“I’m sorry again,” she says before shuffling into the TV room to sit with dad.
Rocks turns his blue eyes on me, and I gulp. “We need to talk.”
20. Revelations
Alone in my room, I’m relieved to see that Rocks is no longer spitting mad. His anger has become disappointment, and I’m not sure which one I’d rather face. Letting Rocks down is my least favorite thing to do—ever.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he says from my bed. I’m sitting on the floor giving Feathers her treats.
Crap. He’s apologizing? My guilt complex just shot past Neptune, but I have to be strong so he doesn’t get suspicious. I have proven time and time again that telling lies causes bad things to happen, maybe not immediately, but eventually they catch up with you. If I tell him the truth—if I tell anyone the truth—then something horrible could happen to poor Mini. Whatever lesson the universe is trying to teach me, I’m not following.
Flicking his hair out of his eyes, he continues, “Why didn’t you tell me? I adore her. Is it because I’m not your boyfriend anymore?”
I’m scared my voice will break and give him a clue that I’m lying. I nod my head because I don’t know what to say, and I shift my focus to the fur ball jumping up and down over treat time.
“Connie, I consider your family my aeronaught family. I was so stunned when you accepted me after discovering what I am, but when your parents opened their home to me? God, I can’t even begin to describe what that felt like. They let me in, fed me, included me at Christmas.” He shakes his head, and his hair falls over his eyes. I’m glad because the pain I can see in them is making it hard to keep my mouth shut.
“Did you think because we broke up I wouldn’t care about Jasmine getting kidnapped? If so, you’re really making me feel like a monster.”
Oh, God. That is the last thing in the world I ever want to do. I had no idea he considered my folks his aeronaught family. I know he adores Mini, but … I think of how grateful I was for him telling me about Decker. I would be totally cut if I discovered he’d kept that a secret.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I can feel the tears starting to build. I’ve turned into a girl that cries every five minutes. I want to go back to a time when I never had a need to—when my life was easy, and my sister was safe. “Can you forgive me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
If I lie, he’ll know. I need to stick to the truth as much as possible. “I didn’t want to add to your burden the day you told me about Decker. I didn’t want you to worry when you have so much going on at the colony. I didn’t think it was fair. Plus, you’ve kept serious secrets from me when you thought it didn’t concern me.” I wipe my eyes before the traitorous tears run down my cheek. What I said is true. It’s not a case of me not telling him for bitchy ex-girlfriend reasons. Mini’s safety is dependent upon me.
Rocks snorts. “I guess I deserve that.”
He leans over and pulls me up off the floor and onto the bed beside him. He holds out his linen handkerchief, and the sight of it takes me back in time to the first night we met. So much has happened since then. Everything is so twisted and complicated.
“I’ve done nothing but think of you, of us … of what I stuffed up since you’ve been gone … since Decker.” He sighs.
I can’t look at him. I stare at his hands resting on his dark jeans, but command myself not to reach for them. “I’m sorry I never trusted you with my secrets. I should have told you everything about myself and the Camazotz right up front.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is too much to add to my emotional pit.
“You always handled the gruesome truth about my Camazotz side so well. I—”
“I did not. I freaked out more than once, and I was totally grossed out over the whole blood drinking thing for ages,” I admit.
He smiles, but I look away quickly. “I would have freaked out too if your parents and friends viewed me as a juicy Halloween snack.” A cross between a laugh and a hiccup escapes me. “All my life, the Fold has preached how dangerous your world is. They said your fear would lead aeronaughts into persecuting us into oblivion, like with the witches and shaman of old. That’s a hard lesson to forget, and even though I trusted you since the night we met, I guess deep down I was still protecting myself. I’m sorry. You know I’m still discovering who I am, and where I belong, but I made a big mistake not telling you everything, like the blood bonds. I should have trusted you—completely.”
I look up and Rocks slides his hand over mine and squeezes lightly. “I swear to you, Connie Phillips, I will never keep a secret from you again. Never.”
The tiny chunk of my heart that had survived my guilt attacks is eviscerated. I fold over my knees, covering both our hands with my body and cry. I can’t stop. I have no idea how I’m going to lie to Rocks now.
Rocks pulls his hand free and rubs my back. “There is something you aren’t telling me,” he says.
My spine stiffens. I can’t help it, and I know he felt it. I try to sit up and move away, putting some distance between us, but his bat sense never misses a beat.
“Tell me what’s really going on, Connie.”
“Nothing,” I splutter. “The cops told you.” He grips my wrist, pulling me back to him, not allowing me to escape. I stare at Feathers gobbling her treats.
“When I came to tell you about Decker, I sensed you were hiding something. I assumed, well, I thought it was you protecting yourself from your emotions since we weren’t dating, but now I know it wasn’t that. What is going on? Where is Mini?”
Again, I flinch before I can stop myself. I can’t believe he’s asking me these questions that require a direct lie.
I pull away and walk to the window. “I don’t know.”
Rocks is off the bed in an instant. I feel his body behind mine and know he won’t move until I face him. His tall frame looms over me, but I will not let him intimidate the truth out of me. This is about protecting my sister.
