Chapter Twenty Six
Thunderous silence followed Justice hanging up on Callahan. Justice glared at his phone with a vicious hatred, Sal remained with his head in his hands, and I began addressing the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.
Callahan Cordero was responsible for Kalen's death.
Honestly, I wasn't surprised. The revelation actually brought with it some clarity. All of the pieces of the puzzle came together to and it was such a clear, vivid picture I wondered how I hadn't taken a stab at completing it before now.
Kalen had been shot at point blank range. He'd been found in an alleyway. None of his personal effects had been taken, ruling out theft, and his body hadn't been tampered with in any way – gangs carved their signs into the corpses to lay claim for the hit and gain notoriety. The CBK were the only gang in Chicago who didn't desecrate bodies. Apparently they had a little more respect for the deceased.
After adding everything up, I was left with two options: either some random gun toting idiot had come along and shot my brother dead and then moved him for no other reason than he felt like it, or someone from his own gang had turned on him.
I felt my stomach summersault as a wave of dread hit me. Justice had just told Callahan exactly what we were going to do with his coveted CD.
"Um," I said, clearing my throat. "You just told Callahan you were going to send him to prison. And yet you told me we couldn't go to the cops. I'm confused."
Justice glanced up to meet my gaze and it took everything I had not to flinch. I had to remind myself that murderous glare wasn't directed at me, or at least, I hoped it wasn't.
"Yeah, I know what I said. But now I have a better idea of what we're working with."
"Which means you have a plan, right?" Sal piped up, lifting his head from his hands to eye the two of us dubiously.
Justice laughed, only I was pretty certain he wasn't finding anything amusing. "Yeah, no, I don't have a plan."
Sal's expression was one of utter disbelief. "Oh, right, so you just like pissing everyone the fuck off, which is why you not only hung up on the bastard, but you told him he was about to have a change in address."
"Sal, you need to start paying attention to the details."
Sal snorted. "Funny, I thought I was. Or did I miss the part where you called him a son of a bitch and told him to bring it the fuck on."
I was starting to think Sal freaking out was contagious. The more irate he got, the quicker my breathing became and sweat coated my palms. It made me wish Justice's whole be-calm bullshit would rub off on me as well.
Ignoring Sal's very valid points, Justice folded his arms across his broad chest. "He offered me a second chance and he's prepared to leave you, Gin and Henry alone, even though he knows there's a possibility you may have seen what was on that CD."
"So?" Sal and I said at the same time. At least both of us were on the same blank page.
"So, it means he's pulling this on his own. Lupe has no idea what's going on."
"Mercer," Sal said, bringing his hands together and resting his chin on his fingertips. "You were here for the entirety of that conversation, weren't you? You heard everything I did, didn't you? I mean, I don't know, maybe I went deaf for a few seconds there, because I seem to have missed the crucial part where Callahan was like, 'Oh, dude, Lupe would shit a brick if he knew I offed the superintendent' and then Montoya was like 'Really, wow, I had no idea you were doing this as an independent project, but thanks for telling me'."
While I couldn't help but snort out a laugh at Sal's hilarious interpretation of two cutthroat men, Justice opted to level Sal with an unimpressed stare. "Salvatore Black, you are the dumbest smart person I know. Think about it. Lupe's rigorous and strict. If he was aware and knew we were in possession of this CD, we'd all be dead, including me."
Justice paced the length of the living room. "He wouldn't risk people having any knowledge. Callahan offering me a second chance was as good as him telling me he's in it alone. He's fucked this one up. The only reason he's being so gracious is because if me, you, Gin and Henry wind up dead Lupe's going to be suspicious as to why. It'll be another cover up Callahan has to figure out, which will involve more men to see it through. He'll still send a cleanup crew to take care of Ioney, but other than that he needs to keep it low key."
"Huh, well when you put it like that," Sal said, rising to stand. He stretched, swiping his chin length hair out of his eyes. "I'm going to go and grab some stuff from my car. Something tells me we'll be getting some unwelcome visitors rather soon, courtesy of Mr. Asswipe Cordero."
Once he vacated the house, I sat down. Justice resumed pacing, deep in thought. Watching him was surprisingly soothing. The repetitive movements threw me into a trancelike lull, where I sat back and rested my head against the back of the sofa.
