The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 2): Galilee Rising

by Harlow, Jennifer

  "You were young. You were scared. All you had was him. Whatever happened, happened. I don't need to know any more. And I don't think any less of you. I'm just so sorry that happened to you." I pull away enough to wipe the tears streaming from his eyes. "I'm so sorry," I whisper.

  He presses my hand against his cheek with his own and closes his eyes to savor the tangibility of it, breathing heavily as my compassion, my lust, my hunger nourish him. When those eyes fly open his breath stops, and he stares at me with laser sharp focus. Before I can say another word, his lips are on mine with enough force our teeth collide. His tongue enters my mouth as insatiable as the rest of him. As the rest of me. His zeal infects me. We grow inflamed as only fear, death, and desperation can stoke. I return his ardor stroke for stroke. I crash against the stone wall as he backs me against it. Using that to brace me, I lift my legs up to wrap around his waist. Though there are two pairs of pants separating us the heat of him pressing into me almost makes me lose my mind. I think I very nearly do as his hands move under my shirt and bra. He's not gentle either, instead squeezing and pinching in all the right places. I let out a pained moan, and the hands vanish along with his lips.

  When I open my eyes he's staring up at me, unblinking with sad wonderment. I want to ask what's wrong but those eyes terminate further thought. Awe transforms into terror, then anguish. We gape at one another for a tense moment before he breathlessly croaks, "I lov…" but nothing else comes. Like a man who has just cheated on his wife for the first time, he's disgusted by what he's done, mouth twisting into a sneer and nose wrinkling up. "I can't do this. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

  My feet drop to the ground as he springs away. "Jem…"

  He retreats backwards. "Ju-Just stay away from me. I can't…" he whimpers again and presses his temples with the palms of his hands as if the voices were yelling at him. He lowers them and once again on the verge of tears says, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

  And he takes off like a rocket out and into the bright blue sky. Shit. This one step up two steps back is making me exhausted. I just hope the dance hasn't ended for good. I still have a few twirls left in me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Cockroach Psychology

  Abandoned and alone. Why do superheroes always leave me abandoned and alone? Dozens of messages to Lexie and Jem left unanswered. Everyone else on the planet has phoned, reporters mostly. I can't even leave the house anymore without them following. They've been parked on the street and inundating me with calls for days. The theories are running as rampant as the gossip, quite a few even coming close to the truth. I've "no commented" until my tongue is sore, barely left the mansion except to go into the office where I locked myself in all day. I hate to admit it but I think I'm afraid to go outside or climb in a car. The first time I had to drive, I popped the hood and checked under the seats and undercarriage for bombs. Even still took five minutes of willing myself in a cold sweat to turn the key. Hasn't gotten much better in the passing days. Hell even inside the office and home I'm on high alert. The house creaks, and I damn near yelp. It's hard waiting for a hammer to drop on my head. Calling a genius psychopath a pussy might not have been the smartest move I've ever made.

  The self-imposed tension has gotten so thick I can't even focus on my real work for the past five days. All the monitors were destroyed and Lizard, when he finally agreed to come over, wiped the hard drive and had to re-install all the programs and backed up information. Took days. We did upgrade the monitors to state-of-the-art touch screens. While he was pimping my ride, I spent the time attempting to wrap my head around how Cain discovered the truth about Brendan. And in my hours of contemplation I've come up with nothing. Zip. I thought my affair explanation was pretty damn believable considering that rumor was already swirling around town. From what I've gleaned after interrogating Dobbs, there was nothing super heroic in his finding me and getting me to the hospital. No superpowers displayed at all.

  Something else nags at me during my sleepless nights. That video call. It was too…on point, time wise. Jordan could have a tracker on Jem or someone watching the ocean exit from a boat and knew when he arrived here. Possible but not probable. Jem would have considered those possibilities and taken the necessary precautions. Five days and nights of working all the angles with nothing to show. I'm missing something important, something Jordan said or did when he was here that will blow the confusion away. It hasn't happened yet. But I do have a Hail Mary pass up my sleeve. After all I did promise to call him, and my word is my bond no matter how much that promise turns my stomach.

  I've only allotted twenty minutes for this torture. Memorial to get to and all. I've been to far too many in the past year. One expects to attend five funerals in a year when in your eighties, not at thirty-three. I wasn't officially invited but decided to fly to Independence anyway. Even if Lexie turns me away at the church door at least she'll know I put forth the effort.

  I sit at the new and improved Doris to wait for the call. I'm not as nervous as last time. Guess there's a new monster under my bed to fill my nightmares. He won't like that. I must make sure to tell him.

  The video chat music begins tinkling, and I accept. Ryder sits on the other end looking exactly the same as last week: cheerful and handsome despite his pasty skin and need of a shave. His smile drops a little when he sees me.

  "Oh, my. You look dreadful."

  "You're one to talk, vampire Grizzly Adams."

  "I was expressing genuine concern, Joanna," he says snidely. If he were capable of feelings, I'd think I just bruised his. "You're obviously under considerable stress. Not sleeping? You haven't become a wino again, have you?"

  "No." Came close a few times, but my sponsor talked me down. "Things have gotten a lot more heated with Cain, that's all."

