“Aye,” Lemming nods proudly. “And not a moment too soon.”
I momentarily forget my plan of escape and give in to my overwhelming curiosity. “You found who?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “And by the way, nice accent, Lemming.”
Lemming responds with a knowing smirk.
Alby laughs, gripping his midsection. “She’s got fire, I see. It’s practically smoldering from her ears.”
“That she does,” Lemming agrees, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he stares down at me.
“I’m in the room!” I yell, feeling my face redden. “Or can’t you see me?”
Alby slaps him playfully on the back.
Lemming nods to me. “I see you perfectly. Clear as a lake on a sunny day.” He turns to Alby. “Is the plane ready?”
Alby looks to the bodies again then nods. “‘Course, Callum. Just as ye asked.”
I gasp. My heart stutters, and so do my words. “Ca-Ca-Callum?”
“Yes, as in Callum Eagan.” Lemming’s eyes lock on mine. “The one and only.”
Five
EMMA JEAN
“How?” I manage to ask. We’re in a well-appointed town car with soft leather seats. Lemming is seated next to me in the back. Alby is driving. “How did Grim not know you weren’t really Lemming?”
“Simple. Never met the man. I’ve met Belly and Marci, but never Grim. He’s always dealt with Alby when it came to our business.”
“But you took Marci in. Had her arrested. Wouldn’t she have recognized you?”
“I never went into the holding area. Never talked to her, just the boys who I also had never met as Callum Egan.”
“Why? Why all this elaborate ruse?” I press.
His expression is one of amusement, his eyes as wide as his grin. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
We are silent for the rest of the thirty-minute trip. I feel like I’m in another world. Callum says he’ll explain everything on the plane, but where that plane is going and why leaves me asking myself a million questions I can’t answer while Callum is furiously tapping away on his phone while Alby drives. We pull up to an airstrip where there’s only a single jet on the runway with the steps pulled down. Callum gets out and greets the pilot while Alby gets the bags from the trunk and begins carrying them over to the plane.
I pause as the grief clouding my thoughts clears. These men are Irish. Clan Egan. The same Irish men who think that Bedlam took down their shipment. They probably are the ones who killed Grim and his brothers. Lemming might have appeared shocked when he told me about their deaths, but then again, it was all an act. There was never really an Agent Lemming.
What if I’m next?
I can’t die and leave Marci and Gabby with no one.
Unless, they’ve already gotten to them…
I push my growing panic down and form a plan.
Callum stops when he realizes I’m not following and turns back, waving me forward, I take a few steps toward the plane then stop. “Hang on one sec,” I say “I forgot my... I let my words trail off as I slide into the back seat.
“What did you forget? You don’t have anything,” Callum shouts over the roar of the jet engines.
I don’t bother shutting the back door. I crawl over the dash into the front seat. Thankfully, the keys are still in the ignition. I turn it on as Callum and Alby race toward the car. I throw it into reverse and slam my foot on the gas. I don’t bother to look in the rearview as I speed through the bumpy field. The back door thankfully shuts from the bouncing around.
I don't underestimate Callum. If he has nefarious plans for me, then obviously, he's the kind of man who will catch up to me and will find me, but hopefully, it’s not before I make sure Marci and Gabby are safe.
I turn out of the field onto the two-lane road. The tires skid in the dirt, and I correct the wheel until I’m straight once more. I only know how to drive because I was taught by one of Marco’s soldiers who wanted me to drive the getaway car while he robbed a private poker game. It never came to fruition because he died, but I’m grateful I knew the basics, even if it’s been a while.
After what seems like forever, I spot the sign for the reservation on the side of the road. A peeling, short billboard with Chief David’s smiling face standing in front of a backdrop of the casino. I pull on the wheel just as the driver’s side window cracks into several small spiderwebs in quick succession.
Bullets.
I’m being shot at.
Thankfully, this car seems to have bulletproof windows because they haven’t penetrated the glass. But bulletproof only lasts for so long when you’re being hit over and over and over again. Eventually, the windows will give out. A tiny piece of glass falls onto my lap.
