An Embarrassment of Monsters: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 3)

by MariaLisa deMora

  He shook himself as the RV rumbled, tires drifting onto the warning strips ground into the surface of the road. Drawing the vehicle safely back into his lane, he glanced over his shoulder at the scene still unfolding in the back of the RV.

  August was seated at the table, one little girl collapsed against his side, his arm curved around her shoulders. Another child, this one probably the boy they’d found in the mix of kids—it was hard to tell for certain from this distance—was in his lap, held there securely by August’s other arm.

  Doc was farther back in the living area with a child who was slightly older than the others, urging her to drink from a bottle of water. With several sleeping children scattered across the fold-down bed, she was the lone holdout, the only one still awake, and as Doc spoke soothingly to her, she lifted the bottle to her lips.

  Good.

  The plan was to deliver the children to a physician Doc knew from his time in New Jersey. He trusted this man to ensure the kids got the help they needed without drawing attention to their trio of vigilantes. They’d offload the kids into an unused weekend camp close to Philly, wait for the physician to arrive on site, then make like a tree and leave.

  His phone buzzed and vibrated from its current position in a tray on the console, the sound loud. Owen wore a headset paired to the phone and tapped the earpiece to answer the call. Given there was only one person other than the two behind him who had the number, he smiled as he asked, “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” He and Alace had hung up only a few miles back, after she’d relayed the updated information about their transfer location.

  “Oh, I’d say I’ve seen more than enough of you.”

  Owen’s muscles locked into place. His ears buzzed, and his throat pounded with each beat of his heart. The male voice was unknown, the tone deep and casual, as if the speaker had all the time in the world.

  “Who is this?” Owen deliberately pitched his voice loud enough to capture August’s attention, and a quick glance around saw the man on alert. Owen motioned towards his ear and the phone, then raised his hand to his ear with the thumb and little finger extended, a military hand signal to call the radiotelephone operator. Facing front again, Owen heard movement behind him and then August’s voice, hoping it was him calling Alace. “Who are you? How’d you get this number?”

  “Funny thing, that. When cell signals are jammed in a particular area, it makes the ones which are able to connect a lot easier to find.” The man chuckled, a dry and dusty sound as if he were on the verge of coughing. “You basically handed me the information.”

  Not only was this a clear threat, the man had identified himself as being associated with the ring of pedophiles. The only other answer could be a similar agenda to their group, which Owen knew was unlikely. As he’d told Alace recently, there weren’t many out there like they were. Good news was, if the caller was one of the remaining ring members, there was a limited roster to review and identify.

  “What do you want?” The sound of the call changed, echoing thinly. Owen glanced at the GPS map to see relatively smooth terrain all around them. The change wasn’t due to environmental interference, which hopefully meant Alace had tapped into the call. “Who’d you say you are?”

  “I didn’t, actually. I won’t, honestly. Why would I give you an inch of advantage when you’ve already proven so adept at mitigating sophisticated countermeasures?” Another bout of laughter that sounded more like an asthma attack, the rattling of air in the man’s throat painful to hear. “I’m not stupid…Schmitz.”

  August fell into the other captain’s chair at the front of the RV, phone sealed tight to his head. Owen struggled to pull in a breath. This was as direct a threat as he’d ever encountered out in the bush. More terrifying than facing down more than a dozen men earlier tonight. Schmitz was his alias for this mission, his cover identity for travel and identification.

  “Shocked you silent, hmmm?” Oily and grating at the same time, the man’s voice ripped along Owen’s nervous system, causing his fingers to clench hard on the steering wheel. “You have taken a lot of my property. I hope it’s not simply shock that’s stolen your voice. Ideally there’d be a tiny bit of fear there, too.”

  “Norton—”

  “Don’t be ignorant. Norton, Tambor, Barnes, Riss, and Burton are pawns in my game. They’re oblivious to the lines of stress surrounding them. Little men with little desires, content with the smallest of scraps.” Anger bled through now, and Owen focused on stoking that emotion, hoping to force a mistake.

