Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Dragon
My heart nearly stops.
“What did you say?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Her daughter. Your sister has a daughter. You have a niece.”
“Who the fuck is the father?”
No response.
I already know the answer. This degenerate is the father of my sister’s child.
“How old is this daughter?”
He gulps. I can actually hear it through the phone line.
“I’m waiting…” I say again through gritted teeth.
I’m well aware that I need to watch my tone with this man. He could easily hang up, and then I may never hear from him again.
But my fists are clenched, the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention. My stomach is in knots, and my heartbeat is racing.
“Her daughter’s name is Bridget,” he finally says. “And she’s thirteen.”
I quickly do the math in my head. Griffin would be twenty-seven years old now, which means, if her daughter is thirteen, she was…
Fuck.
Jesus fuck.
This derelict impregnated her when she was fourteen. Probably thirteen, because she would’ve been fourteen when she had the child.
I’m surprised she only has one.
And now that Griffin is gone, what is this asshole doing to her daughter?
“Is she okay?” I keep my tone even.
“She’s going through a rough time. She misses her mother. She just started… You know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“She’s bleeding. She became a woman.”
“Jesus Christ.”
If he is abusing her, it won’t be long before he gets her pregnant. How in the world did Griffin get by with only having one child?
I’m going to be so fucking sick…
“I’d like to see her,” I say.
“Then I’d have to tell you where I am.”
“Yes, you’ll have to. I can make it worth your while.”
That seems to pique his interest. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’ve got money.”
“You don’t have shit,” he says.
“Fine. Maybe I don’t. But my girlfriend does.”
Referring to Diana as my girlfriend feels all kinds of right, and equally all kinds of wrong.
It scares me how much I want it. How much I want her. How much I actually want a normal life with a wife and children and a white picket fence.
But normal will never be possible for me.
That’s not important right now. If I have a niece out there, I have to help her. Especially if I can’t help Griffin.
The silence on the other end of the line is deafening, but it’s a silence filled with consideration. That one word—money—has captured his attention as nothing else has. Finally, he grunts in an ambiguous acknowledgment, neither a yes nor a no.
“Maybe we can arrange something,” he replies.
I can almost picture him now, sitting on a too-worn couch in a trailer somewhere, full of filth and neglect, clutching the phone between a grimy ear and shrugged shoulder as he strokes his scruffy chin, contemplating my offer.
Anger flares in me again as I imagine the conditions my niece must be living in. How Griffin was living as well. “I want proof that Bridget is alive and well before any arrangement is made,” I demand.
Silence again.
“You going to respond?”
“And how do you propose I do that without disclosing where we are?”
“Put her on the phone,” I say.
Another pause, and then finally, some shuffling…and then the muted murmur of his voice and a higher, lighter one responding. A child’s voice. Bridget?
I wait.
And wait.
Finally—
“Hello?”
I close my eyes tight, trying to keep my emotions in check. There’s so much I want to say to her, so many questions I want to ask her, but not here, and not with him listening in.
“Hi, Bridget,” I say, forcing my tone to stay calm and friendly. “My name is Dragon. I’m?—”
“Dragon?” she gasps. “My mother has a brother named Dragon.”
Oh God… Griffin… She remembered me. She told her kid about me.
I almost feel happy…except that I’m not. I can’t be.
Not in the cards for me.
“Yes, Bridget,” I say, keeping the tremor out of my voice. “I’m your mother’s brother, your uncle.”
Another minute of silence.
“Why are you calling?” she finally asks with a voice so small it nearly breaks my heart.
“I wanted to know how you’re doing,” I reply. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Another pause, and then a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’m okay, just… I miss my mom.”
“I know,” I say, swallowing hard. “I miss her too.”
Once more silence swells between us, and in that silence, I promise myself—no matter what—that I will protect this child from the life Griffin was dealt. She deserves better.
“Can—”
Her voice is cut off.
“Bridget! Bridget?”
“It’s me.” The man’s voice again.
“If you hurt her, I swear…”
“You’ll what? You don’t even know where I am. Who I am.”
“You’re the person who stole my sister all those years ago, you motherfucker, and you’re going to—” I stop abruptly.