  "Was my information useful?"

  "Yeah, but then he attacked me and…got the upper hand."

  Ryder's face falls. "I'm sorry, Joanna." He pauses. "He didn't violate you, did he?"

  "No, he's not a rapist, unlike some," I say with venom I can't contain.

  "Excuse me, I've only committed the act once, and it had to do with principals, not sexual deviance."

  "And that makes it okay?"

  His mouth remains shut for a few seconds. "I don't like where this conversation is headed. You're growing angry. Let's try and keep this as pleasant as possible, alright? Despite what you may think, I don't want to add to your apparently mountainous troubles."

  "Forgive me if I find that a little difficult to believe."

  "Understandable. But you're a smart girl. Consider my motives for speaking to you. Boredom. Access to Grace. If I piss you off, they won't be serviced. Besides, I never had anything against you. As with Dr. Thornton and her progeny, you were a means to an end. In fact I hold you in quite high regard. I truly do. I know you hate me, and not without cause, and I blackmailed you into these calls, but I don't want this to be torturous for you. I'll remain on my best behavior if you will. Agreed?"

  I roll my eyes. "Fine."

  He settles into his yellow plastic chair. "So. If the Emperor didn't molest you, and you seem intact otherwise, what exactly occurred during your time together?"

  "We talked. He made me show him the command center. He knocked me out and installed a few computer viruses."

  "That's all?" Ryder asks, surprised.

  "As far as we can tell. Why?"

  He shrugs. "Just seems a little…light, is all."

  "Like I got off easy."

  "Exactly. I mean, did he even interrogate you? Attempt to gain the true identities of his sworn enemies? Not to mention the fact he made you privy to the fact he was using your computer. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

  "Of course it does. I mean, I'm not that big a threat, but I am…friendly with them. They would care if I died. In that respect, I'm worth more to him dead than alive. So why the fuck am I alive?"

  He considers this for a moment. Who knows what a cockroach is thinking better
than his brethren? "From what I know of him, nothing this man does or says is on the fly. It's been planned, rehearsed, then planned and rehearsed again for every contingency. I'm the same, all of the legends are," he says with a smile. I roll my eyes again. "Everything done has an endgame. For example, why do you think I killed Dr. Thornton first?"

  "Shock value? Easier prey? She and Daisy were the most important to Justin?"

  "Are you a poker player, Joanna?"

  "No."

  "I am. A good poker player works the odds. He knows the cards and often uses simple addition and subtraction to determine what the most likely outcome is. A great poker player more or less ignores the cards. He plays the players."

  "I see prison has turned you into a Zen master."

  "I do have nothing to do but meditate, but no, you're missing my point. He can work the odds, sure, but in the end it all comes down to the people around the table. Our player has done his homework. He's determined the other player's psychology, quirks, etc. as the game wears on."

  "What does this tutorial have to do with Rebecca and Daisy?"

  "You were right. Part of the reason I disposed of them first was for the shock. To all of you. The act sent all my players into a panic, exactly as I anticipated. That was the face value, but ask yourself, what did the Thorntons really signify to Justice?"

  "Love. Family. Hope for the future."

  "Justin Pendergast was a rich, dashing man who due to his orphaned state craved a family. Their deaths were a tragedy, no doubt, but in the end they were replaceable. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. And supplemental. Justice was his real self, Justin Pendergast was the front. And to Justice, you were the linchpin to his destruction. The living, breathing, cussing embodiment of all his sacrifices and the importance of his life."

  I want to protest but can't open my mouth.

  "I knew all about your mutual history through Grace, who continued the research during my first unfortunate incarceration. I knew you were the first person he rescued so soon after his father's death. I knew that you were in love with him, and he was oblivious. I also knew you had no idea of his alter ego. Logically, with my maelstrom swirling, that tidbit would have to be revealed. And when it was, and you loathed him to your very core, I pounced before you could forgive him. Well, tried anyway."

  "How did you know when I found out?"

  "Multiple avenues. One, I knew you brought Logan in. Then my surveillance team followed you to the mansion, then the apartment where I heard you venting to your then boyfriend."

  I blink. "Wait. You bugged my apartment?"

  "Of course. Yours and Rebecca's houses had surveillance cameras. We attempted to hide some in the mansion but the butler was always there, so we settled for Justin's office and phones. So, with all this intel, I could plan, rehearse, adapt, and plan again. This is what you're up against, Joanna dear. And Cain's IQ reportedly topples even mine. I do not envy you."

  "So, what should I do?"

  "Only one thing to do." He pauses. "Pray."

  I sit in silence for a few seconds staring at the monster who demolished my life and feel…nothing. "I have to go. Plane to catch."

  "My meeting with Grace?"

  "Working on it."

  "Thank you. I do hope I was helpful. Really."

  "You were." The words stick in my throat, but I say, "Thank you."

  "Just keep in mind what his endgame is and do your best to circumvent it. Might give you a chance."

  "I will. See you next week." And the pieces finally fit. I was right. One cockroach just helped me figure out the other.

  After jotting down a quick note, and slipping it in my pocket, I rise from the chair. I find Dobbs in the kitchen wiping the counters. "Hello, Miss Joanna. Ready for the airport?"

