“We’ll see,” Farrah mused.
“You get pregnant and I’m movin’ out,” he muttered, making Farrah laugh.
“If I get pregnant at my age, we’re calling the news because it’s a goddamn miracle,” Farrah cackled. “And we’re naming the baby Jesus.”
“I like you,” Lu said, pointing at Farrah across the table.
“Back atcha, honey,” Farrah said easily. “And I’d love to get my hands in your hair.”
“Say what?” Lu asked as Cecilia started to giggle beside me.
“It’s gorgeous, but you’re doing yourself no favors by pulling it back so tight,” Farrah said. “By the size of your bun, I bet it’s super long. Am I right?”
“Jesus,” Cecilia whispered in embarrassment.
“Wait,” Eli said, laughing. “Is she talking about your hair or your ass? I have noticed your buns are—”
“Finish that sentence and die, dipshit,” Lu replied, pointing her fork at Eli. She looked back at Farrah. “It’s down to my waist.”
“Oh, nice,” Farrah said.
“I’ve just gotten used to keeping it back for work. Can’t do my job if my hair’s flying everywhere.”
“You’ll have to show it to me after dinner,” Farrah said loftily. “And if nothing else, let me give you a trim. It really is gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” Lu said happily.
“You’d never know that my mother used to be the asshole in the Callie-and-Farrah duo,” Cecilia said to me out of the side of her mouth. “I wonder if it’s old age?”
“I heard that,” Farrah said.
I laughed.
The situation we were in sucked. I’d finally got a handle on shit, and I felt like I was making decisions and thinking things over with a clear head now, but it didn’t really make things any easier. I was still in close proximity to Cecilia. Still dealing with the mess she’d gotten herself into. Still spinning my wheels trying to figure out how to fix it. On top of all that, she was still so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her and I was seeing her tits on an almost hourly basis when she fed Olive.
But even with all that, it felt kinda good to sit around the table with people from my past and friends from the present. Weird, yeah, but good. For years after I’d left Oregon, I’d missed the sounds and the feel of the big gatherings they’d have at the clubhouse. Even when there wasn’t an event, I could’ve shown up at any time and had a group of people to hang with. It was impossible to replicate, but I’d found something close with my team. Dinner that night was like the best of both worlds, even if there was a shitstorm gathering outside.
“God,” Cecilia said as conversation at the table flowed around us. “This is the worst possible time to feel like crap.”
“Did you get the uh, clog taken care of?”
“Nope,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She raised a hand to the baby she’d somehow strapped to herself with the carrier. “I had to nurse her on my hands and knees, with my boobs just dangling there.”
“Now, that I’d like to see,” I said with a chuckle.
“Oh, I bet.” She rolled her eyes.
Suddenly, I was transported to the past, Cecilia staring up at me.
“I seriously love that bikini,” I said, looking down between us at the triangles just barely covering her tits.
“This is the last time I’m wearing it,” she huffed, pulling at the strap. “I let them convince me to jump off the rope swing one last time before I left, and the entire thing came undone when I hit the water.”
“Now, that I’d like to see.”
“Oh, I bet.” She rolled her eyes as I leaned down to kiss her.
* * *
Late that night, I sat in the communications room with the team. Ephraim and Josiah had called in to touch base, but they hadn’t had anything to report. Everything was quiet back in San Diego, which made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
“I’ve spent hours searching through public records,” Wilson said, tilting back and forth in his computer chair, making it squeak. “Free America Militia doesn’t own a damn thing.”
“Great,” Eli muttered.
“However,” Wilson said smugly, “I did uncover some properties that were owned by Mr. Cane Warren, one of which is a large tract of land near the Oregon border.”
“We knew that,” Eli said.
“Furthermore,” Wilson said with forced patience, “I cross referenced that with the owners of land that abut Mr. Warren’s property. That’s where things became slightly more interesting.”
“Good call,” Lu said.
