Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Bronwyn

J ack talks very lightly about his work, mostly because so much of it is confidential. Sometimes, I imagine that he’s some kind of superhero, though when I mentioned that once, he chuckled and said that was more his business partner's style.

Walking into his offices with Dahlia and him, I notice how normal they look. It’s almost disappointing, after knowing how he was able to change my complete identity legally. I was almost expecting computer banks that spied on people.

Lips twitching at how silly that is, I watch as he yells for his team.

“Hey guys! We’re ready if you are,” he says, turning back to us as we continue to get further into the room. There’s a large space with a giant conference table when you walk in, and then separate offices once you pass that.

“Well, at least your identification for everything will have a gorgeous headshot of you.”

Dahlia touches her hair with a soft smile and nods before frowning.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to change my eye color too?” she asks. “How are we taking photos if I don’t have the contacts?”

Jack opens his mouth to respond, but five people walk into the large room as he does.

“Contacts were actually on my to-do list, not his,” a woman with gray-blue hair says with a smile, holding them up.

She looks as if she’s in her mid-thirties, and is wearing a dark-navy-blue jumpsuit. Somehow it manages to hit business attire with the high neckline, and she’s wearing a pair of heels with it.

It makes me wish I was a trendier dresser than I am. While she rides the edgier side of fashion, I wear things that are cute, comfortable, and can easily go from day to night, since sometimes Jack will take me out after class or work.

Oblivious to my inner thoughts, the woman walks over with her other team members.

“Thank you, Elira,” Jack says with a nod, taking the package from her. “I’ll show you how to use them, and you can practice, Dolly. They’re sometimes a bitch to get in until you get the hang of it. This is Elira Banks, ladies, and works with my current clients on a daily basis. She shuttles questions to me or whoever will best answer it, and also stays in communication with my business partners’ teams.”

“I also do whatever he adds to my list,” Elira says with a grin. “Next to me is Rivek, and he’s the Midwest liaison. He’s newer to the team, but Jack was adamant that he didn’t want to travel as far as he used to now that he’s making Michigan his home base. He works with the private security for clients, and manages Jack’s appointments.”

Rivek is tall and muscled, and has his locs back out of his face. His dark cocoa skin is heavily tattooed, and he has glasses on his nose to help him complete the multiple day to day tasks he does.

Shifting in his T-shirt and jeans, he waves with a nod as he’s introduced.

“You really stopped traveling as much?” Dahlia asks, turning to look at Jack.

“Yes,” he confirms. “After missing so damn much with you, I decided I was done. When I started the company with Greg, it was agreed that he couldn't be the forward facing person due to his military background. On paper, he’s a ghost. My other business partner prefers to work in the background for various reasons, so I’m still the face of everything, I just started taking more video calls. Anyone who wants to work with us, will have to suck it up.”

“Wow,” she murmurs. “I always had a feeling you were doing big things. How many clients do you have?”

“We have over five hundred clients in our area, which does include parts of Oregon and California,” a man I don’t know yet answers. “By the way, I’m Brady. I’m responsible for wiping your existence off the map. Have you ever noticed how everyone will remember an event in a way that didn’t actually happen that way? That’s what is going to happen. I’ll date news articles, social media posts, etc that state that you died. Gone will be Dahlia, and your new identity will merge instead. This will all go live as soon as all the brickwork has been laid.”

Brady is the classic emo-boy, and has dark hair that he’s constantly flicking out of his face. There are gloves on his hands that I recognize as compression gloves, maybe to compensate for the amount of time he spends on the computer?

His band tee and dark-washed ripped jeans speak to someone who enjoys comfort, which I can get behind. It’s one of the reasons I dislike pants.

“Yes, Brady works in the less savory areas of our business. I only care about the law enough to stay out of jail,” Jack says with a shrug. “Otherwise, I color happily outside of the lines.”

A woman with very straight, dark hair snorts as she begins to set up her things on the conference table. The others do the same, and I watch as monitors, a camera, and various other things begin to resemble the fantasy I originally had in my head about Jack’s company.

