Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Líadan

S itting in the motel room, I sigh as I toss the pen I've been fussing with as I wait for Brendan. Silence has never bothered me, but it's not quiet. There's a working girl fucking her john next door and based on the sounds, she's been coming for the last fifteen minutes.

It's kind of impressive, honestly.

I'm all for people making their money, but the bed is hitting the wall and I can't think. I miss my townhouse, having my own space, and not having to move from place to place. I feel tetherless.

A man with hazel eyes and sun-kissed hair floats through my mind, making me shiver with regret. I'm questioning my choices more and more, even though I keep telling myself that I'm being selfish for it. I should be perfectly happy having Brendan at my side, loving me.

I can feel his clear disapproval and second guessing our choice to leave Jordan behind. Except, he didn't choose. He followed along with my decision, because I don't want our darkness to mar Jordan's soul.

I took away both their choices, something that is gnawing at me fiercely. Am I no different from my father?

The sound of a key card opening the door has me lifting the gun in front of me that Brendan insisted I keep near me. Tomorrow I'm meeting with forty of the most dangerous people in our family.

I use the term loosely, because some of them are related by marriage, business, or very extended family. They won't receive the address until thirty minutes before we begin, though they were given the general vicinity.

All in all, they'll never change their minds about human trafficking and how it destroys people's lives, which means to protect the world from their evil, I have to kill them all. Murder, even cold blooded, doesn't bother me in the least.

There are no butterflies in my stomach or worry that I may be doing the wrong thing. There's a warehouse I've been hearing rumors about that Daddy gave to The Carnal Auctions. I want to disband it completely, yet no one knows where it is.

Well, no one who's willing to give up the information, anyway.

Cormac knows, which means the hunter is about to become hunted. I refuse to be chased like a scared rabbit from place to place. I need to know there'd be people who would have my back when I make my move against him. I need to deal with the weasel who is helping him find us as well.

Brendan comes in with the food and closes the door behind him. There's a shrouded dark cloud over him, but his face is blank as he brings everything over to the table.

"Weather doesn't look like it's going to get any better," he murmurs as he takes the food containers out and pulls off his layers until he's wearing a simple undershirt and pants.

Despite the eye candy he's presenting me with, I feel a flicker of anger. Is he seriously telling me about the weather? I glance out the third floor window where the snow is falling faster. Chicago has as many mood swings as my father did. Anyone who lives here knows that.

They're going to have a hell of a time burying my father in a few days. The thought of the bastard's dead body cooling his heels while waiting to be buried makes me internally roll my eyes.

A drama king even in death, I swear.

"I see," I say drolly, opening my carton of drunken noodles. I don't know why, but I've been craving so much lately. My period is the stuff of nightmares, and I never know when it's going to pop up.

Because of how many issues birth control gave me, I don't take any, and my uterus is so fucked, the possibility of getting pregnant shouldn't be possible. "Did you run into anyone while you were out?"

"Yes, actually," he says, popping the top of his food and picking up his chopsticks.

Brendan keeps me waiting as he gets some food and eats his own noodles. Taking a breath to pull patience I don't have, I eat my own noodles, because my stomach is grumbling. The silence stretches on interminably as our food disappears, and I continue to stew in annoyance.

"We should take a taxi tomorrow to the warehouse if things continue like this," he says, ignoring the mention that he ran into someone. "It'll be easier than taking public transportation."

We haven't been back to the house to check on our cars because we've been too busy. I also am sure someone is watching the blackened building, whether it be police or one of Cormac's men.

Public transport doesn't bother me, and for the most part it's easier to meld into the background.

"Mmhmm," I murmur, closing my now empty carton and taking a sip of water. "Probably for the best."

I'm unwilling to wait him out, placing my bottle down before reaching over and twisting his nipple ruthlessly.

"Ah, fuck!" he screams, trying to lean into the pain as I pull on it as well. "Lía!"

"Stop fucking with me and tell me who you ran into," I snarl, releasing him. "The silent treatment makes me fucking crazy and you damn well know it. The next thing I'll squeeze will be your balls, and I can assure you it won't be in a fun way."

"Fine, fine. Goddamn, milseán . I think you almost took my nipple clean off," he complains, his lip piercing glinting in the dull lamp light as he licks his bottom lip. Rubbing his chest, he pouts at me, and I make grabby hands at his chest again.

"Tell me already," I groan, irritated at being kept waiting. There is only one real reason that he'd procrastinate.

"Jordan was at the restaurant, just casually picking up his food order as if he wasn't stalking me," he says, getting up to throw the empty cartons of food away.

