“It ended after their mother was arrested—manslaughter.”
“One of her friends?” I emphasized the word.
“No, driving while under the influence.”
“What happened to the sisters?”
“According to Cynthia, they went into the foster care system and” —Madeline smiled— “it worked for them. They ended up with great foster parents. Their mother had told them not to tell anyone, so they didn’t. At first, they kept expecting it to happen because they thought it was normal, but it never did. And with time, Cynthia said, she’d buried it. Even when with her sister, they never mentioned it, and any memories went away.”
Placing the dough back in the bowl, I set it on the counter and covered it with a towel. “So what brought it back?” I looked up. “Sex?”
Madeline shook her head. “No. She had the memories so repressed that it didn’t affect her sex life. It happened when she found out she was pregnant with a girl. She started having nightmares and then flashbacks, but she didn’t know what was happening. It was after her daughter was born that more details came back to her. She called her sister. Her sister flat-out denied it ever happened.”
“And what helped her?”
“Thank goodness, she found the institute. She knew something wasn’t right, and she worried about her daughter. Her doctor recommended counseling. Her counselor listened and sent her to the institute.” Madeline forced a smile. “The Araneae we know here is carefree and fun. In reality, she’s really quite the businesswoman.”
“She was before she met Sparrow...with Sinful Threads.”
Madeline nodded. “I never thought she learned that from him.”
I chuckled. “I would imagine his tutoring has been more personal.”
“Or” —Madeline tilted her head with a grin— “maybe she tutored him?”
The banter brought a welcome lightness to our conversation, reminding me of the camaraderie we all shared, one that came over time and with familiarity and even through times of darkness.
After all, how would the sun break free each morning if it hadn’t been reined in the night before? To continue the metaphor: When all was said and done, the love we all shared made me believe that light would eventually win. Dawn would shine from beneath the horizon and cover our world in golden rays of sunlight if we waited long enough.
“Anyway,” Madeline continued, “Araneae understands delegation. She also has a well-defined mission statement focused on helping anyone and everyone she can reach. With that drive, she’s created an amazing center.” Madeline shrugged. “I suppose being filthy rich didn’t hurt.”
No one in the tower was financially strapped, but it was true that Araneae came into a large sum of money that she never expected, nor had Sparrow.
“What about Cynthia’s sister?” I asked as I washed the dough from my hands.
Madeline shook her head. “She won’t speak to her sister, swears she’s lying.”
“Then how do you know she isn’t? Maybe what she thinks happened and are memories are really bits and pieces of stories or movies that she’s seen and she mixed up.”
“Or she is telling the truth.”
“You think she is, don’t you?”
Madeline nodded. “I think that more people are affected in some way by the depravity in this world than any of us want to admit. I’ve seen Cynthia with her daughter. I’ve seen her with her wife. Cynthia has come to terms with what happened, understanding that she was not responsible. If you asked Laurel, she’d talk about the maturity of brains.”
“Of course she would.”
“Children can’t be held responsible for the choices of others. I know Ruby thinks she’s grown up, but she’s still a teenager. Cynthia was younger than that. Not only wasn’t she old enough to consent, she didn’t understand what she was even doing.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“She didn’t ask for that to happen to her, and she was not in a position to defend herself, but today, after facing her demons, she can defend and protect her daughter.”
“You’re saying if I met Cynthia or others from the institute at a dinner party or a picnic, I would never know they’d been victims?”
“We don’t wear neon signs. I think for me, once I came to terms with the memories of what had been done and what I’d done to survive, I had to also accept that the responsibility for what happened to me isn’t mine to bear. I am no longer a victim, but there’s no shame in admitting that I was. That admission gives me the courage and strength to vow to never let that happen again.”
“And Araneae’s center is helping others too.”
“It is. She has the funds, the will, and the passion, and she’s taken all of that to get the right people.” Madeline walked closer. “Now, let’s work on the fillings.”
I reached for her hand. “Thank you.”
Her sparkling green eyes met mine. “Like Ruby said, if the dam breaks and you remember anything, swim like hell and reach for a life raft. Reid, Laurel, me, or once we’re out of here, consider the institute.”
“I know I wasn’t raped.”
“It’s still okay to reach out.” She squeezed my hand. “I’ve been thinking about it. I can’t imagine how I would have handled it if they’d taken me, not after what I’ve been through.”
Tears came to my eyes. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“I know without a doubt, being here with Patrick, Ruby, and soon” —she grinned— “this little one, here is where I belong. I may have walked through the fires of hell to get here, but if that’s what it took, I’d do it again. You know what they say—it’s darkest before the dawn. We can’t give up.”
“Hey, what are you—”
We both turned as Araneae entered the kitchen, her eyes open wide. She was all dressed for business from the waist up—hair, makeup, blouse, and jewelry. Comically, it didn’t match her soft maternity leggings and sock-covered feet. I supposed it was a perk of working remotely. She could stay comfortable while appearing put together for virtual calls.
With her mouth agape, she came closer. “Fuck, Lorna, what did you do?”
I looked at Madeline, smiled, and turned back to Araneae. “I guess you mean my hair.”
