Dawn

by Aleatha Romig

  “Mr. Sparrow, if there’s a one hundredth of a chance that the person in that body bag is your niece and Mr. Kelly’s daughter, I will not give up.”

  Looking down, I realized my hands were trembling as the only noises were those of traffic coming through the speakers. I turned to Reid. “If it blows, could it affect passing cars?”

  He exhaled. “It depends on the amount and type of explosives. It’s not like old bombs with gunpowder. This one probably is a chemical explosive.”

  I knew enough about chemicals to understand what Reid wasn’t saying. It took a lower quantity of a chemical explosive to flash and explode than other materials. The packaging could look small, but it was an illusion. The oxidation process would be rapid and violent. If that occurred we’d never know who was inside, if anyone, and quite possibly, Sam too would be engulfed in the explosion. The Kevlar vest that saved Reid from a slug wouldn’t save Marsha as the ambulance and everything around it went up in a flash of flames.

  My lip went between my teeth as I watched Marsha crawling under the tailgate of the ambulance. Only her legs were visible as we all waited.

  “I fucking wish I could see what she’s seeing,” Reid said.

  Sterling’s gaze didn’t leave the screen. With each passing second, his neck grew tauter with muscles and cords popping to life. His arms too were crossed over his chest and his breaths were measured.

  We waited.

  The silence grew heavy around us, thick like a fog when we all took a breath. Marsha’s legs moved, inching her out from under the back of the ambulance.

  “Fuck, she did it.” Sam’s deep voice filled the command center as we all exhaled. The moment reminded me of war-room scenes in movies when everyone watching waited for the real players to succeed or fail, knowing they were acting upon the former’s orders.

  “Now look inside,” Sterling said, obviously not yet ready to offer lavish praise.

  Even though Marsha had said she’d disarmed the explosives, I held my breath as she and Sam reached for the door handles. The picture was jumpy as they moved about. Much like paramedics would do, once the doors were opened, they pulled the stretcher from the confines of the ambulance. The black body bag secured with the two belts jiggled as the stretcher’s legs extended to the ground.

  Marsha took the phone as the picture steadied.

  A wave of nausea came over me as Sam unzipped the top of the bag.

  Dark brown hair was the first thing I saw as I reached for a nearby chair. “Oh God,” I muttered. “It is her.”

  The big man’s large hand went into the bag. “Mr. Sparrow, she has a pulse.” His head shook. “She’s unconscious, but boss, she’s alive.”

  “Call Patrick,” Sparrow said to Reid. He spoke to Sam. “Unzip that fucking bag. I want to see that she’s unharmed.”

  Sam didn’t hesitate as he unlatched the belts and pulled down the central zipper. He turned toward the camera. “Miss Kelly looks like Sleeping Beauty, sir. I don’t see anything to suggest she was harmed.”

  “I’m going to fucking find out who fed her the poison apple,” Sterling said under his breath.

  Seeing the intensity in his expression, I smiled, at this moment unwilling to explain the difference of Snow White versus Sleeping Beauty.

  “Marsha and Sam,” Sterling said, “you fucking did it. Bring her to the Sparrow tower.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lorna

  Present time

  * * *

  I stared in amazement as Laurel finished her story. Hell, my stomach was in knots even though she’d started it with the knowledge that Ruby was found and unhurt.

  “Laurel just told us,” Araneae said into her phone. “I want her up here in the penthouse. They won’t be for a few days. Yes. I love you, too.” She smiled as she disconnected and turned to us. “Sterling is having her brought up here. Patrick and Madeline will be at the hospital until at least tomorrow. He also said Renita is on her way.”

  Shaking my head, I smiled. “I think Mason was right. She needs an office here.” A thought occurred to me. “What about Mason?”

  Reid

  “The text message to Ruby was from you,” I said to Sparrow as he disconnected his call with his wife.

  “What the hell?”

  I read from the screen before me.

  * * *

  “RUBY, THIS BLOCKED NUMBER IS STERLING. I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOUR MOTHER. GO BEYOND THE NURSES’ STATION. THERE’S A MAN WAITING FOR YOU.”

