24. Twenty-Four Lakey
Twenty-Four: Lakey
I jolted awake, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. Janine's house. The thought blazed through my mind, urgent and all-consuming. I had to get back there, had to know what the fuck was going on.
"Cam," I hissed, shaking his muscular shoulder. "Wake up, dick breath. We've got work to do."
He groaned, dark eyes cracking open. "Christ, Lakey. What time is it? You gotta stop waking me up like this. I’m getting PTSD."
"It’s seven o’clock, asshole. Time to get our asses in gear," I snapped, already scrambling out of bed. My skin itched with the need to move, to act. "We're going back to Janine's place. Tonight."
Cam sat up, rubbing his face. "You sure that's smart, babe? Place is probably scrubbed."
I whirled on him, blue eyes blazing. "I don't give a rat's ass about smart. I need answers, and that bitch's house is the only place we're gonna find them."
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze intense. I could see the gears turning in that devious mind of his. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, sweetheart. We'll go back to her house. BUT. No unnecessary risks. That means, if you see something you don’t like, you gotta stay calm, ‘ight? We handle everything with a level head."
I grinned, savage and wild. "When have I ever been unnecessary?"
Cam snorted, pulling me close. "Uh, I dunno. When you killed Steve, and we still needed information? Probably a little fucking unnecessary. You're a damn tornado, Lakey. But you're my tornado. We can kill when it's absolutely necessary."
I leaned into his touch, savoring the rare moment of tenderness. My mind raced with possibilities, with the tantalizing promise of answers just within reach. Whatever secrets Janine had been hiding, I was going to rip them out by the roots.
“Hooookaaaaay. Fine.”
"So, what's the plan, boss lady?" Cam asked, his voice rough from a night of disuse. The huskiness was so sexy. It sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
I laid it out for him, quick and dirty, trying to distract myself from the unholy thoughts rattling through my brain. "We go in quiet, search every fucking inch of that place. There's gotta be something we missed — documents, pictures, anything that'll tell us what that bitch was really up to."
Cam nodded, his expression turning predatory. "And if we run into any... obstacles?"
I met his gaze, unflinching. "If they’re non-cooperative… we remove them. Permanently. If they cooperate, maybe we can keep one as a pet. But don’t worry, I will follow your lead, and I won’t make it messy, we will wipe our prints down, yadda, yadda. Good?"
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "That's my girl."
As we prepared, my mind kept circling back to that little girl's face. Those eyes, so hauntingly familiar. Was it possible? Could she really be...? I shoved the thought away. Surely, I’d remember having a whole fucking baby. I’d have never let them tear her from my grasp.
What did Steven say? They pick each genetic code. Maybe they’re just addicted to small blue eyed, blondes.
With a sigh, I swung my legs out of bed and started getting ready for a day of preparation.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and angry reds. I stood in front of our cracked mirror, methodically applying a dark wig and heavy makeup. Beside me, Cam was pulling on a nondescript black hoodie, his movements precise and controlled.
"Pass me that lockpick set, would ya?" I murmured, not taking my eyes off my reflection. The face staring back at me was a stranger's — perfect. Wouldn’t do us any good sauntering up to Janine’s looking like ourselves. Especially if she was back. A few seconds might save our asses before she’d be able to piece it together and recognize me.
Cam's large hand appeared in my periphery, the tools glinting dully in the dim light. "You sure about this, babe?"
I turned to face him, allowing a small, sharp smile to play across my lips. "When have I ever not been sure, baby?" I said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "We're gonna find out what that cunt was hiding even if I have to burn the whole fucking neighborhood down."
His eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and anticipation. "God, you're beautiful when you're plotting murder," he growled, pulling me in for a bruising kiss. “Just try your absolute best to remember, we agreed nothing unnecessary.”
We broke apart, both a little breathless. Adrenaline started to course through my veins, my vision sharpening in response. "Yeah, yeah. Always trying to stifle my fun. Whatever. Let's roll," I said, grabbing my bag of supplies.
The ride through the neighborhood was surreal, as it always was. We passed from our shitty part of town – all crumbling buildings and flickering streetlights – into Janine's oh-so-respectable domain. The contrast was amazing: manicured lawns, gleaming SUVs in driveways, the whole suburban mom’s wet dream. And we were only really about three or four blocks apart.
"Makes me want to puke," Cam muttered, echoing my thoughts.
I snorted. "Bet half these perfect families have some nasty skeletons in their closets. Maybe we should stick around, do a little spring cleaning."
We stopped our bikes about a block away from our target. As we stepped out, the air felt thick with anticipation. A dog barked in the distance, and I tensed, scanning the quiet street.
"Relax," Cam's voice was low in my ear. "We've got this."
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. The weight of the twin knives strapped to my thighs was comforting. Whatever happened tonight, we'd handle it. We always did.