“I heard Aunt Araneae say—” Ruby said, entering from the same archway Araneae had come through. She stilled at the threshold to the kitchen. “Shit. Lorna.”
“Ruby Cynthia,” Madeline scolded.
Before I could explain again why I was now a brunette with a shoulder-length bob, my phone buzzed. Pulling it from the back pocket of my jeans, I said, “I hope that’s Reid.”
The screen read Mason.
A bit disappointed, I swiped the screen.
* * *
“PLEASE COME TO YOUR APARTMENT.”
* * *
I looked up at three sets of eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Madeline asked. “I haven’t heard from Patrick either.”
Araneae shrugged. “I haven’t heard from Sterling, but that’s not unusual.”
“It’s Mason. I hope everything is all right,” I said. “Madeline, can you do the fillings by yourself? He wants me downstairs.”
“Oh, are you making pirozhki?” Ruby asked. “I’ll help.”
“You pronounce that much better than I do,” I called as I left the kitchen.
“I want answers later,” I heard Araneae say as I passed the large staircase and headed toward the elevator.
Reid
Dr. Dixon’s arms crossed over her chest as I settled onto the couch in my apartment. “Reid, this is not up for debate. You need to listen to me. You need rest, and I expect you to get it.”
Maybe the reason I hesitated to answer was my admiration for all that the woman before me had accomplished, her position at the hospital, and her status within the Sparrow world. I supposed my lack of response boiled down to one common denominator: respect. I had it in spades for Renita Dixon. I knew her history and how she’d
become part of the Sparrow world and the devotion she had to Sterling Sparrow and his undertakings. Her life, like so many others, had been touched by the atrocities of Allister Sparrow and Rubio McFadden. She’d lost a sister to a world she never knew existed.
With her determination and Sparrow’s financial help, she worked her ass off to get to a place where she could also help people. Now, I was her patient.
Renita’s eyebrows arched and her eyes widened.
It was a look I knew well. I’d received it over the years from both my grandmother and mother, and more recently from Lorna. That expression was a secret weapon that women possessed. Maybe they shared it with one another, but honestly, it baffled the entire male population. It was that ability to speak volumes without moving their lips.
“I could lie to you,” I replied a bit sheepishly.
“You could, but you won’t.”
She was right. I answered as honestly as I could, knowing I would be back on 2 the first chance I had. “I’ll try to rest.”
Dr. Dixon shook her head, her lips drawing together. “Listen, I never hesitate to help when anyone from Sparrow calls. I would much rather deal with issues that aren’t in my specialty.” She was a cardiologist by specialty. “For example, your arm will be fine. There will be a scar, but it should heal fine. The bandage will need to be changed twice a day and along with updating some shots, take all the antibiotics until gone. The fact remains that the EKG shows a small area of damage to your heart. Once the heart muscle is damaged, it stays that way.”
“So you’re saying it doesn’t matter if I rest or not?”
“She’s saying to rest.”
Renita and I both turned to Mason, my self-appointed bodyguard, the man standing near the windows with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his lips.
“I’m saying,” she went on, “if you were my son, I’d ground you to where you are right now.”
“How will sitting at a computer cause more damage?” I asked.
“How is your headache?” Renita asked.
“As far as headaches go, it’s a fine one.”
Mason shook his head as Renita took on the scowl.
“Take breaks,” she said. Turning to Mason, she added, “Encourage breaks. No long stints at the computer or even watching any kind of screen.”
Before I could answer, the door to the apartment opened. Standing with her hand on the doorknob, Lorna stilled, her green gaze going around the room.
“Fuck,” Mason muttered. “I forgot about your hair.”
Lorna’s gaze narrowed as she ignored her brother and concentrated on Dr. Dixon. “Why are you here?”
When the doctor didn’t respond, Lorna voiced her question less directly. “What is going on?”
Uncrossing his arms, Mason let out a sigh as he walked toward Lorna. Reaching for the ends of her hair, he flipped one side before laying a kiss on the top of her head. “I guess if you could welcome me back with a new face, I can call you sis with whatever hairstyle you want.”
As she gazed up at him, I saw what I’ve known for as long as I’ve known my wife. Lorna’s capacity to love unconditionally didn’t make her an island unto herself. It made her a fountain where everyone around her drank, whether we knew it or not. Even a man who had worked the dark web as Kader softened in her presence.
Slowly, her smile faded as she turned back to me, still lying upon our sofa. “Should I be frightened?”
Renita shook her head. “Grateful is a better sentiment.”
Lorna came to me, sitting her fine ass on the cushion at my side.
Though I tried to hide my pain behind my complete admiration for my wife, my face contorted and a small wince escaped. Her hands immediately came to my bandaged arm and then to my chest, now covered with a clean gray t-shirt. She moved her hands over me, no doubt feeling the bandages beneath. According to the x-rays, I had two cracked ribs, none fully broken, and an ultrasound determined damaged cartilage in between.
“Oh my God, Reid, what happened?” Her frightened stare circled the room before returning to me as her body began to tremble at my side.
