Blind Vigilance

by Emily Kimelman Gilvey

  Holy shit. That's what she meant. "We can take it from here."

  "I put a self-destruct code in them all," I say, my mouth numb.

  "Of course you did," Rachel says. "Obviously. You'd never trust the US government with that kind of power."

  "No." I hardly trust myself.

  Later, alone in my room, I pull my computer close and navigate to the file Rachel created.

  It starts with public records. Consuela Sanchez is the only person on her apartment deed, so they are probably not living together. Waiting for marriage possibly? I try to fit that with what I know of Consuela. Would she commit to spending a lifetime with a man she'd never shared living space with? She was raised Catholic, could be for her mother…

  My mind wanders back to how she vibrated in my arms. I have to shut it down, lock that away. It will haunt me into madness if I let it.

  Special Agent Sanchez’s record is impeccable—her demotion in her own task force the only mark against her, but I know why that happened… hiding from me, the sly fox. My lips curl into an admiring smile.

  She keeps her phone clean, but I am able to scroll through messages between her and friends. One from a few days ago—right after our near kiss and my leaving—has her sister asking if she is okay.

  I'm fine, Consuela responded.

  Mom said you seemed really upset.

  Just work stuff.

  She thought it was a matter of the heart.

  Leave it alone.

  Fine, tell your diary about it. But I'm here if you need me. *Kissing face emoji*

  Consuela didn’t reply. My own heart gives a little thump. What I wouldn't give to see that diary.

  I keep digging. She keeps her personal inbox mostly empty. Rachel hacked her work email and downloaded thousands, but the password changed again, so I can't get anything new. I save the emails for another time, hoping to find something more personal.

  Two hours later, my eyes are burning. It's time to sleep. I'm willing to bet her diary is paper. I'd have to break into her apartment to find it.

  I close the computer and push it away, but then drag it back to me almost immediately. I don't know if I can give up on her. I just don't know if I can leave it alone. I don't think she wants me to.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sydney

  "We have your house ready." My escort, Felicity, is young and eager. Her curly hair is shoved under a brimmed cap but escaping in bouncing tendrils that shudder with each bump on the road. Blue pushes his head between us, watching out the front window. I turn back to look at Nila and Frank in the back seat with him and grin. It's good to have them all together again.

  As I face forward, Felicity's hands tighten on the wheel. Oh no, she's going to say something gushing.

  Just don't call me a hero.

  Please, anything but that.

  "I have to tell you something," she says. Here we go. "You're an inspiration to me."

  Ugh, inspiration may actually be worse than hero.

  "Thank you," I mutter, having learned that arguing with zealots is like arguing with fish. We aren't even breathing the same stuff, which makes it impossible to communicate.

  "You're a hero."

  "I'm not." Bubble, bubble.

  Felicity's head whips around so she can look at me. I meet her gaze. "I'm just a pissed-off asshole who’s spent a lot of years not caring if she lives or dies." Felicity’s mouth opens a little in surprise. "Keep your eyes on the road. I'm hoping to live now."

  She jerks her attention forward. "Sorry."

  I sigh because, while I want to live now, I don't seem to have shed the being an asshole thing. What kind of a mom does an asshole make? According to Mulberry, as long as I tell my truth, it will be all good... As if I can believe a word that lying sack of shit says. Still a pissed-off asshole. That's my truth. "Look," I say, hoping to maybe not be such an unrelenting douche of a human being, "I appreciate that you're inspired by the Joyful Justice cause. I really am."

  She steals a quick glance my way, her blue eyes wary now that I've shown her my true colors.

  "I think our organization does important work,” I go on. “All I'm saying is, if you're looking for someone to admire, look in the mirror." Felicity takes in a sharp breath but keeps her eyes on the road. "It's really brave to be here, fighting for what you believe in."

  We ride in silence for a while, bouncing over the rough roads that lead to the secluded Central American training compound of Joyful Justice. "I don't think so," Felicity says.

  "Don't think what?" I ask, having forgotten where our conversation left off.