As we crept towards Janine's house, my thoughts wouldn’t quiet long enough for me to figure them out. What would we find inside? More importantly, was I ready for the answers? A small, traitorous part of me whispered that maybe some secrets were better left buried.
I crushed that thought— ruthlessly. No turning back now. Whatever the truth was, I needed it. I needed to know. And if anyone tried to stop us... well, let's just say I was itching to start a domino effect of burying skeletons in closets.
The stillness hit me like a slap to the face as we hit the walkway leading to her door. Everything was too quiet, too still — like no one had ever lived here. My skin prickled, every sense on high alert.
"Fuck me," I whispered, eyeing the overgrown lawn and wilted flowers. "This place looks like it's been deserted for months."
Cam's eyes narrowed. "No lights, no car. Doesn't look like anyone's been home in a while. But it was like this the last time we came. I guess no one came back, confirming my suspicion. She’s moving on to her next alias. But… what did she do with the girl?"
I crouched down, running my fingers over the brittle grass. "Dead as disco. Just like all those foster families' hopes for me." I flashed Cam a wicked grin.
"Oh babe, you were an A+ pupil in my eyes.”
“Yeah, that’s just cuz I’m amazing at sucking dick.” I winked, sticking my tongue out and loving how his eyes darkened. I flounced and turned, walking to the side of the house, motioning for Cam to follow.
We crept towards the back door, sticking to the shadows. Every snapping twig was loud in the eerie silence. My hands trembled with excitement and something darker, more primal.
"She couldn’t have actually just skipped town.” I murmured. “Who the fuck does that?”
Cam shrugged, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on the lock. "Maybe. Or maybe she's in the house next door setting up for a new kid. I dunno."
The lock clicked open. We exchanged a look — this was it. Whatever waited inside, there was no going back now.
"Ladies first," Cam smirked, gesturing to the door.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the rush of affection. Even facing potential disaster, he could still make me smile. "My hero," I drawled, then slipped inside, knife at the ready.
The house was pitch black, the air stale and oppressive. Every instinct screamed danger, but I pushed forward. Who fucking knows, maybe the bitch booby trapped it for us. I’d love to see the day.
"Watch your step," Cam whispered, close behind me. "And for fuck's sake, don't touch anything you don’t absolutely need to touch. I keep fucking forgetting to grab gloves like some novice serial killer."
I nodded, though he probably couldn't see it. My fingers twitched, itching to explore, to uncover secrets. But Cam was right… we couldn't afford to leave any traces.
As we moved deeper into the house, a chill ran down my spine. What if this was all a set-up? What if Janine was watching us right now, waiting to spring her own twisted game?
I shook off the paranoia. No time for that shit now. We had a job to do, and I'd be damned if I let a little fear get in the way.
"You take the upstairs," I breathed to Cam. "I'll sweep down here."
He hesitated, clearly not wanting to split up. But efficiency won out. With a curt nod, he headed for the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness.
My heart settled as I crept through the living room, each step calculated. The beam of my flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing layers of dust and neglect. On the mantle was one single photo. Janine holding a baby.
I rifled through drawers, flipped through old mail, searching for anything that might explain the gaping holes in my memory. Nothing. Fucking nothing.
My frustration mounted with each empty cupboard and barren shelf. Where were the answers I needed? The clock was ticking, and I could feel the weight of urgency pressing down on me.
"Lakey," Cam's low voice startled me. He appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of tension. "Found something. Study. Now."
I followed him, my skin prickling with anticipation. The study was a mess of papers and overturned furniture. Cam pointed to an open drawer, barely visible behind a fallen bookshelf.
"Look," he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.
I peered inside, my breath catching in my throat. Adoption records. My hands trembled as I lifted the papers, scanning the dates. They aligned perfectly with the blank spaces in my mind, the lost time I'd never been able to recover.
"Holy shit," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Cam, what the fuck does this mean?"
He didn't answer, just watched me with those dark, inscrutable eyes. I felt like I was falling, drowning in implications I couldn't — wouldn't — face.
"We need to get out of here," Cam said, snapping me back to reality. "Now." He pointed to the top right corner of the ceiling, a red light blinking obnoxiously at us.
So, it was a set-up.
I nodded, numb, clutching the papers to my chest. Whatever these records meant, whatever twisted truth they held, I knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again.
Cam led me out of the study and back down the hall. The sound of multiple cars racing down the street should have alerted me something was about to happen, but I couldn’t think, could barely move through the haze that had descended on my mind.
I was reeling, struggling to process the bombshell I'd just uncovered. The little girl, the one I'd seen in those photos... could she actually be mine? My fucking daughter? If it was true, it would confirm my suspicions. My draw towards her. The need for me to constantly see her, to make sure she was okay. The thought sent a shockwave through my system. Feelings I’d never felt caught me by the throat, trying to strangle me as my system tried to process what they were. Fear? No… Pride? No…
"I don't... I can't..." I stammered, my eyes darting wildly around the house. "Cam, what if she's... what if I..."
