The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 2): Galilee Rising

by Harlow, Jennifer

  "Is your life in danger?" he asks, voice hard.

  "Yes," I say without hesitation.

  "You were in the hospital last night. Did someone attack you?"

  "Yes."

  "Was it the same person who killed Brendan Darby?"

  "I assume so. Yes."

  "Is that person Emperor Cain?"

  "Yes."

  Harry blinks furiously as he processes this. "And I assume Darby was--"

  "King Tempest. Yes."

  "And his wife is--"

  "Lady Liberty."

  Harry nods as he deeply inhales and exhales. He does this when he's angry. Very angry. It happened a lot when we were an item. "Jesus Christ, Joanna. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

  "Not a clue."

  Harry takes another deep breath probably in an attempt not to throttle me before sitting across from me. "What the hell were you thinking? After last year--"

  "I don't need a lecture, Harry. I know it all. The fact is, I'm in this situation now. The question is how do we proceed from here?"

  "You leave town."

  "He's an international criminal. He can find me anywhere."

  Harry's face falls as he comes to a realization. "You know who he is, don't you?" I keep my mouth shut. His anger overtakes concern. "Jesus Christ, Joanna! The man killed twenty-seven people not even a week ago. He's a fucking terrorist, and you know his real identity?"

  "I can't tell, okay? It will ruin a good man's life if I did. Besides, I have the most sophisticated computer system around searching for him along with the best crime fighters on the planet doing the same. He changes his appearance, his name, everything. You wouldn't find him."

  He falls back in his chair. "And how dare you not give us the chance? What happened to you? You haven't even been off the force for a year. You used to be true police."

  "But I'm not anymore. I'm doing the best with what I got."

  "Well, your best apparently isn't good enough, Jo. You gotta trust me here. You used to."

  "I still do. Of course I do." I stare at my old boyfriend, my old mentor, my friend and sigh. We need all the help we can get. "I will tell you everything I can." I take him through almost all that I know leaving out only his real name and connection to Jem. It's not my secret to tell.

  "I want everything you have. All the files, all the footage, everything," he demands.

  "Okay."

  "I have to give it to the Feds. I'll say it came from a CI."

  "Do whatever you have to. But what about Brendan? Paparazzi were outside when it happened."

  "We tell the truth. We suspect Cain put a car bomb in Brendan Darby's car. If your new friends want to elaborate, we will. But don't be naive. People will figure it out."

  "I know, but it's up to them to go public. I probably shouldn't have told you as much as I have."

  "It's good you did. You're only three people, I have access to hundreds. We'll check out the properties on the list. Discretely." I nod. "I'd feel better if we put you in protective custody."

  "And place good police in the line of fire to shield me? Hell no. I'll be fine. If he wanted me six feet under, I'd be there." I rise from the table. "I'll e-mail you the files as soon as I know the computer's clean."

  Cam is still interviewing Lexie when I step in. "…if I knew, I'd tell you," she snaps.

  "You might as well tell him. I already did," I say.

  My old partner and new one stare at me with equally puzzled expressions. Lexie realizes what I mean, face contorting with anger. "You did what?"

  "I trust these men with my life. Literally. They're in this now. You said it was need to know, they need to know. They'll keep it close. They're on our side. They can help us, and we sure as fuck need it."

  "What exactly did you tell him?"

  "Everything they needed to know. The warehouses, Lee Harper, Ryder, all the way back to the explosives theft. He already figured out who you and Brendan were because he knew I was working with you."

  "What the hell is going on?" Cam asks Harry.

  "Let's step into the hall," Harry says to Cam. "I'll fill you in."

  Cam glances at Lexie before departing to pow-wow, leaving me with a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know what else to do. Harry already pieced it together. He probably won't be the only one. It's only a matter--"

  "Shut up," she hisses. "Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch." All of a sudden my friend leaps up, bridging the gap between us, the menace on her face intensifying with each step. "How did he know? How did he know, Joanna? Years. The three of us have been together for years. We were careful. He never figured it out until today. Until you. I know it wasn't in the computer. Couple minutes with you then a few hours later my husband's dead? Brendan Darby is dead, not King Tempest. So how long did it take for you to give us up? One minute? Two?"