  I move beside him. "Almost," I say, covertly palming him the note. He reads the paper with confusion, and then shakes his head to answer no. Still. "I wanted to borrow that book for the flight. Is it in your room?" I ask, eyes jutting toward the door.

  "Yes. Come with me," he says. I follow him through the other kitchen door into his apartment. Like the rest of the house, it's filled with antiques and faded red carpet. I shut the door behind myself. "What is going on, Miss Joanna?"

  "I know you said Cain didn't enter the kitchen, but we should be careful. He didn't come in here, did he?"

  "No. I was in here the majority of his stay. I know he was upstairs for a time as we spoke when he was descending the stairs. He said he was using the bathroom, which I found odd as he had a satchel with him at the time, but you know all this."

  "Do you know anywhere else specifically he went?"

  "Just the living room, but I didn't watch him. He had free reign of the house."

  Wonderful. "Okay, I need you to walk me through what happened after he left again."

  "I heard the front door shut about thirty minutes after you arrived home. I thought you two had gone to dinner as he claimed. Perhaps two hours later, Mr. Darby was at the gate. I let him in and told him you were at dinner with Dr. Ambrose. He appeared shocked by this, but wanted to use the computer regardless. Five minutes after that, he began screaming for me. He had you on the couch in the living room attempting to revive you. The ambulance arrived ten minutes after that, and I escorted them in. Mr. Darby told them he found you out on the patio, then went with you to the hospital."

  "So Brendan was the one who found me in the secret room? You didn't open the fireplace for him?"

  "No."

  And pop goes the weasel. I scoff and shake my head. Of course. "He bugged the house."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Cain put cameras and listening devices all over the house. He saw Brendan walk right up to the secret switch, which he shouldn't have known about if he were only my secret lover. Cain put two and two together."

  That's also how he knew the exact moment to call when I was comforting Jem. I was ruining the impact of the execution. He couldn't have that. Crap, I have to wade through five days of actions and speech to figure out how much I gave away. Oh God, did he or his cronies watch me undress?

  "What do we do? Find and disconnect them?" Dobbs asks.

  The gears in my mind turn and turn for a few seconds. "No, not yet. For right now, act normal, but do cancel the cleaners until I say so. I don't want one of them to stumble on a camera and say something. Just keep your eyes open, and assume there's surveillance in every room. Patio too. He probably also tapped all the phones so be careful there as well." I check my watch. "Shit, we have to go. Just…act normal. I'll figure out what to do."

  I walk out of his room and even though he said Jordan never came into the kitchen, it's as if I can feel his eyes on me. As I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom, the wheels keep spinning. For the first time since this ordeal began, I think we have the upper hand. The question is how to effectively use it.

  Time to play the player.

  *

  I'm not turned away at the cathedral door, probably not because my name is on the list but because the press behind the barriers instantly recognize me and go into frenzy.

  "Were you and Brendan Darby having an affair?"

  "Are you working with the Triumvirate?"

  And my favorite. "Did you kill Brendan Darby like Justin Pendergast because he was about to end your love affair?"

  I keep my eyes down and mouth shut before being waved into the church by security..

  I estimate about three hundred mourners milling around the pews, aisles, and the picture of Brendan in his Independence Eagles uniform surrounded by flowers, some arranged to resemble footballs or helmets near the pulpit. Members of both the Eagles and Galilee Angels are chatting with each other, old rivalries forgotten for the day. You can always tell the players by how wide they are. There's a cluster up front forming a semi-circle around a person in the front pew. Though her back is to me, judging from the dark hair, it's Lexie. Another group is on the opposite pew talking to a large man with red hair and tiny woman in a black hat. T
he parents. I wonder if they knew about King Tempest. If they're proud of him. They should be.

  As I scan the crowd I don't see any other familiar faces, but they all seem to know me. Everywhere I look people keep glancing at me then whispering to their companions. Almost a thousand miles from home and I'm still the talk of the town. I ignore them. All I care about is finding that one familiar face. He might not attend out of respect to Lexie and the near cracked secret between them. But if it was my best friend, I'd want to be surrounded by the others who loved him too. For closure too or the beginnings of it. Why else do we hold funerals? They aren't for the dead person, that's for sure.

  I sweep the cathedral twice and don't find him. Damn it. Okay, might as well get this over with. Making sure the letter I wrote on the plane asking her to meet later is folded and concealed in the palm of my hand, I maneuver down the aisle toward the widow. I sense at least over a hundred pairs of eyes moving with me. Probably waiting for a catfight. Lexie's parents notice me first, both sets of brown eyes narrowing. She takes after her father with the same dark hair and mouth. Lexie sees me a second later, her expression matching that of her parents' the moment she does. I don't know whether to hug her or run.

  "Lexie," I say.

  "Joanna," she says with little affect. "Thank you for coming."

  "I…" I don't know what to say. Nothing. I just extend the hand with the note to her. "I'm sorry. For your loss."

  She glances at my hand with derision, but shakes it anyway, retrieving the note. Her nose twitches when paper hits skin, but there's no other reaction. "Thank you."