My throat closed up, choking on words I couldn't bring myself to say. I'd done some seriously fucked up shit in my life, but this? This was a whole new level of mindfuck.
Cam's hand gripped my shoulder, his touch grounding me. "Lakey, focus," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "We can't stay here. We need to move. Now."
I blinked, forcing myself to meet his intense gaze. Right. Escape. Priority number fucking one. I nodded, shoving the adoption papers into my jacket.
"Okay," I said, taking a shaky breath. "Okay, let's bounce."
As we made our way to the door, part of me felt like I knew all along. The one piece of me that I never would have been able to care for. To love. Maybe it was better that she’d been taken from me. But another part — a part I barely recognized — felt a primal pull towards that little girl. My daughter. My maybe daughter. Christ, the word felt alien even in my thoughts.
Cam's firm grip on my arm kept me moving, his presence a reminder of the fucked-up constants in my life. Whatever this meant, whatever came next, didn’t really matter— I wouldn’t stop until we had her. Soon, I stood by the door, waiting as the sounds of people shouting grew nearer.
Cam's eyes gleamed with a familiar, dangerous light as he strode into the kitchen. "Time to light this fucker up," he growled, his long fingers deftly twisting the knobs on the gas stove.
I watched, mesmerized, as he worked. The hiss of escaping gas filled the air. My mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up, screaming at me, drowning out all sense of thought, adrenaline mixing with the toxic cocktail of new emotions already swirling in my gut.
"Matches?" I croaked, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
Cam's lips curled into that wicked grin I loved so much. "Always prepared, baby," he produced a book of matches from his pocket. “Well, except the gloves, I guess.”
As he struck the match, the small flame dancing hypnotically, I couldn't help but think of that little girl. My... no, I couldn't even think the word. We were about to burn down her home. It made me feel some kind of way. Like I shouldn’t. Even if Janine was a horrific person, this was the place where she raised that little girl. It was almost… sacred.
"Cam," I whispered, a hint of uncertainty creeping into my voice. "Are we sure about this?"
His dark eyes locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding. "It's us or them, Lakey. Always has been."
The match fell, and we ran just as all hell broke loose. Men streamed into the house, shouting at each other, but I didn’t take time to stop and look.
We ran into someone’s back yard, over some bushes, slamming through a gate. I was on auto pilot, following Cam’s large frame as he led the way, looping this way and that as I clutched those damn records to my chest. I replayed the night's events on a loop. That drawer. Those papers. The implications hit me like a freight train, over and over again, as we finally slowed to a brisk walk, the air sucking into my lungs in a rush.
"Let’s go. Lakey, you need to move. I think we lost them. For now, anyway. Baby, come on, please. You need to help me out here," Cam muttered, finally stopping in front of our bikes, his eyes never leaving the road as he sat me on mine, slipping on my helmet before getting on his and doing the same.
I laughed, a hollow, broken sound. "Yeah, well, finding out you might have a kid tends to do that to a girl."
His jaw clenched, and I saw a flicker of something – jealousy? Fear? – cross his face. "We don't know anything for sure," he said, his voice tight.
I started my bike and shot off like a rocket, watching our familiar shitty neighborhood come into view. "No," I agreed softly. "We don't."
As we pulled up to our crappy apartment complex and headed down to parking, the reality of what we'd just done started to sink in. My hands were shaking, and not in the fun way they usually did after a job.
"Fuck," I muttered, fumbling with my helmet. Cam's hand shot out, steadying mine.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and rough. "We're okay. You're okay."
I met his gaze, those dark eyes that had seen me through hell and back. "Am I?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded. "Cam, if that little girl is... if I'm..."
He cut me off with a sharp look. "Don't go there, Lakey. Not yet. We need more intel."
I nodded, swallowing hard. He was right again, of course. Just like he usually was. The bastard.
We made our way up to our place in silence. As soon as the door closed behind us, I headed straight for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Cam didn't stop me.
"So," I said, after taking a long pull. "What now?"
Cam ran a hand through his hair, looking more rattled than I'd seen him in years. "Jesus, Lakey, just…” Something must have been in my eyes because he sighed. “We find Janine, I guess. I’m sure Skeeter’s laptop has more information. I’ve barely scratched the surface. Make her talk."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "And if she won't?"
His eyes met mine, cold and determined. "Then we make her scream."
Blood. Pain. Torture. This, at least, I understood. This, I could handle.
"Sounds like a party," I said, raising my glass in a mock toast. "To family reunions."
Cam's lips quirked in a humorless smile. "To destruction and madness."