  * * *

  “From me? I wouldn’t send Ruby a message luring her away from her protection,” Sparrow said.

  “Let me see your phone.”

  His dark gaze narrowed. “It’s never out of my fucking sight.”

  “Sparrow.”

  He pulled it from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and placed it in my hand. I didn’t move. I couldn’t access his phone, the same as he couldn’t access mine, not without a complicated backdoor option, the one Patrick used on mine when it was left at Maples’s house.

  Sparrow lifted it from my palm, allowed the retina scan to open his screen, and handed it back. I quickly accessed his text messages. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t an outgoing message from him.

  I offered him back his phone. “She should have known it wasn’t you as your other messages didn’t come up.”

  He took back his phone and placed it in his suit coat pocket. “I don’t exactly text Ruby very often. Usually, it’s Araneae. Can you track the blocked number?”

  “I can try.” I began a search, but all I could cross-reference was Ruby’s number and the time. I could probably find out where the call originated from easier than the actual number.

  “Who else would she trust? Pretending to be you was their best bet to get her to leave her protected area.”

  Sparrow removed his suit jacket, tossing it onto the weight bench with his topcoat. Undoing his cuff links, he paced the length of the large room and back, the soles of his leather loafers tapping across the floor.

  “What was the fucking point?” I said aloud.

  “I don’t know. To prove they could, like taking Araneae and Lorna.”

  “It isn’t making sense, not if Laurel is the target.”

  “Have we heard from Mason and Romero?”

  I switched to the screen with the GPS trackers. His phone, Romero’s phone, and Ruby’s phone and shoes had turned around. They were headed north on I-90. Panning out on the GPS map, I realized how far Mason was from the hospital. “Fuck, who is at the hospital?”

  “You mean besides Patrick and Madeline?”

  “Shit. Yeah. I called Garrett away. Mason and Romero are on a fucking wild goose chase.”

  “I sent Christian there,” Sparrow said, “and Mason had a team of Sparrows.”

  “Ones who let Ruby get taken right under our fucking noses,” I pointed out.

  I realized this wasn’t exactly the time to point fingers. Hell, I was as guilty as anyone else for not watching the hospital footage and realizing that we were on a loop. Nevertheless, I had a gut feeling this was all a grand diversion. The question was for what purpose?

  My phone rang. Garrett’s name appeared on the screen. Instead of speaking privately, I hit speaker. “Garrett, Mr. Sparrow is with me. You’re on speaker.”

  “I am where you told me to go, Mr. Murray. There’s a dead man in a Camaro. I’ve called for cleanup.”

  My gaze met Sparrow’s before I spoke. “Is he alone?”

  “Yeah, I’d say he isn’t very old, young twenties maybe. He’s also wearing a paramedic uniform.”

  “Fuck,” Sparrow said. “Garrett, is there any sign of Mr. Pierce?”

  “No, boss. And I can’t find anything as far as identification on him. No wallet. No phone. His pockets are clean.”

  “How did he die?”

  “The hole in the side of his head would suggest a gunshot.” There were some noises, like the opening of car doors. “The revolver is in the car near hi
s feet. It looks like suicide.”

  I turned to Sparrow. “Call off the cleaning crew?”

  Sparrow’s nostrils flared. “The scene was set: paramedic steals an ambulance, it explodes, and he kills himself.”

  “Except it didn’t explode.” I spoke to Garrett. “What about the rest of the car?”

  “Mr. Murray, it’s as clean as a whistle, minus the blood and brain matter.”

  “Ruby’s trackers were in that car or at least at that coordinate before Mason met up with him.”

  Sparrow pulled out his phone. He took a few steps, but before placing his call, he turned back to me. “Let the cleaning crew take care of things. We don’t know where the gun came from. It could be a safe one from Mason or it could be a plant by whomever the fuck is doing this. I don’t want to take a chance on anything with this scenario coming back on Sparrow.”