“As always, your praise is effusive and heart warming,” Wilson told her. “I realized that Warren’s property wasn’t nearly as large as we’d anticipated, which got me wondering who owned the property surrounding it. Friends, meet Richard Campbell, Cody Howser, and Benjamin Morris.”
He clicked a key on his computer and three mug shots popped up larger than life on the screens. “Richard, here, was arrested for domestic violence, but lucky for Dick, the charges didn’t stick. Probably because less than a month later, he and his wife and children dropped off the face of the earth. Wonder where they went?” he asked sarcastically. “Cody Howser, arrested for assault in a bar fight, did two years in the pen, and somehow had the funds to buy the property within a year of his release. Interesting, no? Last, but not least, we have Benjamin Morris. Benny, here, is a real peach. He found Jesus while doing six years in federal prison for robbing a bank. His rap sheet is quite the novel. Robbery, assault, attempted murder, drunk driving, intent to distribute—meth, I believe—and various other misdemeanors. He also fell into some cash and was able to buy a large tract of land bordering Warren’s property.”
“Well, aren’t they the picture of Aryan health,” Lu grumbled, staring at the photos. Each man was pale, blue eyed, and handsome. Each had absolutely nothing behind their eyes.
“Warren and his wife obviously never met Cecilia’s parents,” Forrest said, glancing at me. “Hard to miss that her daddy ain’t white.”
“You see her face when she found out Warren was a card carrying racist asshole?” Eli asked. “Shit. I’ve never seen someone’s face pale that quickly.”
“It’s fucked up,” I said with a sigh. “She had no fuckin’ clue—but I’m not surprised. Livin’ and workin’ in southern California, doubt Cane advertised his shitty world view.”
“So what are we lookin’ at here?” I asked Wilson. “What kind of resources do they have?”
“A lot of them,” Wilson said simply. He spun back toward his computer and started typing. “I looked into the son, and he’s a real fuck—a rich one. He got kicked out of so many schools, his father must have paid a fortune to get him to graduation. His accounts are mostly overseas, and they’re hefty and diversified.”
“Shit.”
“And they’re nothing compared to Cane Warren’s,” Wilson said darkly. “He’s set to inherit millions.”
“Which he’s not going to split with a baby,” Lu said.
“I’ve been looking at missing persons databases, narrowing it down to only Caucasian families, then cross checking those with fathers who’d been in the California prison system in the past fifteen years. There’s… a lot.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Hundreds,” Wilson replied. “So, I cross checked it again with those who would’ve been inside with our terrible trio up there.” He jerked his chin at the screens. “Narrowed it down to less than a hundred.”
“That’s good,” Forrest said.
“Not good enough,” Wilson countered. “It’s going to take time for me to filter through all of these.”
“So, we know who some of the main players are, and we know there’s a shit ton of money at stake. Do we have any idea if they’ve got connections anywhere?”
“I am a miracle worker,” Wilson said. “Not a superhero. This type of investigating takes time. It doesn’t help that Casper—that surely isn’t his real name—isn’t telling us w
hat he knows.”
“Bottom line,” Forrest said, “Warren’s son has the money and loyal manpower to keep searching for Cecilia and the baby. He’s not going to stop, not with that kind of money on the line.”
We were all quiet.
“Then it looks like we’re going hunting,” Eli said quietly.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut it, Chief,” Lu interrupted. “Even if you weren’t making googly eyes at the woman, none of us would leave her to the wolves.”
“Especially not to these particular racist wolves,” Wilson added.
“I’ll call HQ and put us on leave,” Forrest said. “We’ve all got time coming anyway.”
“Thank you,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Shit.”
“We’ll end this,” Lu said, patting me on the shoulder awkwardly.
“Heads up,” Forrest said, lifting his phone into the air. “It’s Siah.”
“Nothing’s happening here,” Josiah said as soon as Forrest put him on speaker phone. “And when I say nothing, I mean nothing. Somethin’ ain’t right. It’s too fuckin’ quiet. No one’s comin’.”
