Permission: The Perversion Trilogy, Book Three

by Frazier, T. M.

  Hearing him even speak of my mother makes me feel like the room around us is spinning. With each rotation and grow more and more confused about what I should think. How I’m supposed to feel. I don’t even know how I feel. Am I happy to discover who my parents could possibly be? Am I upset that my father isn’t the straight-laced accountant type I always imagined he was?

  I feel numb.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice so low it’s barely audible.

  His lips flatten, his words sincere. “To be your father. A family. That’s all. Truly.”

  The numbness is short lived. All at once a thousand different emotions collide into me like a raging bull, knocking me off my center. My head spins. It’s all too much. “It’s all too much,” I repeat my words out loud as I push back the chair. “I…I have to go. To get out of here. I need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  My chair s chair back and make a run for the door and yank it open running as fast as I can down the hall and away from that room. Away from the confusion. Away from the life changing conversation. Away from Callum.

  Away from my father.

  Twelve

  Grim

  I make a move to follow Tricks, but Callum stops me. “Let her have a moment alone. It’s a lot to take in, and there’s more to discuss.”

  As much as it pains me not to follow her, Callum is right. She needs time to process. I sit back down.

  Callum rubs his eyes, and I realize how tired he looks. Not as if he needs a nap, but weary, the kind of tired you feel after years of struggles, not after missing a few hours of sleep. “In hindsight, I should have taken Marco out right then and there. But Imogen was the priority and nothing else. When I go, I’ll leave you with a dozen of my men to help you finish the task with Marco. Win this war, Grim. Take back your city.”

  “I appreciate that, but honestly, I'm surprised that you won't want to stay and help take Marco out.”

  “There was once a time I’d been so bloodthirsty to take out a man who’s done harm to my family that I’d have slaughtered an entire flock of sheep, looking for the wolf hiding among them. I’m not that man anymore. I've learned over time what’s important, and that’s why I must go and leave you the honor of killing the wolf.”

  "Where will you go?” I ask.

  “Home. To Ireland.” He leans over the table. “But first, I want to talk to you about Imogen.”

  I know what’s coming. I deflect, as if putting off his words could stop her from leaving. “Are we about to have the stay away from my daughter talk?"

  Callum laughs. "Not exactly. I don't want you to necessarily stay away from her, but it's not like it will be safe for her here while you are fighting this war.”

  He’s right. “It won’t be.”

  “I’d like to take Imogen home to Ireland with me.”

  “Isn’t that up to her?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “It is up to her. I’m just hoping you won’t be standing in the way of her making that decision.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” As much as the thought of her leaving pains me, Egan is right. It’s not safe. “I’d already suggested sending her away before. It didn’t go over well.” Although, I wouldn’t be sending her away this time. She’d be going toward something. A real home. Family. “I’ll try and make her understand.”

  “Good. Because Imogen’s mother is eagerly awaiting the arrival of her long-lost daughter. She’ll already be wondering why we were delayed. I don’t want to find out what happens to me if I step off that plane without Imogen.”

  He chuckles, then takes out his phone and presses a few buttons.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling in reinforcements,” he says. “In case you decide to change your mind and stand in the way of Imogen’s decision to come home with me.”

  I’m about to ask him what the hell he means by reinforcements when he passes me the phone. A woman with Trick’s curls, the same woman from the picture appears on the screen. She’s Tricks in every way, but older, with tiny lines around her eyes.

  “Callum is that you? Did you find her? Does she know who you are? Let me see her!” she says, sounding equal parts panicked and excited. My image must appear on her screen. “Oh, you’re not Callum.” Her eyes widen. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

  “I’m right here, love,” Callum calls out.

  She sighs with relief.

  “I assume you must be Grim.” she says with a smile. “My daughter’s beau.”

  “I am, ma’am. And I assume you’re Callum’s reinforcements.”

