Chapter 44 Six Plus
six plus
Cian
“Now what?” My brother stares at me as if my neck has sprouted eighteen mini-heads and all are talking to him.
That’s the question, isn’t it.
I shrug. “No clue.”
I’m standing in his townhome in Ken Caryl three days later. It took everything in me to leave my family to come, but I needed to be here.
Christian and Ayla are home planning a trip to Greece in the next week or so. But my brother and Ren Gallo, who’s proven to be the kind of man you want at your back, and I stand in his small gourmet kitchen staring at each other and the file of papers he has open on his kitchen island.
I have to stop looking at files on islands. It’s always shit. I smile at my own ridiculousness. Only I would think it’s the situation that’s the problem and not the data inside.
“Why are you smiling?” Ren asks.
“Nothing.” I sigh deep and long. “Options… We send the girls home after they understand the significance of what’s to come. We place them in foster care. Or one of us adopts five teenage girls.”
Ren shivers.
The scoff that comes from Liam would be comical if it weren’t real. “Or—” he offers, “And I like this one best, we use them to draw Jonas out.”
“You want to use them—” I pause, trying to get my anger in check. “As bait?” I know the look on my face is as shocked as Ren’s appears.
Liam shrugs.
“Six young girls. A full moon in twenty-four days. And his property”—he uses air quotes on the word but uses it nonetheless—“right here. We could take him out without anyone ever knowing and reunite the girls with their mothers.”
Ren puts a hand up and interjects, “Fuck that. Those women didn’t seem to care their daughters were being mutilated and—”
He never finishes his thought, because my anger is ready to burst. “What the fuck, Li?”
“Oh shit,” Ren mutters and takes two large steps back, his hands planted firmly on his hips.
Liam doesn’t look fazed.
So I ask again, lethally quiet this time, “Six? You want to use Renée as bait?”
“I want to ask her what she wants. She’s sharp. She gets a vote.”
“She’s fourteen.” I extend a hand like that fact should be obvious. “She’s barely celebrated her fourteenth birthday, and she’s been to the gates of hell and back. No. One hundred percent no.”
“She gets a vote.”
“She doesn’t get a vote on her hair color, Li.”
He lifts a shoulder. “She’s the problem. She’s the one that got away. She’s his.”
“She’s mine.” It comes out on a roar.
Liam nods nonchalantly. “I know, brother. I’m not making light of anything. But if we can draw the fucker here…”
He doesn’t finish the thought, but Ren does, staring at the paperwork.
“Then we have him on our turf, at our mercy, and can plan all contingencies.” To me, he adds, “These six got away. Next month, it’ll be someone else’s little girl.
And the month after that and the month after that.
If we don’t sever the head from the snake, the circumcision continues.
Renée is saved. Everyone else is hurt. We’re the ones with the power to save them all. Six plus.”
“I don’t want to be a savior. I want my girls to not have been through hell.”
“You can’t change the past, Ci,” Liam says calmly. “But you can change the future.”
I’m no vigilante.
I’m no hero.
I’m just a man who finally found the woman I love. She comes with a ready-made family who needs the kind of stability I have.
Ren interrupts my thoughts. “We could always use the five, keep you and your family entirely out of this. They’d be safe, just lure for the big fish.” He spins the files toward himself and leans over the island. He analyzes the data, pours over it like it’s his job, all the while ignoring me.
“Like hell you’re doing this without me.” The words are pained. “Those are my girls. Sariah, Renée, and Rosie survived the unthinkable. I’m the one who holds my woman at night as she cries. I’m the one who wakes her from her nightmares. I’m the one who will end that for her.”
Liam’s grin is malicious and cold. “All right then… Let’s discuss.”
We do. We have three potential plans, one that all of us hate but know is the strongest.
By the time I leave Liam’s house and head for my own, my mind is spinning. And something in me isn’t simply resigned to revenge, it’s reveling in the probability.
I drop off groceries and supplies at Rosie’s and then make a stop at Sariah’s house on my way home.
I look around the homey space, the place my girls made their own.
Small, quaint, good bones in a great neighborhood, even if the decline is obvious.
Higher prices, less affordability, and anything reasonable becomes less cared for. We’ll see about that.
Phoenix Consulting is almost off the ground.
I guess, technically it is, but seeing as how my life has revolved around the Ocotea women, I haven’t done much.