I was emotionally and physically drained having gone from being pissed off, to terrified beyond belief, to being sick to my stomach, to laughing hysterically, to having a severe panic attack, all in the space of a few hours. The panic attack in particular wasn't something I wanted to experience again. Unfortunately I got the dreaded feeling a repeat was inevitable, and would probably be the latest development in the slow but steady progression of me losing my mind.
Justice calming me down was great, but what if next time he wasn't there? What If I was alone or worse, what if I lost it in front of the kids? If justice's voice was the key, maybe I could con him into doing a recording. I had no idea what he'd been muttering about in a foreign language, but the cadence of his voice had certainly gone a long way in –
"What did you call me?" I asked as something occurred to me, tracking Justice's progress back and forth across the room.
He paused to frown. "I didn't say anything."
"No, before, when I was freaking out. You called me something. What was it?"
"I –" he broke off and his mouth went slack. To my astonishment, his face started to redden, a flush creeping up his neck and tingeing his cheeks pink. Wait a second, was he blushing?
"Nothing," he snapped, and resumed his furious pacing.
"No, you did," I persisted. "It wasn't in English though. Was it Italian?"
Justice studiously avoided my gaze, his cheeks continuing to burn. "It was nothing. I don't even remember what I said."
The front door opened as Sal reappeared carrying a duffle. He dropped it just inside and closed the door with his hip, blowing into his hands. I ignored him in favour of pestering Justice.
"I think it was Italian," I said, strangely amused by how uncomfortable Justice was becoming. "Something like... the... thess..."
"What are you trying to say?" Sal asked, making his way to the kitchen and putting the jug on.
"I'm not sure," I said, at the same time Justice whirled on Sal and barked, "I swear to God, you better keep your mouth shut."
Sal blinked at Justice. "Uh, am I missing something here?"
I was getting frustrated. "He called me something while I was having a panic attack, and now he won't tell me what it is."
A shit eating grin curved Sal's lips. "Oh, you mean when he called you tesorina mia?"
"And I'm back to talking to myself," Justice muttered. Not that anyone was listening to him.
"That's Italian, isn't it? How do you know it?" I asked.
"I don't," Sal replied, grin widening as he trained his stare on Justice. "But I heard him say it. So, oh fearless leader, care to play Google Translate and let us know?"
Justice pointed at him, his face flushing even more. "You can fuck off, and as for you," he said rounding on me, "It was no big deal. I was just saying some random crap to calm you down."
"If it was just random crap, there shouldn't be a problem," I snapped, clamping my arms across my chest and jutting my chin out.
'"Don't worry, Mercer, I'll look it up in a minute," Sal said, rummaging through the cupboards for a mug.
"Think you can make it to your laptop before I hurl it out the window?" Justice said, and Sal turned around to gape at him. I thought he might have been dumbfounded that Justice would resort to trashing a perfectly good laptop to keep us from finding out one stupid Italian phrase, but then Sal cackled with glee.
"Oh, shit, this has got to be good. I know you didn't call her sweetheart, or baby. That's too mainstream for you. It had to be something with more meaning."
Deciding he wasn't going to wait for Sal to make a run for his laptop, Justice swiped it off the sofa and held it aloft in the general direction of the window.
"Okay, okay, okay," Sal said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine, I'll stop being nosy, just put my shit down. You know, I've been through three of those this year alone and each one short circuiting on me was your god damned fault. Seriously, they could write an anger management self-help book using you as a case study."
"That's what I thought," Justice said, dropping it onto the sofa cushion. "And if I catch you tinkering with Google Translate later, I'm going to snap this one over your head. Leave it alone, it's none of your business."
"But it's my business and I want to know," I huffed, stepping up so we were toe to toe.
Justice made a noise of frustration and rolled his eyes. "I don't really want to go into it, okay? It was just something I said without thinking because you were freaking out, and I'm not well versed in calming people down without using violent methods. If I'd known you two clowns were going to give me the third degree about it, I might have foregone niceties and just knocked you out."
"Why are you so embarrassed?" I asked.
Justice scoffed. "I'm not embarrassed."