  "That I'm brave. I think I'm… hurt."

  Wow.

  She pushes at her hair, forcing it behind her ear before continuing. "I lost someone important." There is a catch in her voice, and my throat tightens, echoing her pain. "I had to do something." She glances at me.

  I nod. I get it. "If you didn't, you'd explode."

  "Yeah," she agrees quickly. "I'd fucking implode."

  "So you had to let it out."

  "Lash out."

  My hand lands on my stomach. Losing my brother led me to this road. Felicity slows to navigate around a gaping puddle. The golden-brown surface shimmers in the bright sunlight. A cow munches at grass on the far side of a fence, its ears flicking at flies.

  "It feels good to be here. Lots of ways to do something," Felicity continues.

  "That's all anyone wants," I say, watching the cow swish its tail as our front wheels start to climb up a steep grade to avoid the puddle. "To do something. Be a part of something bigger than themselves."

  The Jeep grips the surface of the road—uneven, steep, dangerous—and climbs. "Yes," she agrees. "I'm glad you started this. It saved my life."

  "You saved yourself," I say as we crest the hill and start down.

  "Thanks," she says quietly. I nod, holding my tongue. See, that wasn't so hard.

  I reach across James and grab the shot of tequila, spilling some onto my hand as I sit back in my seat. "To motherhood." I hold the glass aloft.

  James grins at me and clinks his cup against mine. We both drink. I wince at the harsh liquor as I rush a lime to my lips. The tart juice is a fresh assault.

  I shudder as I toss the rind into my shot glass.

  James hooks an arm over the back of his chair. "So," he says, "what are you going to do about Mulberry?"

  I shake my head, searching the backyard for answers. Lights twinkle in the tree above. Four-story townhouses rise up on all sides. The sky is opaque with light pollution. "I don't know. He's not reliable."

  "Isn't he?"

  "What do you mean?" I return my focus to James. He sits forward. There are lines around his eyes that didn't used to be there. He's aged. How does a dead man age?

  He looks like our father. I swallow the thought.

  "You can depend on him to always do what he thinks is best for you."

  "Right, what he thinks is best."

  "Like you're any better?"

  "Excuse me?"

  James laughs, the sound washing over me like a warm wave. I've missed him so much. "You are so high-handed it's a joke. Little miss the justice system isn't good enough for me. I'll do what's right no matter what."

  I open my mouth to defend myself, but he's right… as usual.

  "You can't depend on Mulberry to do what you want. What you think is best. But he is dependable. He has a code. Just like Robert."

  "That's true."

  "I know, I'm always right." James grins at me, and I can't help but return the expression.

  The scent of coffee breaches the dream, and the backyard fades as I come to consciousness. As I blink my eyes open, grief and joy fight for space in my chest. Dreaming about James in such vivid detail is a gift and a curse. The pain of missing him is sharpened by these visits.

  Blue whines by the door. "Who is it, boy?" He looks over his shoulder at me, his tongue hanging out, and thumps his tail. "Merl," I guess.

  Blue'
s tail thumps harder. Frank prances behind him, absolutely overcome with excitement. Nila sits quietly by the door, waiting patiently. On the other side of the door, dog nails click on the tile floor. Blue backs up, pressing his nose to the crack and sniffing. His tail wags wide.

  I pull on a robe before opening the door. One of Merl's Dobermans, Michael, waits patiently, his nub of a tail thunking against the tile floor the only indication that he is happy to see us. Chula, the youngest of Merl's three dogs, sits just behind Michael. His tail beats the same rhythm, but he also controls himself. He's grown up so much.

  "Go ahead," I say. Blue streaks past me to the open door, and the Dobermans give chase. Frank follows, losing purchase on the tiles and sliding into the couch in a jumble of long legs and giant paws. He shakes himself and leaps out the door. The dogs disappear into the brush, the shrubbery shaking violently as they thrash around in the bushes.

  Merl stands in my kitchen, holding a steaming mug. His tight black curls are pulled back into a bun, and he's wearing a black tank top that exposes the corded muscles of his shoulders. He smiles at me, showing the charming gap between his front teeth.