“You are lying. I know you. Look me in the eye and say that.”
I look up, but my eyes fill with tears as I try to form the words. He cuts me off before I can even try. “What I don’t understand is why. I know I kept secrets from you, but doing so cost me everything. It cost me you.” His thumb delicately wipes under my eye, catching the next teardrop and the gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the feral anger oozing from him. “I’m going to give you time to think, but I’ll be back. If there is anything I can do to find your sister, consider it done.”
Without another word, Rocks flips and flies out my window.
* * * * *
On Thursday when Johnson removes the blindfold, we’re still sitting in the town car. He opens my backpack and scans the contents, pockets my cell phone, and gestures for me to get out.
What the?
My frown must tell him how confused I am.
“The boss said you don’t need an escort. You know what to do, where to go. If he trusts you, I trust you.” He points to the hallway on the left. Usually I’m guided to the door of my ‘laundry’ before they remove the blindfold. “The break room is the third door on the right.”
I cannot fudge this up. Enzo has given me freedom within the warehouse—publicly. A smile replaces my usual frown as I exit the car before they change their minds.
Scanning the stack of fat duffle bags, I know I’ll get through them quickly and hope the extra time can be spent with Mini. It’s payroll Thursday, and the figure beside my name this week rivals my guilt complex for magnitude. Enzo has lost his freaking marbles. But I will not offend him and risk my privileges being revoked. I put aside my cut and return to the whirring counting machine. At least now I can hide it in my locker instead of my trunk.
I close up the last journal and wonder for the millionth time how I could copy it. That sort of evidence would send Enzo to prison for the rest of his days if the IRS got hold of it. Forget murder charges, I could take Enzo down on tax evasion—and I’m sur
e he knows it. There’s a reason he keeps everything old school—no digital files to be copied or emailed. One set of books kept under surveillance—the end.
“Sparrow, it’s time you learn the other side of things,” Enzo says quietly from behind. He must have been watching me from his office to know that I had just finished. It bugs me to not be able to tell if the blinds in the adjacent room are opened or closed. “Come.”
“Thank you for the raise, Papa,” I answer, bundling the wads of cash into my arms. His eyes look happy for the first time ever.
“I never told you that we move our operation every ten weeks or so. It won’t be long before we set up our next warehouse. There may be a delay before there’s work for you, but I’ll let you know.”
Holy shitballs.
The urge to ask what that means for Mini nearly cripples me, but I won’t mention her and spoil his good mood. No wonder the cops can never get a lock on him.
After I shove the cash into my locker, I follow Enzo to that room—the underwear-only room. I resist the urge to check if my bra is decent, because whether it is or not, I’m not stripping. I chant that to myself preparing for the argument, but my breath hitches as we stop outside the door. I do not want to enter that room clothed, let alone half-freaking-naked. Witnessing the young guy in his boxers begging through the window haunts me. Being trusted with Enzo’s cash flow is one thing, but the product is more than my nerves can handle.
A wisp of a girl with long dark hair exits, pulling the solid door closed behind her. Dressed in only her bra and panties, I try not to stare, but my eyes can’t help themselves. Pretend she’s in a bikini. She holds out a facemask for me and has one resting around her neck. Her smile seems so out of place in this prison of surly, sour faced men.
“Hi, I’ll be showing you how things are done.”
The smile fades when Enzo clears his throat behind me but doesn’t say a word. She lowers her eyes and gives him a small nod. Certain ranks of employees obviously aren’t allowed to speak with the big boss directly.
Turning, I point to my t-shirt and raise my eyebrows.
One side of Enzo’s mouth turns up. “You, Little Sparrow, do not have to remove your clothes. I trust every ounce will be accounted for when you leave.”
“Pffft, duh.” My nervous eye roll gets another small smile.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He turns and both of us watch him stride down the corridor out of sight.
“That kid is so smart,” she whispers.
“What?”
“It’s the best part of my day, but we’re not supposed to talk about her.”
Her eyes travel up the empty corridor as though Enzo will have heard. My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Finally, I know who is looking after Mini. These young girls are an army of willing babysitters.
“Thank you. Take care of her for me, please.” I squeeze her hand and she nods.
The facemask does nothing to prevent the acrid odor burning my nasal cavity. It’s almost a mix of old newspaper and something like gasoline. Gross. I doubt I’ll be able to smell anything ever again. How do they work in here for hours on end? I wonder, taking my place at the cutting table. I’ve been given the easy job—working the scales.
I take a brick of pure product and weigh out a pound. The girl next to me takes it and adds the glucose to cut it down. The guy opposite me takes every third pound I weigh out. He’s bagging up the good stuff—so I’m told—for high-end customers who want it as pure as they can get. That stuff goes into little snap-lock bags sporting a black pentagram.
The semi-naked staff seem to enjoy their work. There’s music pumping from speakers above, and they all sway and move along to the beat. Nobody talks, but they remind me of the Camazotz. They seem to communicate without uttering a word, and the occasional laugh rings out.
The guy opposite me winks when he takes the next pound of powder from my scales, and the look that follows makes me uneasy. It’s strange only seeing everyone’s eyes, yet still being able to understand so much. No wonder Rocks knew I wasn’t telling the truth.
