Connections: Conexiones (Mercenaries Book 3)

by Tony Lavely

  “Why me?”

  “You’re my sister.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trust me.”

  Several silent moments later, Beckie’s phone rang, the generic ring tone. She reached for it, and after a glance, answered.

  “Your offer has been accepted,” Rosa Simmons said. “The funds have been received and the closing can be scheduled a week from today, on the thirtieth.”

  “That sounds excellent. Thanks very much. It’s been an interesting pleasure.”

  “So,” Beckie said as she turned back to face Amy, “can we agree I’ll do what I have to to protect you?”

  Amy pulled herself into a seated position and reached out to pull Beckie close. “I don’t know, if I’m honest.” She burrowed her head into Beckie’s neck. “Will I hav’ta…”

  Beckie reared back and took Amy’s chin in her hand. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried you’re gonna hav’ta become all this great killer?”

  She dropped her gaze to stare at her legs. “It came to mind that… when I asked Mr. Jamse if I could fill Abby’s place… that I didn’t realize what I was asking him. I don’t think—”

  Beckie clutched the girl tight. “Of all the things kids pick to worry about…” She kissed Amy’s forehead. “You’ll never have to do anything you don’t want to.” She rubbed Amy’s back again as she continued, “Of course, you know that’s not true. You’ll have to do things that… But nothing like Abby did. Or even like I did.” She gently pressed Amy back against the sofa. “Look at me,” she said, watching Amy’s eyes dart around the room, but finally locking with hers. “I don’t like what I did, but I didn’t see an alternative that was even equally attractive. Thinking back, I still don’t.

  “No matter what you decide to do, even if you decide to live in a convent, you’ll face decisions. Even if it’s just the decision to let someone else run your life so you don’t have to. Not all the options will be neat and clean, and worse, you won’t be able to see what each of the choices will… what the unintended consequences will be, once you’ve made a choice.”

  Amy blinked. “I gotta get up.”

  Beckie moved to make it easier. Did she even listen?

  Amy closed the bathroom door behind her. Beckie went back to the foot of the bed. I should probably take her back to the Nest. Just, I’m not sure anyone there will listen and help her when she gets into one of these funks. She laughed to herself. Not real big on psychology, are we? Maybe… For whatever reason, I’m not liking the idea of staying here for a week with nothing to do.

  She picked up her phone and scrolled to find Eilís’ number. “Hey, it’s going fine,” she responded to the woman’s greeting. “You think I can come back and stay, maybe down in Chatham? I’ve got a week before the closing can be scheduled, and—”

  “Of course. You’ll have to replace the wine you drink, but otherwise, the place’d just be empty.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be such a problem. Can you come down?”

  “Nope, too much to do up here. Will that be a problem? You could stay in town, at the Dev—”

  “No, too close to masses of people, there. We’ll be fine.”

  “Still got the girl, then?”

  “For now.”

  “Dylan’ll be happy. I think he was entranced.”

  Beckie laughed out loud. “He’s what, sixteen, seventeen? Boobs and legs’ll do that!”

  “Yeah, I know.” Beckie heard a voice in the background. “Gotta go. Code’s the same. Call me when you get there, okay?”

  “Be tomorrow afternoon. Thanks!”

  Amy was in bra and panties rooting through her duffle. “Who was that?”

  As the girl pulled a pair of khaki pants up, Beckie said, “Eilís. I think it would be… stupid to stick around here for a week. So, unless you want me to take you back to the Nest…”

  Amy froze, one arm in her shirt sleeve. Then, she dropped to the floor in front of Beckie. Her face was white, eyes wide until she squeezed them shut so hard her whole face wrinkled. “I…” Beckie watched her force calm, the muscles in her throat working, up and down as she swallowed. “Would you do that?” She opened her eyes, but looked down for a second before peering up. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, and useless, too, but…”

  Beckie swallowed hard herself, then grabbed Amy’s hands and pulled her up to sit on the bed. “I guess that week in Florida hurt your self-confidence as much as anything,” she murmured. “Sometimes you’re the old Amy, bright and full of… piss and vinegar. But sometimes, all that washes away in the fear… in the loss of control those assholes whipped into you.