"I could fry an egg on your face at the moment," I pointed out, and felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips.
Uncharacteristic of him, Justice started fidgeting with his neckline. "I'm wearing a thermal shirt, it's hot is all. I'm not embarrassed and I'm not repeating myself, so drop it. And no, you're not looking it up," he said when he saw me glance sideways at the abandoned laptop. He snatched it up and tucked it under his arm.
"Fine," I conceded, more amused than anything else. "But I'm going to find out at some point, whether you like it or not."
"I have no doubt," he said, a hint of dismay in his voice. He reached out, his thumb tracing my bottom lip, and my heart rate quickened. "This is the first smile I've seen on you in what feels like forever. I can only hope that next time it's not at my expense."
"But those kind are the best," Sal quipped, bringing his mug of coffee with him through to the living room. Justice scowled at him while I struggled to reconcile his totally blasé attitude with the terribly dire situation we were in.
He balanced his coffee on the arm of the chair and retrieved his duffle bag, dropping it on the sofa and unzipping it to reveal the contents. I couldn't believe my eyes, which was stupid considering my current company.
"What is this?" I picked up what appeared to be a crossbow.
"It's a crossbow," Sal said, like I was mentally challenged.
"Naturally the first thing everyone needs in their gangster survival kit," I fired back, dropping it into the bag.
Justice started taking inventory, pulling out some very lethal looking knives, a couple of sets of brass knuckles, and a few other things that looked vaguely familiar but I could never hope to put a name to on my own.
"Yeah, well, I've never had to use it before, it takes forever to load. Gin gave it to me a couple of years ago as a gimmick." Sal paused and cocked his head to the side, then huffed out a laugh. "Actually, it wasn't until after I shot Alec in the leg with it that we decided it might come in handy one day. You wouldn't believe the punch it packs."
"You shot Alec in the leg with it?" I gasped, backing up a step.
"Hey, he bet me fifty bucks I wouldn't be able to hit a moving target. Since we're competitive bastards and Gin wouldn't let us use her mother's cat, our only option was Alec himself. He took off at a dead run and I took aim. Idiot thought I wouldn't be able to work out his whole zigzag strategy, like running five steps that way and turning to run five the other way was just pure genius. So I fired, and next thing you know Alec went down. Gin screamed and ripped the crossbow off me. Whacked me over the head with it, too. Alec needed stitches in his leg, and I got paper stitches for my brow."
"You're smiling like it was the best day ever," I said, unsure whether I should be amused at his antics, or disturbed that he'd actually shot somebody with his crossbow. I glanced at Justice, who was inspecting the sharpness of a knife the length of my forearm.
"What?" he said when he noticed me staring. "Did you hear him say I was idiot number three watching from the side-lines? No, you didn't. I wasn't there and all I can say is, while they're in my presence they're not quite that stupid. I think the scariest part was neither of them was drunk or high. Completely in their right minds when they decided to play pin the arrow on Alec."
"Come on, it was epic," Sal said, grinning deviously.
"You could have killed him," I cried.
"I was aiming pretty low," Sal said in his defence, shoving his hair out of his eyes. "Besides, when have I ever missed?"
Having emptied the bag, Justice gave Sal a droll stare. "Pride before a fall, wiseass."
This was news. "He's really never missed his target?"
Justice smirked, shaking his head in Sal's direction. "Not yet."
Sal rummaged through the pile now laid out across the cushions, picking up a set of brass knuckles and pocketing them and snagging three separate knives. "Of course, all the hard-core stuff is back at my place locked up in the safe. I'll get it at daybreak, if nobody comes-a-knocking in the meantime."
"What, you don't carry guns in your car?" I asked, voice dripping sarcasm.
Unfortunately, it was lost on Sal, who responded with, "Believe me, I want to, but a certain someone expressly forbade it."
"That's because when you get pulled over by the police and arrested for possession of a firearm you don't have a permit for, this certain someone will have to make a trip down to the station to bail your ass out," Justice said, slipping a small army knife into his boot. He strapped another to his left forearm with the hilt facing down, tucked a third into the waist band of his jeans, and proceeded to test the weight of the remaining set of brass knuckles.
"You keep guns in your car," Sal accused, likewise arming himself to the limit.
