10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
‘Lias
We stayed in the truck until Sadie stopped crying.
She slipped into fitful sleep after being wound up since the attack.
I carried her up to her apartment, watched her take her meds, undressed her, and put her to bed.
The phantom rasp of her boot strings comes and goes across my fingers, reminding me that she’s as fragile as she is explosive.
Beneath black leather was the silliest pair of socks; I think they were Tasmanian Devil—that tornado of a brown animal with sharp teeth printed all over the white fabric.
I had to sit for a moment and stare at them, chuckling to myself.
They were so out of character for her style but fit her personality to a damn T.
Her hoodie was next, followed by a warm damp washcloth to her face, neck, and knuckles—removing Chelsea’s blood, and finally bandaging her wounds. For two hours I watched before letting myself out.
Now I’m here, back in Oregon, listening to Mav issue our next assignment and discuss upcoming cases that will complicate our workload.
This is the easy shit—find and capture, escort and keep safe, privatize stuffy elite dinners in high-risk locations.
There are clear objectives and rules of engagement that mimic what I experienced in the service—yet navigating what I’m nursing with Sadie is about as treacherous as the Bering Sea.
Before dismissing, we address the interference we’re receiving from local authorities thanks to this Investigator guy roaming the streets.
He’s started branching across state lines, and Oregon authorities think we may see him before the end of the year.
Nothing we can’t handle, tighten observation, report anything to the police—typical crime stoppers type gig.
While Mav’s teaching the young bucks protocols and how to handle themselves accordingly, I’m stuck in my phone.
She’s in a good mood today. I haven’t seen her in close to forty-eight hours and I'm ready to leave—I can do my recon electronically at first, before needing to find my escort and do what he pays me to do.
Me
X-rays, Sunshine. You need x-rays of your hands prior to working out. Especially if you’re going to hit something, or someone.
Sunshine
No I don’t. Why don’t you fuck off and mind your business.
Me
You are my business, brat. X-rays, or I’m calling Kace.
Sunshine
Call him. :) Sure he would like to know how they got there and why you didn’t tell him what happened.
I didn’t tell him because he’d pull her out of school and not let her out of his sight. She’d end up finishing her classes online, which she'll have to do anyway since she's been expelled for fighting on campus. You know what, maybe I will; at least someone will have eyes on her.
Me
Give me five and I’ll let you know what he says. Better pack your bags, Spawn, cause you know he'll be at your door before the hour’s up.
Sadie
You wouldn’t dare…
Me
Try me.
“Yo, old man. Pay attention,” Karson, one of Mav’s friends and another team member, blurts.
“Watch who you’re calling old, boy. I’ll have your ass strung up before you know what hit you.”
“He’s got a point. I need you focused. Leave the girl alone,” Mav adds.
“Last time I took orders from someone your age, I was packing rounds with powder and pumping them into hostiles. Get on with your briefing.”
Me
You’re getting me into trouble. I’ll call your dad later. Be a good girl.
Sunshine
That what you need? For me to be good for you?
Me
Preferably.
Sunshine
Yes, Sir.
What the hell is she playing at? Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll find out sooner rather than later. Hopefully it’s not another phone call from jail, I don't know if I can survive another. As for calling Kace, I think I’ll hold off for a while.
Mav’s briefing wraps up a few minutes later, freeing me from eyes too curious to look away and mouths smart enough to stay shut.
As we all file out, my phone lights up with an unknown number. It can go to voicemail—all of my client’s numbers are saved before I make contact with them. It helps ease communication if there's an emergency.
Cain Defenses HQ is massive, floor after floor of Mav’s empire, years of hard work and dedication he’s poured into it.
I’ve helped here and there, but I’m not sticking around for the vanity of it.
I care about him, close, proud even. He’s given me somewhere to belong while keeping me sharp and useful—outside of Sadie.
My boots thump down the hall, measured behind the enthusiastic stomps of younger men.
Handling interference with local PD is a cakewalk; we don’t want a bite out of their investigation, nor have them lurking around as we do our jobs.
We’ll give them the information they request and keep contact minimal.
This Investigator guy is making quite the stir. I hope the right folks figure out who he is and throw him in a cage before our paths cross because when it comes to killers and the men of Cain Defenses, he won’t make it to court—he’ll end up in a grave.
Almost to the elevator door, my phone sings again. The same unknown number plastered on the screen.
“Sullivan.” I answer with a harsh grunt.
“Mr. Sullivan, it’s Detective Hall.”
Fucking wonderful.
“The hell do you want?”
“Nice to hear from you too. You’re on Miss Wilson’s release forms and I can’t get a hold of her for an update.”
Finding the control panel, my finger practically stabs the circular button—I need out of this building. I’m not surprised she hasn’t answered her phone, now I’m going to worry about her. There’s no telling what kind of shit she’s gotten into.
“Make it quick, I’m busy.”
“Right. The victim, Chelsea Adams, is pressing charges on Miss Wilson. So, she needs to come in for official questioning; if she refuses, I’ll have a warrant placed for her arrest. I hope you understand the severity of this, Mr. Sullivan. She’s facing an aggravated assault charge.”
I beg to differ—she’s not facing anything without my approval.
“I’ll share the information, Detective. Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Keep your phone on you, and don’t let her leave the state. That would look bad on her part.”
“Noted.”
He begins to say something else but I hang up as the elevator door slides open for me to step inside.