  “You are neither a PITA nor useless. Well, not all the time, anyway,” she said, hoping to get a positive reaction. None. “I asked in case you wanted to go back. If I wanted to rid of you, I wouldn’t ask.”

  “I just… I’m really scared, Beckie. Sometimes, it all comes back… Not even the rapes so much, but being ignored. Like I wasn’t even there. And when they left… They thought I was, like, trash they didn’t even have to clean up.” She shuddered, a body-wracking tremor. “Just left me to drown.”

  Before Amy finished, Beckie had hugged her, so the last words squeezed out against her shoulder. Not that it mattered; Beckie knew what the girl was going through—she Beckie still had nightmares where Werner had avoided her attack and… And that was two years ago. This will be with Amy a long time. We’ll just have to keep reinforcing her confidence.

  Amy’s head lifted. “You saved me then and you’re doing it again. Why?” Her question was more than a little plaintive.

  “Because you’re worth it, sister. Because you’re worth it. I’ll be right pissed if you give up now.” She kissed Amy’s cheek. “Now, put on the shirt, please, and think about if you’d be better off at the Nest.” Amy stood up and finished buttoning while Beckie went on, “It would be safer, but maybe not as interesting…”

  “I’d… I’d like to stay with you, please.”

  “Okay. But put a little more oomph into that, okay? You’re not some weak little kitten, being carted about before being dropped off at an SPCA. You’ll have to work.” Beckie grinned as Amy zipped up her pants. “I’m depending on you to get us safely through Disney after the closing, okay?”

  Beckie was sure Amy’s squeals could be heard out on the highway.

  The rain the clouds had promised was delayed; it arrived in the small hours of the morning. When Beckie awoke, the dark grey clouds didn’t hide the steady showers being blown into her face by the gusty wind from the northwest. A quick check of her email—no changes from the news of the day before—and she pulled Amy’s foot to get the girl motivated without opening the door and window to allow the 45 degree air to bluster through.

  The four hour trip took closer to six, due to Friday traffic and the rain, following them to the coast, Amy joked. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing Amy said during the trip. Every time Beckie stole a glance from the road, Amy was curled up with earbuds in and eyes closed. Occasional shifts in position implied she wasn’t sleeping.

  While Amy was using the bathroom at a rest stop, Beckie used her phone to search out and make an appointment for Amy at a spa three miles from the Chatham house. I’ll drop her off for the two hours and go unload the car. Maybe cleaning up the do will help… along with the massage.

  Several shocked looks greeted Amy when Beckie shoved her though the door of the Oasis/Spa. “I don’t want to see a boy cut on her when I get back. And…” Beckie caught Amy’s wrist so she’d listen. “… don’t leave this building. I’m depending on you.”

  On the way back to collect Amy, Beckie decided pizza would cover their dinner requirements, since she recalled what Amy wanted last time. She placed the order.

  At the spa, Amy had a styled look that belied its hacked beginnings. She was also as tight and stiff as a cooked noodle. Beckie grinned as the girl practically flowed out the door and into the car. “That was three hundred bucks well spent,”
she said, checking the directions to the pizza place.

  “My God! I could do that every day. Well, not the cut, but the massage!” She twisted around the shifter to hug Beckie, who gently guided her back so she could drive.

  “The cut’s not bad, though. The… blue streak. That’s an eye-opener.”

  Amy pushed at the bangs in front. “Yeah,” she said with a grin. “I really liked that. I wanted orange, but we agreed the blue would look better.” Beckie cringed at the thought of orange, but Amy, busy sleeking the sides, didn’t notice. “I guess I was really sloppy when I started cutting—”

  “I’m not sure ‘cutting’ is the right word…”

  “Guess not,” Amy agreed with a grin. “Anyway, Kara and I spent like twenty minutes looking at ‘tomboy’ cuts. She said I hadn’t left quite enough to do any of the longer styles.” She swung the visor down and examined herself in the mirror. “I can shove it around anyway I want. Part it on either side, make it tousled or smooth. Cover the blue or make it stand out.”