“We’re all here because we didn’t give a fuck about coloring inside of the lines as kids nor do we now,” the woman says with a shrug. “I’m Luna, and I stalk people. Meaning, I scout out people who may be in need of cyber security for personal or work related reasons, and then find a reason to contact them. Together, we work as a team to make everything possible for people to know their lives, businesses, or belongings are secure. Sometimes we charge for it, and others we chalk it up to good karma points. Your hair looks fabulous by the way.”

Luna managed to say all of that without taking a breath as she continued setting things up. She's wearing a boho maxi dress, sandals, and a vest over it that looks adorable and chic.

“Thank you,” Dahlia says as she curls her fingers to keep from touching it. “I think this was someone’s good karma points.”

Luna’s lips twitch as she nods. “Okay, let’s make you disappear. What name do you want for your new life?”

“Personally, I always suggest that it be a name you’ll remember,” a woman with her hair piled up in a messy bun says. Her hair is wild, and she has a pen stuck behind her ear. It’s giving me mad scientist vibes, and I love it.

Come to think of it, I think Jack has talked about her, but I can’t remember her name. I think it starts with an L.

“I am the last one in this group. I’m Lorrie. I’ve been looking all over the city for you, and I’m very happy to meet you.”

“Hi,” Dahlia whispers, overwhelmed by the reminder that Jack has been working tirelessly to find her.

“How about Deidra Demarco? My mother is Latina, though she didn’t teach me much of it. I can go by Dee, which will be easy for me to remember.”

The room bursts into activity now that they have a direction to go in, and I gaze around in amazement. Finding a chair, I take everything in, watching as Jack sends Dahlia to go wash her hands, to practice putting in her contacts.

Hours go by, photos are taken, until finally Deidra is ready to emerge.

“Alright, time to go home,” Jack says, pushing away from the conference table. “Thank you so much guys for working on this with me. I know you all understand how much this means to me?—”

“We would do this for anyone, Boss, but this is Dolly,” Brady says earnestly, not looking up as he works on the screen. “We’re all invested from the minute you told us she was missing.”

“Well,” Elira snarks, “Dolly technically went into hiding. By the way, when you do something, you seriously go all in, girl. I’m impressed. Welcome back.”

“She certainly does,” Jack murmurs, slinging his arm around Dahlia’s shoulders. I should feel jealous, but I don’t. Somehow, it always was supposed to be the three of us.

“Good night, guys. I’d say don’t stay up too late, but I know better.”

“Does it count that I brought a cot?” Lorrie asks, grinning. It looks like this group is used to needling Jack, because he just rolls his eyes, leading us out.

Anything that brings us one step closer to keeping Dahlia is a win in my book.

Jack

I have plans for the girls, and I’ve been very cagey about telling them. Instead, I tell them to dress in comfortable clothes and to wear good walking shoes.

“Is this code for ‘wear pants’?” Bee asks, huffing in annoyance.

“No,” I laugh. “You can wear a dress.”

Dolly hides a smile as she disappears back into her room to get dressed. Bee and I have been sleeping in there because we are codependent and give no fucks.

I think my last one disappeared four years ago when she did. Waiting patiently, I fix the thin material of my deep-red henley tee, so my tattoos are visible. I have two spots on my right forearm that are free of ink, and one of the things we are going to do today is fix that.

It’s a warm day, so casual shorts and comfortable canvas shoes. These are perfectly broken in, and won’t give me blisters.

“Is this alright?” Dolly asks, walking back out of the room. I’m going to need to take her shopping soon, but I’ll wait until she’s living with me after tonight to do it. She’ll fight me either way, and she looks like my idea of a wet dream in whatever she wears.

Dolly’s outfit consists of a caramel-colored T-shirt that says ‘burnt out’ with a pair of black shorts that cover her long legs. The T-shirt is high necked, her breasts prominently featured.

I guess there was a bra in her bag, because she’s definitely wearing one today. Her curls are perfectly reactivated, and there are black converse shoes on her feet.

In short, she’s fucking perfect.

“You’re one of the reasons my pants never fit right,” I grunt, moving over to kiss her lips. “You look beautiful. I really just want to make sure you’re comfortable. We have some walking to do today.”

“Is that right?” Bee asks, coming out of the other bedroom. Smirking, I take in the twisted pink T-shirt that’s tied under her breasts and navy skirt with a high slit. It’s comfortable, and I know she won’t be sweating in it.

Her cute pink sneakers complete the outfit.

