Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack

L eaning against the door to my bedroom, I gaze at Bee and Dahlia in my bed. I had to strip the other room of bedsheets, scrub the floor, and clean everything to clear the air of vomit. I’ve also called my team and delivered Dolly’s laptop to them, to see if they can figure out who the person was who sent it.

I know it was Gareth, but I fist my hand at the memory of her terror and pain-filled eyes as he snapped the photo. She says she doesn’t remember him doing it, and I believe her.

Now, I need to find a way to nail his balls with this photo, because it’s evidence that she was raped and child pornography. I had to warn Lorrie about what was in the email when I ran downstairs to give it to her.

God, I owe them all huge bonuses for the things I ask them to do.

My phone buzzes in my pants pocket, and I take a shuddering breath as I tear myself away from my girls. Bee and Dolly have their arms wrapped around each other as they sleep. I want nothing more than to crawl in with them, but I can’t. Not yet.

Turning away, I pull my phone out, knowing few people would be calling me at home at ten at night on a Saturday. Today was supposed to be fun.

Gareth is a fucking bastard.

“Hey Greg,” I grunt in a dead voice. My bare feet drag along the carpeted floor, as I grab the bottle of scotch sitting out on the coffee table.

“ I’m not going to ask how you’re holding up,” Greg mutters, listening to the cap of the scotch bottle open up. “ It’s not going as fast as I want it to. If we just kill him, we risk backlash from people.”

“I know all of that,” I growl, taking a healthy sip of scotch from the bottle. I swallow hard, scowling out at the skyline. “He’s taunting her at this point. I just want to drain his goddamn accounts and let the gang kill him.”

“ That would work,” Greg says. “ They have a meeting in a week and a half. Let them meet, and then drain them all the next day. They’ll think that something spooked him.”

“How did he get her email?” I ask sadly. “I made certain it was as secure as possible.”

“ It’s a free email. If he even got the barest idea of her new name, he could get someone to do it.” Greg explains. “ It’s difficult to make her bulletproof. All you can do is your best.”

“ I want to ruin his reputation,” I snarl. “I need to find a way to pin the photos on him without hurting Dahlia.”

“ I can help with that as well. The Boxley gang is into a lot of shit, but they draw the line at child abuse, whether it be sexual, physical, or trafficking,” Greg says. “They sell skin, sure, but they’re all consenting adults who are selling themselves for sex services. If they knew that he was hurting children, they’d destroy him publicly through all of their media outlets. This gang is trying to gain legitimacy in this town, which is why they’re laundering money.”

“Holy shit,” I say. “Okay, yes. How are you going to get that information to them?”

“I infiltrated the gang, ” he says. “ I’m not as retired as I pretend to be. ”

“Pretend?” I snort. “That’s the most blatant lie you’ve ever told me, old man. I don’t think that’ll ever happen. There’s been at least three times this year that you’ve fallen off the map.”

“ Fuck ,” Greg groans. “ You know me too well. This apartment is shit, and I’m going to need a spa week after this mission is over. I haven’t forgotten about Dolly, okay? Gareth has gotten the attention of people in important positions. It’s bigger than we thought, but she needs to stay safe.”

“Yeah, she does.” I sigh, taking another long sip of my drink. I’m starting to feel warm, and know that’s a sign I need to stop before I get drunk. Snapping on the lid, I put it aside. “I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing her like that. Even my imagination wasn’t up to par with the evil in that photo.”

“Where is she ?” he asks.

“Sleeping with Bee,” I grunt. “You going to be good? No matter what, we all make it back. It’s our motto and shit.”

Greg has always taken the hands-on jobs that a bodyguard couldn’t handle because he had to go undercover. It’s usually only a few weeks long if that, and then he’s back with his family.

Tori would fucking murder me if he didn’t come back one day. So we made an agreement with Tierney that no matter what, we’d always make it back.

“Yeah, I will. Those kids need me. They’re fucking hellions. Gotta go ,” he says, and the line goes dead.

Blowing out a breath, I wonder how deep this all goes, and then I video chat my team to update them. It’s going to be a long night.

Dahlia

It’s hard to keep moving when I can see myself in that damn email every time I close my eyes. There’s only one thing right now that will help, so I’m writing before I have to go into work today.

Sunday was spent in bed with movies with Jack and Bee, because I didn’t want to human. I didn’t have any spoons left to be able to do anything, and I love that Jack and Bee just went with the flow.

But now, I have to stitch myself together and go to work and school. Bee is working and then has an interview today to get into graduate school to get her masters in social work. After she finishes this two year program, she’ll be able to get licensed to practice.

