Twin Souls (The Guardians: Book 2)

by D. M. Mortier

  “Now, Cherone, don’t worry about this,” Jerome said. “I will explain to the Algerians that I don’t want you damaged in anyway. But of all my sisters, you’re the most beautiful and will make the family a small fortune. Again.” Jerome laughed as if he had told the funniest joke.

  Her other siblings laughed as well.

  “We’ll rent you out for a week,” Del said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “By then you’ll have been taught how to properly service our customers.”

  “One week will go by fast,” Jerome said. “You’re young and strong. You’ll be fine.”

  Cherone fought hard to control her reaction. There was no way she would allow them to do this to her. For the next two hours while they bathed and waxed her body, shampooed and styled her hair, and dressed her in a silk mini-dress, she maintained her composure. Even when her sisters expressed their shock at the womanly body she had kept carefully hidden, she remained stoic.

  I need only two minutes alone in my bedroom, and then I’ll be in the wind.

  Delarese dragged Cherone back to the parlor where Jerome held court with five of his drug runners, Edmond and the Spaniard. She hung her head and squirmed in embarrassment as Tamara and Del paraded her in front of the men.

  “Damn, Roni, I didn’t know you were all that!” Edmond’s eyes roamed over her with a look no brother should have for his sister. Edmond’s light brown skin glistened with sweaty excitement.

  “I always knew you would be beautiful!” Jerome rubbed his hands together with greed when he saw her after their transformation. “Keep her locked away in the bedroom. I want to leave her last in the negotiations.” Jerome was almost hopping in place.

  “I could stay with her until the negotiations are completed,” Edmond offered.

  “Edmond, you had better keep your dick in your pants before you cost me this deal!” Jerome ordered.

  “No worries, man,” Edmond said. “She will still be good when she get backs here in a week.” Edmond circled her, moving slowly to view her from every angle. “Yes, a week will be just fine.”

  How depraved my family has become! “You’re sick!”

  “Why you little…” Edmond raised his hand to deliver a slap to her face, but Cherone was shocked at the speed in which the Spaniard moved in to intercept Edmond’s fist.

  Holding Edmond’s arm in a tight grip, the Spaniard didn’t say a word. He held Edmond’s gaze with his usual cold stare.

  “Jerome, get this freak off me!” Edmond demanded, but he couldn’t hide the tremble in his voice.

  “Ah, Spanish…” Jerome stammered.

  The Spaniard turned his hard gaze on Jerome.

  Jerome jumped back and swallowed hard.

  The Spaniard’s attention returned to Edmond, who was now visibly shaking.

  “Okay, okay, I won’t hit her!” Edmond squeaked.

  The Spaniard didn’t blink. He pushed Edmond away from Cherone.

  Cherone instinctively moved closer to the Spaniard, but just as suddenly as he had inserted himself in the middle of the family squabble, he stepped back to the corner of the room, resuming his brooding scrutiny over them.

  With the immediate threat removed, Edmond puffed out his chest. “You won’t always have his protection, Roni. Remember that.”

  Don’t worry, pequeña.

  Cherone looked around the room, bewildered by the words she was certain someone had said. It couldn’t have been her sisters. They were ensuring the children were groomed properly. Nor could it have been her brothers because they were too busy haggling over how much money they could make later that night. The only person looking in her direction was the Spaniard, who stood well across the room, his expression unreadable with his dark eyes gazing stonily back at her. No way could it have been him. Her ability never extended to anyone she wasn’t touching, but Cherone knew what she had heard and nodded her head at him in acknowledgement.

  He frowned at her in confusion. Did you hear me?

  Cherone nodded her head again.

  The Spaniard straightened his stance, seeming stunned by the possibility. How are you doing that?

  Cherone shrugged her shoulders. And for the first time all day she smiled at his shocked expression.

  The Spaniard abruptly turned and left the room.

  That man is not happy I can read his thoughts!

  Cherone had no idea how she was able to do it either. Her grandmother’s journal could perhaps tell her more. She walked over to Tamara. “Do you know the real name of the Spaniard?”