“Wait it out,” Eli replied.
“Of course,” Siah said. “We aren’t goin’ anywhere. But, I’m tellin’ you, man, no one’s even watchin’ the house.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Positive. I can feel a sniper’s stare from five hundred yards away. There’s no one here.”
“Fuck,” Lu breathed.
“Stay until mornin’ and then head our way,” Forrest ordered. “Make sure no one’s followin’.”
“Will do,” Siah muttered before hanging up.
“Was anyone followed?” Wilson asked, looking around the group.
“Of course not,” Eli replied.
“No,” Forrest said.
“I rode the bike,” Lu said. “Unless they were riding, too, no way could anyone have followed me through traffic. I practically had wings.”
“I didn’t see anything,” I added. “And I had Casper and Cam watching my back.”
“They must’ve seen you leavin’ the house,” Forrest said. “Know you’re not there. Doesn’t mean they know where you are now.”
I nodded. It was past midnight and I was dragging ass. Part of me wanted to stay in that room and go over everything that Wilson had uncovered with my own eyes, but the rest of me just wanted to lay down for a bit. After years of working with the man, I knew I wouldn’t see anything that he hadn’t. The guy had a photographic memory and the ability to make connections like no one I’d ever seen. Okay, that wasn’t true. I’d seen Casper do the same thing. It was fucking weird.
“I’m going to stay at it,” Wilson said as we all began to move around. “See what else I can uncover tonight.”
“I’ll stay up with you,” Eli replied. “Got some television to catch up on.”
“I’ll assume you want to use one of my screens,” Wilson grumbled. “Fine. Take the one on the far right. It’s the least accessible when I’m at my keyboard.”
“You mean you have to turn your head to see it?” Eli asked, deadpan.
“Yes,” Wilson hissed. “Now stop talking so I can work.”
As Lu, Forrest, and I filed out of the room, we met Casper and Farrah in the hallway.
“Hey,” Casper said. “Was just comin’ to find you. Any news?”
I filled him in as we strode back toward the massive kitchen.
“So you’ve got the names of his highest in command,” Casper said when I’d finished. “That’s good.”
“Any information is good,” I replied. “But this shit will get us nowhere. Just because we know who they are doesn’t mean I know where they are or what they’re doin.’”
“Chances are, those men were loyal to the father, not the son,” Casper said, rubbing his chin. “Wouldn’t be pleased with that particular patricide.”
“Assuming they know,” Forrest replied. “Which they probably don’t.”
“So, maybe we need to make sure they do,” Casper said.
“Again,” Lu said tiredly, “if we knew where they were, that would be a possibility. Maybe. But we don’t. Those men have pretty much disappeared.”
“On the compound?” Casper asked.
“Probably,” I replied.
“They stole one of our trucks,” Casper told me, his tone grim. “Didn’t sell the contents.”
“That’s fuckin’ fantastic,” I replied sarcastically.
“Only one,” Casper said, like that made it any better. I knew exactly what the Aces bought and sold, and that kind of firepower in the hands of an adversary was not a good thing.
“We’re not going to figure out anything more tonight,” Lu said, stretching her arms above her head. “Let Wilson do his thing and we can meet up again in the morning.”
“Works for me,” Forrest said. He looked at me. “I’m gonna head out for a bit—get Cecilia those antibiotics.”
“Thanks.” I turned to Casper. “Fill Cam in?”
“I’ll do it in the morning,” Casper replied. “He already crashed for the night.”
“I swear,” Farrah said, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist. “We raised a bunch of weaklings. Who goes to sleep before midnight?”
We went our separate ways and I grabbed a bottle of water for Cecilia before going upstairs. She’d been in bed for hours already, but I knew she’d be up with the baby throughout the night. When I opened the door to her room, she was already awake.
“Hey,” she said softly. “How’d your meeting go?”
“It went,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Wilson’s digging deep, but finding anything out takes time.”