  “Weak men lean on little men. Weak men give their possessions away, unable to protect what they hoped to keep.”

  “I’m not weak. Don’t equate my courtesy reaching out this one time to warn you with any level of weakness. You and your companions are targets for more than myself. Swooping in and ruining individual scrimmages, disrupting the order of things. I’m not the only one looking for you.”

  “You want to find me?” Owen kept his response just shy of a bellow with effort, the rage in him surging forward. August motioned, and Owen looked over in time to see August draw the edge of his right hand, palm down, across his neck in a throat-cutting motion from left to right, signaling "danger area." No shit, Sherlock. “Maybe I’ll find you first.”

  “I’d love that, actually. Should I issue an invitation for yourself and the two men with you?”

  Yeah, keep talking. So far the man didn’t indicate he knew anything other than what they’d potentially exposed on this mission. Keeping the man in the dark about Alace and her capabilities gave them a significant edge in any game he could devise.

  “You do that, asshole. You just do that. I’ve got kids to save.” He waited, but nothing else came through the headset, and August relaxed in his seat, phone still pressed to his ear, but his alert posture lessening. “Is he gone?”

  August nodded as Alace spoke to Owen, her voice a balm after the past few minutes of tension. “Yeah, he’s gone. I got within two miles of his location, and he shut down his transmitter and repeater. I got the MAC address of both, so if they come back online as a pair anywhere, I’ll know. Unfortunately, with the transmitter or repeater alone, they’ll pick up new virtual addresses.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I missed the first part of the conversation. Clue me in?”

  Owen repeated the back and forth, noting how Alace allowed him to continue to the end, either in an attempt to ensure he remembered everything, or so she could experience the continuity of communication in case of a latent clue.

  “Ideas?”

  “I don’t like that he picked up your alias.” Alace’s grumble was barely audible.

  “Yeah? Me either. Who is he?” The GPS beeped, and he glanced down to see a turn coming up. “Should we continue with the plan for tonight? Are these phones compromised?”

  “Nothing is attached to your signal or August’s. I packed a scanner in your duffle. Once you stop, you should run it over the RV, but my guess is it’s going to come back clean. His point is well taken about how isolating your devices at the compound would have made them stand out like a beacon if he were already watching. If he had video and got the RV’s plates, he could have tracked back to when you got gas or anything where you used the card I gave you and picked up your name there. I don’t think he got beyond that. From his manner, he clearly thought he could ruffle you, but you bested him in that arena.” Alace’s even tone went a long way to settling him, her calm assertions of minimal exposure helping bring things into perspective. “He didn’t have August’s or Doc’s names, and I think both of them parking outside the compound are the reason why. We’re good as we can be, Owen. If he had ongoing surveillance, you’d have seen something by now. He doesn’t know where you are but took a chance you were still in the area. He’s hoping we’ll make a mistake.”

  “We won’t.” Owen braked and turned the wheel, guiding the RV onto a smaller road that would lead directly to the mothballed camp that was their destination. “Not with you
r hand at the helm. It’s straight sailing.”

  “You give me too much credit.”

  “Nope.” Owen let the corners of his mouth creep up, his face still so tense it felt as if it would crack in half. “You don’t give yourself enough.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alace

  Shifting Lila from her shoulder to a breast to begin the post-burp second half of her feeding, Alace found herself concentrating on the scene outside Owen’s living room windows instead of the miracle in her arms.

  Eric stood in full sunlight next to Owen, August, and Doc, the men engaged in building a massive piece of playground equipment Owen had determined needed to live in their backyard. The large structure was going up about as quickly as the nursery furniture had last weekend, and with the four of them working in tandem, it looked as if they’d have it completed in no time.

  Off to one side, a barefoot Kelly and Shiloh rested, their shoes lined up neatly next to the quilt. Spread on the grass in the shade of a canopy, that tiny oasis would be Alace’s destination as soon as Lila was done nursing.