The guy’s flirtatious attitude causes my eyes to dart to the mirrored window. Only someone with a genuine death wish would flirt with the big boss’s daughter under his watchful eye. Maybe they don’t know it’s Enzo sitting on the other side of the window.
None of these workers have probably seen the inner circle of his office. That mirrored glass haunts me everywhere I enter, but they don’t seem bothered by it. Maybe it’s because they aren’t planning to spring their baby sister from her jail cell.
I watch as the powder moves down the production line—from my bricks to little baggies—but the crazy part happens at the far end. The bags are bundled up and hidden inside various household items. One girl is sliding a knife along the seam of a tissue box. Once the end pops open, she pulls out the folded white tissue, removes the bottom three-quarters, fills the gap with individual portions and slides it all back into the box. A glue gun takes care of the end. Simple.
The boy next to her is placing two hits inside hollow tubes designed to look like lip balm. He smears a glob of pink balm over the end to seal them in. Genius, Enzo. If the cops picked you up on a Friday night outside a dance club, having four lip balms in your pocket is hardly a crime. The more I witness, the less I want to know.
* * * * *
The wind whistles through my hair as I drive home with my windows all the way down. The stench is probably only in my nasal cavity, but I want to give myself the best airing out possible. When I open the front door, two things surprise me—the house smells like cinnamon, and Rocks is back.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m not ready to face him.
Walking into the kitchen, Mom is channeling her old self. She’s done her hair, and there’s a tray of snickerdoodles on the counter. The cinnamony sweetness washes away the acrid stench from earlier. I beeline for the baked goods, glad to have something other than the boy in leather to focus on. My growling stomach proves I’ve missed her ‘Kitchen Goddess’ skills more than I realized. Before I’ve finished shoving chunks of hot cookie in my mouth, Rocks is scowling at me from the far side of the bench. My cookie freezes midair. His eyes narrow and I watch in horror as his lungs expand, taking an excruciatingly slow, deep breath.
“Kelly, thank you for baking. Connie promised me another driving lesson, and we should get going.” He’s around the island and dragging me by my bicep toward the front door. I snatch two more cookies for the road.
On the porch, Rocks drops my arm as though I’m contagious.
“Where have you been? What is going on?” His body language is a hairs breadth from seriously pissed.
I narrow my eyes back at him, shove a whole cookie in my mouth, and shrug. His response is a wicked smile that I do not like one little bit. He leans in low, his nose next to my neck and drags the air into his lungs. His proximity is doing odd things to me, but my guilt complex kills that train of thought. If the universe is on my side, he will have no clue what cocaine smells like.
“You stink of money and some chemical I do not like. Do not tell me you were with the girls. Unless that involved rolling around in a bank vault.”
The cookie turns to sawdust on my tongue. No lie will ever get me out of this.
His nose knows.
“Not here,” I whisper, suddenly nervous that Enzo not only knows my location at all times, but is also monitoring my conversations. The totally freaked-out geek in me opens the front door and places my cell phone on the side table. The colony’s zero technology policy might be right for once.
Rocks follows me to the car and gets in the passenger side. Reversing out, I scan every vehicle on the street—both sinister looking and mundane. I head out of Atlanta and drive until we hit farmland. Subconsciously, I’ve driven halfway to Helen and the market. When we find a country road that’s deserted, I pull over. For as far as the eye can see, there isn’t another soul around.
Rocks
is still sniffing the air. His brain must be going through its catalog of scents.
“What I’m about to tell you could kill Mini.”
He stills. It’s almost like the bat in him is on high alert mode due to some unseen danger.
My need to share the worst secret of my life is let loose, and the words spill out, recounting every detail of what my life has become since Enzo Ascari entered it. Rocks’ eyes are a maelstrom of emotion. Shock. Alarm. Hurt. Fury.
“So three times a week, I work for him to keep her safe. I have no choice, and with the dirty cop on his payroll, I can’t risk telling anyone.”
“Fucking hell! That Goddamn bastard.”
I jerk at his harsh words. Rocks rarely loses his cool enough to swear vividly.
“I’m going to get her out of there. I swear to you.”
My worst nightmare has become a reality. “No, you are not! No! I will not let anything happen to you again. Are you forgetting what happened the last time you got involved with my family drama?”
The hard look is back in his eyes. “I don’t care what they do to me—a broken wing is nothing. Your sister is coming home no matter what.”
My face scrunches up, but I manage to hold in the tears. “No. I would die if I lost the only other person I love as much as Mini. No way!”
It’s Rocks’ turn to look taken aback. But before I can regret telling him how I feel, his hand grabs my neck, and he pulls me to his lips. For the first time in forever, I decide not to think. I’ve thought myself inside out trying to work out how to rescue my sister, and it’s gotten me nowhere. Right now, I just want to let go and feel, and Rocks feels so warm and safe I have to restrain myself from crawling into his lap to hide there forever.
I return the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. His midnight smell calms my racing pulse but sets a fire deep in my belly. There is a strange urgency between us that I’ve never felt before. I want him so much it almost hurts.
Sanguine Moon Page 29