"Yes," Justice said on a sigh. "But I'm not trigger happy like you, and I also have a place to stash them where the only way a cop is going to find them is by getting a warrant to strip my SUV."
Justice picked up a short black stick, which turned out to be a retractable baton. He hit the release with his thumb and it sprung out to its full two and a half foot length. Placing his free hand on the tip of it, he forced it to retract again until I heard a click.
"Got it?" He held it out for me to take.
The weight was solid in my hand. It was heavier than I expected and would definitely do serious damage with minimal effort. Justice had deliberately picked the best weapon for a complete novice like myself.
Doing a repeat of his little demonstration, I nodded. "I think so."
"Good." He handed me a thin black belt and holster. "Strap it to your waist."
When I tried to take it from him, he resisted until I met his gaze. His face was hard, his dark eyes full of calm resolve. "Don't forget it's there. If someone attacks you, I expect you to do whatever it takes to be the one that walks away."
With shaking hands I snatched the belt from him and muttered an affirmative, strapping it to my waist and shoving the baton into the holster.
"I'll be back in a minute," Justice said to Sal, and to my surprise he ushered me ahead of him towards the door. "Call Gin. Tell her to get Henry and Alec and sit tight. Don't tell her what's on the CD. The less they know the better. And make sure she understands that under no circumstances are they to do anything Callahan says on the off chance he calls one of them."
"What about Ray? He's pretty close to this mess, too."
Justice shook his head. "His mama's got two or three days left, tops. He made it pretty clear he's not leaving her side until it's over. If I force him to leave and he misses her last moments, it'll ruin him. For now, we know where he is."
Sal was dialling before the front door closed behind us. Justice did a quick sweep of the street and must have been satisfied nobody was about to jump out and pop us. He grabbed my hand and started tugging me down the steps. I was almost jogging to keep up with his long strides, and as soon as we hit his car he threw open the passenger side door and urged me into the seat.
"What are you doing?" I asked when he dropped one knee to the ground and started fiddling with the door.
Justice pulled the knife from the waistband of his jeans, wedging the blade between the metal frame of his car and the inner plastic panel. "Don't worry about what I'm doing. Just keep a look out. Both ways. It's pretty unlikely Callahan sent someone so soon, but I don't want to underestimate him."
I followed his instructions, and quickly started to feel like an out of control bobble head. The street remained clear and after fifteen seconds of Justice skirting the knife all the way around the bottom half of the car door, the panel came loose with a pop. Justice caught it before it clattered noisily to the pavement. While my mouth dropped open, he leaned the panel against his car.
"This is your secret hiding spot?" I had no idea why I was whispering. It wasn't like there was anyone around to overhear us. Maybe it was the fact I was witnessing something so illegal if a cop happened upon us right now I'd be thrown behind bars just for sitting in the vehicle itself.
In the hollowed out space of Justice's Escalade sat two guns and four clips held in place with strips of duct tape. Forgoing an answer altogether – the only appropriate one would have been 'Duh!' anyway, Justice removed the tape to retrieve his weapons and loaded each one.
"You do that like most people tie their shoes," I commented, my eyes returning to scan the street. In my peripheral, I caught Justice's shrug.
"I held my first gun when I was twelve. When I was thirteen I could hit a moving target. Considering I've had lots of time to practice in the last eight years, it shouldn't be a surprise that I know how to handle one."
I put my lookout duty on hold to regard him with a hint of awe. "The more you tell me, the more I realize how little I actually know about you."
In a rare moment of vulnerability, Justice's reply was equally as honest. "Sometimes when I tell you things, I'm convinced you'll run a mile. Then I remember you're stuck with me and don't really have the choice of bolting."
He stood, tucking one of the guns into his jeans at the small of his back, keeping the other one in his left hand and pointed at the ground. I took his right hand when he offered it to me and slid from the car.
I stopped him when he started to head back to the house. He frowned at me in question, and my stomach fluttered as I said, "When this is over and I have the option of running, tell me something else. I may surprise you."
His expression was one of anguish a split second before he masked it with indifference. Still, I'd seen enough to know exactly what he was thinking: there might not be an after.
