He smiles proudly. “Smart girl.” He places the pen and pad down next to his laptop. He gestures to me, then crosses his legs. “Go ahead.”
I clear my throat. “Do you, I mean, does Clan Egan run girls?”
“Aye,” he answers, without hesitation. “We don’t traffic if that’s what you’re asking. Your mother would have my bloody head, but we run some establishments up and down the East coast and several back in Ireland.”
“Good. You see, because of the violence here in Lacking and the war breaking out. Girls, I mean women, are scared to come here and work for Bedlam, regardless of the promised increase in security measures and the Chief opening the back road through the reservation so the guests and staff don’t have to drive through Los Muertos territory to get here. Most of the girls who had signed on to start during the grand opening have quit and won’t agree to come back until it’s safe.”
“I’ve heard this. What exactly is it you’re asking of me, Imogen?”
I lean my elbows on the table and hold his curious gaze. I straighten my spine. “I’m asking that you send girls to the brothel. Temporarily, of course, until the war is over and those positions can be given to the willing women of Lacking who desperately need employment.”
“Done,” he says. “Anything else?”
“I want you to send men to help Grim and Bedlam fight the war.”
“Already done. It’s my war to fight. Just because I won’t be present for it doesn’t mean the clan won’t be. I’ve told Grim as much.”
I nod.
“I want you to stop dealing heroin here.”
“It’s not as if I’m going to continue business with Marco, or whoever his predecessor might be. I’ve already reached out to Margaret. Los Muertos won’t be involved in any of my business dealings in Lacking.”
“No, you don’t understand. I want you to stop dealing heroin in Lacking. For good.”
Callum raises his eyebrows. “And why should I do that?”
“Because I won’t go with you if you don’t. The people of this town suffer from poverty. Poverty leads them to desperation and a need for an escape. That escape comes in the form of pain pills, which get them hooked on heroin because it’s cheaper and has a stronger effect. Addiction leads to crimes against innocent people and senseless violence. The gang violence is one thing; the violence among the people is another. If I can help stop it, I will. And it starts with you.”
Callum considers me for a moment. “Is that negotiable?”
I shake my head. “I won’t come with you if you don’t stop dealing in this town.”
“If I don’t, someone else will. The cartel has a presence here.”
“Then, I also amend my request that you deal with them as well, on whatever terms that won’t turn them against you or cause more violence.”
Callum leans forward, mimicking my position. “Done. Anything else?”
“One more thing,” I sing softly.
“Go on.” Callum says, intrigued.
“The second I want to come back, you’ll let me.”
“Imogen. I’m not your captor. You’re my daughter. If and when you want to come back, I’ll have the plane fueled up and on the runway within the hour.”
“Good. Then, it’s a deal.”
“I amend that to say, when it’s safe. I won’t bend where your safety is concerned. It’s non-negotiable.”
“Agreed,” I hold out my hand. Callum takes it in his, and we shake. He stands from the table, still holding my hand, and pulls me from my seat into an embrace. He smells like springtime aftershave and cigar smoke. It feels new to be embracing my father, but not entirely uncomfortable. I relax in his arms.
“We seem to have reached a deal,” he says, resting his chin on my head. “Which is a good thing because your mother would’ve had my balls on a pike in the driveway the second I landed and you weren’t on the plane.”
I pull away. “She sounds…menacing.”
“More like formidable. Much like yourself. People may think I’m the one they should fear, but they’ve never crossed the likes of your mother.”
Sixteen
Grim
I know the instant I enter the room that Tricks is already gone. I both hate and am grateful for her wanting to skip the hard goodbyes. On the middle of the bed is a quote scribbled on a napkin.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
- Winnie the Pooh.
Instead of a signature, there’s a doodle of a simple black rose at the bottom.
I hold the note to my chest and close my eyes. Trying to steady the erratic heartbeat that feels a lot like I’m being stabbed with each breath.
“Boss? There’s a bus full of Irish women out front.”
“What?” I spin to face Sandy.
“Why?”
“They said they’re here to work at the brothel. I believe they called themselves temps.”
“Who would—” I pause. “Irish?” I ask.
Sandy nods. “Every last one of them. I figured you asked Callum to send them. Negotiated terms for Gabby and EJ going…”
“The only thing I asked for was that he keep them safe.”
“Well, then this is either from the kindness of Callum’s heart or…”
I smile, knowing full well who was responsible. “It’s not.”
Alby appears in the hall. “You’re right. It’s not from the goodness of his heart, and yes, there was a negotiation.”
“I still don’t get it,” Sandy whines.
“Tricks. She negotiated terms with Callum.”
“She sent you a bus load of Irish whores?” Sandy asks. “A bit of an odd choice for a going away present.”
“Aye, she did,” Alby says with a laugh. “If she were anyone else, we’d be in for a fight, but Callum’s so proud he’d send over every woman in Ireland if it pleased her.”
“What else did she negotiate?” I ask, curiously.
“We stop dealing heroin in Lacking, and that we send you men to fight your war. They’re waiting for you, with your own men, in your war room.”
