“You’re here,” Mason said, standing his ground. “I’m taking care of you.”
“She’s here,” Reid interjected, “because you thought it would be best. She was and is capable of taking care of herself.”
I looked up at the man before me, the one who had just made love to me, the one defending me, not as a child but as an adult capable of making my own choice.
Before I could respond, Mason spoke, louder than before. “Is that what you think is best? Do you want her back out there instead of here and safe?”
“No. I want her here—with me, not you.”
“With you?” I asked.
Reid looked down, our gazes meeting, and nodded. “It wasn’t how I imagined saying it.”
Yet before he could say more, Mason was closer to him, so close their chests touched. “You and me, we’re not done. We’re going to talk.”
Finding my voice, I turned to Mason. “It’s not up to you.”
At the same time, Reid replied, “Mason, I wanted to tell you. There’s been too much happening with Allister and Sparrow. The timing didn’t seem right—”
“What the actual fuck?” Mason interrupted as his blazing green gaze sent flames from me to Reid and back. “This isn’t new? How long?”
Heat came from his stare, similar to a spotlight shining on Reid and me.
I tried to shrug. “This” —I motioned between Reid and me— “...not long.” Suddenly, I didn’t care about Mason. I remembered Reid’s words. He’d said he wanted me with him. When I peered up at him, a smile filled my face. “Although, I think I’ve wanted it for a long time.”
I stepped forward and reached for Mason’s hand. “Mace.”
“Are you going to tell me to fuck off?” my brother asked. “You’re done with me and don’t need me anymore.”
“No, I’m going to remind you that I’m twenty-six years old.”
“I fucking know your age.”
“You’ve done so much for me. It was hard when you left, but” —I looked around the common area that at one time felt foreign— “it was meant to be. This, Mace, is the life you were meant to live. The four of you will rule this city. You will help more people like Missy.” His hand twitched in mine, but I held tight. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve done. You even took care of me from overseas. Now it’s time to let me live.”
“With him?” Mason asked.
“Do you have a better prospect?” Reid’s chest puffed as his jaw clenched. “I’m not good enough?”
Mason scanned him up and down. “Fuck no.” Letting go of my hand, my brother took a step back before raking his fingers through his short light-brown hair. “Fuck, Reid, this is about my sister. Not about you.”
We all grew silent and turned as the elevator doors opened.
I took a deep breath, wishing I could turn back time. Wishing I could be back in Reid’s bed, or maybe in the apartment where Mason wanted me. Wishing I was anywhere but here, facing him—Sterling Sparrow.
He didn’t need to speak to express his displeasure. It radiated off of him, sending ripples through the air. His deep voice bellowed, echoing through the common area. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Patrick appeared a few steps behind in Mr. Sparrow’s wake.
When no one replied, Sparrow stopped and scanned from Reid to me and finally to Mason. “Our city is under siege and you two are fighting over her?”
The way he said the personal pronoun was the way someone would describe dog shit stuck to their shoe. Whether he meant it or not, I heard the disgust in his tone. This man had chosen his army, but similar to the nation’s military, he hadn’t issued his soldiers a family.
I wasn’t wanted.
Despite Mason’s preference or even Reid’s, the only person capable of making the decision had just spoken. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my neck and stepped forward. Reid had been right. I was capable of taking care of myself. I didn’t need a man—my brother, my lover, or this arrogant asshole. I met Sterling Sparrow’s frightening stare with as much strength and dignity as I could muster. Lifting my chin, I said, “I’ll pack my things and be gone before the four of you return in the morning.”
Before Mr. Sparrow or either of the men beside me could respond, another voice was heard.
“You’re staying.”
Everyone turned to the man speaking; we turned to Patrick.
“Come on,” Patrick said, making eye contact with each of his colleagues. “We have a city to control.” He spoke to Mason. “Lorna is your family, Mason.” He turned to the man still emanating his displeasure. “Sparrow, you say all the time that we watch out for our own. That includes Lorna. No one in this room will be responsible for her being on the street where there’s the possibility of anything happening to her.”
“Get her a plane ticket,” Sparrow replied. “She can be out of the country by tomorrow. You heard her. She’s ready to leave. We can assure her safety in Europe.”
Patrick shook his head. “The ultimate decision may be yours, boss. Right now, you’re not thinking about family. Your mind’s on the fight for control of Chicago as it should be. Give this” —he lifted his hand toward the rest of us— “time. We all have time.”
At some point during Patrick’s speech, I’d stepped back, wedging myself between Reid and Mason.
Patrick turned his eyes back toward the three of us. “Mason, your family is our family.” He smirked as he turned to Reid. “In light of recent developments that sounds a bit gross, but go with me on this. Forget your last names. If we’re in this fight, we’re all Sparrows.
“The three of you will work out your issues with time. Currently, we have more important things to deal with. McFadden’s men are, as we speak, gathering at an abandoned flophouse in East Garfield Park. Shit’s happening. We have one man on the inside. Either we’ll get the intel or we’ll lose a man. Then there’s the shipment at the shipyard. I can’t get ahold of the capo we sent to investigate. That is where our heads need to be.” He gestured between us. “This here—can wait.”