  “Garrett,” I said, “follow through on the cleaning crew. Send me pics. I’ll try to find out this man’s identity.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Once the crew shows up, please head back to the hospital. I’m worried that this has all been a distraction.”

  “Yes, Mr. Murray. Pictures coming and I’ll secure the cleanup crew. What about the ambulance?”

  “We have another crew taking care of it.” Fingerprints would be gone. The explosive would be removed and brought back here for Mason to analyze. The body bag and top of the stretcher would be removed in case Ruby’s DNA could be discovered.

  My phone dinged as Garrett’s pictures came through. “Fuck, get his fingerprints. I can’t do much with what’s left of his face.”

  “I told you. Cause of death wasn’t a mystery.”

  “Check his hands for residue.”

  “Will do.”

  As I hung up with Garrett, I noticed Sparrow, farther away, speaking intently on his phone. From the distance we were separated, I couldn’t hear his words. That didn’t mean I couldn’t read his body language. His dark hair was tousled from his habit of running his fingers through it as he contemplated. With one hand holding tight to his phone and the other grasping the back of his neck, bulging his bicep beneath his light-gray starched shirt with his sleeves rolled up, tension radiated off of him. Like a cloud filled with various emotions, duties, and responsibilities, it surrounded him.

  I understood.

  He, his world, and his people had been threatened.

  In all my years at Sparrow’s side, never had anyone or any entity taken the liberty to infiltrate our most secured and loved members. Sparrow had meant what he said when he told Marsha and Sam they were important to the Sparrow outfit. The man I was seeing near the far hallway knew he wouldn’t have his power without the devotion of those who served him and believed in his cause.

  Recalling Sam’s offer and Marsha’s determination, I realized something I sometimes forgot or maybe I took for granted. Patrick, Mason, and I weren’t the exception; we were the chosen Sparrows, but our dedication and loyalty wasn’t ours alone. Sterling Sparrow had employees who were devoted beyond a paycheck. Those men and women on the street did what they did, day in and day out, because they believe in what Sterling Sparrow stands for.

  Yes, the Sparrow world operated in the gray of legalities—that area between black and white. However, it took a delicate balance to keep Chicago and beyond operating in such a way that businesses in the shadows of illegality could coexist with the legal ones. It took determination to keep some enterprises like human trafficking away from our city while allowing others to operate.

  Earlier, hearing Sparrow relay his concern, as well as his knowledge of both Sam and Marsha, reminded me that while those of us in the tower saw the real Sterling Sparrow, those out on the streets and in the trenches had every reason to believe that as individuals they mattered to the king. They weren’t a forgotten name or number nor were they an unknown, disposable commodity. They cared about him—and his niece—because he knew and cared about them.

  Sparrow stalked my direction. “Mason is on his way back.”

  “Where was he?”

  “Sounds like a fucking wild goose chase or setup. Once Ruby is safe in the penthouse, we’re gathering and getting a fucking handle on whatever is happening.”

  “I think we should tell more of the Sparrows on the street what’s happening. I have the cameras, but nothing beats eyes and ears. Someone is trying to hurt us, and I think Sam and Marsha just showed us that the Sparrows care. We need to involve more of them.”

  Sparrow pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes momentarily closed. “It’s worth discussing.” He looked up. “I want to book a trip to DC and according to Mason, Walters wants you there.”

  “So Mason will handle the command center or are we waiting for Patrick to get back?”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. His scowl softened as he looked at the phone in his hand. “Ruby is here. Sam and Marsha are bringing her to 1. We’ll get her from there.”

  “Who else is on 1? I don’t think letting anyone see her is a good idea.”

  Sparrow nodded as he typed a text. “Clearing the entry and hallway to conference room two. You and I will meet them there and take Ruby up to the penthouse.”

  Other Sparrows couldn’t access 2. One also didn’t connect to our private garage, apartments, or the penthouse. It was very secure. Of that we had no doubt. No one but one of us four could move Ruby from 1 to 2, and then up to the penthouse.