  “Well, it looks a lot better than it did. Your mom’ll have a cow, though, with it all short, but,” continuing over Amy’s mutterings, “she’ll get over it. And the color, too.” At a stop sign, she turned to examine the style again. “Yep, looks nice. The test’ll be Dylan, acting as a stand-in for every boy in the world.” She laughed aloud at Amy’s blush.

  Back in the house, Beckie laid out the pizza while Amy poured herself a soda and Beckie a glass of wine. Once they’d finished the pizza, Beckie leaned back in her chair.

  “You chopped off your hair to… to avoid looking like a girl? Or to try and disguise Amy Rose?”

  Amy stood and brought back the cold wine bottle. As she poured, Beckie said, “Stop. That’s enough.”

  “It’s only half full.”

  “Good. That’s like three of Maurice’s mimosas. Or Eilís.’ Your inhibitions are free enough.” She took her own glass and walked to the front room, where she curled up on the sofa. She patted the cushion next to her.

  As she joined her, Amy sipped the wine. “Guess I’ll just make it last.” Beckie nodded. “Okay. I was in a fit over… over those guys again, so some of it was to not look like a girl.”

  “You’re smart enough to know—”

  “Yeah. The boobs give it away,” she said with a little snarl. “So I guess mostly it was so I wouldn’t look like me. I guess that was kinda stupid, too.”

  “No. The guys we’re dealing with don’t seem bright enough to notice the other similarities between a girl with longish hair and the same girl with blue streaks in her short hair.”

  They talked until half past seven, when Amy got up to sort out her gear and then, together, they planned to call Millie for some homework assignments Amy could complete while waiting.

  A double rap on the door interrupted them. Beckie waved Amy back into the bedroom while she went to the side door. When she used the peephole, Dylan’s smiling face shone back at her in the light from the porch lamp.

  “Dylan, how are you? We didn’t expect you at all.”

  “No problem. I saw the light on and… wondered what was going on.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t barge right in on the robbery,” Beckie said with a laugh.

  He twisted a little, staring down at the floor as he acknowledged her.

  Amy bounded in. Beckie almost laughed out loud; Amy had brushed her hair to emphasize joyful rowdiness, it looked like, with the blue highlight out in front. With the tighter shirt she’d donned, not only was she attractive, she was all girl. This is the Amy I know and love, Beckie thought. I might take him back as her therapy-guy.

  It took a second for Dylan to focus on Amy’s hair; Beckie watched the smile spread from his mouth to his eyes, and overtake his whole body.

  “Wow! I love your hair, Amy, it looks so… It’s really great!”

  Amy, already relaxed from the massage and the wine, about melted as Dylan approached and took her hands. She gave him a chaste hug. Together, they looked at Beckie. She grinned back. “You can pretend I’m not here as long as you keep your hands in sight. All four of them,” she clarified. “Soda in the fridge. You can have the couch.” She waved into the front room. “I’ll sit here and compose some emails.”

  They hadn’t waited for her to finish; on the sofa, they were deep in discussion in words too soft to be heard.

  Beckie was nearly finished when she heard a little “Eeep!” from Amy. When she turned to look, Amy was turned halfway round from Dylan. Her hands were over her face and she was shaking. Beckie wasn’t close enough to tell if she was laughing or crying.

  A look at Dylan and she was pretty sure Amy was crying. He was sitting up straight, eyes open wide in a look of shock. Or maybe terror, Beckie thought.

  By this time, she was most of the way to the sofa. With a questioning glance at Dylan, she sat next to Amy, a little sideways with their knees touching. Dylan shook his head and raised his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “We were just…”

  Beckie looked at Amy, who must have felt the stare. She dropped her hands to reveal slight tear tracks on her cheeks. She knuckled her eyes.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. She reached back and grabbed Dylan by the shoulder to pull him over against her chest. “I just got… scared, I guess.”

