Chapter 39 Catch Up
catch up
Cian
Slamming the car to a skidding halt, I jump out, staring up at the red and green lights blinking on the wings of the plane above me.
My heart is on that plane. My life is on that plane.
I let it end once. I didn’t know how to fight, didn’t have the skills or the resources to find her.
I’m not that same man anymore. I will comb the fucking earth to bring her home. Starting now…
Back in my truck, I take off for the airfield, throwing rocks from my tires as I go. No doubt I left tire tread on the road in my rush to get answers.
To my shock, there’s a lone guy, mostly out of it, in the office. He reeks of the tang of cheap liquor and stench of body odor.
“That plane,” I demand. “Where is it going?”
“I don’t know, man. Chill out.”
My eyes bug, and I clench my fists in an effort to relieve the pressure that wants to explode through my skin.
“He had women with him?”
“Yeah.”
“How many?”
“Not my job to count.”
“But it is… Lying on flight logs is criminal, so show me.”
“You’re harsh, dude.”
“This is an official audit. I’m with the FAA. You know you could go to prison?” I lie through my missing teeth, losing precious seconds, but need information more than I care.
“Okay, okay. Chill. Here.” He opens a book and spins it my way.
I quickly use my phone to snap a pic, while reading the ledger.
John Smith. Josh Smith. Hannah Smith. Abigail Smith. Leah Smith. Martha Jones.
No ID under religious exemption.
Tail C25G88. K20CO to PIR.
I send the message to the group as I run for my truck. But where am I going?
Me: See attached.
A quick google search shows PIR is Pierre, South Dakota.
No. No. No. In this case, the devil we know is way worse than the devil we don’t.
Renée!
A phone rings through the cab. It’s Liam. I send him to voicemail, dialing Christian instead.
“Yeah?”
“I need a favor.”
“Thought so… We’ll meet you at Centennial Airfield.”
I ask nothing further and fight my sanity to figure out the fastest way to get to the opposite side of town. My soul is drowning, a lead weight bound to my ankles threatens to suck me under.
My love, my future, my family…
They’re zooming toward anguish, brutality, and torment.
And I’m stuck—always fucking stuck—trying to catch up.
This is not what I expected. Not at all. But I cannot complain.
My brother and sister, my brother-in-law and Ren, and a guy I’ve met but don’t know well named Fitzgerald Young are all buckled and ready for liftoff when I arrive.
I wasn’t lying when I told Sariah we didn’t have money like Christian and Ayla. At any other time, I’d note how lush the interior of this plane is, or how I bet the local pro football players don’t ride in this style.
Instead, I gnaw the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, because at least then I know I’m alive so there’s still hope.
Once buckled, a staffer closes the door and takes a seat out of the cabin. We’re told about liftoff, though the whine of the engine and the force of acceleration would’ve notified us had they not.
“Okay. What do we know?” Fitz is the first to speak.
I open my mouth but it’s Liam who speaks, laptop in hand, still typing. “Tail C25G88 is a craft registered in Canada. Wild because it should make travel here more tenuous, but it does mean that records are slower to be produced.”
I don’t care about the plane unless it can magically protect my girls. I spin a finger, telling him to move along.
“The flight is two hours and four minutes wheels up to wheels down from here to Pierre. From Golden, it’s seven minutes shorter.
One hour and fifty-seven minutes. They took off fifty-three minutes ago.
” He sets a sixty-four-minute timer on his phone and lays it between us all. “Here’s how long until they land.”
I stare and my stomach roils. I haven’t been this nauseated since Sariah told me why she worried about Renée. I’m not proud of that moment. I’m not embarrassed by it either. But I do not want a repeat.
“This craft moves a bit faster than theirs so we will shave our airtime, but not enough to beat them there. What we need is a strategy so the moment we touch down, we are working the plan to get your girls home.”
“Where are they headed?” Fitz asks.
“I don’t know.” My shoulders might as well have a permanent place at my ears. “She told me South Dakota but never where. There’s a lot of land to cover.”
“Has she ever mentioned reservations?” Ren asks.
“No. Why?”
“A lot of South Dakota is native land. If they’re on a reservation, we”—he looks around—“have less legal standing. Tribal law trumps state, so we’re at a disadvantage if something goes down.”
“Pros and cons?” Liam cuts in. “Different governance. Different social customs. What happens there, stays there. Fortunately or unfortunately. With all you know, do we include the tribal territories or eliminate them?”
“How much land are we talking?”
Liam taps away at his keyboard. “Twelve percent. Not much in a huge state, but—” he pauses.
“Pierre is a good hint. We’re not talking Rapid City or Sioux Falls.
I think we can assume the middle of the state and work our way out.
And we have the trackers. Decide now, brother.
If those get separated, who are you going after? Who are we going after?”
I look around the crew. Men I trust. Men who would go down swinging against injustice. My sister who would go full redhead on anyone who got in her way.
Think, Murphy.
On the one hand, Sariah has never been rescued a day in her life. She’s always had to save herself. I promised to protect her, and it should be me.
On the other, if Renée is in danger, loving Sariah means saving her daughter. She herself said she couldn’t live with herself if something happened to Renée.
“Renée first.” It kills me to say it, but loving her mom means knowing what she would choose. “Then Sariah. Then Rosie.” I close my eyes and say the cruelest thing ever to leave my lips. “The other girl last if it comes down to that.”
Ayla drops her head. Her posture is exactly how I feel. The men, though… they get it.
“If we separate, you save the first one you come upon,” I add, hoping that redeems me.
