Chapter 59 A Song in the Night
FIFTY-NINE
A song in the night
REED
I’ve endured my fair share of bad shit straight from life’s asshole. It made me strong and stubborn. To a fault, at times.
The strife also made me grateful for the bright spots and the joy they bring. Things like riding my Ducati, busting bad guys, and pretending to be the hero. For a time, I thought gambling was one of those good things.
Excitement and adrenaline flooded me with each bet. The bigger the win, the more euphoric the high. Those wins made me forget the low of losing. And if I remembered my failure, the idea of vindication seduced me, providing another type of intoxication.
It’s hard to believe I once thought those things were the pleasures that made my life worth living. I had no idea what true happiness was.
Having Lila was joy. Pure and unfiltered.
Losing her was agony.
I haven’t had time to fully process the rapture of getting her back. But I can’t imagine anything in life will ever top hearing her tell me she loves me. That I’m hers and she’s mine.
And knowing she chooses me.
Nothing better than that. There’s comfort in being chosen, just as there is to have a choice.
The first time I felt powerless was when I was four. Although I didn’t know what it was called, the feeling will always haunt me.
I had no say in my own future. My pleading tears were pointless. They changed nothing. Either nobody asked what I wanted, or my answer didn’t matter. If they’d have listened, they would have never taken me away from my brother. I’d never willingly leave him behind.
In my early twenties, I experienced another version of powerlessness—a retrospective type. I first felt it when I learned why Perry and I were put up for adoption.
There’s a fruitless longing that adds to the torment. It burns deeper because all the years between the inciting moment and the realization split the ache into two warring factions.
One begs for the chance to turn back time. The other simply begs for control.
Dammit, I wished like hell for the chance to plead my case before the decision was made. An opportunity to prove we were worthy of being chosen.
And being loved.
Sadly, I can’t reverse the course I was put on before I knew how to walk, talk, or wipe my ass.
The cards were dealt, and I had to play my hand.
Even broken, my heart kept beating.
I vowed never to put myself in a situation where another person could decide my fate.
Nobody would control my life but me.
Sadly, control is an illusion broken people cling to. All so they feel powerful, even if they’re just as weak as the next guy.
Like it’s Groundhog Day, I foolishly believed I could control the outcome today. This time, it would be different.
Once more, the illusion is shattered.
A monster holds our leash and is bringing us to heel. I can’t save Lila from this fate. And I can’t save myself from it either.
I’m utterly devoid of power, an inferno raging inside me with no mouth to set it free. A dragon made of paper.
The few options I have aren’t options at all.
Throw Lila into a car and drive her away, leaving our lives behind?
First, she wouldn’t go willingly. Second, innocent blood would be on our hands. Neither of us could live with it.
If that’s out, then maybe I could bum rush the compound in a gas mask with a bazooka on my shoulder.
Great way to die. And get everyone else killed in the process.
I haven’t come up with any other options that might have a better outcome. We’re well and truly fucked.
“Quick. Gimme a knife,” Lila orders, snapping me out of my cavern of doom.
“What?”
She grabs me by the arms to shake me into action. “Look at all this stuff in here. There has to be a knife or something sharp. A razor, maybe? Hurry up before we get there.”
Scanning the inside of the SWAT van, I rise to search. “He’s gonna check us for weapons.”
“I figured, but I have an idea based on something Kri told me this morning about what she did one time when she was kidnapped. It worked for her. It’s worth a try.”
The vehicle jostles as Andrews veers off the driveway into the yard. I steady my legs and open the case most likely to contain sharp implements.
“Jackpot,” I exclaim, finding a bevy of options.
Lila bounds over on shaky legs. “Ummm.” She peruses the offerings, deciding quickly. “This should fit.”
“Fit where?”
Lila’s only response is to cram the pointy-tipped razor into her cleavage. After smushing her breasts together twice, she releases a satisfied sigh. “Perfect. Hopefully, he doesn’t check there.”
My teeth creak under the strain of my jaw. “Glad you picked one with a cap on it.”
“I would have shoved it in there even if the blade was exposed. These are desperate times, dimples.”
The van stops, and the gear clicks audibly as Andrews shifts into park.