Soon.
I press my foot to the gas. I’m mid-turn, and as I straighten the car, the front windshield receives the same bullet decoration as the driver’s window. I can’t see anything. My adrenaline spikes.
Just stay on the road. The reservation is only a hundred yards away. You’ve got this. You can do it. Just keep going.
A tire pops, or at least, I think it does because the smooth road suddenly feels like I’m traveling over a minefield of boulders. The wheel fights my grip. I can’t keep it straight. I lose control as the entire vehicle rattles and vibrates with the onslaught. Metal crunches all around me. The sound echoes in my ears as I careen off the road and crash into a steep ditch.
The airbags feel like a cannon being launched at my face, but I don’t have time to access injuries as the bullets grow louder faster, continuing to pummel the car like the hail of a thousand windstorms. I crawl over to the passenger seat and try to unlock the door just as the driver’s window explodes and rains down glass all around me. I duck and curl my body up as tightly in a ball as I possibly can under the dashboard as shots wiz only inches from my head. The passenger window breaks.
That’s it. It’s over.
I’m done.
But bullets aren’t what broke the window, but by a black, leather-clad elbow. It recedes as a tattooed hand appears, unlatching the door. It’s twisted metal, but with inhuman strength, it’s pried open.
Grim appears.
I must already be dead.
“I've got you, Tricks. Keep your head down.” He reaches inside and pulls me out, tossing me over his shoulder. I spot Sandy and Hayes to the right and left of the overturned car. They’re returning fire. Grim uses his free hand and grabs his gun from his waistband, doing the same. Sandy and Haze cover for Grim as he moves us backwards until we’re deep in the thick of the woods. He holsters his gun and flips me forward, cradling me in his strong arms.
He’s running as bullets echo through the trees.
I reach up and touch his face, then nestle into his warm chest. “You’re beautiful, you know, even though you’re dead.”
Six
Emma Jean
I wake up in a hospital room, but not in a hospital bed, on a small sofa. I glance up to see Marci occupying the bed in the center of the room. I made it. How did I get back? I think hard. Grim.
My heart sinks as I remember him cold in the morgue.
It couldn’t have been Grim. He’s dead.
It was all a cruel joke played on me, courtesy of desperation and hallucination.
I slink off the couch toward Marci and reach for her hand. I hold it in mine. “I’m so sorry, Marci. About all of this. About what happened to you, about losing…” I choke up, “…your boys.”
“Our boys,” she corrects me.
My eyes dart to hers. They’re half-open. She squeezes my hand. Her smile is tight lipped.
“You’re awake,” I croak out.
“Am I?” she says with a small laugh that leads to a cough.
“You should rest,” I tell her.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
I flinch at her choice of words.
“And you’ve got nothing to be sorry about EJ. You might be the cause, but it’s not your fault.
You never asked for this. You never inserted yourself in our lives and asked us if you can be a part of our family. You just are.” she laughs. “Belly had a saying.” She squeezes my hand again. “Stop pointing fingers at yourself, and start pointing guns at others.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s…kind of confusing.”
“Is it. It also never made a whole lot of sense…until now. Look at that, Belly was a goddamned philosopher after all.”
“Marci, about the boys,” I start, knowing she’s about to take back her words about things not being my fault when she finds out her sons are all dead.
“Don’t be apologizing about them either. They love you, and they’ll do anything in the world for you, just like I would.”
“I know they would’ve. It’s just that— “
“If you don’t believe me, you can ask them yourself. Sandy was just in here giving me shit about not wanting anything to eat yet. I’m sure he’ll be back to annoy me again any second now, and tell him…” her voice trails off. Her eyes close, and within seconds, her breathing evens out as sleep pulls her into its embrace once again. Marci thinking she just saw Sandy is a fresh, gaping wound to my heart. It looks as if I’m not the only one hallucinating.