Ren and Fitz eye each other before Ren continues, “This is an incursion. If you’re okay, we’ll lead when we acquire the target. “
I nod. I don’t care who and I don’t care how. I care that my girls are safe and my family comes back whole.
“You need to know this guy’s M.O.” My voice is steel. I fight to tamp down my rage. “We’re walking into a religious cult.”
The men’s faces go hard, while shock is written all over Ayla’s countenance.
“Their leader believes in purity in the extreme. There will be women there and girls who are kept for breeding.” A growl meets my ears, but I push on. “They circumcise”——the word spits from my mouth like a bullet from a gun——“the girls so they don’t seek pleasure.”
“What the fuck.” Liam says with lethal snarl at the same time Ren spits, “Fuck.”
Fitz clenches his jaw and pounds a fist into his open palm.
Despite the energy zapping around the cabin, I let them in on what they need to know. “This happens to girls between their fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays on the night of a full moon.”
“But Renée—” Ayla starts.
I nod, holding her eyes.
The clicking of computer keys leads to Liam dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Tonight’s a full moon.”
“Won’t. Fucking. Happen.” Fitz offers.
“The other little girl, Emma, isn’t at risk. Nor are Rosie or Sariah. We save Renée first.”
“If they touch one hair on her head…” Ayla never finishes the sentence because we know it’s no idle threat.
“Princess, you’re staying on this plane,” Christian says quietly.
“The fuck I am.”
“You will not put yourself in danger. Not an option.”
“Again,” she pauses for dramatic effect as her eyes slice to slits. “No fucking way am I staying on this plane when my sister-to-be and my niece are in danger. I want the leader. I want a woman to take him out.”
“Love the spirit, Ayla-girl, but I’m with Christian on this.” Liam side-eyes her.
“The two of you can discuss amongst yourselves and think and want whatever makes you feel good, but neither of you will control me.” She looks to me for backup.
“Don’t hate me.”
“Cian,” she exclaims. “How could you? You of all people…”
“None of us can control you, sis.” I look around the room to the men who have protected her in the last year, wanting her wellbeing above all else, and drop my voice as I continue, “But we would all be safer if we weren’t worried about you.
If something happened to you, we would all leave our posts. ”
She looks from face to face getting the love and respect she’s earned, but with resolve blended in.
“I would,” Fitz says.
“Same,” Ren adds.
“No question.” Liam’s quiet voice is steely.
“Princess.” Christian’s single word carries weight.
“Please don’t make me choose between you and Rosie if it comes down to that. Please don’t rob me of seconds when it comes to Renée’s safety or—” I clear my throat. “Health.”
My sister leans back, threading her arms over her chest. Her crossed knee bounces as she stares each man down. One by one, her resolve weakens until her gaze hits mine. “Fine,” she whispers. “You bring them back to us and I’ll get over it. You fuck up and—”
“I won’t fuck up.”
“Tracker’s up,” Liam offers.
His eyes dance with a malevolence I rarely see. In this moment, I cheer its arrival. I need this Liam at my side. I need the cold, calculated, give-no-fucks man who plays by his own rules.
I lean forward, waiting with bated breath for his next word. They don’t come. He types, he scrolls, he watches, but he doesn’t speak.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Angel: {dropped pin}
They’re still airborne so it’s a lead she doesn’t know I already have.
Angel: I love you.
Me: We’re coming for you.
Me: Thirty minutes behind you.
Angel: ...
Bubbles bounce, but nothing comes through.
Liam’s alarm sounds. The ticking timeclock has begun.
“They’re on the ground,” my brother states. “Taxiing.” He pauses. “Stopped.”
I wait with bated breath for each single word he offers.
Christian stands and walks toward the cockpit, opening the door, and speaking to the pilot. He returns in silence, sitting and kissing his wife on the neck before whispering something in her ear.
My sister is pissed. She will be for a while if I know her. But she will also not do anything to jeopardize her family.
She tilts her chin to him and holds his eyes. I’m so thankful she’s come back to us. Our father’s revelations were huge. The fact that he and they have been tossed on the back burner only highlights how fucked up this situation is.
My sister grabs Christian’s hand and he pulls it to his mouth kissing her knuckles.
I look away. The depth of their bond is tangible. The intimacy shreds my insides. I need Sariah back. We’ve had too little time. Too few carefree days. Too little opportunity to just be us.
“On the move,” Liam states to the cabin before addressing Christian. “ETA?”
“Let me ask.”
Then what was he doing before? Fuck. This waiting game is killing me.
He returns, dragging a hand down his face. “Thirty-six minutes if the wind cooperates. There’s a car waiting for us.”
Liam has us download some off-channel messaging app. It’s encrypted and will allow us to speak and text freely without the carriers having the same access.
I can only assume he wants discussion of illegal activities mitigated. Appreciate the forethought, I think, but hate the assumption. I also can’t help but notice he doesn’t have to download it.
“I’m not usually the emotional type.” My brother and sister share a look before I go on, “But thank you. I owe each and every one of you. More than some favor or marker. But a debt. I’ll be honored to repay it.”
No one adds to my sappy moment.
That’s good, because I’m fighting for control.
Control of my future.
Control of my fears.
Control of my emotions that run alongside a car that’s “on the move” somewhere north of us according to my brother.
What feels like eons later, a disembodied voice comes through the speakers. “We’re beginning our final descent into Pierre regional airport. Please make sure your seat belts are tightly fastened. We expect some light turbulence upon arrival. We’ll be on the ground shortly.”
My relief is short-lived.
“Trackers are offline.” Liam’s mouth is a hard line as he stares at his computer. “Gone.”