I’m so proud of her, and glad she took a year off to decide where she wanted to go next. The reflection was good for her I think. I’m also a little selfish because it means I’m able to get more time with her.

My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts. Jack said he would call me to remind me when I needed to leave. I’m meeting Ciara downstairs, and I mentioned being worried I would be late.

I feel really spacey and weird after this weekend, almost disconnected. I have an appointment set tomorrow for my therapist, so I’m hoping it’ll help.

“Hi, Jack,” I murmur, putting my notebook to the side. Bee and Jack went to work earlier than I needed to be, so I’m still in my pajamas.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jack says warmly. They’ve been extra loving the last few days, and the support has been helping. It’s as if the photo untethered me from the life I’m building, and now I’m floating in space.

It’s hard to explain, but it’s my truth and how I’m feeling today. “I lost track of time the way I worried I would,” I say, standing up to walk toward my room to shower. Jack cleaned so well, I can’t smell my horror anymore.

Because that’s what it was.

Living, breathing, trauma smacking me in the face.

“Slow your breathing, Dahlia,” Jack rumbles. I’m gasping for air, and I lean against the doorframe, closing my eyes to remind myself that I’m safe and Gareth can’t touch me.

“Thanks,” I whisper, practicing mindful breathing. “I’m going to jump in the shower and get ready.”

“Okay. You have roughly half an hour,” he reminds. I set an alarm on the phone just in case, because it’s already a weird day. I’m hoping familiar tasks will bring me out of it.

“Thanks, Jack. Love you,” I say, walking into the bathroom. “I’ll check in later.”

“I love you so much, baby girl. In case you need a reminder, you are so fucking strong. It’s okay to break if you need to, yeah? Don’t feel like you can’t with us,” he says. “Then pick up the pieces, because you are a queen.”

My lips tip up tiredly as I look in the mirror. I have a lot of work to do to pick up those pieces today.

“I know. Bye,” I say, hanging up. Pulling off my clothes and putting my hair up in a shower cap, I rush through my shower. I need to wake up, and wash off the hours I spent writing.

Releasing and cleansing everything I’ve been feeling is exhausting. The shower helps, and soon I’m standing in front of the mirror, popping in my contacts, brushing my teeth, and fixing my curls.

Looking down at my makeup, I decide that I just want to look awake, that’s my goal.

Makeup is something I worry I won’t ever be very good at, though Bee helps and I also watch tutorials to recreate looks. Doing my makeup for the day, I’m pleased at the results.

My skin looks healthy, my eyes don’t look tired, and I managed to get rid of the under eye bags.

Humming a Darkest Nights song I remember, I move to my closet to get dressed. It’s freezing outside, so I grab a pair of gray trouser pants, a cream sweater, and black boots for today.

A deep-blue overcoat completes the outfit with earmuffs and a pretty scarf with matching mittens, because I’m not trying to get frostbite. The snow is coming down today, and I’m eternally grateful to not be driving.

The alarm on my phone screams at me as I grab my gray purse, to throw over my head to wear as a cross body, with my essentials, and turn off my alarm. Running out the door, I lock up and meet Ciara in the lobby before we head out to the car.

“You look really good today,” she says with a warm smile before her head checks every angle as we walk.

“Thanks, rough weekend, but managing,” I say breathlessly as I slide into the passenger seat. She parked on the street so we could easily merge into traffic, and soon we’re on the way to the music school.

The ride is fairly smooth, and she parks at a garage nearby, so we can walk together. Gone are the days where I could be dropped off out front. I miss my anonymity, and wish it could have continued.

I don’t understand why Gareth wants me now that I’m an adult, if his tastes lean toward children.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, you’re going to scare people, Dee,” Ciara murmurs as we nod at the guard in front of the school.

Forcing myself to purge myself of thoughts of hitting Gareth with a crowbar, I smile broadly up at Karl.

“Good morning,” I say, my name badge already hanging from my neck.

“You officially don’t look like you want to kill people anymore, so I guess you can go in,” he teases me, unlocking the door.

“I’ll work on it,” I promise, making him snort as I walk inside. I’m halfway through putting my purse away and taking off my coat, when I realize that I forgot my lunch and snacks, in my hurry to get out the door in time.

Fuck. Guess I’ll see if that’ll earn me a spanking later today. Maybe it’ll help ground me. It’s worth a shot. Grabbing my phone, I quickly text Jack.

Me:

Made it to work, putting my phone on silent. I also managed to forget my lunch and snacks. It’s definitely a Monday!