Fuck. I need to watch myself.
I can’t alienate this person. He’s my only link to Griffin, and now to Bridget.
He and Alayna and the Order of the Serpent.
“Did you sell Griffin off to that cult?” I demand.
He sniffs. “Why would I do that? I love her, and I love Bridget.”
I’m no expert on love, for sure, but what this derelict is talking about is certainly not love.
Is he the one who wanted Griffin all those years ago?
Is he the one who has had her all this time?
And then somehow, someone from the cult grabbed her? Alayna said they buy women. Why should they buy them when they can steal them? On the other hand, this buttfuck could have easily sold Griffin for cash. The cult could be doing God knows what to her.
Using her as a fucking human sacrifice for all I know.
I’ve got to find her.
Which means I need to know who this guy is, and I need to know how they got her.
“I think you said something about money,” he says.
I draw a breath, willing myself to stay calm. “Yes. Quid pro quo, as they say.”
“You never had a penny to your name, Dragon.”
My eyebrows rise.
Obviously he knows who I am. He’s the one who’s been talking to me about Griffin. Telling me she’s alive. Sending me a piece of her pajamas.
But the way he said my name… He seems more familiar now.
“Yeah?” I say. “You’re right. I never did.”
“I swear to God, I wanted to take a fucking hatchet to that damned drum of yours.”
Oh. My. God.
He’s giving me a hand.
If he’s evaded capture for the last two decades, now he wants to be caught.
And I know who he is.
Twenty-two years earlier…
“Don’t you want to finish opening your presents first?” Mom asks.
“No. I want to put on these new jammies.” Griffin prances around the room. “And then we’ll open the rest of the presents, okay?”
“All right, Griffin.” Mom scoops up Griffin and takes her back to her room.
Five minutes later, they return. The pajamas are a little big on Griffin, but Mom said we should get the larger size so she could wear them longer.
Griffin hugs herself. “I love them! Now, I want my next present!”
Just then, our doorbell rings.
Dad and Mom look at each other, their eyebrows scrunched.
“Who could be at the door this early on Christmas morning?” Dad asks.
Mommy shrugs. “Maybe carolers?”
She crosses the room and opens our front door.
Ricky—my best friend—and his brother, Mack, are there, each holding a gift. Mack has a big one, and Ricky has a much smaller one.
“Ricky!” I scramble to my feet and run to the front door, giving him a high five.
“Hey, Dragon,” he says. “Merry Christmas!”
Dad gets up and joins us at the front door. “Merry Christmas indeed. Shouldn’t you boys be at home opening your own presents?”
Ricky shakes his head. “We opened ours last night.”
I put my finger to my lips. “Shush. Griffin doesn’t know about?—”
“Mackie!”
Griffin runs through the front door and throws her arms around Mack’s leg. She loves Mack.
“Hey, Angel. Merry Christmas.” Mack leans down and strokes her hair. “Are those new jammies?”
Griffin lets go of his leg and beams up at him. “Yeah! From Dragon. They’re my new favorites.”
Mack raises an eyebrow. “Even more than the ones I got you? With the blue hearts?”
Griffin widens her eyes. She clearly forgot that Mack got her those jammies for her birthday a few months ago.
“I love them both! And it’s always good to have lots of jammies.”
Mack smiles. “You’ve got me there.”
“Won’t you boys come in?” Mommy says. “Dragon and Griffin just started opening their presents.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we got here in time, then.” Mack walks inside. “Santa accidentally left these two gifts at our house. One for each of you.” He holds up the larger one. “This one’s for you, Angel.”
Griffin’s eyes go wide.
Ricky hands me the smaller gift he’s holding. “This one’s for you, Dragon.”
“Thanks!” I pound his fist. “You guys are the best.”
Griffin has already ripped the paper off her gift—it’s a Barbie Dreamhouse. The kind that Mommy always says is a little too expensive whenever we pass it when we walk down the toy aisle at Walmart.
Mommy’s and Daddy’s eyes widen, but they don’t say anything.
“I love it!” Griffin shouts, skipping around the room. “I’ve always wanted a Dreamhouse, but Mommy always said?—”
Mommy clears her throat. “Can I get you boys something to eat? We still have some of those donuts your parents brought over last night.”