Cecilia shook her head. “I still can’t believe this. No good deed goes unpunished, right?”
“We’ll get it figured out,” I assured her, setting the water bottle on the nightstand. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a truck,” she said with a little groan. “But my mom found some bedding, so at least I’ve got that going for me.”
“I see that,” I replied. The bed had been made up with sheets and a comforter, and she was tucked inside, lounged back on a couple of pillows with Olive asleep against her chest.
“All this stuff was brand new,” she said, patting the bedding on her lap.
“Lu must’ve bought it,” I said as I kicked off my boots. “The rest of us would’ve been happy with sleeping bags.”
“Oh, whatever,” she joked as I sat down beside her. “I’ve seen your house. You like expensive shit.”
I let out a startled laugh. “What?”
“You’ve got expensive furniture,” she pointed out. “And your bedding is soft as a baby’s ass.”
“I made the furniture,” I said, leaning against the headboard with a sigh. “And bought the only bedding I could find that didn’t have flowers or cartoon characters on it.”
“You made it?” she asked in surprise. “Really?”
“I like working with my hands,” I replied, flexing my fingers. I lifted them up a little from my lap and showed her the tiny scars from all the times I’d nicked and sliced them up working on various projects. “It relaxes me.”
“I get that,” she said. “I like to quilt while I’m binge watching TV.”
“Quilt? Seriously?” I could not imagine the wild girl I’d chased all over Eugene quilting.
“My gram and great aunt taught me,” she said with a shrug. “I have a hard time sitting still. If I’m not doing something while I watch TV, I fall asleep or get bored.”
“Now, that I can believe,” I replied.
“I’m not great at it,” she said, leaning her head back tiredly. “But they’re functional when I’m done.”
“That’s pretty cool. Do you make designs and shit?” The conversation was surface, a throwaway exchange of words, but Jesus, I wanted to know everything about her. The thought made my stomach twist with excitement and sink at the same t
ime.
“Yeah,” she said. “Nothing fancy, though. You should see some of the handmade quilts my gram’s mom and sisters used to make. They’re incredible. My mom gave Cam one when he was a kid, and I think she and my Aunt Callie inherited some more when my gram died.”
At the reference to her gram’s death, we both went quiet. Neither of us would forget that day. We were never the same afterward. Both of us had our own demons to work through, but that hadn’t stopped us from clinging to each other like lifelines. It had made for a messy as fuck relationship, but a solid one, all the same.
“I liked your gram,” I said finally, breaching the silence.
“Everyone liked my gram,” she said with a quiet chuckle. “She was a goddamn saint.”
“Fair point,” I said in concession. “She used to make the best cucumber salad.” I groaned. “To this day, it’s still my favorite food.”
“Cucumber salad? Really?” Cecilia smiled. “That’s so simple to make.”
“You know how to make it?” I asked, my mouth watering.
“It’s not hard,” she replied. “It’s just cucumbers, red onion, vinegar and dill.”
“Maybe it was the ratio,” I said defensively. “Because I’ve had it since, and no one makes it as good as your gram did.”
“It was all that love she put in it,” she joked.
“Hmm,” I squinted my eyes. “That’s what love tastes like?”
“Depends on who you ask,” she replied dryly.
She laughed when I raised my eyebrows.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she admonished. “I meant that cucumber salad isn’t everyone’s favorite food.”
“Uh huh, sure.” I climbed off the bed and walked to the end of the room to where I’d stored my bag.
“What are you doing?” Cecilia asked, sitting up.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked as I tugged off my t-shirt.
“It looks like you’re stripping.” She paused. “If this is a show, at least do a little dance.”
I huffed in amusement as I pulled off my jeans, not doing a little dance.
“I’m not sleepin’ in my clothes,” I said as I strode back toward the bed.
“You’re sleeping in here?” she asked as I slid into the bedding beside her. “My parents are here.”
Craving Cecilia Page 10