Justice's reply was delayed, further proof of his doubt. "Okay, you've got yourself a deal," he said, giving my hand a squeeze.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Recently I'd experienced a few nights where I thought darkness would never turn to light, where night seemed to go on for eternity and I was stuck, trapped in it with no way out. Each of these nights seemed to last longer than the previous, and tonight was no exception.
Once inside, Justice handed Sal the second gun and told him to cover the front of the house. Sal lost his carefree, cheeky attitude to become someone stoic and serious, moving across the room to switch the lights off. He drew one of the curtains back to get a good vantage point of the street.
Justice left him to it, and I was inclined to follow him as he swept down the dark hall and opened both bedroom doors. The kids were asleep, huddled together on the double bed.
"Now what?" I asked as Justice slid down the wall to sit where he could partially see into both rooms. I crouched next to him.
He pointed at the mattress on the floor beside the double bed. "Now you get some sleep. Sal and I will keep watch."
"You're kidding, right? You really expect me to lie down and close my eyes like everything is right in the world?"
"It was worth a try." He checked the display on his phone and sighed. "It's half past four. The sun will be up in about three hours, and I really doubt Callahan will try something during the day; too many potential witnesses. So as soon daylight hits us you're going to call Karen and send the kids to her. We're also going to make copies of that CD."
When his pause became lengthy and he did nothing but rub at his eyes, I nudged him.
"What?" he asked. "That's all I've got. I'm making it up as I go." It must have been the look on my face that caused him to add, "I know it's not ideal, but hey, this isn't your average loan repayment gone wrong or some stupid gang coming along to stir shit up and test our strength. I'm doing the best I can at the moment, alright?"
I nodded. "So long as you fill me in every step of the way, I'm good. But so help me God if you use me as bait again, I won't be held responsible for what I do to you."
Justice's teeth glinted in the dark as he smiled at me. "Spoken like a true Mercer."
Seven AM felt like it was light years away. I didn't grow bored so much as impatient, and the longer I sat in the dark the more I started to fidget. It took half an hour before I was fiddling with the holster at my hip. Ten more painfully long minutes and I drew the baton out of its holster, turning it over and over in my hands. Beside me Justice was eerily still. I didn't know how he could stand it; waiting for something that may or may not be coming.
My ass and leg started to fall asleep despite my best efforts to stop it from happening. In the time it took to shift positions six times, Justice barely moved a muscle, only turning his head once to grace me with an amused stare after I accidentally kicked him trying to get comfortable.
To my dismay I lost the battle of staying conscious, something I realized when I was gently woken. My bleary eyes cracked open to discover Justice hovering over me. Judging by how well I could make out his chiselled features, I deduced it was somewhere near seven AM, and given how calm he was, it was safe to say we'd made it through the night without incident.
Some great protector I was turning out to be. A quick glance confirmed I was sprawled out over the mattress on the floor. My last memory was of my head hitting Justice's shoulder while we were sitting out in the hall, meaning I hadn't crawled in here by myself.
"Ridiculous," I muttered, forcing Justice to sit back on his haunches when I hauled myself upright. I rubbed at sleep crusted eyes, unable to stifle a yawn. "I can't even stay awake for a three hour stakeout."
"You were pretty wiped out," Justice murmured, careful to keep his voice low. I noticed he was wearing his coat now, effectively concealing all of his weapons. "I was impressed you lasted as long as you did."
"What time is it?" I asked, squinting out the bedroom window.
Justice handed me his phone. "Time to call Karen."
Calling my aunt at six-thirty was not something I'd done before. Come to think of it, I'd never had to call her before period. My fingers twisted nervously in my denim jacket as I sat on the sofa in the living room and dialled.
The phone rang... and rang some more... and continued to ring until it hit voicemail. I tried no less than two dozen times before blowing out a frustrated sigh. I contemplated throwing the phone across the room.
"Are you sure this is the right number?"
Sitting in the arm chair adjacent to me, Sal's bloodshot eyes lifted from where he was making a fourth copy of the surveillance CD. "Are you seriously asking me that?"
"Nobody's picking up," I said, dropping the phone into my lap and finger combing my hair. With clumsy fingers and a bulky bandage in the way, I braided it down my back.