  Beckie caught Dylan’s eye—hard to do with him crushed to Amy’s shirt—and said, “Remember, I said ‘hands in sight’?” He nodded. Bet they both liked that more than I wanted. “I wasn’t just talking. She’s working through some… some bad memories. You brought some of them back, I think.” She looked first at Amy and then Dylan. “Not the worst ones, since she didn’t swing at you.”

  He picked his head up and gaped at Beckie. “I didn’t… Really, it wasn’t like that.”

  “It was from where she saw it. Or felt it.”

  “Sorry.”

  Beckie flashed with momentary anger. “Don’t fucking apologize to me! She’s the one you scared, apologize to her.”

  “If I can get a word in,” Amy said. “It’s okay. I told you, it’s my fault, not Dylan’s.” She giggled and pulled his head back to her. With a kiss on the top of his head, she let go and allowed him to straighten himself.

  “Maybe so, but—”

  “I learned that lesson,” he said. “Thanks for the… reminder about who’s important.”

  Beckie gave him a smile, then stood. “No problem. And now, I think it’s time for some rest.” She offered Dylan her hand. “We’ll be here for a few days, lying low, so to speak, so—”

  “I can come back, then?”

  Beckie glanced down at Amy, vigorously nodding. “I think so. If you behave as well—”

  “Do you run?” Amy said. “I go out every morning for a couple miles on the beach.”

  “That’d be fun. What time?”

  “How about half past six?” Beckie said, ignoring Amy’s horrified look.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “Give me time to plan some… plans.” His grin was a little sheepish, but he turned to offer his hand to Amy.

  She rose into a loose embrace with him until Beckie tapped his shoulder. “I never thought I’d be my mom so young,” she said with a laugh.

  With the door shut and locked, Amy grabbed Beckie’s arm and dragged her to the sofa. “While I appreciate you were worried about me, I’m not—”

  “Anytime someone makes you squeal in discomfort… or cry, I’ll step in. Just a good thing he looked so… worried and upset.”

  “Or what? Thumbs in the eyes again?”

  “Damn it, Amy! No. The thumbs just keep him still. Hurting you would… It’d be hard to hold back, then.”

  Amy stared for a second, then focused on her hands, writhing in her lap. “This is still protecting me, isn’t it?”

  Beckie pulled the girl into a hug. “Of course it is, like it or not. Not only me, either. I’d rather embarrass you a tiny bit than have you go through… Florida ever again.” She brushed her lips across Amy�
��s cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think I’ve got Dylan on our side.”

  “If he shows up ever again.”

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s hit the sack.”

  Clouds stopped the sun from shining in Beckie’s eyes, but they had no such effect on her phone, set to go off at six-fifteen. She expected Dylan to show even if Amy didn’t, so she threw the covers off and pushed Amy off the far side.

  The chill breeze through the open window motivated both of them into their running togs.

  “Are you coming with me?” Amy looked slightly discouraged as the clock showed six thirty-one.

  “I’m watching Dylan come up the drive, so I’ll do what I did the first time, walk behind you. Not close.”

  “He’s here? Ooo!” Amy reached for the door knob just as they heard a knock.

  Amy enjoyed the whole rest of the day, once she’d vanquished her embarrassment of the evening during the run. Nothing like holding hands and being able to harass Beckie in her role of substitute mom. She felt far better when Dylan’s hands wandered, though he was scrupulously careful. How do I tell him it wasn’t that he touched me, it was I didn’t expect it. By the time he left, she hadn’t figured out a way to do that. She glowed when he promised to return.

  Sunday morning dawned chilly but bright. Under the voluminous down comforter, Beckie rolled over only half-awake to get away from the light and into what she thought—hoped—was Ian. No… When she opened her eyes, blue hair made it apparent she was not sharing with Ian. For a few moments, the girls snuggled, but before the sun rose enough to shadow them, Beckie threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.

  The smell of bacon seeped under the door and kicked her appetite into high gear. As she entered the kitchen, she said, “Thought we were going to run this morning?” When she looked, Amy was still in the longish tee shirt she’d worn to bed. “And those long bare legs, aren’t they cold?”

  “I closed the window. You were in the bathroom.”