  His female dog, Lucy, comes out from behind the counter. She scans me with her intelligent brown eyes, then casts her gaze upon Nila, who stands by my side, before disappearing back behind the breakfast bar, presumably to sit at Merl's feet.

  "They are going to get covered in burrs," I say as I take one of the stools across from him. Nila settles at my feet.

  Merl shrugs. "You need to shave them anyway if you're planning on staying down here."

  "Ha, right. They will love that."

  Merl turns to the coffee maker, pouring me a cup. He gets milk from the fridge and pours some in before sprinkling cinnamon on top. The man knows me well.

  "Mulberry will be back this afternoon; he made a supply run," he says as he places the mug on the bar. He taps a folder on the counter. "Your evacuation information." My eyes drift to the folder. Every person staying at the training compound has an exit plan in case of a raid. In the folder, I'll find the location of my meeting point where I'll rendezvous with other members to either retake the compound or escape, depending on the situation. It will also show me where to find my survival pack—a bag with fresh water, dried food, and other survival essentials—kept in a tree on the outskirts of the camp. We are all trained to survive in the jungle for several days if necessary.

  I pull the mug of coffee close, breathing in the aroma. Yum. It's strong and caramelly, and I close my eyes to better enjoy the wonderful scent.

  When I open them, Merl is watching me with a smile. "You do love your coffee."

  "That I do."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine." He cocks his head, the expression so similar to his dogs it brings a smile to my face. "Really." I'm going to kill the father of my child… but other than that, I'm good. I smile.

  He shakes his head. "No, you're not. But that's okay. You will be." He leans against the counter. "Come to tai chi today." He sips his coffee. "It starts in thirty minutes."

  "I have to eat something in the mornings now or I feel like I'm gonna puke all day."

  His brow furrows. "That must be hard for you."

  "Eating in the morning?" I laugh. "Not the biggest obstacle I've faced, but it is annoying."

  Merl shakes his head. "Not just that, but everything about your body changing. For people as grounded in our physical forms as we are, change like that can be difficult."

  "Yeah." I shrug. "I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, I've thought a lot about being a mom but not about how my body changing is a part of the pressure I'm feeling." I sip my coffee, feeling somehow lighter, as if I'd been sitting in a dimly lit room and someone started a small fire in the hearth.

  "I'll have some toast brought over for you. Then come to Tai chi." He turns to put his now empty mug in the sink.

  "I can get my own toast, Merl." My grip tightens on the mug. Don't treat me like an invalid.

  He turns back to me, slow and steady, just like always. "You don't want to be taken care of, do you?"

  "No," I bite out the word, Mulberry's betrayal roaring to the forefront of my mind. I can take care of myself.

  Merl rests his hands on the counter across from me, his arms flexing as he presses into it. "Is it because James used to take care of you, and his love for you got him killed?"

  I sit back as if struck. "What?" It comes out in a harsh whisper.

  Merl nods, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. "Well, you're going to have to get over that once and for all."

  "Excuse me?" It's my turn to cock my head. "What right—"

  Merl cuts me off. "We've been friends for a long time. I've let you care for me. Hell—" He grins. "—I let you save my life." I can't help but huff a laugh. "And my fiancée's life. That's how generous a guy I am. So it's your turn now. You can't do this alone, Syd. Your lone wolf days are over."

  "I have three dogs, Merl. I'm a pack leader."

  "You can't lead if you're not taking care of yourself. How many ways do you have to learn that lesson before it sticks?"

  I can't hold his gaze anymore; it's too filled with compassion and love. The man's eyelashes are criminally long. No one should look that sweet when they are pissing all over my defenses.

  He comes around the breakfast bar and lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. "See you at tai chi in twenty-five minutes at the main pavilion. Toast will be here soon. Accept my help, Sydney. It's your turn to be generous." There is no joke in his tone. He means it. I nod, not having the guts to speak. I'd probably start crying. Damn pregnancy hormones.