I slowly get off the bed and pull my hand from Marci’s. I spy the bathroom. Once inside, I close the door. The click of the lock is like a hammer to a fish tank. Everything spills out from within me. I sink to the floor.
There's a wide crack running through the tile. It starts at the toilet between my feet and travels through the grout, splitting the floor all the way to the wall opposite me. I keep staring at it, hoping that, maybe, if I concentrate on the jagged line long enough it will crack open and swallow me down. I don't care where it goes.
Anywhere but here will do.
I pull my knees up to my chest and exhale a shaky breath. I feel so heavy. Everything feels heavy. I pull myself to my feet and lean over the counter, bracing myself on my elbows until my nose is almost touching the dirty mirror.
I glance at the reflection of someone I haven’t seen in a while. Me. My natural, curly hair, in all its rebellion, is starting to kink, resulting in the tangled, blonde mess now surrounding my face. I run my hands over my face, digging my fingernails into my skin. I want to claw it all off and not be me anymore.
What the fuck are you doing, Emma Jean? Asks a deep masculine voice from inside my head. I stop my fingernails from drawing blood and set my hands back down on the counter. My sadness begins to morph into anger.
"Fuck off," I answer, shaking my head and closing my eyes. "You don't get a say in my life. Not anymore. You don't get to question me." Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I sniffle hard and stand up straight, determined to silence his voice because it’s not real. It’s a lie. He’s not here and never will be again.
You can't get rid of me, Emma Jean. I'm a part of you. The voice reminds me, sounding angry.
"No!" I yell, sending my fist through the mirror. He's right, but I don't want him to be right. I want him to be ALIVE. "You WERE a part of me. You're not shit now. You left me. You’re dead! You promised you’d never leave me, and now you’re fucking dead! I fucking hate you for dying. For leaving me alone. Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!" I scream louder, kicking the cabinet until one of the doors gives way and falls to the ground.
My screams turn into a sob. I sink back down until my ass cheeks hit the cold tile. I raise my knees to my chest and drop my head onto my forearms.
"I hate you so much,” I whisper.
I could say the words a thousand times, but it’s a lie no one would ever believe, including myself.
I take a few deep breaths and stand. I open the door, but just as I take a step back into the room, I’m pushed back inside by a wide, hard body who kicks it shut. I’m pressed up against the sink and a warm hard chest. I look up and freeze. I’m hallucinating. I have to be.
My knees buckle, but I don’t fall. I can’t.
I’m being held up…by Grim.
GRIM
“But, I saw you in the morgue. I kissed you. You were dead. You weren’t breathing,” Tricks says. She holds onto my arms, digging her trembling fingers into my skin as if she’s afraid I’ll fade into mist like a ghost if she lets go.
“I was breathing,” I assure her. “Just barely. And I felt that kiss. I thought it was a dream.” I push a strand of curls from her eyes and cup her cheek. She leans into my touch. “I’m alive. So are Sandy and Haze. So is Marci, as you can see, and Gabby’s alive but hasn’t woken up from surgery.”
Tricks’s exhale comes from the very depths of her body, expelling the despair she’d been carrying around with her for who knows how long. She collapses against me. I lift her into my arms and carry her back out into Marci’s room. She’s still sleeping. I sit her down on the couch and take her hands in mine.
“With so many people after us, I couldn’t get to you. But if they all thought we were dead, we’d be able to move around undetected, at least for a while. The Chief’s medicine woman gave us some root that’s like morphine to put us into a deep sleep. Then, the coroner tossed us in the fridge to lower our body temperature. The second Lemming left, they gave us a shot of adrenaline to wake us up. We were heading back to the reservation to see if Chief David found out where they were keeping you when we came across the overturned car. At first, I thought you…”
“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” she asks, drying her tears with the back of her hand.
“No, it fucking does not.”
She presses her lips together. “The shooters! Shit, do you think they could identify you? It could blow your entire plan.”
“They could,” I respond. “If they were still alive.”
She exhales. “Good.”