“Yeah, baby. Good thing you’re wearing your walking shoes,” I tease her. “Let’s get going.”

I love how both of them happily follow me, ready for whatever I have planned. Dolly is trying out her gray contacts I notice when I look closer, and I stare, suddenly wishing I could see her beautiful, deep caramel eyes.

Fuck, I’m a dumb sap. They were my idea, so I’ll just have to get used to it until I can deal with the Gareth situation.

I want to go to the mansion and kill him with my bare hands, but there are simply too many witnesses. I know I need to be smarter, despite my usual disdain for the law.

Once in the truck, I steer the vehicle out of the city. There’s a bag filled with snacks and candy, because I know how they both tend to get.

“Gummy bears,” Bee squeals, making me bark out a laugh.

“There’s licorice, potato chips, trail mix, and protein bars in there too,” I mention, knowing they both already ate breakfast. Dolly needs snacks throughout the day either way, and Bee has a sweet tooth that rivals Dolly’s.

The trip up to Ann Arbor is under an hour, and the girls chatter the whole way. I love every fucking second of it, letting their words and laughter wash over me. They’re funny, they have really spot on instincts about people and things they see, and they’re mine. Why wouldn’t I bask in everything about them?

Finding a spot to park downtown, I encourage them both to grab a bottle of water to walk with me. There’s a festival happening today with music and art about half a block from where we are, so that’s one of our stops.

Dolly gazes in awe at the artwork, reminding me that she used to enjoy drawing.

Does she still? She was so creative, but her mother pushed academics to the point that it wasn’t fun anymore. Dolly started hiding things about herself at a very young age, even from me.

Pushing away thoughts of my best friend’s funeral and the way I want to throttle him even now, I focus on the present. Dolly and Bee chat with an artist, a man whose painting is abstract, angry, and filled with emotion.

It’s easy to be drawn to it, because the rawness of it is haunting.

“This is incredible,” Dolly murmurs. “I’m so glad you’re showcasing your art.”

“It’s hard,” the man admits. “I struggle from day to day, and my art helps find a channel for it. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m losing the thread of my life, but somehow find it again.”

His words sound like gibberish at first, but they also make perfect sense. This is his truth, and his creative genius keeps him tethered to the world.

Moving on, we listen to the bands playing, and Bee and Dolly are enthralled as they discover new bands. They both love music, which is another reason this is a stop on our adventures.

It’s a shame the Darkest Nights doesn’t tour as often anymore, or I’d bug Greg to help me get tickets. It took almost an act of God for me to get them for Dolly’s birthday the year she turned sixteen.

Glancing at the time, I see we should get going, and I guide the girls out.

“I loved the festival,” Bee says with a wide grin. Her arm is around Dolly’s waist, and they’re leaned against each other happily as they walk. Music provides an experience high for them.

They’re riding it together now.

“Some of the bands were really good,” I admit with a nod as we stroll together. There’s a Cuban restaurant that offers quick service in their outdoor dining area that’s amazing. Cuban sandwiches, delicious bowls, and refreshing drinks. It’s one of my favorite discoveries in Ann Arbor from my work visits.

Thank goodness it isn’t far from Detroit. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy living in Michigan: everything is pretty near each other in the mitten.

The girls are excited about the food, and it seems odd, but I love watching them eat. Whenever they’re enjoying their meals, they can’t help but be a bit vocal. It’s fun to watch them blush when I tease them about it.

I’m drinking a hibiscus lemonade that’s refreshing, and hand it to Dolly to try. I wonder if she’s still as adventurous about new food and drinks as she used to be.

“Tell me what you think,” I say, watching as her lips wrap around the straw and she sucks gently on it. Fuck me, I wasn’t expecting to get hard watching her drink this.

“It’s sweet, tart, and really good,” she admits. “It’s a lemonade, so it’s hard to fuck up, though. I like it.”

Bee hides a smile, and I feel again as if I’m missing something. We’re all alone out here, so I decide to ask.

“Do you have a lemon kink, sweetheart?” I growl, enjoying the way they both shiver.

“Yes,” Dolly says, nodding. “It’s all her fault though.”

“Care to share with the class?” I drawl, feeling twitchy again. Brats, I tell ya.