  After tai chi I take a shower. Catching my reflection in the steamed bathroom mirror, I pause. The fuzzy image transfixes me. I lay a hand on my rounded stomach. You can really see it now. The baby moves, that soft butterfly feeling. A love so deep it feels almost like pain wells up in me, set off by that slight motion.

  When I come out, there is a message on my phone. Mulberry is here and wants to know where I am.

  The love and joy that overwhelmed me in the bathroom morphs into a protective rage. I pull on shorts and a T-shirt and pick up my phone to respond. Meet me at the training circles.

  Can't wait, he writes back.

  Dark clouds are advancing, a storm brewing as I head down the jungle path toward the open field painted with fighting circles where recruits practice. It's lunch hour now, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. The better to kick his ass...

  Mulberry is there when I arrive. The grin he gives me fuels my rage. Don't you fucking dare look at me like that, you lying motherfucker. In some kind of hidden cabal with Bobby while leaving me confused and in the dark. The smile fades quickly as I stalk toward him.

  He gets his hands up when I'm two feet away, but I lunge forward and, putting a hand on each pec, thrust him back. He loses his balance and stumbles.

  Blue growls, his hackles raised. He doesn't know why we're mad, but he knows we are pissed. Frank barks and circles us, thinking it's a new game, while Nila sits, not sure where her loyalties lie.

  Mulberry manages to stay upright but just barely. He has both arms out, knees bent, those eyes of his watching me with a new wariness. He knows I know.

  "How could you?" I scream. The wind picks up, echoing my anger.

  "What?"

  "Don't you dare!" My hands fist. I will punch him so hard if he even pretends for one fucking second.

  "I'm sorry." But he doesn’t sound sorry.

  I shake my head and take a step back, my anger morphing into disgust. "You idiot." Tears are choking me. Fuck pregnancy hormones. Fuck them right to hell and back.

  Mulberry straightens as I take another step back. "I am sorry." That sounds better but still not nearly good enough. "I'd do anything to protect you." Now he's starting to sound righteous. "To protect our child."

  I shake my head again, and my lip raises in an involuntary snarl. "Fuck you."

  "I love you."

&nbs
p; "You can't love someone you don't trust, Mulberry."

  "Yes, you can."

  "I can't."

  "You do." His words are low, solid. Heavy. Shit, he's right. I don't trust him, but I do love him.

  "No," I insist against all evidence.

  He takes a step forward, and Blue warns him off with a snarl of his own. We will hurt you. You hurt me.

  Mulberry stops, his hands fisting at his side. "You can trust that I will do anything to protect you and our baby. That I will be fearless for you." His jaw tightens, and he takes another step toward me. "You make me brave. Brave enough to risk everything and anything to protect you."

  "I don't need your protection!"

  "You don't get to decide!"

  Now he's mad? Uh, no.

  I move into him, and my fist is connecting with his jaw before I even realize what's happening. My anger made me do it.

  He goes down hard into the grass. I stand over him, panting, legs wide, knees bent, fists balled. I will destroy you.

  He shakes his head and looks up at me, those damn eyes seeing me. Seeing me the way that only he can see me. As the mother of his child. The love of his life.

  "You lied!"

  "You're right." He touches his jaw gingerly and winces.

  "I don't need your protection."

  He stills, his eyes meeting mine again. There is a solid determination in them. This is not the stuff of daily life. This is the stuff of a higher purpose.

  "I will protect you and our child until the day I die. And if it's possible, I will continue from the other side. There are some things you don't get to decide, Sydney. Me loving you. Loving our child. Me protecting both of you. Those are mine. You can't have them. I can't give them up. Not even for you."

  "Fuck you and your pretty words." I turn so quickly I stumble and go down, landing hard on my hands and knees. Awesome exit, Syd. Super effective.

  I breathe for a second, regaining my composure. Rain starts to patter against the trees and wet the grass. Blue's nose swipes at my hair. Mulberry stands over me. Sitting back on my heels, I look up at him. He holds out his hand. I stare at it.