  “You haven’t even tasted cock yet and already you reaching high!” Tamara glared at her.

  “I’m doing no such thing. I only wanted to know his name.” Cherone couldn’t understand Tamara’s animosity. The enormity of the hatred her siblings were exhibiting toward her was crushing. She had had her head buried in books for so long that she was ill-prepared for the evil around her. If she wasn’t careful now, she may be forced to pay a huge price for that preoccupation.

  “If he wanted you to know his name, he would’ve told you by now,” Tamara sneered.

  “I bet you’re pissed because you don’t know it either,” Cherone said.

  “You’d better start worrying about how many men you’ll have to service in the next few days and not worry about what I know and don’t know!”

  “I’m going to my room,” Cherone said.

  “Yeah, do that. We’ll come for you when the Algerians get here.” Tamara’s laughter was both mocking and smug.

  Cherone quickened her steps to her temporary sanctuary. I don’t care what the Spaniard’s name is or what he told me to do. Besides, I can’t be sure of what I heard. I’ll make sure I have nothing to worry about from my demented siblings or anyone else for that matter. I’m used to taking care of myself.

  Cherone entered her room and looked around one last time, committing her childhood home to memory. It wasn’t a large room, just big enough to hold a twin-size bed, a wooden dresser with a built-on mirror, an old multi-colored rug on the wood floors, a tiny closet where she hung three dresses, two blouses, a school uniform, and her favorite pair of jeans. The walls were painted dirty beige, and a single curtain covered her glass-panel window.

  Knowing she had to wait, Cherone sat in the middle of her bed and by habit pulled her books out to get some school work done. Until all hope was gone, she would not allow her siblings to deter her from her dreams. She worked diligently for the rest of the day, ignoring the hunger of her body. She had no desire to experience the sinister intent of her siblings again.

  As dusk descended, Cherone swiftly packed her backpack with birth certificate, student ID, and her great- grandmother’s journal. She stuffed in some underwear, a blouse, and some pajamas. After pulling the dress over her head, she changed into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. She tied her hair in a ponytail and diligently pleated the long strands and secured the ends. As she lay on her bed waiting for the cover of darkness, she closed her eyes and envisaged her future away from her family.

  I have about five hundred dollars in my backpack now. I just need to get to my English teacher’s house Royal Street. Ms. Everstein will help me. She doesn’t have children of her own, so I know she won’t mind me camping out at her place until I go to college. Adam left enough for me to do that, ensuring Jerome and the others know nothing of it. I wonder if social services will force me to come back and live with my family. God I hope not. I don’t want to get them in trouble; they are my family after all. But if they force me to talk, I will tell all and let them pay for their crimes. I just need to get away from here.

  Once the sun set and darkness oozed around the house, she calmly climbed out her bedroom window. With an agility of a cat, she landed quietly to the ground.

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me after all.”

  Cherone almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the Spaniard’s soft words.

  “I told you to wait for me.”

  “As you can see, I d
on’t follow instructions very well.”

  The Spaniard raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you going to help me, or turn me in?”Cherone asked.

  The Spaniard ignored her, turned away, and started moving swiftly through the dark alleys Cherone had been using all her life. Follow me.

  “Did you just speak to me through your mind again? Or am I imagining that?” Cherone followed in his wake turning left down Orleans Avenue, shocked anew by his voice so clear in her head.

  Obviously you can hear me. You didn’t answer me before. How are you doing that?

  They jogged for almost mile to Basin Street and then onto Canal Street.

  Cherone snorted. “This is weird, even for me,” she whispered as the Spaniard ducked into a building.

  They climbed numerous flights of stairs before coming to the hallway at the back entrance of a hotel, a posh hotel at that.

  “Is this the Roosevelt?” Cherone asked.

  “Yes.”

  The Spaniard stopped in front of a door, knocked once, and pushed open the door. As Cherone entered the cavernous room, she was astonished by the number of people in there. The walls were littered with computer monitors all showing different vantage points of her family’s home.

