Chapter Twenty-Two
Caius
Two weeks later…
W hy did I allow Romy to come?
I’ve been uneasy the entire last leg of our trip to Lake Erie, shooting more and more worried glances her way. She’s in no condition to do what we’re setting out to do.
“I’m not your captive anymore,” she says, smirking at me. “Willing captives don’t count.”
Her blue eyes glitter with challenge. The fiery, strong spirit inside her is impossible to ignore. She’s a fully capable woman who can take care of herself, but she still needs protection from the evils of this world, especially heavily pregnant with my child.
That’s what unnerves me the most.
My track record with protecting her sucks. I failed when we were kids and briefly locked eyes at the facility where we essentially traded places. When Theo kidnapped her, I wasn’t able to protect her from us Crownes and our manipulating ways. Now we’re headed to the same lake where I couldn’t prevent what Gareth did to her last winter.
Can I protect her this time?
“Do you like this?”
I’m forced to pull my stare from Romy to look at the girl in the front seat, sitting next to Nees. She holds up her iPad. It’s a self-portrait of herself standing on a pile of angry-looking people. They’re covered in blood and she’s holding the knife while wearing a bright smile. Her shirt says, “I AM LULU.”
This artwork isn’t creepy at all.
“That’s…detailed,” I say, shooting LuLu a concerned look. “How’s therapy going again?”
Nees snorts out a laugh from up front. LuLu rolls her eyes at me. The time we’ve been apart really helped her find her identity again. She now has a nose piercing, wears sparkly eyeshadow, and has a whole skater vibe going with her baggy band T-shirt and wide leg jeans.
“Therapy is fine,” LuLu grumbles. “In fact, Penelope says art is a great way to express my emotions.”
“You do know you and Romy are sitting things out once we get there, right?” I remind her for the millionth time. “The guys and I will handle shit. I can’t handle shit if I’m worrying about you two.”
LuLu glances at Romy and then flashes me a saccharine-sweet smile. She’s sassy and outspoken when people aren’t actively abusing her, stealing her innocence, or mindfucking her. It’s as if I really do have a little sister and LuLu is it.
Are sisters kind of annoying?
“Just here to make sure those people are taken out,” LuLu says, turning back around to face the road. “Plus, Mom and Dad would freak the fuck out if I went with you to confront them.”
“Don’t say fuck,” I grumble.
Romy snorts out a laugh but doesn’t chide me telling LuLu how to act.
“I’m surprised your parents let you go with us,” Nees says. “They really must trust us to keep you safe.”
“They think I’m spending time with Romy at the lake, catching up and healing.” LuLu lets out a dark chuckle. “I just didn’t mention which lake or what kind of healing I had in mind. As long as I respond to their texts and calls, they won’t try to pick me up early or force me to go home.”
I know things have been a struggle since LuLu returned home with her parents. So much happened to her since she was taken and trafficked into the sick underbelly of the elite world. She barely knows who she is and is trying to discover that person, while her parents are coming to terms that the young woman that was stolen from them doesn’t exist anymore.
LuLu called me last week, which was surprising. I didn’t expect to ever hear from her again, but we did form an almost sibling connection when I was tricked into believing she was my little sister. It’s hard to reverse those feelings. When she asked if she could come visit, once confirming we had Romy, I couldn’t deny her.
Just like I couldn’t tell her no when she demanded to go with us on this mission.
Maybe this will bring some closure in her life. One can only hope.
Romy slides her hand over to me. I uncurl my tight fist to accept her soft one in mine. This woman unwinds me in ways I don’t understand. There’s a certain level of safety I feel with her. My whole life has been a facade, but this deep connection with her feels like the only real part, therefore, I desperately cling to it.
“Maybe we can stay a few days before we do the deed,” Nees says as Lake Erie comes into view. “I need a vacation. I bet there are some cool-ass lakeside cabins we could stay at.”
“Koyn says we’re in and out,” I remind him. “You have a lake back home. In fact, doesn’t your dad live right on the lake?”
“There aren’t hot chicks running around in bikinis,” Nees explains, thrusting his hand toward a beach area where women in swimsuits can be seen. “In fact, the only person who runs around in a bikini is Stormy, and I don’t want to see that.”