She’s fucked up big time—I mean, what Sadie did in Canada was worse, but the authorities weren’t involved then.
If she steps out of line, if she tries to disappear, they will hunt her harder than her uncle did.
Rubbing my face, a few days’ worth of stubble scratch my palms as I count my breaths through the mounting frustration.
Not at her, never at her, but her classmate who’s done nothing but torment her for four years.
Yeah, she never told me but she didn’t have to.
I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and you know what…
maybe she deserved to get her face smashed in.
Right now, I’ve got to figure out how to get Sadie through this.
If she serves any sort of time, they will have her confined to a cell with a tiny window she can’t see out of.
I may not have ever experienced holding, but I’ve done a few stints in random desert holes that fucked with my head.
This would be worse, ‘cause there would be others around her that poke and jab just to aggravate her.
There’s always the insanity plea but that’s not any better. She’d sit in county for months waiting for her trial—if a judge doesn’t revoke her bond—losing her shit in a tiny cell. Then to be sent away to live under the magnifying glass of people who have questionable medical licenses.
Finally at the lower level, I step out and stand to the side of the elevator, sucking in cool Oregon air.
It’s barely ten a.m. and the temperature is threatening to freeze again—thankfully the parking garage has some semblance of heating or I’d be a miserable fuck.
Years traveling the globe, fighting in jungles and deserts both, it’s hard to get used to the cold.
One day, I want to drag Sadie out of the north and to somewhere warmer—if she keeps adding to her rap sheet though, we may end up living in a country without extradition.
Slow down, Elias. Let’s not start with the escape plans.
Scrolling my phone, I hit her contact info. It’s after one over there, and other than studying she doesn’t have a damn thing to do. Makes it easier to find her when I need to, or punish her; whichever.
“Why are you calling me?” She answers before it goes to voicemail.
“Don’t need permission.”
Hearing Sadie’s voice does something to the sack around my heart—strangles it ‘cause softness is nowhere to be found.
“You don’t, but that don’t mean you should. Don’t call me.”
“You’ll get over it. The detective from your little incident called me. Chelsea’s pressing charges. Don’t think I have to tell you to stay put, but I will anyway. Leaving the state is a bad idea.”
“You’re right, I won’t. That's all you wanted? Could have sent a text, like you send everything else.”
“Hardly. I’ll be in town tonight. We’ll discuss what needs to happen and what to do next—getting you out of the charges is the main goal.”
I could be hallucinating but I swear she growls. You know what, I won’t put it past her, this woman is capable of anything.
“Listen, Sunshine. What you experienced last time was just holding. Jail fucking sucks. Ask your parents the difference—“
“I’d rather not. Make this quick, ‘Lias. I have shit to do.”
“Watch your mouth. I’d hate to punish you when I get in town.”
“Shaking in my boots.”
Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue.
Holding my tongue, waiting for her to get her sass out before continuing, I listen to her breathe.
It’s soft, much like she sounds when she’s sleeping.
Funny enough, I’m shocked she hasn’t hung up yet.
Makes me wonder if she’s sticking around to pull my strings or if she actually likes hearing me as much as I like hearing her.
Several years of interrogating people has taught me when one method doesn’t work you try another. Changing tactics, I move us in a different direction.
“Do you want me to bring something back for you?”
There’s a pause; I can picture her looking at her phone with confusion then placing it back to her ear.
“What?”
Without realizing it, I’m crossing the underground parking garage, smiling like a damn fool.
My boots barely make a sound as I walk, noting the plethora of cars that are both pristine and others with questionable body modifications.
Mine’s at the far end, a square body Bronco I’ve spent many hours elbow deep inside of.
She sticks out compared to the youngin’s cars, but it’s one of the only things about this state I love.
One day I’ll get to show Sadie, maybe even let her drive it if she behaves—I know about her little stunt with her adoptive parents. Think I’ll have a stroke if she yanks the wheel of this beautiful piece of machinery for the fuck of it.
The door pops open with ease, then shuts with a hard thud when I settle into the front seat, finally giving her an explanation.
“Do you want me to bring something back for you, I’m in Oregon right now. Nowhere near the ocean, so don’t ask for some shit like cuttlefish, but I can get you something from here if you want.”
Too many words—I can overthink it later.
“Sure, what’s in Oregon other than sadness and rain?”
“Think there's a few trees and rocks.”
“Because we don’t have enough of that in Philly.”
“You’re right. I’ll think of something your highness will approve of.”
We talked for five more minutes before Sadie’s social meter ran out and she hung up on me mid-sentence.
Between now and seeing her again, I’ll pick up something and square away business before catching another red eye.
I’ve been on so many over the past couple of years, pretty sure the flight crew has given me my own assigned seat.
They don’t ask questions when I board—it doesn't matter whose plane it is, I’m on it and buckled in.
Could be a debutant or some celebrity, I don’t care.
Hitching rides with them has become customary to the point I’m a permanent fixture.
The Bronco keeps me company as I get closer to Bend. It’s about an hour away from HQ, far for the locals but doable for me; a nice ride if you want time to clear your head or let it run wild with a million “what if’s,” and memories you’d rather bury than keep alive.
I spend most of the drive figuring out what I can do to get Sadie’s charges to dropped, because there's no point in time where she will ever see the inside of a jail.
She has too much to look forward to, too many mental battles to complete, before anything will ever take her down.
The issue is figuring out what, or who, I can use to my advantage, even if it goes against everything I stand for.