  “That’s my house! Why is my house …” Cherone was shocked and fascinated at the same time by the sight of her home. “What’s going on?”

  “What the fuck are you doing, Ghost?” A lethal looking black man with a closely shaved head approached them with a scowl on his face. He was big, hard muscled, and well over six feet tall. His skin was a velvety chocolate. He gazed at her with piercing black eyes.

  Cherone moved closer to the Spaniard. Although she was used to menacing looking men, this man seemed as lethal as her new protector.

  “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this breach,” another hard voice said. The other man had midnight black hair, silver gray eyes, and olive skin. He was also a big man and had a military bearing.

  Cherone was unnerved by this man’s aura of absolute authority. She felt as if she were supposed to salute him or something. He was obviously the one in charge of all them, because everyone stopped what they were doing to witness the exchange. She was almost glued to the Spaniard’s side now.

  “Cherone, this is my commander, Dominic Stone,” the Spaniard said. “That friendly fellow over there is Neo.” The Spaniard nodded at the black man. “That’s Damien at the computer monitor.” Damien had dark brown hair with a boy-next-door look. He waved without taking his gaze from the monitor. “And that grinning fool over there is Sean.” He pointed to a blond man across the room. “We are friends of your brother Adam.”

  “Adam?” Cherone cried. “You knew Adam?”

  “She needs to stay here while we do this,” the Spaniard said, unfazed by Dominic’s steely eyes boring into him.

  “So this is our little monkey,” Sean grinned as he came toward her. “Impressive climbing kid.”

  “Look, there was no need to get her out so soon,” Neo grumbled. “We were going to get all of them out!”

  “She’s here now, Neo,” the Spaniard said.

  “This operation hasn’t gone right from fucking day one!” Dominic yelled. “We came here to retrieve our ward and then stumbled across this fucked up situation. We should have left the FBI to deal with these would-be terrorists. The fact that a wanted international arms dealer was in the equation shouldn’t have swayed us.” Dominic frowned at the Spaniard. “Now the fucking Algerians brought child prostitution into the fray! The last thing we need is for you to break protocol, something you’ve never done! That little fucker Jerome has just invited Terrance Martin to the meeting tonight. We need to end this now.”

  The Spaniard remained still, staring his commander in the eye.

  Muttering under his breath, Dominic turned his back and addressed the room. “Okay everyone, we’ll wait for Ghost and Neo to get their asses back in position so we can finish this. Sean, I want those kids out of there before this shit goes down.”

  “Yes sir,” the smiling blond said, saluting playfully.

  “What about the FBI?” Damien asked. “Should we invite them to the party now?”

  “No. Wait until our guys are in position.” Dominic then raised his voice to echo throughout the room. “Listen, everyone! I don’t want any more surprises! Ghost, make sure the kids are at the drop point.”

  The Spaniard nodded and moved to the exit.

  “Wait, um, Ghost!” Cherone ran after him. I don’t like this dependency! I’ve always taken care of myself.

  Ghost stopped at the door, turned and looked at her.

  “What’s your name?” she whispered. “Are you coming back?”

  “Stay here.” His dark eyes were emotionless.

  Cherone wasn’t intimated by his cool façade. “I’m not staying unless you tell me your name. And none of that Ghost nonsense.”

  He stared at her silently and shook his head. Behave.

  On hearing his command, Cherone rolled her eyes. What’s your name?

  Rico.

  You heard me!

  He nodded.

  You heard that, but not anything else.

  Rico remained still at the door.

  It seems our random thoughts are still safe.

  He grunted, slipped through the door, and was gone.

  Rico walked into the Bouchard’s house at nine p.m. as planned. The nightclub was crowded with young people, already well inebriated despite the early hour of the evening. Ignoring the loud music, flickering lights, and rambunctious crowd, Rico remained in the shadows as he accessed the wooden stairs.

  Tamara intercepted him on the stairway. “Hey, Spaniard, where have you been? Jerome has been going crazy waiting on you.”