I have managed to transfer the funds from Murphy Enterprises that were my due—the clean funds that were legitimately derived—into my own accounts.
Ayla’s data was irrefutable—thank God for that.
I’ll make offers to the employees I can’t live without. It’ll be uphill, harder work than any of us are used to for a while, but after? After it will be what M.E. could’ve been without the greed, the illegal shit, and my father.
While I’m here, I grab several family photos, the ones in the living room and Sariah’s bedroom. I even enter that madness that is Renée’s room. Holy teenage explosion, Batman—I was not prepared for the everythingness of that space. I grab her comforter, but touch nothing else.
We’ll pack them up as a family, but there’s something about home in the fuchsia and royal purple covers that is worth taking with me now.
Back in my truck, I send a message to my sister.
Me: How are you? How’s the maligator?
My phone rings.
“Hello?”
“I’m good, Ci. How are you?”
“Holding up. Are you looking forward to vacation?”
“Can’t wait. After last weekend, all of last weekend, I’m looking forward to being as far away from this place as possible.”
“I get that. I think the Mediterranean certainly qualifies. Are you going to send your terror my way?”
“For sure and nah. Franklin is heading to boot camp. Or boot camp number two. He needs a professional.”
“Are you saying that Eleanor is poorly trained?” I turn south on Wadsworth as I ask.
“Not at all.” She pauses. “You have a family that needs you. Franklin misses you and Ellie for sure, but he needs fulltime training camp, not sleep-away camp.”
“That dog is smart and fearless. And he loves you. I love you more.”
“I know, Ci. I love you, too.” Quietly, she adds, “We’ve had a hell of a year.”
“That’s an understatement. I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Can I borrow your place in Aspen?”
“Anytime. Keys are still old school. We’ll go digital eventually, but you know Christian.”
“I do.”
“I’ll drop them off tomorrow. That work?”
“No rush. Just thinking about exploring while you’re away. It’s okay if I take Eleanor?”
“Always. You know that.”
“Thanks, sis. See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.” She disconnects just as I’m turning into my driveway.
Sariah
The beeping of the digital door lock is scary and comforting. No one can get in who doesn’t have the code, but the shrill beep still jars me at times.
My anxiety levels have never been low. Now they’re always a hair trigger away from panic attack.
“Honey, I’m home.”
At least that man can always put a smile on my face.
Eleanor leaps from the sofa at my side and skids toward her favorite human. “Hi, Eleanor. Have you been a good girl?”
“You know she has.”
He comes around the corner, his arms full of vivid color and something reflective.
“What do you have there?” But I already know. This man. Could he get any better?
“I stopped by your other house to pick up a few things.” He sets some items on the island before dropping Renée’s folded comforter on the sofa near me and leaning down to give me a chaste kiss. He lingers, eyes open. “Hi, Angel.”
I exhale. Sometimes I have to force it—breathing… tamping down the panic. Other times it comes naturally. The only time I don’t have to think about it is when he’s with me. “Welcome home, Ci.” I drop my eyes shut and breathe in his soapy, woodsy scent. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“One more load. Be right back.” He kisses my forehead and heads back out.
He returns with another handful of framed photos and a bouquet of pink peonies. There’s been a bouquet on the bedside since we got here. This bunch, though, is huge. He places them on the center island before setting the pictures near it.
“What’s all this?” I point to the photos.
“Have you found us a new house?”
“I’ve been… otherwise occupied.”
His warm palm slides into mine. “I know. And I’m not pushing, Angel, but until you do—or I can if you’d prefer that—we need to make this place a home.
Your home. Our home. Renée needs to paint walls or put up posters.
She certainly needs to have some color in that room that’s way too demure for who she is. She’s vibrant and that room is… dull.”
“It’s adult,” I correct.
“And she gets to be a kid.” He pauses, peering down the hall as if he has X-ray vision. “How’s she holding up?”
“She’s not saying much.”
“Think she’d talk to Ayla?”
I tilt my head. “It’s worth a shot. She needs to get it out. And she needs to let it rip with someone who won’t judge. She knows I’ll react. How could I not? I mean—” I cut off my own words. The verbal floodgates of repeated circular logic are real… and pointless.
“I’ll ask,” he offers. “Ayla would do anything for her. Topic change—what do you want for dinner? I can cook or order in. I’m assuming you don’t want to go anywhere?”