"Try a few more times," Justice said from the kitchen.
"I've left two dozen voice messages telling her it's life and death," I said, but gave it another shot anyway.
Ten minutes later it was clear Aunt Karen either wasn't home, or had found some way to silence her phone. Either way, it left me shit out of luck and without a safe place to send my brothers and sisters.
I only had one question running wild through my mind: what did I do now?
Rubbing vigorously at his eyes, Sal let loose some foul language. His shoulders were lined with tension, and he abandoned his post in front of his laptop in favor of standing in front of the living room windows. Outside, the skies were so overcast I expected it to rain cats and dogs.
After a few moments of silence, Sal and Justice spoke at the same time.
"I don't know any people who aren't criminals that I'd trust with a bunch of kids," Sal muttered.
"I've got more enemies than friends," Justice said on a tired sigh.
"So what does that leave?" I asked, worry gnawing at my insides. I was not going to do anything until I ensured the safety of my brothers and sisters.
"Is there anyone else you can think of? I mean, there's gotta be somebody out there who can help you out, even if it's just for a day or two," Sal said, his voice tinged with desperation.
I snapped my head up to stare at him, an idea already forming in my head. It was a shot in the dark, but at this point, what did I have to lose?
"Sal, I need you to get me an address."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We took two cars.
Sal had Scout, Lucille and Ryan in his Beamer while me, Mycha and Tanner piled into Justice's Escalade. I had Tanner sit in the passenger seat beside Justice so I could talk Mycha through everything he needed to know.
Of course the kids had rebelled at being woken up a full hour ahead of schedule, and when I instructed everybody to pack a bag with enough clothes to last a week there were questions all around. Most of them came courtesy of Scout.
"Why are we packing? Where are we going? What if Mom comes back and we're not here? Won't she be angry? What about school?"
And then there was Lucky, who piped up with, "Een, are we going to see Kalen now? Why hasn't he come home?"
Deathly silent as usual, Tanner didn't bother sticking around to wait for answers that I wasn't ready to give. She simply turned on her heel, located her school bag, and started a hunt for some of her clean clothes. The others quickly followed suit, though I had to help Lucky when I noticed she was only packing her socks and her right shoe. Once I had her and Ryan ready, I did a quick check to make sure the girls had packed everything they'd need.
Mycha had been grim from the moment he'd opened his eyes, like he'd expected this moment to come and still resented the fact he'd have to tag along with the kids rather than remain here with me.
Now, sitting in the Escalade, I had his undivided attention as I started our conversation off with, "So, looks like we have a niece."
His initial response was to crinkle his brow, his pale green eyes dipping down to take in my stomach. My extremely flat stomach.
"Yeah, nine months Mycha. Remember, babies take nine months to create. I didn't go out last night and get laid, only to have a baby before I came home this morning."
He threw me a sheepish look, then grew frantic when another thought occurred to him. "Well it wasn't me. I swear to God I haven't been sticking my thing where it doesn't belong!"
In any other situation, I would have laughed at how flustered he was. "Mycha, relax," I said instead, ruffling his unruly hair. "It's Kalen's baby."
His mouth went slack and he slumped back against the seat. I gave him a moment to adjust to the news, and as I watched him struggle to absorb the info I could finally appreciate Justice having opted to show me Michaela rather than tell me about her.
"Kalen. Dead. Baby. Living."
"Yep," I confirmed, digging in the pocket of my denim jacket and coming out with a piece of paper. I thrust it into Mycha's hand. "Her name is Michaela Mercer, and she's almost three months old. The mother's name is Emily Campbell. The piece of paper I just gave you has Emily's address and phone number on it. I want you to hold onto it for me."
Conscious of Tanner in the front seat, I lowered my voice so much that Mycha had to lean in until our heads were touching. "If for some reason it all goes wrong, I want you to -"
"No," Mycha growled, and I grabbed him by the front of his coat when he made to pull back. "Een, seriously, stop. There are no ifs and buts, you said you'd come back for us, and I'm going to hold you to it."
A lump formed in my throat at the stark terror on Mycha's face. "Please, just listen to me," I whispered. I waited until he nodded before I continued. "If I don't come back, I want you to contact Emily and let her know. And then you'll have a decision to make – whether you want to get to know your niece or not. But first thing's first."