  "You think I told him? He didn't even ask me about the two of you. And even if he did, I wouldn't say shit. I don't know how he knew, but it didn't come from me."

  "Yeah. Right." She sneers at me before turning her back and stalking out of the room. Just as she reaches the door, she spins back around. "Oh, and when you see Jem, tell him I told him so. Tell him next time he's face to face with his brother, he damn well better make sure that fucker stays dead, or I'll kill them. Both." She walks out without looking back.

  As I stare at the spot she inhabited, I slowly lower myself onto the couch, clutching my clenched, churning stomach. I think Cain just succeeded in tearing apart the Royal Triumvirate right when we need them most. I'll bet wherever that son of a bitch is he's popping the champagne, toasting to his victory. I hope the bastard chokes on it. And he will when I get my hands on him.

  He may have drawn first blood, but I won't settle for anything but a bucketful.

  *

  Lizard can't come over for a few days to fix Doris but walks me through the virus scanners and firewalls over the phone. There was one Trojan horse and a worm, whatever those are, but I killed them with Lizard's help. Still, I'm hesitant to use her. Besides those treats, I find that Cain deleted all the files on himself, the explosives case, and cut the feed to the warehouses. Back to square one in that regard, but in the grand scheme of things he did minimal damage. That worries me.

  The police and CSI techs still work out front three hours later with the press clamoring at the gate, recording every second. My PR machine is grinding overtime with my hospitalization and the blown up footballer in my driveway. For my part I don't intend to leave the house or speak to anyone until the funeral. If I'm even invited. I texted Lexie half a dozen times but no reply. If anyone knows what she's going through, it's me. I can actually help in this situation. If she'll let me.

  I used up my remaining brain cells working on Doris so complex thought is hard. Every time I try to figure out why he came here, how he knew about Brendan, it's like I'm banging into a glass door. I can see the answer but can't quite reach it. I should just crawl into bed and watch shit TV until I fall asleep, but I can't bring myself to leave this room. It'd be as if I'd given up. Two crimes in less than twenty-four hours against a specific group, obviously related, but did the first spurn the second? Had to. Too big a coincidence otherwise. Was there a clue to his real identity in Doris I never saw? Did he already suspect and Brendan showing up just pushed those suspicions over the edge? Hell, does it fucking matter anymore?

  Yes. I'm still in danger. Lexie too. I just have the distinct feeling that if I crack this, I'll finally be on the right path to--

  Footsteps. Beach entrance. Just as I turn, the exact person I want to see steps into the room. Dear God, he looks terrible, even worse than last night with hair a rat's nest, cheeks ruddy from the cold, and plaid shirt untucked. I didn't think he'd ever set foot in here again. I was worried he'd receive the news and just fly, away never to be heard from again. Or dive off the hospital roof. I tried texting and leaving messages with no reply. I didn't realize how petrified I really was somet
hing happened to him until just now when I know he's okay. The knot in my stomach dissolves. "Jem," I say, almost breathless.

  "I-I was in my lab. I-I-I just heard. What--"

  "Oh, Jem," I say, voice cracking. I stand and rush over, throwing my arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

  He doesn't hug me back, doesn't move at all until he pulls me off him and takes a step away. "What happened?"

  "Car bomb. Brendan's Hummer. I don't know how he knew, Jem. I don't know how he figured it out. I didn't say a word, I swear on Justin's grave I didn't."

  "I know."

  "It doesn't make sense. I said Brendan was coming over because we were having an affair. He wasn't in costume, he didn't fly me out, he was just…Brendan Darby. I'm missing something. What did I do wrong? How did I slip up? I-I--"

  "This is in no way, shape, or form your fault. It--"

  "It's not yours either," I cut in. "I swear it's not."

  "I think Lexie would disagree with you." He gazes down. "How is she?"

  "Devastated. Scared. Pissed. At you, at me, at life. I'd give her a few days before you reach out."

  "I'll take whatever she needs to give me. I deserve it. Everything I touch, everything, I damage. Destroy. My best friend is dead. No matter your viewpoint, if I hadn't come into your lives, you wouldn't have been attacked. Lexie would still have her husband, and Brendan wouldn't be in a body bag right now. You'd all be better off."