The clicking of the handle had us turning toward the door. Lifting his hand, Mason waved. “Keep him here until morning, sis. Dr. Dixon wants him to rest, and I’d babysit his candy-ass, but I’m pretty sure you have this covered.”
Lorna nodded as she tried to make sense of what was happening. “Mace,” she called before he disappeared.
Craning his neck, he looked back.
“Thank you for bringing him back to me.”
Mason shrugged. “It’s not exactly like that. Let him fill in the blanks.” Shutting the door behind him, Mason left the three of us alone.
Swallowing, Lorna turned back to me, her green eyes glistening. “Will you? Fill in the blanks?”
Closing my eyes, I nodded. When I opened them, Dr. Dixon had moved near the breakfast bar and was talking about my care.
“Lorna, I have written instructions. Reid will need his bandages on his arm changed every twelve hours. The ones on his ribs are there for support. He should avoid getting them wet, and they can come off in a few days. His ribs will still be tender. I have some pain medicine.” She lifted a pill bottle and shook it. “He’s already said he won’t take it, and I’m not pushing. Just know it’s here and should help with sleep. He must take all of the antibiotics. With the combination of the IV antibiotics and oral, there’s a chance they’ll make him nauseous.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I need to do.” Her beautiful emerald stare came back to me. “What happened?”
I reached for her hand, slowly entwining our fingers as hers still trembled. “I’m here with you. That’s what happened.”
She looked at Renita. As she did, I nodded. Maybe it was the coward’s way out. Maybe it was that I never wanted to cause my wife pain or sorrow. No matter, I didn’t want to be the one who said the words.
“Lorna, Reid was shot today.”
“What?” Her entire body startled with the news.
“I’m here.”
“How? Where?”
Renita came closer and sat in a nearby chair. “He was wearing a vest which no doubt saved his life. One shot hit his arm, grazed it. That’s why he needs the antibiotics. The other shot hit him in the chest...”
Lorna continued to nod as Renita went through what had happened as well as the effects the shooting had on my body, including my heart. “...we’ll need to continually check his heart for arrhythmia. The damage that occurred could result in an array of arrhythmias from slow to fast or irregular.”
“What does that mean for long term?”
“It means we’ll monitor him. Irregular heartbeats are not uncommon. Most people have no problem and many go undetected. Some require medication, others surgery. Right now, Reid is healthy and a very lucky man. We’ll keep an eye on things. Let me know if” —she looked at me— “you notice being more tired or any other unusual symptoms.”
“What about now?” Lorna asked.
“Now, your husband is beside you. That’s all that matters.”
I saw the tears as Lorna stood and embraced Renita. “Thank you.”
“I’ll call tomorrow.”
Lorna nodded as she walked her to the door. As she began to open it, she said, “Oh, I can’t get you to the garage.”
“I can.”
My neck stiffened at the voice. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him or see him. It was that in the nine plus years we’ve lived here, Sparrow rarely made visits to this floor. I think it was more symbolic than anything. This glass castle in the sky was his dream. When he brought Mason, Patrick, and me here for the first time, the construction of these floors was mostly complete. He asked for suggestions or, in Sparrow style, opened the door for our suggestions. I’m not sure he asks. Sparrow made a point that this floor was meant to be ours. Even with the power he wields, he hasn’t deviated from that promise. Though I waited, Sparrow didn’t appear. Inst
ead, he was out in the common area.
Lorna looked in on me. “Will you be all right for a minute?”
“What does he want?” I asked as I tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
She feigned a smile. “I’ll find out. Reid, listen to Dr. Dixon and rest. I’ll be right back.”
With that, the door closed, leaving me stranded with a million conversations going through my mind. The foremost one was the circumstance of my injury. I still wasn’t sure how to tell Lorna about Gordon Maples. Nevertheless, I sure as hell didn’t want it coming from Sparrow.
Lorna
Sparrow nodded to Renita as he turned, escorting her to the elevator. He moved with all the power of his position—a king secure in his realm, and yet as he and the doctor spoke, I sensed there was more. The responsibility Sparrow had willingly accepted weighed heavily upon his broad shoulders. After thanking the doctor for her help, he stepped into the elevator, hit G for the parking garage, and stepped back out before the doors closed.
His dark stare met mine. The air around us crackled with an uneasy combination of tension and anticipation as I continued eye contact, wondering what he would say. It wasn’t that I was intimidated any longer by the man who ran the underground of Chicago. Through the years, our friendship had come too far. However, it rarely included the two of us alone. We joked and laughed while within our larger group. We spoke directly about matters of insignificance. This encounter was different. It was out of character—a noteworthy disparity when facing a man who was always in character.
Sparrow ran his large palm down his face. The movement highlighted the exhaustion showing in the lines near his dark eyes. His suit coat was gone as was his tie. His Adam’s apple bobbed above his shirt, now unbuttoned at the collar.
“Lorna, I...” Sparrow began before stopping and starting again. “You should know...”
The uncertainty emanating from one of the most certain and confident men I knew left me unsettled. Shifting my feet, I yearned to help in some small way. “Would you like to see Reid?” I asked, gesturing toward our apartment door. “You’re welcome to come inside.”
Dawn Page 4