Stormy is gorgeous, but she’s his dad’s woman, so I can understand being grossed out by that.
“You severely overestimate your male prowess,” LuLu says from beside him. “At least at the lake back home, you won’t have to live with crushing rejection.”
Nees turns to gape at her. “Thanks, kid. Thanks a lot for that.”
I smirk at Romy, who grins at their exchange, clearly entertained by LuLu. The thing is, Nees is a good-looking guy. He spends time at the gym, has those classically handsome looks like his father, and is covered in artful tattoos. The guy rides a Harley and can handle a weapon well. In all fairness to him, he could probably have any woman he wants.
“If I were single, I’d hit that,” Romy offers, playfully elbowing me.
“You’re not single,” I growl. “You’re mine.”
Nees barks out a laugh. “Hell yeah. Hear that, DeLuLu? I’m fine as fuck. Pregnant chicks want to suck my—”
Thankfully, his phone rings, ending that dangerous line of thought. I’d hate to have to kill him the next time we exit the vehicle.
“Did he seriously call me DeLuLu?” LuLu asks with a huff.
“You did insult him,” I remind her.
“Got it, Prez. See you in three.” Nees mashes the end call button and points to a cheap motel. “He got us some rooms and Filter went to get pizza. Meeting ASAP.”
The reality of the situation settles heavily on the four of us. While this may have been a playful road trip to Pennsylvania from Oklahoma thus far, nothing about what’s coming will be fun.
We’re here to shut down Solomon Greyhawk’s filthy operation.
The shipping container yard looks a lot different than I last saw it this past winter. Sun shines down on the sky-high stacks of colored, rusty metal—not a snowflake in sight. It’s strange to think such an industrial, nondescript place could be where Solomon handles most of his trafficking.
And yet, here we are.
Solomon is good—keeping most of his dealings hidden through phone calls and face-to-face meetings, but still left a trail. With my help, Koyn and Bermuda were able to sift through all of Solomon’s digital records to get a feel for his dark operation.
Weeding out these monsters takes careful planning and precision. Learning Solomon’s trading patterns and choosing stealth will give us a more sufficient victory than us going in guns blazing.
“The goal,” Koyn tells us from an outcropping of trees behind a fenced-in industrial complex, “is to get in and get out. No drama.” He eyes Dragon pointedly. “No theatrics.”
Dragon pretends to pout. “No fun either.”
Koyn ignores him and continues. “We have a local chapter nearby who owes me some favors. They’re rough around the edges, but they don’t hurt women or kids. Whoever we rescue from here will go there. I have them on standby.”
“Why are we doing this in broad daylight again, Prez?” Bizzy asks, scrunching his round, bearded face. “I ain’t exactly someone who blends in or moves fast for that matter.”
Nees snorts out a laugh and Filter thumps him on the head.
“Stick to your part,” Koyn grumbles. “Check the containers while we eliminate any threats.”
I somehow got recruited to the same team as Koyn and Dragon. Not because I’m some awesome fighter but because of my minimal knowledge of the layout having been here once before and seeing it from Solomon’s yacht.
I’m nowhere near as crazy as Dragon, but I’m also more capable than Bizzy.
“Halo says the yacht is close,” Koyn states, back straightening as he reads a text. “Fifteen minutes or so. Let’s get this shit on the road.”
Cove makes quick work of cutting the fencing with wire cutters and the group of us file in through the small hole. Half of us head toward the main office, whereas the others split off to start checking containers.
Dragon doesn’t waste a second and kicks in the door to a small office. A man cries out inside as Dragon enters. The scuffle is over by the time I make my way over the threshold.
A guy with a fat gut and powdered sugar on his mustache lies in a pool of his own blood, a packet of half-eaten donuts still in hand.
In any other circumstance, information would be nice, but it might take too much time. With Solomon on his way, we need to make sure the threats here are gone so we can enter the yacht without issue.
Eliminating the other scumbag workers doesn’t take long. Every single one is caught off guard. Dragon gleefully does all the work while me and the others search for any useful information.
“Yacht’s here,” Koyn says, checking his phone. “Let’s move that way.”
We prowl through the shipping container yard when Koyn’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out, answering with a gruff, “Yeah?”
It’s when he jerks to a stop and shoots me a dark look that I feel a sense of dread wash over me.
