30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Ace
Despite things finally going well with Carter - or maybe because things are finally going well with him - Travis has decided that things aren’t moving quickly enough with the search for Elliot.
He wants me to do more, as if I haven’t been doing everything I possibly could.
As if I haven’t spent endless nights overthinking every step, every connection, every possibility.
As if I don’t know what it’s like to be a little boy surrounded by monsters.
Not that he knows that last one, but still.
I try not to take it personally. He’s excited about his new idea. He’s not blaming me for not thinking of it. He just wants me to figure out a way to do it.
Except, I did think of it. It was one of the first things I thought of. Of course I considered going after Quinton, the man who sold Carter and Casey, but also sold Elliot. When you’re looking for someone, going straight to the source is the obvious first move.
What Travis knows is that Scott Quinton was selling Elliot - and possibly more children - under the metaphorical table, since the other major players in his region hadn’t agreed to him dipping his toe into that particular market.
What Travis knows is that that information can be used as leverage against Quinton for information.
What Travis knows is that even if the worst case scenario happens, a man like Quinton disappearing wouldn’t be that surprising, especially if that information about the kids got out.
What Travis doesn’t know, because he’s a regular operative like I’m supposed to fucking be and therefore not privy to inside information, is that Quinton is a pretty strong link in an operation about to wrap up this spring.
The problem was - and still is - Kellan.
I’ve done my research. Quinton is entangled in an operation that’s still on-going.
He’s not a key player, but close to one.
We wouldn’t be able to take him and start asking questions and then return him.
It’d cause suspicions. Questions. It’d put our operatives in danger.
It’d keep other kids from being saved. I had a feeling that the only way Kellan would approve such a move was if I got Keaton to beg him to.
Except, Kellan had already been on a knifes-edge because Keaton wanted to go after Mica with Travis.
On top of that, it’d give away the fact that I was looking for a kid.
I was too deep when they found out. Keaton hadn’t tried to stop me.
He just forced me to make the deal about Adam and to not look for any other kids once I found this one.
If I’d told them about it at the beginning, though, they would have shut it down immediately.
So, yeah, finding Scott Quinton and questioning him had been firmly off the table.
That was then, though.
Maybe it is my fault for not realizing now might be a better time to try.
Maybe I really haven’t been doing everything I can to find him.
Maybe I’ve let Elliot down in a way I could have avoided.
Fuck.
“It’s worth a shot, right?” he asks.
Like it’s nothing.
Like he and the others aren’t supposed to be dead, like he and the others don’t have faces that would be recognized, like he and the others can just go around doing as they fucking please just because their operation is over.
“Quinton is a pretty big player,” I hedge. “The head might not like that.”
When he just shrugs, I decide to remind him, “We still work for the organization, Travis. He’s still the boss.”
“We’ve done things before without telling him.”
Not as many things as you think, actually.
“I really, really don’t think this should be one of those times. At all.”
He rubs his jaw, where he’s started growing out a beard, and eyes the computer. “Fine. Then we tell him.”
“Ask him,” I correct. “We’ll ask him.”
“Sure. Yeah.” He waves his hand, but he’s smiling like he already got the mystery man’s approval. “Have Maison call him or however that works these days. I’ve got to get going, but keep me updated?”
I want to put it off, but I don’t. It’s not fair to Elliot. It’s selfish. Despicable, really. Right this second he could be-
I close my eyes and breathe slowly.
This is not going to fuck me up.
It’s not.
I won’t even spiral.
I’m going to drink a second energy drink, just for a little boost, but that’s it.
That’s the line. A second energy drink. I’m not going to think about the pills I have left or the pack of cigarettes I’ve been ignoring.
I’m not going to skip dinner that’s currently cooking.
I’m not going to stay awake past whatever time Matt leaves tonight.
I’m going to keep it the fuck together.
I am.
I do.
I keep it together through asking Kellan’s permission and waiting to hear back from him.
I keep it together through another meal Matt doesn’t eat and Adam ushering me into his office for another session.