“I love you, cookie. So fucking much,” I blurt out, regardless of the ticking clock. “I hate that you have to do this. It isn’t too late to change your—”
The picture of composure, she presses her index finger against my lips. “Shh. It’s okay. My mind is made up. We’re doing this. You and me. Together.”
“Together,” I echo.
Cupping her sweet face, I stroke the apples of her cheeks with my thumbs. “I swear I won’t leave you alone. Stay close to me no matter what. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
She caresses my forearms as if she’s the one consoling me.
“Reed, you act like I’m cowering in the corner.
I’m not. I’m fine. Whatever happens in there, I’m ready for it.
” Her cheeks puff up and roll around her succulent lips.
“I mean, I don’t want to die or anything.
But I’m done hiding from things that scare me. Cardigan and his goons included.”
If I didn’t know Lila as well as I do, her last comment might cause me to worry about her mental state.
“Okay, kids. Five minutes is almost up,” Andrews warns, his tone belaying the dread we’re all feeling. “If we’re doing this, the time is now.”
Lila drags my hands from her face, entwining our fingers. She glances over to the driver’s seat, tenacity and determination guiding her. “We’re ready. See you soon, Warren.”
“See you soon.” He shifts his gaze to me, his warm eyes conveying too much for me to process in the limited time we have. “Don’t forget to get him near a window as often as possible. And be careful.”
Struggling to bottle up my emotions—possibly for the first time in my career—I choke out, “I will.”
He winks, somehow pulling off sarcasm and sincerity in the simple gesture. “Make me proud.”
Lila and I move as one toward the van door. Before opening the door, I pull her against me and slam my mouth to hers.
I don’t give a fuck where we are or who might be watching. I’m kissing her while I still can.
My desperate tongue invades her mouth, delving in, reading to take as much as she can give. There’s no hesitation. She reacts with the same frenzied desperation. Her hand clamps around my nape, yanking me closer.
She tastes sweeter than I remember. And her lips are even more supple than they were this morning.
I swallow one of those mesmerizing breathy whimpers before I need to end the kiss. Only one.
It isn’t enough. But it’ll have to do.
With our foreheads pressed together, I soak up her love and warmth for the count of five.
Lila’s the one who steps away, moving with purpose and guiding me. “Let’s go.”
It hits me then. She’s taking control where she can. Owning her actions. Going on her terms.
This amazing woman has found her way in the dark, and she’s bringing me with her into the light.
We step onto the grass, trading one last lingering look.
Then she smiles at me.
It’s both sullen and joyous. Hopeful and hopeless. It’s the most genuine smile she’s ever shown me.
“We’re walking in there, so sixteen people will go home to their families tonight.” She pulses our hands, then adds, “After we play his stupid game, we’re bringing the rest of them out safely with us. Right?”
“That’s the plan, cookie.”
Here we go, a couple of powerless souls, walking into a haze of violent uncertainty. Armed with a razor blade, love, and spite.
We stride away from the van with our hands locked together, cautiously approaching the house.
From the first porch step, I bellow, “Jabali, we’re here. Send out the sixteen hostages as you promised.”
Let’s see if he’s a man of his word.
I stare into the house, my view uninhibited since the door was knocked off its hinges by Alpha Team.
“Reed, look,” Lila whispers, her hand suddenly trembling.
Body tensing, I swivel my gaze around us. Nothing stands out, so I track her line of sight to spot the danger.
Five feet to our left is a beautiful little bird, perched on the front porch railing. It’s a soft tan color, with red and black accents. And a red beak.
“The bird?” I ask her.
When she nods, a lone tear dislodges. It cascades down her cheek until it meets the edge of her sad smile.
Her voice is a wispy breath. “Yes.”
After a quick check of the home’s interior, I ask, “What kind?”
“A cardinal,” she responds in a hushed tone that’s rich with awe.
I study the bird, one of my brows curving with doubt. “Really? I thought they were all red. Like the team?”
“It’s a female cardinal.” Her lips pull thin with her grin. “She’s out after dark, which doesn’t happen often.” Her chin quivers. “I’ve never seen one at night.”
“Maybe it’s a good sign, then,” I offer, hoping it keeps her spirits high. “Add it to the life list when we get out of here later.”
Another tear follows the same trek down her face. I wipe it away with my free hand.