  Lorna

  “Reid just called,” I said, looking up at Laurel and Araneae. “Dr. Dixon is almost to the garage. He’s giving her straight access to the penthouse, and” —I felt my cheeks rise— “Ruby is on 1. He and Sparrow will bring her up.”

  “Is she still unconscious?” Laurel asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The three of us headed upstairs to get a room ready for Ruby.

  “There,” Araneae said, pulling back the covers on the bed in a spare bedroom of the penthouse. “This is the room where Ruby slept when she first came to the tower.”

  I nodded. “I think she’ll be comfortable.” I turned to Laurel. “Have you seen Araneae’s nursery?”

  Her blue eyes opened wide. “Yes, but not since the furniture arrived.”

  Araneae smiled as her head shook. “It’s not as complete as I’d like, but if you haven’t noticed, things have been a little wild.”

  Sparrow did have trusted Sparrows who he would allow to enter our private residences. They were few in number and always supervised. They were the men and women who brought deliveries—large furniture-type deliveries—all the way to the apartments or penthouse. They were contractors and workers who painted and remodeled. However, it hadn’t been one of those people who painted the nursery we’d just entered. They had added a pocket door for access from the master bedroom suite directly to the nursery, but Araneae and I had painted the walls. Just like Madeline and I had painted her baby’s new room.

  According to their doctor, the paint we used was safe and the painting was done in their second trimesters. Madeline’s nursery was a light shade of blue with white trim. Her furniture was white, the crib, changing table, dresser, bookcase, and more.

  “Oh, I love it,” Laurel said. “My niece’s nursery, a long time ago, was green and yellow. It’s so bright.”

  “Since we’ve decided not to learn the gender of our baby, I wanted something that could be for a boy or a girl.” Araneae walked over to the light wood-toned baby bed and ran her fingertips over the soft mint green sheet covered in pictures of sparrows, custom made for the newest Sparrow’s arrival. “Every time I get nervous about the baby, I come in here and it makes me feel better.” She turned toward the large rocking recliner. “I imagine sitting in that chair, holding our child.” She giggled. “And the changing table...”

  “Don’t tell me,” I said, “you imagine Sparrow standing there changing a diaper.”

  Araneae shook her head. “Even my imagination isn’t that good.”

  “He’ll help,�
�� Laurel said.

  We both turned to her.

  “Is that some psychology insight?” I asked.

  “No. I saw him earlier as they were opening that body bag. Don’t get me wrong. I completely respect all he’s done and what he does. The institute is amazing, and I’ve seen him in public. I mostly see him here. I have heard about Allister Sparrow and also met Mrs. Sparrow.”

  Araneae’s nose wrinkled. “That is why I will forever be known as Araneae Sparrow.” She shrugged. “I guess even Mrs. Sterling Sparrow, but that’s a bit old-fashioned for me.”

  “There’s no mistaking Genevieve for you, Araneae, or vice versa,” I said.

  “Back to my theory,” Laurel said with a grin. “Sterling has prided himself on being everything his father was and wasn’t.”

  “Isn’t that a bit contradictory?” I asked.

  Laurel shrugged. “Better than.” She looked at Araneae. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Araneae nodded. “Better at the good things and the polar opposite of the bad.”

  “From what you’ve been able to glean,” Laurel asked, “how was Allister’s and Genevieve’s parenting skills?”

  Before Araneae answered, I asked, “You’re saying even with all of Chicago on his shoulders, Sparrow will change a diaper.”

  Laurel laughed. “I can’t promise diaper changes. I can promise that the man I’ve gotten to know is determined, and when he cares, he cares fiercely. Today, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was worried. He was frightened for Ruby and for Patrick. At the same time, he cared about the two Sparrows who were on the scene. And I bet at the same time, he was thinking about Madeline and the baby.” She smiled. “He wants to be the father his wasn’t.” She reached out and gently grasped Araneae’s arm. “He may just need you to show him the way.”

  Araneae took in a deep breath. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

  “You could call your mother-in-law.”

  Araneae shook her head.