“Bowen smells like jasmine and lemons,” Dolly says slowly.

She also tastes like lemons. Almost like lemon fucking pie.

“I see now,” I murmur, my shorts officially X-rated now.

Why did I have to ask again?

“Ugh, we may as well share a dessert from the bakery. I can’t move from here for a while,” I grumble.

The girls seem pleased with themselves as they look back at me, and I shake my head.

“You do everything together, you may as well be punished together too,” I rumble. “Is there anything in your apartment that you need, Dee?”

“Just some things I keep in my safe, but I don’t know if it’ll even be there when I get back,” she sighs.

The rules of the auction state that she needs to return to the club before the town car takes them home, but I plan to follow them back to Belmont. There’s no way she’s staying there.

“Then you can hop right into my truck so I can bring you home then,” I say.

A cloud crosses over her face as she winces. “I should probably tell my boss I’m not coming back,” she says. “I don’t think I would have made it in Belmont without that job.”

“She hired you underage, didn’t she?” Bee asks, reading between the lines.

“I lied about my age, but yes. Percy took me in anyway, despite whatever she may have thought,” she confirms. “I found that I really like dancing. I ignored everyone else, and just let myself move.”

Adding that to my mental notes of things to do with her, I nod. I want to take Bee and Dolly to some of the clubs in Detroit now that Bee will be graduating in a week. She got into a behavioral therapy masters program, and is starting in the fall. She’s worked her ass off to get here.

Paying for the check once we finish our shared dessert, because the calories don’t count if you share, we start to walk again. Graffiti Alley is on the way to my tattoo artist, and I want to make sure they see it.

Bee hasn’t left Detroit very much outside of visiting her aunt, reminding me of how much I neglected spoiling her.

She’d probably say it’s enough that I helped her in other ways, but I’ve never been someone who does the bare minimum. I felt guilt for being attracted to her, stealing her from Dolly.

I’m thankful to be able to put that in the past, because I want more with both of them.

“What’s this?” Dolly asks, eyes wide as she sees the shock of color down the alley.

“Graffiti Alley,” I tell her, motioning for her to check it out. Bee and I are on her heels, appreciating different aspects of each piece. It’s all so different, yet works well together.

It reminds me of the way that tattoos fit together to create a living piece of artwork.

After exploring, I check my watch, nudging them to keep walking. I’m glad I suggested good footwear, because we’ve been walking a lot today.

“What are you up to now?” Bee asks curiously. “Don’t say ‘nothing’ because you’re squirmy.”

Barking out a laugh, I shake my head. “Baby, I don’t think I’ve been ‘squirmy’ a single day of my life.”

Snorting, Bee shows me exactly what she thinks about that as she rolls her eyes. Opening the door to The Ink Blot , I gesture that they step inside. I’ve had a few pieces done here with Caelan, and they’ve always been intricate and gorgeous.

There’s no one else I can imagine to get these last two pieces on my right forearm with.

“Jack, it’s good to see you,” Caelan says with a small smile. He doesn’t easily find humor or joy in things, and rarely shows emotion. It’s a credit to the fact that he enjoys my company and money, that I get even this.

“You too. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else. This is my bee and my dahlia,” I introduce them by the tattoos I’ll be getting in their honor. He doesn’t have to know those are their actual names.

“You’re getting a tattoo?” Dahlia asks, intrigued as Caelan ushers us to his station.

“I’m getting two,” I say, pushing my sleeve up completely. “See these two blank spaces? They’re yours. A bee will go here, while the dahlia will be underneath her as she sits on the petal.”

I show them both where the tattoos will sit on my forearm, and their eyes are wide with excitement. I’m glad to see they’re both invested, because it would suck if they hated it.

Sitting in Caelan’s chair, I watch him perform his usual ritual before he begins. The man is meticulously trained, and an excellent artist.

The girls sit around me, holding hands as they watch me drop my head back as Caelan’s tattoo gun begins to tattoo me over the stencil he put over my skin. The pain grounds me and feels good, giving me the same high that music gives Bee and Dolly.

Mine.

If I thought the caveman in me was bad before, I can feel him getting more and more feral as the piece on my arm gets more distinct. A quick trip to Belmont is a drop in the bucket compared to the lifetime I plan to have with both of them.