“I’m so sorry, Tricks. I wanted Lemming to see us for confirmation. Not you. I never thought he would take you there.”
“It’s not your fault. And it’s a smart plan…except…Lemming isn’t Lemming.”
“What does that mean?” I hold her face still in my hands.
“He’s Callum Egan.”
Seven
Emma Jean
“Gabby’s awake,” Sandy says, poking his head through the door. “She wants to see you.”
Grim helps me to my feet. “You’re exhausted, you should rest. We’ll talk more later.”
I shake my head. “I have to see her.”
Grim never let’s go of my arm as he guides me down the hall to Gabby’s room.
I’m surprised to see Gabby sitting up when I arrive. Sandy, Haze, and Grim keep to the wall by the door as a nurse excuses herself.
I run to the bed and stop short of flinging myself at Gabby. “You’re okay!” I exclaim.
Both her eyes and her smile are bright. “I’m tougher than I look. The doctors had to stitch up an artery. It wasn’t severed, just nicked. I could’ve bled to death if Grim hadn’t brought me here when he did.”
“But, you didn’t,” I whisper. “And he did.”
She grabs my hand. “But, I didn’t. And he did.”
I sit at the edge of the bed. “You certainly are tougher than you look. Did you really kill Gil?”
She nods and looks nothing short of proud. “I went to find you the night of the funeral. I had a bad feeling. I overheard Marco talking about something big going down with Bedlam that night. I didn’t want you to be caught up in it. I didn’t see you there. I remember you saying Grim had a room in the back. The door was unlocked. Gil was inside rummaging through things. He had a huge knife in his hands he’d just pulled from a drawer. I went to run from the room to go warn you but he pulled me back in. During the struggle, we both fell. He dropped the knife. I grabbed it, and he wrapped his hands around my throat and pulled me up to the bed. I was seeing stars but pretended to be passed out or dead, or I don’t know, but he fell for it. The second he released me, I grabbed the knife from the mattress and…well... you know. I stabbed him.”
“In the fucking
head. Quite impressive strength,” Sandy says from the doorway, looking more than impressed. He winks.
Gabby blushes. “I didn’t mean to stab him in the head. Or, I should say I wasn’t aiming for anything in particular, just him in general. It’s just where the knife landed.”
“Leave it where it lies,” Sandy says, leaning his elbows on the mattress.
“Isn’t that a golf thing?” Haze asks.
Sandy shrugs. “Sure, but right now it’s a stabbing in the head thing.”
Gabby smiles, but it quickly drops from her face as she turns her attention back to me. “There was something else Marco said. She looks around to each of us, then settles on me. EJ, Marco…. he murdered Belly.”
Haze growls. “We know. He was poisoned, but how?”
“The whiskey,” Gabby said. “He was poisoning Belly’s whiskey. Something about the special stuff he kept in the garage.”
“Shit,” Sandy swears, rubbing his temples.
“But, how did he get to the whiskey in the garage?” Sandy asks.
“He got to it before it got to the garage,” Gabby explains. “The guy at the liquor store. He was in on it. Marco must have paid him off. I’m so sorry. All of this is because of my own flesh and blood.” She wrings her hands on her lap.
Sandy sits on the other side of Gabby’s bed. “As far as we are concerned, you’re Tricks’s sister. No relation to Marco or Mona.”
“Mona?” Gabby asks with a gasp. “What about her?”
Sandy grimaces. “Shit, you didn’t know about that one did you.”
“Dumbass,” Haze mutters. Marci backhands his chest.
I take a deep breath. “Mona did some horrible things. She’s been working with Marco.” Gabby remains silent as I fill her in on the rest of what her sister’s done.
“I can’t believe she’s been here all this time and never told me. And that she is capable…that doesn’t sound like the Mona I knew.”
“It doesn’t. I couldn’t believe it either. But, that Mona we knew? She doesn’t exist anymore.”
Permission: The Perversion Trilogy, Book Three Page 3