I handed him another piece of tattered paper. "Get in touch with Aunt Karen and get her to take you all in, even if it's only temporary."
"What if she says no?" Mycha wanted to know.
"Then you to do everything in your power to keep your sisters and Ryan together, with you. I know it's unlikely; child services probably won't find anyone willing to take in five children at once. But try, and if all else fails and you get separated, keep track of them. Do not forget them, and as soon as you're able, look for them. Do you understand me?"
It was one of my absolute worst fears, the kids being split up and ultimately forgetting who their family was. I didn't want them to live separate lives that never crossed paths, especially Lucky and Ryan who were both young enough that in a few years they'd forget they even had siblings. The only thing that trumped that fear was the idea that I wouldn't be there to see them through the hard times. I wouldn't be able to reassure them there was always the potential for a silver lining; always something to hope for. Kalen had been that person for me. Now that he was gone, I felt it was my responsibility.
"I understand," Mycha said eventually. He cleared his throat and ducked his head, but not before I caught a glimpse of the unshed tears brimming in his eyes.
I reached out and grabbed him in a sideways hug as Justice said, "We're here."
He pulled up to the curb in front of a yellow house with white trim, Sal's Beamer coming to a stop just behind him. A waist high wrought iron fence encased the property, the lawn a little patchy in places where it must have rained so much the grass had drowned. In an odd contrast, the front porch was gunmetal grey, almost the exact same shade as my eyes.
Sliding from the SUV, I came around the car to where Sal and Justice were, Sal stretching and yawning so wide he had me yawning too.
"Don't you start," he said with a small grin. "At least you managed to get an hour or so. I, on the other hand, have been up for twenty four hours straight."
I scowled at him. "I didn't fall asleep on purpose."
When he laughed at my offended expression, I elbowed him in the ribs. "Keep an eye on the kids. This isn't a done deal. Depending on how I present my current situation, we could very well end up back at square one."
Sal's hand came up to clasp my shoulder, an act of reassurance. "I could always pull my gun out. It's proven to be of great influence for when I want something to go my way," he murmured, low enough that Justice didn't hear him.
Not that he needed to whisper. Justice had his hands full with Lucky, who'd snuck up on him to surgically attach herself to his leg.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said dryly, and put Justice out of his misery by picking Lucky up. "For now, I don't really want to threaten the only person left who could possibly help me."
I handed Lucky off to Sal and started up the path, Justice at my side. The porch creaked under our weight as we hit the front door and I rang the doorbell without missing a beat. I was nervous enough to know if I hesitated I would second guess being here in the first place. Almost immediately footsteps sounded, and I barely had time to take a deep breath when there was a series of clicks and the front door swung inwards.
Mr. Jacobs was in the process of eating breakfast, a half-eaten piece of toast stuck in his mouth. In one hand was a cup of coffee, and the other was clutching the morning paper. Like maybe he thought his eyes were deceiving him, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and proceeded to gape at Justice, his face losing a bit of color. He had yet to even realize I was here, not that I could blame him. It was a natural human response, to regard the obvious threat first. Justice exuded lethality and a violent air with his very presence, whether he was trying to or not.
Forgetting he had his mouth full, Mr. Jacobs snapped it open to speak and his toast hit the porch with barely a sound.
"Uh, you definitely have the wrong address," he said, and I was impressed when he got the words out without stuttering.
Decided to help him out, I moved in front of Justice and even waved enthusiastically for good measure. "Mr. Jacobs, it's me, Ioney."
Lots of blinking, and a massive sigh of relief.
"Um, sorry to bother you so early and on a school day, but you said I could ask you for help so here I am. I really need to talk to you, like, now. And you know I wouldn't be here standing on your front doorstep at seven thirty in the morning if it wasn't extremely important."
My words came out in a rush that was barely coherent and the ensuing silence lasted long enough for me to wonder if I hadn't just made a very big mistake. Finally, Mr. Jacobs came back to life, his slack mouth reengaging as he looked me up and down with a severe frown. He glanced at Justice over my shoulder.
"Uh, right. And will your bodyguard be joining us, or is he happy to wait outside?"