  “No, don’t you be calling me, ma’am. I’m barely forty years old,” she laughs. “And reinforcements?” She twists her lips. “Is that what he’s calling his wife these days?”

  Callum’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

  “Grim, my boy, is she alright?” she asks. Her forehead wrinkles with concern.

  “She’s fine.” I reassure her. “She’s been through hell and back, but she’ll be okay.”

  Tears spill from her eyes. Her head bobs in a continuous nod. “Good. Good. That’s so very good.”

  “She knows now. Callum told her everything. She’s read the letters.”

  “And?” she asks.

  “And she needs some time alone.”

  “I bet she does. It’s not every day you learn about your family. This all must be quite a shock to you and her both.”

  Everyday has been one shock after another.

  “I can’t wait to see her again. After all these years. To hold my girl in my arms.” She’s sobbing now, wiping her tears with a tissue. “I hope she’ll like me.” Her tears stop. Her eyes widen in shock. “Lord, what if she doesn’t like me?”

  I almost laugh at the ridiculous idea. “I don’t like anyone, and yet, I find myself liking you already,” I reassure her. “And Tricks...I mean Imogen. She’s got a kind heart. A big one, too.”

  “That’s so good to hear. I hope to see her soon. Give her my love.” She holds up the phone, and I realize she’s in a room decorated all in pink. There’s a crib in the corner. “Although, I’m thinking I’ll have to redecorate. I don’t think she’ll fit in this wee crib.”

  She laughs, and I laugh right along with her although I realize Aileen is already assuming Tricks will go to Ireland. My heart lurches. I’m reminded of my own mother, of what I wouldn’t give to see her again. To get to know her as an adult.

  “I’m sure you have much to discuss with Callum, things much more important than interior decorating.” She sniffles. “Give my girl my love, and Grim?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for keeping her safe. For loving her during a time when she wasn’t able to feel our love. It gives me great comfort, knowing she felt yours.”

  I don’t know how to answer her. My throat tightens. I give her a simple nod in return.

  Callum takes the phone. “I’ll call you soon, my love,” he says.

  “Give my love to Marci,” she replies.

  Callum ends the call.

  “Well played, Callum,” I say leaning back in the chair.

  He shrugs. “I’ve got to play every card I have.”

  “So, then this is all a game to you?”

  His stare hardens. “No, it’s not a game. It’s my daughter, and you’ll learn if you ever have children of your own that there ain’t nothing a parent won’t do for their kids. You think I’m capable of lies, deceit, and murder as head of Clan Egan?” He shakes his head and laughs. His voice deepens. “You have no idea what I’m capable of as a father.”

  I lean my elbows on the table. “If she does decide to go, you best keep her safe, Callum.”

  He raises his eyebrows in amusement. I don’t trust him, even if the blood test proves Tricks is his daughter. Marco’s living proof that being related by blood does not equal loyalty. “Is that a threat?”

  I bore my words into his brain with an unblinking stare. “No. It’s a fucking promise.”


  His smile turns flat. “I fucked it all up once, Grim. I won’t be doing that again. She’ll be safe. You have my word. I promise you that when all is said and done, and it’s safe for her to return to Lacking--and she wishes to do so--I won’t stop her. In fact, I’ll bring her back myself.”

  “I appreciate that. But, there’s more,” I say.

  “More than the threat of death?” Callum jokes.

  “Not more from me. More for her. She’s been a prisoner. She’s experienced so little in this life.”

  Understanding registers in Callum’s eyes. “Aye. I’ve been waiting for many years to give Imogen the stars. She’ll have her family. Free will. She’ll have it all. She’ll see things in Ireland she never knew existed. She’ll have an education if she wants it. Tutors. Everything she missed out on and more. You have my word.”

  I search his face. I believe him. It’s comforting and terrifying at the same time. “Plus, you have to take Gabriella.”

  “Marco’s sister? Is she even alive? Last time I saw her, she was bleeding out.”