I replace my phone once it’s on silent into my purse, and stand behind my desk. Jack couldn’t come to the school before the email, because he wanted to make sure he didn’t lead Gareth to me. Unfortunately, it looks as if it doesn’t matter anymore.

Today is an Open House for the school, allowing parents and their children to meet with Sullivan, the board, and teachers, as well as tour the premises. It means an influx of new people, which puts a strain on the security system and guards.

Ciara stands at my side, not giving a single fuck about the sidelong glances people give her.

I have to admit that she’s intimidating, but she’s meant to be. She’s six-feet-tall, Latina, and usually appears to not have any expression when in the public eye. Her long black hair is scraped back into a military bun, and her tactical pants and black shirt are clearly ironed. There’s a gun on her hip, and she has knives hidden on her person as well.

Everything about Ciara screams danger, which is exactly what she wants.

I help people with a smile, content in the knowledge that she’s doing her job, and no one is outwardly an ass to me. Around two in the afternoon, I sag against the desk, groaning as I grab the plastic squeeze bottle of water that I snagged from the employee lounge.

It has Melton School of Music printed across it, and suits my needs to stay hydrated.

“Dee, head to class. I have your replacement,” Sullivan says, gesturing to a student.

Straightening, I grin at the girl, swallowing the sip of water that I just took. I have to hold back a wince, because it hurt to swallow so quickly, and walk to class. Thankfully, this is my one-on-one with my vocal coach, so I don’t need to take anything with me.

My purse is now put up in a locker in the lounge, so I don’t have to worry about it either.

It’s amazing to me that my schoolwork made it into my oversized bag, but I forgot my lunch in the fridge at home. Oh, well. I’ve been so busy, my stomach hasn’t caught up enough to be hungry.

“Hey, Dee,” my coach says with a smile. “Let’s get to work.”

Over the last six months, I’ve doubled down on musical theory, I can make a score of my songs, and I can even sing them half decently. Sullivan simply smirks when anyone mentions how odd that is, saying some people just have music in their blood.

My class lasts for an hour, and I work hard to learn to hit the notes more consistently that I typically have a problem with. There’s a song called The Forgotten that I’m writing with these types of notes, and I want it to be perfect.

At the end of the class, I can feel that they’re starting to come easier if I do the exercises she shows me.

I give her a genuine smile, and Miss Gaithersburg sighs happily. “You looked frazzled when you came in,” she says. “Now, you look satisfied and content. Try to hold onto this feeling, Dee, though it’s a madhouse today.”

“Yes, it is,” I say. “This really helped, thank you.”

Sullivan is waiting outside when I walk into the hallway, and he doesn’t look very happy.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, brow raised.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Arina has her panties in a twist, and seems to think you’re not suitable to attend and work at the school.”

“Okay,” I drawl, even though I haven’t lived in Florida in years. I’m trying hard to hold onto my zen, but I can feel it slipping through my fingers. “What does that mean?”

“How do you feel about a student showcase for the school?” Sullivan asks, wincing. “It’s really putting you on the spot, but it will shut her the fuck up.”

“You know how much I enjoy putting people in their place, Sullivan,” I say with a grin. “Is this going to happen in the next few minutes?”

“Ah, yes. There’s also another thing,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask. I’m certain I’m not going to enjoy whatever it is he says.

“Arina and her father want the spotlight to include something you’re currently working on,” he says.

“But, my progress pieces aren’t done,” I remind him, holding onto my professionalism thinly. What I want to do is yell at him, because he’s letting a student and her parent lead him around by the nose.

“I know,” he mutters. “I would usually just ignore this, but they’ll just come up with something new, and I want to nip this in the bud. I’m going to play with you, I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t like it.”

“None of my newer songs are scored to music,” I sigh. “Most of it is still in my head.”

“That’s fine, I’ll follow your lead,” he says. “I learned music by ear first, and then learned the notes. It’s why I insist on giving people with gifts a chance. Art finds its way to the light in so many ways. Go take five, regroup, and then come kick some ass with me, yeah?”

“Don’t tell me how many people are going to be listening, please. I don’t want to know,” I tell him, headed for the bathroom to decide on what I want to perform and wrap my mind around this.

I’m willing to bet anything that this has to do with the fact that Ivan hasn’t been openly hostile in the last few months. I still get the odd glare, but that’s it. Newsflash twatapotamus: I don’t want your boyfriend.

Jealous and petty vibes aren’t going to take me out today though. I’ve lived through worse, last weekend is evidence of it.

Ready or not, here I come.