  Dear God. I am having a massive dose of déjà vu. It's as if I'm back at Rebecca's funeral in a church office standing across from Harry, except in this case I'm Harry. Almost those exact same words spewed from my mouth then. The guilt was so heavy inside, I was a millisecond from being flattened by it. If Jem feels half of what I did then, my heart breaks for him.

  "Okay. I'm not gonna lie. I won't sugarcoat it. Would I have been in the hospital last night if we weren't in each other's lives? No. He attacked me because of you." Jem's face contorts into agony before turning away. I touch his cheek and move his eyes back to mine. "Hey. Let me finish." I remove my hand from his tense face. "You come with baggage. More than most even. But I'm still here. Brendan would be too. He and Lexie were for years. They put their lives on the line for you time and time again. So ask yourself: why? We know the risks. Been though them firsthand with the scars to prove it. So why don't we go running for the hills?"

  "Why?"

  I reach for his hand and stare into his beautiful blue eyes. "Simple checks and balances, genius. Because you're worth it." I entwine my fingers with his. "And I can't speak for the Darby's, not really, but…you brought me back to life. You," I roll my moist eyes, "I don't know, restored my faith that good things are possible in this God awful world. You gave me hope. That's…worth a psychopath or two in your life. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather have a year of brilliant than ten of just okay. And you, sir, are brilliant. Never doubt that for a moment."

  We stare into each other's eyes, his searching to see if I'm full of shit, determined to prove I am. I'm fighting through a lifetime of hell, of self-doubt, of dysfunction, anger, and self-hatred. But I just need one crack in the wall, one tiny pinpoint through the mortar. When I see a small smile crossing his face, sad though it may be, I know I've succeeded. I've won. I step into him, folding his arms around my body before doing the same to him. I've never been a hugger or physically affectionate in any way, but I can't stop touching this man. He just brings the tenderness out of me. Never thought it possible. Never.

  "You're brilliant too," he whispers.

  "Only around you."

  Shit. The mood is destroyed as Doris starts beeping to let me know someone's calling for a video chat. I've only used that feature once or twice before, so I don't know who could possibly have the number. We break apart and look at Doris, then one another. I have a feeling I should take this call. Jem sidesteps out of view of the webcam as I move to the computer. I pull up the tracking system in case it really is who I think it is before I accept the call.

  "Motherfucker."

  "Hello to you too, Miss Fallon," Jordan says onscreen. "Looking well."

  The villain sits in what looks like an office with bookcases, file cabinets, and I believe a map slightly out of shot. Nothing distinguishable to allow me to glean where he is. And least he resembles his brother less than yesterday with his hair slicked back and fleece sweatshirt sans glasses. It's still eerie, same face and all.

  "Go fuck yourself, psycho."

  "Charming. You attempt to kiss my brother with that mouth?" He moves his head to my left. "Has she, Jem? Tried to kiss you?"

  "He's not here," I say.

  Jordan raises an eyebrow. "You were a far better liar yesterday. I know he's there."

  "How?"

  "That's for me to know and you to find out." He gazes past me again. "You hiding under your girlfriend's skirts now, big brother?"

  "She's not my girlfriend," Jem says harshly behind me.

  "Oh, thank God for that. From all I've uncovered in my research, she's something of a whore. Cheating on her boyfriend, an abortion at fifteen, sleeping with a married man. Oh, forgive me, that last one was total malarkey wasn't it? Or not. She does have a thing for superheroes. You do battle a little above your weight class a lot, don't you Jojo? I did warn you about that."

  "Leave her alone," Jem says, walking beside me.

  "I didn't bring her into this, big brother. You knew this would happen eventually. You're just selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish. And weak. Always have been. Sad, pathetic, weak, in--"

  "Wow, pot meet fucking kettle there, Jordan," I say with a sneer.

  "Pardon me?"

  "Joanna…" Jem warns.

  "You heard me. He's the sad, selfish, pathetic one? You follow him around the country throwing hissy fits when you don't have his undivided attention. Sad. You killed his fiancée because he liked her better than you. Selfish. You have no real life outside him. Pathetic. But let's not forget to add coward to your list of more admirable traits. I mean, really. A car bomb? What, were you too afraid to be within ten miles of Tempest, is that it? Because you knew he'd kick your ass without breaking a sweat?"