"If he found us, does that mean we need to move again?" I ask, thinking about how quickly I can throw my shit into a bag. I don't have much after all, since Cormac burned all of my possessions. A pang fills me as I think about how everything is gone now that wasn't in the basement.

"No, he sent Skyler packing, and Jordan would never hurt us. You know that," Brendan says, crossing his arms as he comes to a stop in front of me. His shirt is riding up to expose his stomach, but I lean back in my chair to look up at him.

I don't need to be at the same level with someone to know I'm equal to them, and that's especially true of Brendan. Gaze firmly on his face and not the tattoos crawling up his arms and neck, I cross my legs with a nod.

"That was nice of him," I say mildly. "Did he say anything else? I understand it had to have been a shock to wake up alone after being firebombed. It wasn't one of my finer moments."

Brendan holds my stare as he sighs. "No it wasn't," he growls. "You were scared. Jordan should have been given a choice after what happened."

"He would have chosen us!" I exclaim. "Someone, somewhere would have exploited the weakness."

"I'm one of your weaknesses because you love me. Should I leave too?" he asks, scowling.

My vision blackens at his words, a preview of what my life would look like without him. I can't breathe. Wheezing gasps are the best I can do, animalistic sounds, because I'm terrified that he'll get tired of my sad bullshit.

"Lía, stop!" he screams, dropping to his knees and pulling away my clawed fingers that are scratching at my throat. I didn't even notice I did that, my motions jerky and unconscious.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Just breathe for me."

Pulling me into his arms, I feel my chest loosen from the painful weight once my body is against his.

"I couldn't bear it if something happened to you," I rasp, tears beginning to stream down my face as I pull in deep breaths. The loosening of my body is the equivalent of releasing trauma, and the wet stuff is flowing.

"And nothing will. I'm frustrated," he admits, brushing my hair off my face as he holds me. "Jordan was so cold, he said he didn't deserve to be our cast off and only tracked me down to give you a birthday present."

"Why would he do that?" I ask, turning so I'm straddling him. I'm in an oversized shirt and knee-high socks, since I wasn't planning on leaving the room. It's been a long day, and I'm ready to crash. "He really seemed cold?"

"Well, yeah. Jordan was picking up food when I arrived, and I could tell he looked familiar," he explains. "When he turned, he smirked at me. I was in shock. I really thought he'd disappear by the time I got our food, but he was waiting for me at a table. He seemed disappointed in us, his face a mask as he explained that Sklyer had left town when he offered him a better opportunity. Then he said he'd be leaving town soon."

"I fucked up," I whisper. "I took away his and your choice from you. Jordan told us over and over again that he wanted to explore our relationship, and I threw him away."

"I went along with it, so we fucked up," Brendan reminds me. "Look what he did, baby."

Shifting up so he can pull his phone out of his pocket, I watch as he opens a file on it. Once he hands it to me, I look through the list, seeing names that I recognize.

"What is this?" I ask. "I know the names, but not what it all means."

"They were there the night you were auctioned," he says softly. "Jordan found the non-disclosure agreement contracts in your dad's files and was going to give them to you. We have the option to re-route them to another location for tomorrow if you want. Give the Banshee time to play."

Taking a sharp breath, I blink furiously as I struggle with the force of my emotions.

"You keep saying ‘we'," I say, my voice thick.

"Well, you're not getting rid of me, so of course it's ‘we'," he says with a chuckle. "You're my girl, for better or for worse, Lía. If you need vows and shit, there you go."

Laughing through my tears, I lay my head on Brendan's chest as I sniffle.

"Such a damn romantic," I murmur. "The both of you. I miss him. My dreams are punishing me, and I'm afraid to sleep."

"So we'll find him after tomorrow and tell him. I think we also will be able to find Cormac too before our meeting," he says. "There's so much more intel in the files he sent me, Lía."

"Show me. The meeting isn't until the afternoon, so we can find Cormac and fuck him up," I mutter. "I want everything he knows about the auctions and the warehouse. Future inventory drops, how they chose people, all of it. We are not trafficking humans."

"Here," Brendan says, showing me the next document with the information. Looking through the Google camera of the area, I move around until I see a building that could be where he lives.

"If you look, there's a private entrance for this residence," I show him. "No other apartments, even though the majority of this neighborhood appears to be apartment style homes. Cormac isn't someone who would want neighbors. Let's check this place out in the morning and then carefully canvas the area."

Talking helps me calm myself down, and I just feel really stuffy now as I focus on things. Kissing my temple, Brendan gets up with me to move to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he scoots us both onto the bed.