“Sorry for crying. It’s just . . . you know what they say about cardinals, right?”
She peers at me from under her damp lashes.
I shake my head.
“Many people believe seeing one up close is a sign you’re being visited by a loved one from the other side.”
She doesn’t even get the end of the sentence out of her mouth when the bird breaks out in a vibrant, sweet song. It’s loud and bright. Almost as beautiful and bubbly as the woman I love.
Or maybe like her twin sister.
Lila chokes out a sob, covering it so she doesn’t startle the bird. The force it takes to stave off the tears makes her shoulders quiver.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, holding her to my side lovingly. While we wait for a monster to decide our fate and the fate of twenty-three others, the bird sings to us.
Yes, to us. There’s no other way to describe what’s happening.
She’s serenading us.
The timing couldn’t be worse, but I’m reminded of that adage about cups of love when I’m flooded with so much adoration for Lila that it comes pouring out of me. “Lila, if I lived a thousand lives, I’d find and cherish you in every damn one. No matter what happens in there . . .”
She expels a lingering stream of air, then brushes away her residual tears. “Cherish me in this one first. Everything will be okay. My sister says so.”
The sound of steps approaching from inside the house ends the beautiful, tender moment.
My body stiffens on instinct, preparing for battle.
Despite wanting to gasp with relief, I keep my breathing steady when my eyes land on my fellow agents heading in our direction. “Here we go, cookie.”
Lila tightens her grip on my hand.
A grating female voice greets our ears. Ginny Lawrence. Street name Dumbass. “Hands up out there.”
She stands in the middle of the living room, a handgun pointing at the head of an agent.
I don’t know this guy’s name, but he’s on the smaller side.
Even still, he could take her out easily if he wanted to.
But he’s doing what he should and letting her think she’s in charge.
It’s gotta be killing him, though. It’s making my jaw clench from forty feet away.
“Here’s how this is gonna go down, kay? Eight of yous cops are gonna walk out when Lila comes in.
Nice and slow. Passing in the middle. Hands up over your heads.
After that, we do it again with another eight when Kenzie’s brother comes inside.
Get it? See how it’s gonna work? If any of yous heroes try to fill big shoes, I blow his brains. Got it?”
It’s the yous that does it for me. Adding an s unnecessarily to the end of a pronoun is the hallmark of intelligence. Badgering whatever phrase she was aiming for at the end was the icing on an otherwise brilliant cake.
She didn’t even add out to the end of her threat. So is she just blowing his brains?
Fucking hell. How did we end up in this position with her part of the team with the upper hand?
Releasing Lila, I lift my hands up and climb the remaining porch steps. “Ginny, let me go inside first instead of Lila.”
“No, no, nooo. You ain’t in charge here, Mr. Officer. This ain’t your little interrogation room. I call the shots here. Got it?”
I could easily point out the only two things she’ll ever be in charge of are jack and shit. But I bite my tongue, literally.
With a stiff arm, she swoops the revolver toward the porch. “Do yous got it or not?”
“We got it, Ginny.” Lila glides in front of me, the picture of calmness. “I’ll come inside first. Send out the first eight agents now.”
Ginny does another stiff-arm arc, using the gun to gesture to the first group of agents being freed.
When Lila inches her way over the threshold, I start to reach for her. Every cell in my body is telling me to stop her from going in there.
Protect your woman.
Keep her close.
Never let her go.
As if she can sense the moment I begin lowering my hands to stop her, she gingerly slants her head to give me a partial view of her serene expression.
I ball my hands into fists, keeping them over my head like shit for brains demanded.
The slowest transfer in the history of hostage transfers happens over the next three hours.
Okay, it doesn’t take three hours. Not even three minutes. It only feels that way.
As the agents approach, I inspect them for injury. Instead of showing signs of weakness or defeat, they start relaying intel about what I’m about to walk into.
One by one, they drop a quick line to prepare me. Painting a picture for me.
“Gas sprays from chair rail molding in hallway.”
“Only two males with Carnage. Heavily armed.”
“Hostages upstairs. Third room on left.”
“Weapons kept in last door on right in a safe room.”
“Potential for makeshift weapons in billiards room. First door on right.”
Fuck yes.
Maybe Lila’s sister-bird was right, and we’re gonna be just fine.