Chapter 10
not new mexico south
Cian
I wake after far too little sleep. I know immediately I’m not in my own bed or in my own home. Ayla insisted, so I’m at her mansion in the poshest neighborhood in Denver. And I do mean mansion.
The pain in my face, my mouth, and behind my eyes is enough to bring everything rushing back.
I was woken up every hour on the hour last night. More accurately, this morning, and since that was only four times, I know that my body hasn’t gotten enough rest to function, much less heal from the brutality inflicted upon it.
My phone is charged on the nightstand by the bed and when I reach for it, I realize the alerts must be what woke me. They all come through at six each morning from when I was asleep. I must’ve slept right through those and the ones after.
Several texts from Ayla indicate that I was the recipient of her journaled thoughts last night.
Ayla: I can’t sleep.
Ayla: I would’ve done it, you know? Choosing between you two. The guilt for being the one to do it would’ve eaten me, but I would’ve made the right choice.
Ayla: *You* are the right choice, if you didn’t get that meaning.
Ayla: And it’s not just future and past stuff, where I have more time with you. Nor was it his expectation that I would choose him. What a fucker to expect that I would sentence you to death? What kind of father does that?
Ayla: I wish I could unsend that. I mean I can, but you know what I mean. It’s not like I think he hates you. He’s just so damn selfish and ridiculous. What father wouldn’t lay down his own life to protect his children? Apparently, Seamus fucking Murphy, that’s who.
Ayla: That’s not about you. You’re an incredible man. He’s selfish and stupid and ridiculous.
Ayla: I can’t help but wonder if he’s the problem with so much of our lives. How does Mom deal with it?
Ayla: I trust you’re on DND. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d have texted back. I hope the drugs are good. I hope you wake rested. I hope you heal quickly. Thank you for coming for me.
Ayla: I’m broken that we ended up in this mess. Coffee in the morning. Unless that sounds terrible to you and then you can have anything you want. Corinne’s a good cook.
Ayla: Good night. Sleep tight. Love you, big brother.
Below that stream of consciousness text thread is a missed call from Sariah and one lone text.
Angel: I don’t want to bother you, but you said you’d call yesterday. You’ve never not been a man of your word, and it’s been two days. My calls go directly to voicemail. I see your bubbles, but nothing else. Are you okay?
I look below it and see the message I’d typed out: Hope you have a great day. Sorry I didn’t call last night. I’ll explain tonight. There it sits with the arrow highlighted to hit send. Ready but unsent from yesterday morning. Or was it afternoon?
I quickly hit return to move it down the thread and try like hell to come up with an explanation of why I haven’t said a single word to the woman I thought of so often yesterday. The one I worried if I’d led those criminals to. The woman who never left my mind or my heart even after fourteen years.
Me: There’s a good reason, but there’s no good excuse for leaving you hanging. I’m sorry. I started the text below and never hit send yesterday around lunch time. I’ll explain when I can.
Hope you have a great day. Sorry I didn’t call last night. I’ll explain tonight.
Me: That was a crap text. Something bad went down yesterday.
There’s no other reason I wouldn’t have reached out.
Suffice it to say, I need a few days before I can see you again.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this after I gave you such shit about it.
It’s not you. It’s me. Honestly, I mean it. It’s NOT you.
Sariah
It’s not you. It’s me.
I know he didn’t just it’s-not-you-it’s-me me after all the crap he gave me.
I won’t even dignify that with a response.
I turn my phone upside down on my desk and angrily tap at my keyboard. The good news about my job is diving down the security rabbit hole tends to consume my thoughts and my time.
It’s after lunch before I poke my head up and allow my thoughts to meander back to the man I’ve spent way too much time thinking about since Thursday night, and before that too.
Cian: Radio silence does not bode well for me. So, in the spirit of transparency, here goes… My business went south yesterday, and not like New Mexico. Like the pits-of-hell south. My job—or what’s left of it—rests with my father, and I want nothing to do with it.
Cian: That hell included some things I won’t discuss over text, but I had a moment during which I thought I may have jeopardized your family.
That thought crushed me. I don’t think I have, but your cyber security/stalking skills wouldn’t be amiss if you gave a little extra focus to potential traffic around you, Renée, and Rosie.
Well, fuck. I can’t imagine worse than what I’ve lived through.
Not true. I so can… seeing my daughter live through it. Seeing fear in her eyes. That’s worse.
How could I take my eyes off the prize and allow myself not to consider the risks? Dammit.
Cian: I’m so, so sorry if anything I did risked you.
I know how firmly you guard your family and privacy (or at least I can assume after what you’ve told me), and I hate that I could play even a small part in you feeling ill at ease.
If you’re researching, here are some keywords to add.
Do you do keywords? I don’t know how this works.
KW: Laos, Murphy Enterprises, Lakewood, LEC, Cian Murphy, Seamus Murphy, Ayla Murphy Barone.
Keywords aren’t even on my radar in pen testing. But regarding cyber security, they give me a bit to work with.
I open a new browser window on my computer and begin typing
Cian: And it bears repeating. It’s. Not. You.
A quick search of the first few keywords brings up a police band hit that has all of them.
Dead diplomats in a Murphy Enterprises owned building, drug trafficking, and near fatal injuries.
SWAT, multi-agency police and sheriff units, along with multiple ambulances dispatched to a crime scene yesterday legitimize the not-New-Mexico-south thought.
I can dig in more when I get home, but for now I need to know two things.
Me: Two questions: Were any of those ambulances for you? And why would you think something your dad did would jeopardize us?
I watch the bubbles vibrate in their oval bounce house before stopping only to start again. This happens on repeat before I can’t take it anymore.
Me: Give me the truth. It’s Renée’s safety we’re talking about.
Cian: 1. Yes and 2. Because he’s a piece of shit who thinks he’s way smarter than he is.
Cian: 2 continued. Because my sister got dragged into something unrelated to her, and I’m coming to think it’s because some sinister people were keeping tabs on my family.
I don’t know when that started or if it’s over, and since I barged into your house on Friday night and went back on Saturday, I’m worried I led them to you.
Well, I asked for the truth.
Me: Is there any more you can tell me that helps me protect her?
Cian: I don’t know anything more. I don’t know that it happened. It claws at my gut that it *could have*, and it’s one reason (not the main one) I want a few days. Basically, to watch and wait.
Waiting is terrifying.
Waiting is vulnerable.
Waiting is the thing I’m absolutely the worst at.
Me: And the ambulance part? How bad is it?
More bubbles come but it’s a shorter moment before I get the response that has my jaw dropping.
Cian: I have a concussion, a broken eye socket, and several missing teeth. I managed to avoid a shattered jaw, but that’s a miracle. It has a slight fracture and is currently wired shut. My wrists are sliced, and I lost a good amount of blood.
Cian: That’s the sanitized, basic version.
Cian: I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the best possible scenario after a day I didn’t think I’d survive. I’m not real interested in you or your daughter seeing me beat to shit, and, frankly, I don’t want to see you and not be able to kiss you. And kissing is out right now.
And that could be coming for me?
Me: I don’t know what to say.
Cian: Say you’ll be diligent and watchful. Say you’ll call me or Liam if you suspect anything or even have a weird feeling anywhere or anytime. Say you’ll give me a little time so you don’t see me looking like that character in The Goonies.
Cian: {Liam’s contact}
Me: Like you honored the “little time” I requested.
Cian: Touché. But I really wanted to kiss you. Does that make it better?