Eleven
JENNA
“Twice in as many days, baby. Miss me that much?” Fang strides past where I sit, denim scratching with each step.
I knew it. Picked it the minute I saw his goddamn mirrored ceiling. Asshole probably has half a dozen baby mamas on the go.
“I swear this feels worse than being stuck at the airport after a delayed flight,” Nandi groans, reclining on the sofa again. “I’m well past ready to go home.”
“Yeah?” Darla says, cross-legged on the floor before her. “Well, I’m not.”
Mila frowns. “Why don’t you want to go home?”
Darla’s warm gaze lifts to the woman. “It’s not worth talking about.”
I set my hand on her knee without a word. I get it. It’s okay to love the people you’re related to without wanting to be near them. Hell—for all I know she doesn’t love them. But where she goes is her choice.
I think it’s brave to leave it all behind and start over after something so traumatic. If I had enough confidence in myself earlier, I would have done the same.
“What about you?” Nandi asks, peering at me through one open eye. “Where do you belong?”
I love the way she worded the question. Not will I go home, but where do I belong.
I shrug. “Not sure yet. I might hang around here for a little while—if they’ll let me—until I work it out.”
“You don’t have family that misses you?” Mila asks.
I shake my head. I have family that knows I’ve gone, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m not missed.
“Well, I get the feeling you won’t be the only one happy to stay here for a bit.
” Darla stares pointedly toward the ceiling to indicate our missing team member: Kathy.
“I worry about her,” she continues. “She’s so easily spooked.
Somebody’s going to take advantage of her if we don’t keep an eye on things. ”
“Like someone didn’t already,” Nandi mutters, arm tossed over her eyes.
“She’s too trusting in her current state,” Darla argues.
“And who made you an expert on everyone’s headspace?”
“Girls,” I warn. “Quit it.”
“What?” Nandi bites. “All I’m saying is that pretty soon we’re all going to go our separate ways. We can’t shoulder the responsibility for her forever. She’s a grown woman. She needs to make her own decisions.”
“Not everyone’s headspace is as seemingly robust as yours,” I challenge.
She lifts her arm slightly to peer at me.
I shift focus to Mila. “Are you excited to see your mom?”
She tries to hide a smile. “I am. But I’m worried what she’ll think when she sees me.”
“Why?” Darla asks. “We all heard how relieved she was when the deputy said you were here. She loves you.”
“But she also hasn’t seen me since I left her house a year ago.” Mila shrugs. “I’ve changed a lot since then and not in a good way.” She frowns at the red lines on her arm from where she’s absently scratched at the skin all morning.
I’m proud of her. What she goes through isn’t easy. And yet, while she quietly crumbles inside, she outwardly shows grace and humility.
She’s more resilient than she realizes.
“Anyone know what they’re doing with The Kid?” Darla asks, turning to look at the archway to the dining room.
“Probably just checking her over more thoroughly than us due to her age.”
“They won’t leave her here, will they?” Mila states more than asks.
“I don’t know.” I tuck my hands into the sleeves of Fang’s sweater again. “I guess it depends on if they manage to find out where she came from.”
“Even if they don’t,” Nandi says, “they’ll take her to a home to be cared for until they work it out. They won’t leave her with strangers. Especially people like this.”
I glance to the opening again, only the back half of one of the officers seated at the table visible.
“Shouldn’t someone be in there with her?” Mila asks.
“Like who?” Nandi quips. “She doesn’t have family or a legal guardian here. They assume those roles.”
“It still seems wrong.”
“It’s more right than where she was,” Darla mutters.
“The mess with Mary-Beth better not keep dragging us back here,” Nandi muses. She exhales heavily. “What even the fuck happened with her?”
“Who’d know?” Darla mutters at the same time as Mila shrugs. “I’m more worried about what’s happened to Eleanor,” she adds. “Where did they take her?”
“If they even took her anywhere.”
I glare at Nandi.
A collective quiet falls over our group while we all ruminate on the possibilities.
My gut tells me Eleanor’s okay, but without any evidence, I can’t say more.
Did she get shipped off to her final destination?
Is she now captive in somebody’s home? Business?
Or did the worst come from her defense of The Kid?
I’m not sure we’ll ever know.
“Do you think they’d tell us?” Mila suddenly whispers.
“Tell us what?” I frown a little.
“If, you know, they killed her.”
Darla exchanges a look with me before answering, “Probably not.”
“They’d be more worried about solving Mary-Beth’s murder, I reckon.” Nandi sighs. “Especially while they still have us all in one spot.”
“What are you saying?” Darla queries.
“I’m saying that the damn door was locked,” she snaps back, raising herself onto one elbow. “The assholes upstairs didn’t get to her; one of us did. Doesn’t it bother you that there’s a murderer among us?” Nandi bites.
“Of course it does,” Darla snaps back. “But there must have been a genuine reason for them to hurt Mary-Beth; otherwise we’d all be dead by now, wouldn’t we?”
“Unless they’re waiting for the right time to silence us.” I feel Nandi’s stare on me before I see it. “You’re awfully quiet over there, Jenna.” She props herself up on both elbows. “Know something you wanna share? You were closest to Mary-Beth that night.”