Mack flashes her a smile. “I’d love one.”
“Can I have another, Mommy?” Griffin asks.
Mommy purses her lips. “You’ve already had a whole big donut, Griffin. That’s a lot of sugar for this early in the morning.”
“Maybe half a donut?” Mack asks. “I can grab a knife and cut one if you can tell me where you keep them.”
Mommy cocks her head. “You don’t need one of our big knives to cut a donut. You can just use your hands. Griffin won’t mind, I assure you.”
Mack shakes his head. “I’d rather be sanitary about it. It’s flu season, after all.”
“It’s fine. Just be careful.” Dad stands up from the couch. “I’ll show you where we keep them. They’re kind of hidden away. We don’t want the kids getting into them accidentally. They’re quite sharp.”
By the time Mack and Dad come back from the kitchen with their two and a half donuts, I’ve opened my gift—the newest Hero’s Duty video game. Another gift that Mom and Dad said was a little too pricey this year.
“What else did you get this year?” Ricky asks.
I cross the room and pick up my new set of drumsticks. “I got these!”
Ricky grins. “Sick! Have you tried them out yet?”
“Not yet.” My snare drum is in the corner of the living room. I pick it up and play a few licks with my new sticks.
“Dude, you’re so good at that.” Ricky’s eyes are wide. “One day you’ll be in a rock band, I swear it.”
“Yes.” Mack covers his ears. “He’s very good, but very loud. I swear, Dragon, one day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.”
One day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.
Malcolm Osborne. Ricky’s older brother. We called him Mack.
I’ll be fucking damned .
He always doted on Griffin. Brought her candy and gifts, loved hearing her laugh. Treated Ricky and me like we were a couple of street urchins, but oh. My. God.
Do I let on to him that I know who he is?
Why did he cut her the first time?
Was it an accident?
When I heard her scream, and I came running into the room, did he dart back out the window, leaving the knife?
He knew where all our kitchen utensils were. He and Ricky had been to our house a lot. He used to mow our lawn, for God’s sake. He picked up Cinnamon’s poop in the back yard. Did odd jobs when Dad’s plumbing work kept him too busy to fix things around the house. When Mack was done, Mom would invite him in, fix him a sandwich, and then leave him alone in the kitchen to eat it. And Dad showed him where we kept the sharp knives when they came over that Christmas morning.
Jesus fuck. All this time…
I have to get a hold of myself. Can’t let him know that I’m on to him.
I need to listen.
Listen on the other end of the line for anything that might give me a clue as to where he is.
Is he in Albuquerque? Where Alayna found the compound that belongs to the cult?
That would make sense.
In which case, he wouldn’t be too far from here.
He’s already given me some information, on purpose or not.
But I’m thinking he may have done it on purpose.
“How much money do you need?” I ask.
“Ten grand.”
“Not a problem. I can wire it to you. Just give me your number.”
“You have my number.”
“You can take money through an app at this number?”
“Yeah. And the sooner the better.”
“My girlfriend’s gone right now. I’ll get the money when she gets home, and I’ll take care of it right away.”
He grunts.
I draw a slow breath in. “But I need something more from you.”
“What’s that?”
“How did the cult get Griffin? If you didn’t sell her, what happened?”
He sighs. “They took her. They came to the house, and they took her. Said it was either her or the girl, so she went willingly.”
Damn.
Griffin was probably raped and impregnated against her will, but she was still a hell of a lot better mother than our own mother was.
“All right.” I pause, choosing my words extremely carefully. “If you really want my help, and you really want me to find her, I need to know where you live.”
The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” I yell, clenching my fists.
I quickly call Alayna.
“What’s up, Dragon?” she says.
“Hey, if I send some cash through a wire to the number that was left in the metal box, will you be able to trace where the number is calling from?”
“Why are you asking me this, Dragon?”
I quickly relay my phone call to her.
She doesn’t respond immediately. I hear her typing on the other end.
“Okay. I won’t be able to tell where the call is coming from, but what I can do is hack into the app. He probably had to give an address when he signed up for it. If not, I can see his other transactions. That may give us some leads.”
“Perfect. Let’s do it.”