  She glanced down and teased the edge of Lila’s hand with a finger, smiling as the baby captured the annoying digit, holding on tightly.

  This moment wasn’t one she had ever believed possible, and at times Alace still wondered if it was a dream from which she’d wake.

  “I love you so much. I’ll never let anything hurt you.” Her whispered promise didn’t disturb Lila, those long curving lashes that were so adorable on a baby scarcely fluttering on cheeks so soft they demanded only the tenderest of caresses.

  The screen of her phone lit up with an incoming call. Alace shifted only enough to see the name on the display, and then eagerly grabbed the phone with her free hand. “Bebe,” she greeted with a smile. “Your granddaughter is eating dinner right now.”

  “Oh my darling girl, sketch in the scene for me, make me believe I’m there.”

  Alace loved Eric from the top of her head to the depths of her soul. She loved Lila entirely, every ounce of emotion coming from every cell of her body.

  But she adored her mother-in-law, the feeling so effortless and light it made her giddy. Phoebe had declared them best friends during her monthlong visit right after Lila was born, and Alace had preened to know the affection she felt was returned.

  “We’re over at Owen’s so the men can build this huge fantasy castle for the kids. Everyone else is outside, but Lila and I are in this Victorian armchair Doc found at some auction. It’s covered in hideous brown velvet but is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in, outside of my rocker. We’re positioned so we can see outside and listen to their laughter and chatter as it drifts in through the open windows.”

  “Secluded, not isolated.” Phoebe summed it up effortlessly. “Sheltered but included.”

  “Yeah. They all made sure we’d come back out soon. Even the kids. Oh, you’d love Kelly and Shiloh. Especially Kelly.” Alace liked both kids, but the way Kelly was with Lila set her heart soaring. “I know you got to meet them, but if you had a chance to be around them more, you’d fall in love.”

  “Good kids are like that. They collect the adoration of adults because in them, we see the best possibilities we’d wished for ourselves.” Phoebe made a soft, wistful sound. “You must come to Malibu and bring everyone with you. Must, not should. Make it happen, Alace.”

  “I will.” A promise she could gladly make.

  “Give that darling child a kiss from her Bebe.”

  Another promise easy to keep. “I surely will. I love you.” Alace didn’t hesitate to give her mother-in-law affirmation of something she already knew. “I’ll remind Eric to call you later.”

  “I’d love that.”

  The call ended without goodbyes, Phoebe having learned long ago it was Alace’s preference, and even if it wasn’t her own, she adopted it when speaking to Alace because that was the kind of supportive person she was. Without being asked, she found her place beside those she cared for and lifted them up in a thousand tiny ways. Together her actions amounted to a tsunami of love Alace was still becoming accustomed to.

  When she looked outside again, Owen had separated from the group, head bent over his phone as he stood to one side. He straightened and turned to stare at the house, face set in an easy smile, and she knew exactly what he’d been watching.

  She’d received another video from the hospital source in Georgia this morning, had watched it, and uploaded the file to Owen’s folder.

  Rodney’s parents had been interviewed by a local news outlet. His mother had spoken eloquently of the anguish from Rodney’s kidnapping that had never faded, of being swept hither and yon in the waves of hope and despair as months and years passed without news of her child. In a scene set inside their house, she’d shared the couch with her husband, the couple somehow beating the odds and remaining a source of strength for each other. The background of the room had changed from the first video Alace had seen, detritus of Rodney’s absence scoured from existence. The doorframe leading from the living room to the kitchen held a mark for his current height right alongside his siblings. The photos on the mantel filled, no more holes to remind the viewer this couple had more children than could be seen and held.

  Then the interview jumped, and suddenly, Rodney sat next to his mother, his shy smile filling the screen. He’d talked, the words coming slowly, his enunciation careful. The surgeries were working magic for him, removing the impediment he’d suffered through since being so brutally mutilated by a hateful man.