“What?” I demand as he hangs up.
“We have to move. Now,” Koyn barks. “Bizzy saw two chicks board the yacht.”
“Two random chicks?” I hiss, running to catch up with his long strides.
“No, man, your chicks. Romy and LuLu.” He curses. “What the fuck? I thought they were staying back?”
I give up trying to be stealthy and take off in a full-on sprint to the yacht. Koyn and Dragon and the others can take out anyone bad, but I have only one mission on my mind.
Find my girls.
Keep them away from Solomon.
As I board, I’m keenly aware they’ve been here, but have already been on the move to some other place. Somehow I know where to go. I find the stairwell and take the steps two at a time, going on muscle memory as I find my way to Solomon’s office.
I hear voices. Familiar ones.
Fear burns hot in my gut. It seems like another lifetime ago that I caught Romy hiding in Solomon’s cabinet, witnessing all the terrible stuff I sat back and watched happen. Knowing Romy and LuLu came here without me makes me furious, but I’ll have to ream them out later.
Right now, saving them takes precedence.
I stalk into the room, gun drawn and ready to fire. I’m a little shocked to see Solomon on his knees on the rug, hands up in a placating gesture. Romy watches with her hands on her hips while LuLu keeps a small knife pressed against the side of his neck.
“You thought you destroyed me. That I deserved it because I was broken,” LuLu hisses, voice shaking slightly. “I wasn’t broken. No matter what pain you inflicted, you could never take away who I am. I’m LuLu. Say it. Say my name.”
Solomon’s eyes dart my way and they shine with relief. Like I’ve come to rescue his pathetic ass. I scowl at him and shake my head. Not on your life, asshole.
He turns his gaze back to LuLu. “If I say it, you’ll leave me alone?”
She laughs, high-pitched and slightly crazed. “Leave you alone? No, motherfucker. My face is going to be the last thing you see. It’ll haunt you in the afterlife.”
A groan escapes him as she digs the small blade into the side of his neck. Blood trickles down from the laceration.
“Talk some sense into her,” Solomon barks out to me. “Don’t sit around and watch. Fucking do something.”
This man used to unnerve me, especially when Romy came into the picture and was in his orbit. Now I see him for how truly weak he is. He’s nothing but a sick older man who rapes and abuses the undeserving. At one time, he got away with it. Not anymore. His time is up.
“LuLu,” Romy says gently. “Let one of these guys handle him. You don’t want this on your conscience.”
LuLu trembles at Romy’s reasonable words. “I want to watch him bleed out and die.”
“You can,” I assure her, “but not by your own hand. You don’t want that on you.”
“Now wait a minute,” Solomon mutters. “We can talk this out. I have money. I have a fuck ton of money. Surely we can sort something out.”
LuLu’s arm shakes and I can tell she wants to kill him, but the good part of her that’s deep inside is keeping her from doing it. Her hesitation is a mistake.
As if in slow motion, I watch Solomon grab her wrist, yanking it away from his neck. Caught off guard, LuLu stumbles, landing on her own knees in front of him. In a matter of seconds, he’s turned the knife on her.
“No!” me and Romy yell out at once.
The air becomes thick and the seconds slow to a stop. I’m afraid to move for fear of LuLu getting her throat cut by the monster in her story.
“That’s right,” Solomon hisses as he jerks both of them to their feet and backs away toward his desk. “I’m in charge here. Stay still and no one gets hurt.”
The manic gleam in his eyes tells me he has every intention of hurting her, no matter what he says otherwise.
I don’t think or plan.
I just react.
Aim, squeeze, fire.
LuLu’s mouth is parted in shock, but it’s Solomon who’s the most confused. At least he is for the last few seconds of his existence. The bullet hole in the center of his forehead sends rivulets of blood running down his nose and brain matter painting over the sick picture of his daughter.
Solomon’s body collapses to the ground with a heavy thud, but LuLu, my almost-sister, remains standing.
She bursts into tears and launches herself at me. At first, I think she might be angry that I took this from her, but her arms cling to me as she sobs.
“You saved me. You saved me. You saved me.”
“I wish I had done it the first time,” I admit, voice choked with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re going to be okay now, LuLu. Everything’s going to be okay.”