“When did this all take place?”
“A few hours before they got on the plane. Why?”
I shake my head. “No reason.”
Alby tips his hat. “I’ll be off now. Got a family of my own to see to back home.” He leaves, whistling the same damn catchy tune that’s been playing in my head for the past several days.
“What was that all about? Why it is important when she negotiated with Callum?” Sandy whispers in case Alby is still in hearing distance.
“Because Tricks had already decided to go before she talked to Callum.”
Sandy smiles. “It wasn’t a negotiation at all.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “It was a con.”
Sandy chuckles then stops and snaps his fingers. “Oh, what Alby just said. His men are in the war room with ours. That’s what I was coming to tell you.”
You ready for this?” Haze asks, from where he’s just appeared behind Sandy, leaning against the doorframe.
Without having to worry over Trick’s safety, I can dive into the deepest, darkest place in my soul and be the monster I need to be, the one who’s been waiting to see Marco die for far too long.
So, it begins, I think to myself.
I pocket Tricks’s quote. “I’m ready,” I rasp.
“Good. Rollo is going to take Mona to his cabin until we make a decision on what to do with her,” Haze says as I lead the way to the back door.
As much as I want to give the go ahead to send Mona across the river in the reapers boat, it’s not my decision to make, it’s up to Tricks, but she’s not here. Mona will just have to ride out her time with Rollo until she gets back.
If she gets back, an annoying voice in my head reminds me.
I stop in my tracks as an idea strikes. “Tell Rollo to be ready when we call, I think I know of a way we can use Mona if it comes down to it.”
The time for goodbyes is over. The time for war is now.
I look to my brothers. “As bait.”
Seventeen
Imogen
We land in a private airfield in Ireland where a private car is waiting to take us to our final destination. Over an hour later and still trapped in the car, I’m dozing off with my forehead up against the glass when Gabby smacks my arm.
“Look!” she says, pointing out the window. We’ve just arrived in a village. Cobblestone streets. Perfectly symmetrical stone houses line the square. Each with exactly six windows in the front and a single door directly in the center. Flower boxes under the windows spill over with bright pink and purple. “You live here?” Gabby asks Callum.
He chuckles. “Yes, and no. This is our village, but we live up the hill, not in town.”
“It looks like a fairytale,” I whisper, pressing my fingers and nose against the glass. I’m reminded of another time Gabby and I were brought to a new home. A day I’ll never forget because it was one of the worst days of my life. Marco. Los Muertos. It all started on that day. I begin to feel uneasy. My stomach rolls.
After a few minutes of winding roads surrounded by lush green hillside, Gabby hits me once again. “If the village is a fairytale, then this is where the prince must live.”
On the top of the hill at the end of a dirt drive is a tall, dark stone structure, complete with castle-like roof top and intricate stone carvings over every window. In front, there’s a steep staircase with a fountain at the end of a large square pool/lake in the center of the rounded dirt drive.
“Holy shit,” I say, with my mouth agape. “Where are we?”
“We are at Egan Castle,” Callum announces as the car stops at the center of the driveway. “Otherwise known as home.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Gabby whispers, staring up at the five-story castle in wonderment. The brick is a color mix between gray and beige covered sporadically with green moss. “What is that part called?” Gabby asks, pointing to the uneven roofline.
“Ah, that’s called a battlement,” Callum answers, his face lighting up. “You see where the gaps are? The lower parts? That’s where the soldiers or guards would shoot arrows at intruders.”
“Did your ancestors live here?” Gabby asks enthusiastically.
Callum snickers. “No, Ireland was one of the first countries to dismantle the aristocracy. No royalty in my blood. The wife and I bought the castle ourselves and gutted the inside to put in new modern…well, everything. When Imogen was taken from us,” he pauses, “we always knew we’d get her back one day, and when that day came, we needed the safest home we could get our hands on.”
He looks up to find Gabby and I staring at him. He pulls his frown into a smile. “And there isn’t anything safer than Egan Castle.”
Gabby scrunches her nose. “Where do you even look to buy a castle? Do you call your local castle realtor?”
Callum shrugs. “I suppose you could, but we bought this one online.”
She gasps. “A castle website?”
“Nae, Craigslist.”
We don’t have time to laugh because the front doors fly open. The woman who runs out with her hand over her throat, searching with her eyes through the dark-tinted car windows, could be my clone if not for the dark circles lining her eyes.
My mother.
The nerves I’d been feeling throughout the entire trip slowly begin to dissipate as a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over me with just one glance at the woman who gave birth to me.
This definitely isn’t like the last time we were brought to a new home.
It’s been eighteen years since I’ve seen her, and suddenly, I can’t wait another minute. I fling open the car door and race toward her. She sees me and breaks out in a full sprint, flying down the steps. At the bottom of those steps, we crash into each other’s arms with a violent smack of an embrace.