We all turned toward Sparrow. With a grunt, he barked to the men, “Down to 2, now.” His dark eyes came to me. “Stay put. You’re already too much of a distraction.”
I ventured a step away from my brother and my lover and again lifted my chin. My voice was not as strong as before, but I forced myself to speak. “I’ll take the ticket if that’s what you want.”
Mason reached for my hand. “Lorna.”
“No,” Sparrow said. “You’re not going anywhere until things are settled. Just stay out of the way.”
I let out my breath, unsure if I was pleased with his change of perspective, or afraid for what would come once things settled.
Would I become accustomed to this odd grouping only to be sent away?
With my hand still in Mason’s, I remained silent.
Sparrow scanned the group. “Now, if you have balls, get in the elevator. If you don’t, go to bed.” Reaching the elevator, he stepped inside.
I looked down to Mace’s and my connection, wondering how many times we’d stood together facing a tyrant. The difference was that this tyrant was my brother’s friend.
When I looked up, Sparrow, inside the elevator, was holding the door open, his dark stare zeroed in on me. “I mean it,” he said. “Stay put. Don’t try to leave, the elevators won’t work.”
Patrick nodded, sending a suggestion of a reassuring smile my way before entering the elevator after Sparrow.
Mason turned to me as he squeezed my hand. “I know you’re grown up. It’s just...”
I fought tears as they prickled the backs of my eyes and stared up at my lifelong protector. I didn’t want to shut him out. I simply wanted more. I wanted Reid too. “Me too, Mace.”
As he released my hand and followed the other two men into the elevator, I wondered if I was selfish to want both men in differing roles.
Was I asking too much of the universe?
After all, I was living in a high-rise glass tower above Chicago. Did I deserve more than that?
Before I could contemplate further, Reid reached for my hand and whispered, “It will be okay.”
I looked from the way our fingers wove together up into the gaze I’d grown to love. “Do you promise?”
He nodded. “I give you my word, Lorna. Now that the news of us is out, we will make it work.” He looked over at the waiting elevator and back to me, keeping his voice low. “Mason is a good guy. He loves you.”
I nodded and took a step toward the apartment I’d shared with my brother.
Reid held on to my hand. When I looked up again, he whispered, “And so do I.”
I squeezed his hand, unable to respond. I also couldn’t watch as Reid walked toward the elevator. Instead, I stepped into Mason’s apartment and shut the door behind me. The storm of emotions was overwhelming.
As I leaned against the closed door to the common area, I didn’t see the interior of my brother’s apartment. I heard the thunder of Mr. Sparrow’s voice, the bolts of lightning in my brother’s eyes, the calming winds of Patrick’s words, and the hope for a future in Reid’s declaration of love.
Holding my midsection, I slid downward until I hugged my knees, sitting upon the entryway floor in the nicest place my brother and I had ever lived.
Reid
Present day
Mason led me down a long a hallway, the walls lined with framed enlarged photographs. On another visit, I’d stopped and examined their beauty. Each one was of something or someplace on the ranch. Whether it was a photograph of a babbling brook, a close-up of a rain-soaked flower, or the panoramic view of a snowcapped mountain with a stunning backdrop of sky filled with pink and purple, the photographs showcased the best of what this terrain had to offer. We were almost to the office door when one of the pictures caught my attention.
“Who took this photo?” I asked, pointing at the black and white aerial view of the ranch.
Mason stopped. “Laurel did...from my plane.”
I examined what I could see of the ranch from the height the plane must have been flying. “Is this all of your land?”
“Mostly. Why?”
“Where did they take them?” I turned to Mason. “Do you think they could be on your land?”
Mason’s expression fell. “Man, I’m not trying to be negative, but a typical helicopter, if that is what we are dealing with, flies at about 135 knots and can travel three hundred to three hundred and fifty miles before it needs to refuel.”
“That makes our circle roughly one hundred and fifty to one hundred and seventy-five miles,” I said, “assuming they flew here and back on one tank.”
Mason took a step back and raked his fingers through his long hair. “If we’re dealing with a typical chopper that would be the case. If my gut is correct, the Order’s resources aren’t typical. The Lockheed AH-56A Cheyenne can fly twelve hundred miles and go higher.” Mason lifted his chin toward the living room. “Some of those mountains out there are as high as thirteen thousand feet.”
I thought about what he was saying, unwilling to get distracted. “All right, we have some fucking land to survey. I’ll go through your security. Get Sparrow and Patrick on calls with contacts around the country to find out what is happening in their outfits. I need you to create a topographical map with the range of different helicopters. I need coordinates to utilize satellites and get their data.”
Mason nodded. “Can you get back data?”
“I’m not sure. Real time is more easily accessible. In Chicago I have everything stored. I can start doing that here, but it won’t help for the past. Once I have the security figured out, I’ll know what time frame we’re talking about and go from there.”
“Once we have that data,” he replied, “we’ll have a better idea of where to send the capos. This fucking land is too open to send them knocking down doors.”