I keep it together through Keaton asking to join the mission, and Kellan calling me to ask me if I know why he’s so damn invested in this group, and me trying to convince Kellan that I think it just has to do with his connection to me.
I keep it together when I call Keaton after, too.
At least, I do at first.
I keep it together while I recount my conversation with Kellan and tell him that I’m really starting to worry and remind him that we had a deal, that he’d let these guys all go, that he promised.
I falter after that, though, when he says, “Please, Ace. You’re building yourself this little family and I’m so proud of you and happy for you, I am, but I - I don’t want to lose you.
I can’t lose you. Okay? And so I just thought, I don’t know, I just thought maybe we could merge somehow?
Or share? It’s not even about Bryce. I swear.
It’s just that I’ve been working with Maison for a long time and I love the guy, and I’m pretty damn fond of Travis now too, and even Jake is great.
I know you don’t want to let them go. I know you’re going to stick with them, even if you haven’t fully accepted that yet.
I get that. They’re your family now, like me and Kell are.
I’m just asking you not to choose between us, you know?
I’m not saying I’d ever be considered family or be on that same level as you are with them, not at all, but I could be a friend that stops by to visit, can’t I?
Sort of a plus one to the group? That’d be - I’d really like that.
Don’t you think we could figure something out so I could - I don’t know - so I could have that? Just a little?
“Maison called me. Well, not me me, but me as his pretend superior in the chain of command, and he was asking about living arrangements, about staying in the safehouse maybe, and when I told him we can’t bend the rules anymore for it, he asked if he would be allowed to buy a house outside of the organization and invite everyone to come live there.
He wanted to know if that would count as leaving, retiring, whatever.
Wanted to know if any resources would be left available.
I think he’s going to do it, Ace. I think he’s going to buy a house and move everyone there.
I just thought - I don’t know. I thought maybe I could be a part of it. ”
I stare at the top drawer of my desk for a long time. The one with that one final pill, still waiting to come to the rescue.
I think, Kellan will kill them if he ever hears you even sort of refer to them as family - especially your family.
I think, you’ll always be my brother, but I don’t want to lose them, please don’t make me lose them, Keaton.
I think, it’s a fair request, though, it’s a fucking fair request.
I think, if Maison didn’t tell me about this house plan, does that mean he doesn’t plan on inviting me along?
I think, would I even say yes if he did?
I press a knuckle into the corner of my eye, yet another migraine working its way to the surface.
I’m so tired.
God, I’m so fucking tired.
I forgot how hard it was to stay awake like this without the drugs.
I’ve got those two pills left, enough for one more combo, but it’s not time yet. I can push through this a little longer. I can keep it together. I’m faltering, but I can fix that. I can correct it.
I’m fine.
I’ve got this.
I say, “Of course. Yeah. We’ll figure it out. You won’t lose me, man, and you don’t have to lose them either. We’ll make it work.”
I say, “Stay safe, okay? Shoot me a secure message if you need anything. I’ll be watching.”
I say, “Love you, you idiot.”
I hang up and gasp for air until my lungs are full of a million little needles.
But then I get it back together.
I keep it together.
I keep it together for an hour, and then another, and then another after that.
I nap for the duration of their flight, waking up to my alarm just after they’ve landed.
I help them coordinate from there, keeping my eyes on traffic cameras and police radars for the area.
I check that the location they’re bringing Quinton to is still secure and give them the go-ahead to move him.
They set Quinton up to stew in the dark for a while, but I’m too anxious to try to rest again.
I keep myself busy updating my corkboards for the survivors and running through the security systems of the other Roarke-related safehouses, making sure there haven’t been any breaches or tampering.
I consider going to find Adam and talking to him about how terrified I am to listen to Quinton talk about Elliot.
About how I’m ten times more terrified to find the boy, to see the damage for myself.
About how a particular thought keeps popping into my head, dark and dangerous and awful, just a whisper, a creeping feeling whenever I let my guard done.
A thought that maybe Elliot would be better off dead.
A thought that maybe, just a little, just in the deepest part of myself, I’m hoping he is.