“Not really.” I pull my knees up and inhale the faint musk of cologne on the sweater. “I vaguely remember her moaning or something, but I figured she was having a bad dream.”
“That’s it?” Nandi’s gaze becomes critical.
“It’s what I told the sheriff, isn’t it?” I meet her eye with the same intensity.
Darla sighs. “It’ll come out in the wash. There’s no point in us turning on one another now when we need each other most.”
“Speak for yourself.” Nandi flops back on the sofa. “I don’t need anyone else.”
“Perfect,” I sass. “Then why are you still here?” Her headstrong nature was great while we were in captivity, helping to keep us together and somewhat calm. But out here?
It’s irritating.
“Waiting for my free bus ticket, is all.”
Darla chews the inside of her lip and then twists to look at Nandi, who once again reclines, eyes covered with an arm. “How exactly did you end up there, again?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“It strikes me as a little out of place that you were already there when we arrived, is all.”
“You mad I wasn’t on the short bus with you all?”
Darla’s jaw firms before she answers in a level tone, “You just seem rather unaffected by the whole ordeal. As though being here is an inconvenience.”
Mila trembles in my periphery, so I offer my hand, which she gratefully takes between hers. Conflict seems to be a trigger for her, and I wonder if it’s how her addiction started.
“Maybe I’m better at compartmentalizing,” Nandi sasses. “Or maybe I don’t give a shit about those assholes. Refuse to give them any power over me.”
“Or maybe you knew all along that you weren’t in any trouble,” Darla tests.
Silence hangs thick in the room before Nandi eventually peeks out at our forthright brunette. “What are you trying to say, girl? Spit it out.”
“I’m saying,” Darla explains, straightening her back. “Maybe you were never part of the trade. Maybe you had some other reason to be there.” She pauses, swallows. “Maybe you were their informant on the inside, and maybe you know how Mary-Beth ended up dead.”
My heart exists in my throat.
“That’s some crazy White girl shit if ever I heard it.”
“But you’re not denying it.”
“None of this helps,” I say in an attempt to shut them down before the altercation gets physical. Although I’ve got to agree with part of Darla’s view of the situation—Nandi is strangely blasé about it all. “When will they take you to see your mom, Mila?” I redirect to a slightly happier topic.
“The woman said they’d take me for a medical evaluation this afternoon with you all, and then they’d escort me to meet her halfway.”
“Promise you’ll keep in touch,” I implore. “I want to know how things go when you get home.” Probably the most honest thing I’ve said today.
“I don’t know how to reach you,” Mila says.
“Social media, dumbass,” Nandi grumbles.
Darla elbows her in the side of the thigh.
“I don’t have social accounts,” I tell her, even though she doesn’t warrant an explanation. “I’ll figure it out.” Maybe after I get the phone I asked Loki for.
Fingers crossed I read him right, and he’s trustworthy enough to organize one without telling any of the others.
“I’ve got an idea,” Darla exclaims, rising to her feet as she does.
“Hold the thought.” She crosses the room to where Darko’s seated in the corner, sketching on an iPad while he pretends not to eavesdrop.
After a brief discussion, she returns with his device.
“Let’s set up an email address that we all have access to.
Then when we get home, we can message it with our contact details and any one of us can log in when we’re ready to see them. ”
“Not a bad idea,” I praise.
“Until it gets hacked,” Nandi grumbles. “And then everyone knows where we are.”
“Seriously,” I drone. “Just leave already if you’re going to be such a ray of sunshine.”
She lifts her middle finger in my general direction.
“What should we make the address?” Darla asks, tapping her finger against the screen.
“You want to pick nothing that can be related to any of you.”
I jolt at his voice, unaware Darko had wandered over.
He’s the same guy that came into the basement with Fang to let us out.
The one that caught Kathy when she tried to run.
He stands out because he seems so much younger than the others—young enough that it surprises me to see a badge on his chest stating he’s an officer.
The Kings of Anarchy’s secretary.
“What do you suggest?” I ask, peering up at him from my position on the floor.
“Random words,” he says before pointing to Mila. “Pick a fruit.”
“Uh, melon?”
He gestures to Darla. “A color.”
“Green.”
Me. “Season.”
“Winter, I guess.”
And finally Nandi, who peeks at him from the sofa. “Emotion.”
Her nostrils flare slightly. “Anger.”
“AngryGreenWinterMelon,” he recites. “That’s your email address.”
“And how are we supposed to remember that?” Nandi asks.
Darko glances to Mila beside me, who full-on shivers. “Something tells me your brain won’t let you forget much.” He tips his chin to Darla before adding, “Hand it back when you’re done. No hurry.”
The four of us track the guy from the room before Nandi’s eyes grow wide. “He just left it with you? Unlocked?”
Darla shakes her head. “He’s not stupid, Nandi. I’m logged in as a guest.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got unchecked access to the internet, right?”
Darla shows us the web browser, idle on the mail page, then taps at the screen and turns the device to face us once more, a little dinosaur in the center of the window. “Wrong.” She navigates back to the email provider, the screen filling with information. “I’ve got one site and one site only.”
Darko limited access to the page we need, controlling our access to the outside world.
I glance around the room again, at the prospects stationed at each door, and draw a deep breath.
How is this any different from where we were?