easily. “I’m sure as shit not addin’ onto the place.”
Craving Cecilia Page 9