We stand there sobbing, holding on for dear life. We’re strangers, but we’re not. This person loves me unconditionally. I feel it in my bones, in my hair. I’ve been skeptical of every person I’ve ever laid eyes on, and considering my past, I know it’s foolish to jump into the river...er mote, without a life raft, but this is my mother. My mother.
“Hi, mom?” I whisper into her neck.
She smiles into my hair.
Gabby clears her throat from behind us. We both look up to where she’s standing beside the car with Callum, a reluctant look on her tanned face.
My mother sniffles and releases one arm from me, holding it open to Gabby. Gabby drops her backpack to the dirt and runs into our hug.
The three of us soak each other’s clothes with our tears. I don’t know who stumbled first, but rather than let go, we fall to a crumpled heap right there on the driveaway.
Callum comes over to help his half-crying, half-laughing wife off the driveway. He wraps his arm around her and smiles proudly down at us. His own eyes are both weary from the travel and filled with emotion.
My mother looks from me and Gabby like she can’t believe we’re really here. She speaks for the first time, and hearing her voice is like a song from the past, filled with nothing but pure joy. “Welcome home, my girls.”
* * *
The inside of the castle looks nothing like the outside. It’s not dark or musty. It’s open and airy. Clean and modern with a white and grey color pallet and stainless-steel fixtures.
My mother shows Gabby and I to our rooms. They are across the hall from one another on the fifth floor. Each one is clean yet plush and luxurious. Flat screen TVs mounted to the walls above the dressers. A laptop on a well-appointed desk for each of us.
The closets have several pairs of jeans and t-shirts in different sizes. All new with tags. “I didn’t know what size you were, so I figured I’d just get the basics and the three of us could go shopping for a full wardrobe.”
From across the hall, Gabby squeals with delight.
“What was that?” My mother asks.
“That was Gabby, opening the closet.”
She laughs and watches me as I take in the well-appointed bathroom. “There’s everything you need as far as toiletries go. Again, I didn’t know what you liked, so I didn’t get any makeup or things of the sort. We’ll add it to our list when we go into town.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do all this for us. We’ve never had anything like… it’s too much.”
My mother sits next to me and puts her arms around me. “Nonsense. Think of it like this. I’ve missed years of spoiling you. I’m going to make up for lost time. Will you please indulge your ma and allow me to spoil her daughter?”
“And there’s a tub in the bathroom!” Gabby’s shout echoes into the room.
“Daughters,” she corrects herself with a happy sigh.
“Thank you,” I say, giving in.
“What else might you want to do? What are your interests?”
I frown. “Do you want to hear the truth, or would you rather I come up with a less unsettling lie?” I ask.
“The truth, my dear.”
I inhale deeply. “I’m a con artist. A master liar. I can pick pockets with the best of them and make people believe obvious lies. I passed a lie detector test once with the sheer force of my talent.”
My mother frowns.
“I should have gone with the lie.”
Her lips twitch, a dimple forcing its way to the surface of her cheek, and I realize she’s holding back laughter. And failing.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, wait until I tell Callum.” She slaps her leg.
“What’s so funny?”
She clears her throat and lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “When Callum and I met, he was working as a guard at the local jail and me? Well, I was the first inmate to ever give him trouble.”
“You were an inmate?”
“It was a local jail. Just an overnight jaunt.”
&nb
sp; “What were you there for?” I ask, already knowing the answer when my mother’s smile turns into a full-face beam of bright white teeth.
“Pick pocketing.”
This time I join her in her laughter, and when Gabby comes in to ask what’s going on, we recover just enough to tell her before starting all over again.
* * *
I can’t sleep. It’s after midnight, and I’ve tossed and turned. The bed is the most comfortable I’d ever been in, but it’s my restless mind not my level of comfort that keeps me awake.
Finally, after trying for hours, I get up. I’m not thirsty or hungry or in search of anything. I find myself wondering the halls of the massive castle, shuffling my feet against the plush carpet. I see a light on in the living room. I peek around the corner and there’s my mother, staring off into the fire. I step into the room, and she looks up at me with tear-filled eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, crouching before her.
She wipes at her eyes as she shakes her head, her curls sway softly against her face. She closes her robe tighter. “Nothin’ I’m just…I’m so happy your home I’m afraid if I go to sleep I’ll wake to discover it all just a lovely dream.”
“I’m here. I’m real,” I assure her taking her hand.
She pulls me down onto the sofa next to her.
“Now, why don’t you tell me all about this beau of yours.”
“I’ve never met him but for the one video call. I’m familiar with Belly and Marci, though, and never heard a bad word spoken about the man.”
“I didn’t know him long, but Belly was great. Grim loved him very much.” I hesitate, unsure exactly of what to say about Grim. About what we have. About where we stand now.
We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at the fire. “Do you know what Imogen means?” she asks, breaking the silence.
I shake my head.
“It means ‘last born daughter’. Because you were a miracle, and we knew there would be no more coming after you.” She sighs. “I downright hated your father for so long after you were taken from us. But he grew up in this life, and I knew what I was getting into when I married him, so it was as much my fault as it was his.”
Permission: The Perversion Trilogy, Book Three Page 8