  "Jem, leash your bitch please," Jordan says, rolling his eyes. "Her yapping is grating."

  "Not hearing a denial asshole."

  "Joanna, stop," Jem orders.

  "Yes, he can fight his own battles. He doesn't need your help."

  "What do you want, Jordan?" Jem says before I can speak. "Really. What do you want?"

  "Peace on earth and goodwill toward men?" he retorts with a smirk. "No, I suppose I don't really desire a thing. I'm quite content actually. I just found myself with some time on my hands. You know I've never handled boredom well."

  "Then take up fucking fishing," I snap.

  "Shut up, whore. You know, car bombs are cheap. One down, two more--"

  "Enough!" Jem shouts. Both our mouths snap shut. The peacemaker takes a deep breath before looking back at his brother. "Scout, please, whatever you want me to do to stop this, I will. Whatever it is, I will do it, just don't hurt anyone else."

  Jordan cocks an eyebrow at the prospect. "Really? If I told you to rob a bank, you would?"

  "Yes."

  "Give all your money away?"

  "Yes."

  "Jump off the highest building to your death to save them?" he asks, glimpsing at me.

  "Absolutely," he says without hesitation.

  It's only for a split second, and I don't know if Jem sees it as well, but like lightning a ripple of intense fury crosses his face, eyes blazing and nose twitching. Shit. Not what he wanted to hear. Jordan recovers with a smile. "I have no idea where this nobility comes from. Certainly not our sperm and ovum donors or those not-so-well-meaning morons who raised us."

  "Guess he's just a better, stronger person than you," I say. "He didn't use his crappy childhood as an excuse to become a terrorist."

  Jordan rolls his eyes again. "Yes, we get it, Joanna; you're madly in love with him.
Won't have a harsh word spoken against him. So on and so forth. Hurrah for loyalty. But do shut up now."

  For the first time in a long time I'm stunned speechless. "I'm not…I…"

  "Finally," Jordan says. "If you ever do enter into a relationship with that thing I suggest investing in ear plugs or a muzzle. At least your last love interest had some class and knew when to keep her mouth shut. Even when I blew her head off, she managed to die silently."

  "Don't talk about her," Jem warns.

  "Why not? It was years ago, you must be over it by now. If you're not over a past lover then how can you ever move on?" He looks at me. "Really, Joanna, he is a loyal sort. He waited years after our sexual relationship ended before he entered into another with that Indian cow."

  "Shut up," Jem says through gritted teeth.

  "I never did ask. Was she better than me? Did she make you come as hard as I did? Do you still imagine it's my hand jerking you off on all those lonely nights--"

  "SHUT UP!" Jem roars with insane ferocity. Even I shrink away, especially when he grabs the chair beside me and smashes it against the monitor. I leap out of my seat away from the onslaught. "Shut up!" He hits it again. "Shut up!" And again. "Shut up!" And again, until there's nothing left to demolish but shards of glass and plastic. He tosses the chair across the room and takes off running toward the ocean exit.

  At first I'm too shocked to move. I just stare at the sparks shooting from the exposed wires. He actually did something I didn't think possible. He scared me. But I push it away and sprint after him. "Jem!" The passageway is dark with the only light from a bulb on the stone every ten feet. Jem has just reached the exit when I round the corner. He presses the button to open the cavern door onto to beach. "Jem, wait! Goddamn it, you wait for me Jonathan Ambrose!"

  He reluctantly ceases moving and pulls his hand away from outside as if the waning sun would scald him. He doesn't turn around, just hangs his head like a man who has given up. When I reach him, I try to touch his arm, but he jerks it away and spins around, face scrunched up as if I were attacking him. "Don't touch--don't touch me. Please, just…" he whimpers. Despite his protests, I grab him by the collar and wrench him into my arms. I squeeze him as tight as possible in case he attempts to escape. He breathes heavily, the spurts hot against my hair, but when he realizes I'm not letting go, the pace lessens. I feel tears sprinkling into my hair. He raises his arms, lowers them again as he reconsiders, but does hug me back. "I can't take this anymore. I just can't," he whispers. His chest heaves against mine as if he's sprinted around the planet. "What-What he sai--" His voice cracks, choking off the rest of the words.