  “She’s going to live,” I tell him. “And she’s blood related to Marco, but Gabby was raised as Tricks’s sister, and just as much a prisoner. She’s her closest friend, and up until now, her only real family.”

  “Why do you call her Tricks?” Callum asks.

  I debate whether or not to tell him, but as I recall the story in my mind, I can’t help but recite the day we met aloud.

  “Now, she really reminds me of her mother. I can see why the Los Muertos girl is so important to her,” Callum says. He thinks for a second, then shrugs. “My wife and I couldn’t have any more children. Aileen will be over the moon if I come home with one daughter.” He holds up two fingers. “Two? She might fall off the end of the earth with joy.”

  “When are you planning on leaving?”

  “The streets are already bloody and about to get bloodier. As soon as possible. Sooner, if she’ll allow.”

  “I’ll call the Chief and see if we can expedite a DNA test.”

  “Aye, good plan. I’ll talk to my men and ask the Chief for a cabin to get some shut-eye.”

  Callum stands, but before he leaves, he pauses. “I know Imogen loves you, Grim. Any fool can see it in her eyes, and I know you love her as well. You hide your true self, but you can’t hide that. It’s written in your very soul and seeps out your pores. I know too much of the soul-sucking feeling that comes with having to live without her.” He looks over his shoulder, and his eyes lock on mine. “The question is, do you love her enough to let her go?”

  Thirteen

  Emma Jean

  After waking from a nap and taking a shower, I leave the room to find Grim.

  “Morning!” Sandy says in the kitchen. “Grumpy pants is waiting for you outside.” He points to the backdoor.

  I open it to find Grim bent over his motorcycle.

  The bike is all chrome and metal muscle, covered in shiny black skin. I step up to the machine and notice the subtle black roses painted around the gas tank. “It’s beautiful,” I say, placing my palm on the soft worn leather seat.

  “Beautiful,” Grim agrees, but when I glance up, it’s not the bike he’s looking at. It’s me.

  I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks.

  “Ever rode on one before?”

  “No,” I answer, excitement jitters in my stomach.

  “Then, let’s go,” he says.

  “Where’s Callum?” I ask.

  “Nearby. We’ll talk about that later. Ride first,” he says.

  Grim pulls a helmet from under the seat and places it over my head. His cool breath skates over my forehead as he adjusts on the strap under my chin. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and my heart flutters against my rib cage. Much to my surprise, he straddles the seat and lifts me so I’m sitting in front of him, my legs spread wide on the soft leather.

  “Aren’t I supposed to sit on the back?”

  “You’re not used to it yet. It’s safer if I surround your body with mine.”

  My stomach flutters from both his words and his proximity. He revs the engine, and then, we’re off.

  Riding on a motorcycle is nothing like I’ve imagined. Its power between your legs. There are no walls to restrict you. No windows to temper your view of the outside world. It’s something unlike I’ve ever experienced before.

  It’s freedom.

  Grim follows a dirt road past the hospital and the field where we found out Mr. Fuzzy met his end. I feel sad for my little, furry friend.

  We come to stop. Grim leaves the engine running. “Don’t take your helmet off. I just want to show you something really quick.”

  He lifts me off the bike and takes my hand, dragging me to the edge of the woods where what looks like a miniature log cabin was built just a few feet wide in all directions. At the top of the little house are two sticks marked with an X. Carved into the wood was a name. Mr. Fuzzy.

  “You did this?” I ask, covering my mouth with my hand in disbelief.

  Grim lays a hand on the roof of the little house. “No, Chief David did. He insisted that anything that perishes in this land must return to it. They even gave him a ceremony and laid his feet to the east just as they do their tribe members.”

  “That’s the kindest thing I’ve ever heard.” I lay my hand on the house next to Grim’s. He covers my pinky with his.

  I close my eyes and whisper, “Sleep well my friend.”

  We get back on Grim’s bike and travel a few more miles down the road. I look to the clear sky and enjoy the warmth of the sun and the warmth of Grim’s skin against my back.