  The reporter had touched on the anonymous rescue, Astrid having done her job of ensuring the child arrived safely at the hospital in Aurora without giving anything away.

  When asked about who rescued him, Rodney’s answer hadn’t changed from the beginning. “An angel,” he’d said repeatedly. “My guardian angel.”

  At the end of the interview, the reporter asked what Rodney would say to his angel if he had the chance. The boy had stared straight into the camera as instructed and then laid it out for everyone to hear.

  “I’d say I’m glad Aldo didn’t hurt you. I’m glad you found me. You saved me.” His voice thickened, and he paused, the video capturing each expression change from pain to fear, to gratefulness. “Thank you for saving me.”

  Validation for the lives they chose to lead couldn’t be more profound and powerful than that single statement.

  Thank you for saving me.

  If able, she imagined each of the children they’d set free from the hell of captivity would echo the sentiment. A chorus of unneeded gratitude, but it truly amplified her desire to keep going.

  She remembered the way Rodney’s mother’s arm had curved around him, pulling him close. He was her child, born from her body as Lila had been Alace’s. His mother accepted him, no matter what had happened. She’d counted herself blessed to have him back and loved him wholly.

  “No matter what, I’ll always love you.” Lila had gone to sleep, a trail of milk on her cheek. Alace resettled her own clothing and grabbed a cloth to gently wipe her daughter’s face. “To the moon and back isn’t enough. I’ll love you forever and ever.”

  “Need some help, beloved?” Alace smiled as she looked up at Eric. “My mother texted, said perhaps it was time for you to rejoin our party.”

  That’s the kind of love I want to give back. All-consuming, never-ending, fully supporting, enduring, and stalwart.

  “Want to carry our daughter?” She lifted Lila slightly, and Eric’s arm slipped underneath, raising Lila to his chest. He reached out with his other hand, palm up in an offer she didn’t need but would take. He pulled her to her feet and then tugged so she fell against his side, his arm firm around her waist.

  “I’d love to,” he responded belatedly and smiled down at her.

  “I love you.” She watched for the reaction and wasn’t disappointed. His cheeks lifted, corners of his eyes crinkling, and his mouth spread wider. She loved how he easily accepted her words as truth bu
t never took her love for granted.

  “Alace.” That use of her name carried so much emotion, two syllables fraught with fear and love and hope and belief, Alace found herself blinking hard as her eyes welled.

  Fucking, fucking Eric.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kelly

  Owen sat close to Alace, but Eric was closer, his arm around her shoulders an ownership statement Kelly still found amusing. They were quietly chatting as they watched where he sat across the room. Shiloh was perched on the floor at his feet, head down, hair hanging on either side of her face, the shining sheets of hair a shielding curtain from the world as she flipped through the picture book in her lap. Kelly was scooted far back in Doc’s favorite chair, Lila Sue on his lap, his arms around her holding carefully, feeling as comfortable as if he’d done this a thousand times.

  He ended the soft song he’d been humming for the baby, then lost sight of the adults as he bent to press a tiny kiss to the little girl’s head. It was calm in the room, the adults seemingly happy to watch him and Shiloh.

  Kelly kissed Lila again, then quietly whispered, “I won’t let anything happen to you, ever. I’ll protect you from the bad monsters. Promise.” He lifted his head and stared across the room at Owen and Doc, the men he’d slowly become comfortable calling Dad. They both made it easy to hope this thing that felt like family was sturdy and wouldn’t go away.

  Built from broken pieces, they were so much stronger together. No addiction would come along to whisk away the love he believed they had for him and Shiloh.

  The muscles in his face relaxed, shifting from a scowl into something far lighter, trusting the peace they’d given him was secure. He knew Lila had the same from her parents, a never-ending source of love the little girl would not once have to question. Still, he reassured her, “There are no bad monsters here.”

  Spoken over the baby’s head, directed at where Owen sat with Alace, he hoped his intent was clear.