"There's so many moving pieces," Brendan muses as he shows me the rest of the documents. There are surveillance voice recordings of phone conversations, and Cormac's smarmy voice as he makes plans, talks about having another auction to move the inventory he currently has, makes my skin crawl.

"If I think about it too long, my head hurts," I tell him, smiling as Brendan hands me a tissue for my nose.

"Same," he sighs. "We're almost done, baby. A part of me is hoping Jordan won't leave until after we're done. Another part of me wants to find him immediately and tell him how sorry we are. I got all tongue tied when I spoke to him. It must be what he's like at the record label. Jordan understands the masks we wear, because he does the same. It's a corporate mask, but one just the same."

"Fuck," I say, realizing how much time went into this. "How did he even manage this?"

"He's Jordan," Brendan says with a small chuckle. Turning in his arms, I move so I'm sprawled between his legs on the bed, my legs intertwining with his. "Not all heroes wear capes, baby. He has a good soul, but is very willing to go dark to protect the people he cares about. Jordan made sure I understood that. Also, we can never go back to that restaurant if we don't figure our shit out with him. The owner yelled at me."

My lips twitch as I look up at him, eyes wide. "She's so nice though," I say. " I guess she likes Jordan better."

"She likes us just fine, when we aren't being idiots," Brendan says.

"I guess it's time we got smart then," I murmur, taking out my tablet and notepad. We had set up a text to go out to everyone with the address, but now we need to pivot. "Where can we divert these people and who can we trust to hold them there?"

"The Macdonalds would hold them for us I bet," Brendan murmurs. "Jordan once showed me how to call people in a way to make tracing it harder…"

Pulling out the laptop, he makes a dummy number and calls Rory.

"Hello? Who the hell is calling me on a Wisconsin phone number?" Rory snarls, making me smirk.

I guess it works.

"Hi, Mr. Macdonald," I say before he can hang up. "I have a favor to ask."

"Oh," he says. "Well this makes more sense. Are you two safe?"

It's still surprising to me that anyone cares and I nod before I force myself to speak.

"Yes, we are, thank you. I just found some information, and as you know I have a meeting tomorrow," I say, being purposefully vague. "The people on this list are people I've been looking for a long time. I need a place to have another, ah ‘meeting' with these specific people. Is there any way I can direct them your way?"

"What did they do to be redirected?" he asks gruffly.

Sitting up, I lose sight of what I want to say. Do I tell him the truth? Fuck. Closing my eyes, I struggle with everything that starts to bubble up. My blood pressure is rising, yet Brendan is right there, rubbing my back, giving me the space to decide what I want.

"They went too far and accepted my father's invitation to sell me," I state, clearing my throat as I reopen my eyes. "I would like to collect my pound of flesh before they die."

The silence extends to longer than I expect, and is only broken when something breaks against the wall. By the sound of it, it's probably an expensive glass.

"You'll have it," he grunts. "I hope the rat bastard is having his ass rammed with a flaming hot poker in Hell at this very moment. Send them to 890 Goodrich Street, Líadan. That's not far from the location you mentioned to me, and I have a building there not connected to my name or company. My sons and I will ensure they stay put. None of us had any idea."

"Daddy had everyone who was there sign non-disclosure agreements, and someone sent them to me," I explain. "He gave them an opportunity to have what no one else ever would. Between those two things, no one said anything about what happened the night of my seventeenth birthday."

Rory sounds as if he's swallowing his own tongue, making me wince. I lived through it so I know exactly how horrific it all was, but listening to someone hear it for the first time reminds me of it.

"After that, I didn't leave the house and became even more reclusive," I say. "I became the Banshee."

"I'm sorry," he rasps, and I can hear him forcing himself to breathe. His brogue is heavier than it was before, emotion riding him. "None of us fought hard enough for ya. God, I feel sick."

Rory coughs hard before he spits, and Brendan pulls me back to lay against his chest.

"We'll make sure they're ready for ya," Rory growls. "I'll let ya go to prepare. Make sure to get some sleep."

With that, he hangs up, and I feel a little less alone.

"You were so fucking brave, milseán ," Brendan whispers against the shell of my ear. "Let's go through some of the documents Jordan sent over, and then head to bed."

"Is there any way to track Jordan down?" I ask, pulling documents up on different devices.

"I'm sure I could find a hacker on the dark web to find him," he says. "Or I could call him like a normal person and see if he's willing to meet."

Snorting at the idea that I do anything normally, I nod.

"Killing first and then groveling," I agree, tucking into the research at hand.

A kernel inside of me is alight, fostering a hope that it's not too late for us.