  We stop at the edge of a wooded area. Again, he lifts me off and takes my hand guiding toward an overgrown footpath between two large pine trees.

  “Look,” I say, pointing to the sky.

  Grim stops and looks up to the white lines in the sky. “That’s what’s left behind by airplanes.”

  I nod. “Whenever I would feel alone, I’d look to the sky and search for airplane trails. It was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in the world. There are other people out there, some with even more troubles than my own, some passing right over my head every single day.”

  “What do you do when you feel alone now?” he asks. I lower my eyes to find him staring at me. “Do you still look to the sky?”

  “No,” I reply. “I look to you.”

  Grim’s lips turn up at the corners. “You’re always surprising me.”

  I give him a coy one shoulder shrug. “I’m nothing, if not unpredictable.”

  “That you are not,” he says, tugging me onto the path.

  We stop at an overgrown wall. I hear murmurs coming from the other side. I hesitate, digging my shoes into the dirt. “Do you hear that?” I ask.

  “Those are our guys. They are lining the entire perimeter of the reservation. ID’s are being checked to enter, and the area around the casino is manned to make sure no one leaves there to go elsewhere. All our guys. It’s safe. I promise you. This time, it really is safe.”

  I swallow down my fears.

  Grim leans down and takes his knife from his pant leg. He cuts away at the growth over the wall. Beneath is concrete covered in the usual graffiti. But as he hacks away, I wonder what it is he wants to show me until something else is revealed underneath. It’s a painting. Not the usual gang sign or mural to a fallen soldier. An honest to goodness beautiful painting of a girl wearing an oversized t-shirt. Her head is cocked to the side, and she’s got a smug expression on her little face. I gasp.

  She’s holding a kitten. Not just any kitten.

  Mr. Fuzzy.

  He hacks away at the last of the overgrowth, revealing crazy, blonde curls on the young girl’s head.

  “It’s me,” I say in wonder.

  “It’s you,” Grim confirms, stepping back to gauge my expression.

  It’s not just a caricature of me. It’s me. An honest to goodness portrait of what I looked like the day we met. The clothes, the
curls, the hair on Mr. Fuzzy, and my little con artist expression. My big, bold eyes. It’s more than art.

  “It’s magic.” I press my hand to the wall, stroking it over the insane details. I swing back around to Grim who’s still watching me closely, one hand over his chest, the other propping up his chin. “You painted this?”

  His answer is a curt nod.

  “Grim, you’re a painter. A ridiculously talented one.”

  He shrugs off the compliment, but he can’t fool me. I see the way his eyes light up with my words.

  “I wanted you to see this because…” He puffs out his cheeks, then exhales in frustration and not being able to find the right words. “Because I am the man in the leather hood with bloodied hands, but I’m also more. More than just the reaper of Bedlam. More than just their leader. I’m a man. Flesh and bone. Beating heart. Capable of both life and death. Hate and love. I take, but this…this is my way of...”

  “Giving life,” I offer.

  “Yeah, something like that. I just wanted you to see me. All of me.”

  I take his face in my hand and stand on my tip-toes. “You think I don’t know that you’re more?” I slap him lightly on the chest. He grabs my wrist in his hand, and a bolt of awareness sears my skin. “I’ve known that. I’ve always known that.” He releases my wrist. I trail fingertips down his defined chest. I lean in and plant a soft lingering kiss over his heart. “I love you, Grim. All of you. I lift his hand and kiss each of his fingertips. He’s watching me closely, following my every move, still as stone. I plant a final kiss on the center of his palm. “Bloodied hands, beating heart. All of it.”

  “Fuck, Tricks,” he hisses and pulls me up by my arms. We’re so close we’re breathing each other’s air. “It beats for you.” His lips descend to mine.

  He pulls back. His face looks pained. “Tricks.” He rests his forehead on mine. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  “So, talk,” I whisper against his lips.