My lips came together in a straight line as I considered all that we needed to learn before we could begin to search.
“Let’s get started,” Mason said.
We stopped at the doorway to the office. It wasn’t secure as I’d expected. The door was open, a metal door that slid into the wall, smaller but similar to our floor 2. We both peered inside.
Mason’s neck straightened. “This is why we don’t let the ladies on 2.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. Inside the office was a long table that had obviously been taken over by Laurel. There were multiple screens and a keyboard. There were also several laptops, notebooks stacked four to ten high in multiple piles, and glasses of half-empty drinks. From the distance, I identified iced tea, water, and lemonade.
“Wait,” I said, “didn’t Garrett say Laurel thought it was the lemonade that they believed was drugged?”
Mason’s gaze went from the glasses to me. “Yeah.” He went toward the glasses. “Fuck.”
“Stop. I can dust the glass. It won’t be as good as what I have back in Chicago, but I can run some tests on the contents. Laurel can help.”
“We need to be sure there isn’t any—”
Mason didn’t complete his sentence as he pushed past me and hurried toward the kitchen.
I took a deep breath and looked past the mess on the long table. Beyond was a smaller replication of our Chicago lair. There were even screens mounted high above. Instead of four seats with keyboards, there were only two. I settled at the one that appeared less occupied. Stretching my fingers over the keyboard, I hesitated.
Was there a password?
Surely, it wasn’t this easy to access Mason’s technology.
I hit one key. The closest screen came to life with a photograph similar to one of the ones in the hallway. In the middle was the place to enter the password. I tried to recall, and then I did. I remembered helping Mason set this up after the explosion that leveled most of his first home.
I gave the password I’d used back then a try.
The screen changed.
I was in.
My fingers began moving. This was what I did, how I computed information. This was my contribution to the Sparrow outfit, maneuvering technology. Time didn’t register as I found myself looping through the different programs. I still had the black hole of thirty minutes.
“We have this,” Mason said as he re-entered the room, carrying a half-filled jug of lemonade. “Laurel confirmed what Garrett told Patrick: everyone ate something different for lunch. They all made their own. Sandwiches, salads, fruit, cottage cheese. The only thing that all four of them had was this.” He lifted the jug higher.
“And besides you, they all touched the jug?”
“Yes, and Garrett. He brought the groceries into the house a few days ago and put them away.”
“Where did he—”
“Lindsey Dorgan,” Mason interrupted. “She went to Bozeman to buy a list of groceries Laurel requested.”
“She’s Seth’s wife,” I said for confirmation.
“Laurel is confident the jug hadn’t been opened before she opened it. There’s a seal under the cap, or there was.”
I leaned back in the leather chair. “The groceries were bought a few days ago?”
Mason set the jug down on the long table. “Yes.” His green gaze narrowed as he stared down at the partially filled jug. “It wasn’t this, was it?”
“I’d say no.” I stood and walked to the table. “I mean, I could run a pH test on the drink in the jug and this one, but” —I picked up the glass and held it to the light— “this one appears to have melted ice. The jug will have a lower pH.” I looked up to Mason. “GHB and similar drugs decrease the pH of the solution once it’s added. The problem with lemonade is that the pH is already low.”
Mason came closer and took the glass. “I could take a drink to find out.”
“You could and if I’m wrong, you’ll be sleeping for the next two to three hours or if you don’t fall asleep, you’ll not remember anything. I think we have too m
uch shit going on for that kind of an experiment.”
He lifted the glass to his mouth, tipped it, and brought a small amount of the liquid to his lips. Once he tipped the glass back, he said, “GHB has a salty taste.”
“That’s obviously diluted.”
He set the glass back on the table. “It doesn’t make sense. Whoever took Lorna and Araneae knew the ladies would be unconscious or at least unlikely to remember. How would they know that they drank the lemonade days after it was brought to the house?”
“Unless the drug was just added.”
“We need to see who has been in this house.”
I sat back down at the keyboard, accessing the security program. There were sensors on each entrance that automatically recorded with movement. A quick scroll and I could see every door that opened or closed and the person there.
“Minus the time still missing, no one other than the ladies or Garrett entered this house today,” I said. “Not until us.”
“Mason.”
We both turned to the doorway to see Sparrow standing there. “Did you get ahold of Seth?”
“Yes.” Mason looked at his watch. “He’ll have all the field hands in the bunkhouse in another thirty minutes.”
“I’m going down there with you. We can get through them faster if we both ask questions. And this is your property.”
Mason nodded. “What about Patrick?”
“He’s in your study contacting other outfits around the country. He’s already spoken to Carlos Perez from Denver, and I reached out to Sasha Bykov in Detroit. They had nothing significant to report. Without giving them too much information, we warned them to be extra vigilant.”
Mason walked to the other keyboard and began typing. “Here’s the map of the ranch and beyond,” he said. “I can get a paper map too.”
“We could use that later,” Sparrow said. He looked at me. “I know you don’t want to, but go up to your suite, Lorna’s, soon.”
My gaze narrowed. “Why?”
Dusk Page 6