“Not today. Tacos?”
“Soft or crunchy? Chicken or beef?”
“I’ll ask Renée, but you know she’ll say veggie.” I stride down the hall but quicken my steps when I hear my daughter’s voice rise.
“That’s not my fault. I couldn’t help it.” There’s a pause then, “I know. But— Okay. Bye.” There’s a whimper and a clunk.
I push the door open. Renée is face down on the bed, tears pouring off her cheeks.
“Née. What’s wrong?” Lying on the bed next to her, I wrap her in my arms, careful not to make her feel trapped. I saw very little of Sunday night, but I saw way too fucking much too.
“Emma’s mom says she can’t hang out with me ever again.” She sniffles.
Completely understandable. I’d make the same choice if my daughter were kidnapped and taken out of state on another woman’s watch.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I told her it wasn’t my fault. And we brought her back. It’s not like we took a vacation. We were kidnapped.” Her voice chokes on the last word.
I hold her until she’s cried out. Finally, I whisper, “Should I have told you everything before?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“I didn’t want to scare you. I wanted you to have a life, a real one, a normal one.”
“I— I… I was so scared. I didn’t know. Honestly?” She pauses until I give an um-hmm. “I still don’t know. What were they going to do? Why? And what about the other girls?”
The silence that follows is heavy. We’ve had some of this conversation already. Not in specifics and certainly not in depth. She brings it up but shies away from knowing more when the time comes.
“I’ll tell you if you want to know. I really never wanted to have this conversation, though. I will. Of course, I will. I just hoped you’d never have to think about it.” I sit up, and she follows.
And I explain. In a world where clitoral mutilation should never exist, that it does, that people knowingly hurt girls and women. That I never wanted her to have these notions in her brain, but more so that I never, never want her to experience it.
And that I’d do anything to protect her from it.
Move after move. New schools and “fresh starts.” Changing apartments and quick pivots in jobs. I hated all of it. But for her? For her, nothing was off the table.
After several long moments where I see the terrible truth settle heavy in her gut, she stammers out words I never thought she’d utter. “Did… Did they do that to you?”
All of this and she’s worried about me? “No, my sweet girl. I ran away. I knew. I overheard some other girls talking and I ran. I got caught several times. I finally escaped. I was younger than you. I felt… older, but I knew so little. And I found Randy and RoRo. And they saved me.”
“But that man… He’s my dad?”
Oh, fuck no.
“That man may be your biological father. But he’s no dad. Some of those girls on Sunday could be your half-sisters, but we’ll never know. He’d still do that to them, though. And no real man who has a daughter could stand her to be hurt.”
“Will he come back?”
“I’ll kill him first.” Cian’s quiet voice holds an authority I’ve never heard before.
“But that’s illegal.” My daughter—the just one.
“It is.” He nods and steps into the room from the hall, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.
“Your mom is the love of my life. She will never be taken from you, and you will never be taken from her if it’s in my power to help it.
It would break her to lose you and since I plan to love her until we’re old and gray, I will find a way to protect you both.
That man, whose name I will not utter, will never touch a hair on your head. ”
“But you’d be a murderer?” My daughter’s voice is a whisper.
“Does that scare you?”
“A little.” My daughter shrugs and stares at her hands.
“Which part? That I would do it or that I’d get caught?”
“Both. But mostly the second one.”
“I don’t want to have to either, firecracker. But if it comes down to you or me? I’ll choose you. Same with your mom. So trust me to protect you, okay?”
She seems to think long and hard, and I have to say, I love it. She doesn’t just agree, she truly considers the options. “Okay.”
“Now, about the tacos…”
“Tacos?” She scrunches her face. “Can we have pizza instead?
Cian shrugs. “I’m good with it if your mom is.” He saunters down the hall.
“I like him.” Renée offers.
“Because he agrees to everything you want?”
“Because we’re safe with him, and he loves you.”
“Hate to break it to you, but he loves you too.” I kiss her cheek. “You want homemade or delivery?”
“Homemade.”
I slide off her bed. “I’ll get the toppings out. You come when you’re ready.”
“Okay. And Mom?”
I turn back in the door casing, my hand on the jamb. “Yeah, sweetie?”
“I love you.”
“To the moon and back, Née.” I tap the jamb and move down the hall.