  Rico stared at Tamara silently before continuing up the stairway.

  “Damn, I love the strong silent type,” Tamara said as he passed her. “One day, Spaniard, I’m going to rock your world. And you’ll be howling my name for days.”

  Not in this fucking lifetime. His focus was on his mission, and there was too much at stake to waste time on someone like Tamara. He bypassed the second floor and continued to the third. Rico entered the bedroom housing the minors who were being traded to André.

  Delarese sat on the sole armchair in the otherwise unfurnished room. Eight children sat on the hardwood floor, silent, looking frightened and uncertain.

  “Is Jerome ready for us, Spaniard?” Delarese asked.

  “No.” Rico didn’t like talking to the older Bouchard. She was truly evil. Delarese showed no regard for the children she had every intention of selling. Witnessing her viciousness over the past few months, he had no problem ensuring she received what was coming to her. “I will take them now,” Rico told her.

  “What? But I want to be there when Jerome hands them over. He doesn’t know how to get the best price!” Delarese stood with her hands at her waist.

  “That has already been decided. I will take them now.” Rico looked at the oldest child, nodded his head, and smiled. “Come, follow me.” He turned, never doubting that his instructions would be obeyed.

  “Wait!” Delarese shouted. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Stay here,” Rico advised.

  “What about that little bitch Roni?”

  “Already taken care of.” Rico exited the tiny room, the children following closely behind. He walked a few doors down to Cherone’s bedroom and entered. Sean, his usual grin missing, was waiting as planned to take the children. Sean hated any abuse of children and lost his famous cool fast whenever confronted by it.

  The minors started mumbling in protest, but Rico reassured and calmed them down.

  “Are we going home now?” The oldest boy bravely asked.

  Rico squat down to be at eye level with the children. “You guys have been brave today. We’re impressed. Can you help us with our mission?

  “Are you a soldier?” the boy asked.

  “You’re a
smart kid,” Rico smiled and then looked at all of them. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes sir,” the children whispered.

  “Good, real good. Now I need you to help my friend over there to get you out of here. Just be real quiet and quick. Can you do that?” Rico asked.

  “Yes.” The children were all smiles now.

  The plan was to evacuate them from the house undetected while everyone was distracted with the arms deal going down on the second floor.

  Rico left Sean to it and trotted down to the second floor where Jerome waited. He silently entered the room and settled in a dark corner without alerting the others in the room. He was no longer the Spaniard—he was the Ghost, moving eerily swift, without detection even in a crowded room.

  Rico quickly assessed the room. Jerome stood with his brother Edmond and four of his homies. André had six of his men, while Terrence had three men at his side. Neo and two FBI agents made up Terrence’s entourage, and Terrence had no idea his team of activists had been infiltrated by U.S. government agents.

  Rico walked out of the shadows to announce his presence.

  “Spaniard, man, I thought you skipped on us.” Jerome seemed to laugh with nervous relief.

  This fucker really thinks he is gangster, but he’s just a lowlife pimp. Rico stared at Jerome silently and then took his position back in a corner of the room, leaning against the wall in a non-threatening pose. His skin tingled insistently as it usually did when there was imminent danger. That ability to sense danger had saved him and his teammates in many life-threatening situations. Rico became more alert, his hand gripping his gun tucked into the waistband in the small of his back.

  “Jerome, can we get on with this?” Terrence asked.

  “Sure man.”Jerome pushed out his chest and swaggered to the middle of the room. “André, you heard the man. Where’s the stuff?”

  “We took into account your need for maximum destruction,” André started, snapping his fingers to one of his men to bring two bags over. “These bags on their own are harmless enough, but when mixed as instructed they can wipe out half the city.” André smiled as though that outcome was very pleasing indeed. “You Americans have no imagination. But I’m a business man, and have brought what you requested: the usual collections of AK-47s, SIGs, bazookas, and grenades. You also requested C-4s with accompanying detonators. Obviously the boxes containing the weapons are in the trailer downstairs, but I have a sample of what you require here.”