by A. M. Myers
“I think you’ve had plenty.”
“No,” he moans, propping his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. “Just let me forget.”
“Jesus Christ, Blaze. Forget what?”
He grabs his glass and throws it across the room. I flinch as it hits the wall and shatters.
“Just do what I asked you to do!”
I stare down at the photo again, running through reasons why Blaze might need me to follow this woman. I flip through some more pictures of her, looking for any clue as to why he would ask me to do this. “Why?”
“Just do it, Kodiak. Follow her and report back to me every day. I want to know what she’s doing and who she’s seeing. Everything. Every little detail.”
I drop the photos and back away from the desk, shaking my head. The club has been dedicated to protecting people for the last five years and this doesn’t feel right.
“I need to know why I’m doing this.”
Blaze lets out a sardonic laugh. “No, you don’t. I’m your president and I’ve given you an order.”
I tense and meet his hard stare. “You know I respect the hell out of you, Blaze, but if you think I’m going to stalk some poor innocent woman without knowing why, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“Just do it!” he roars and I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to keep talking. Finally, he sighs. “You’re not stalking her and I need you to trust that I have a damn good reason if I’m asking you to do this.”
After studying him for a moment, I nod. He’s right. I know what kind of man Blaze is so I don’t really believe that he means this woman any harm but it’s still weird for him to be so evasive.
“Are you in trouble, Blaze? Is she?”
“No more questions, Kodiak. I need your help. Will you do this for me?”
I glance down at the photos on the desk and sigh. “What am I looking for exactly?”
“Don’t worry about that yet. Just record everything.”
Without another word, he grabs the bottle of liquor out of my hand and storms out of the office. I stare down at the photo and wonder what the hell I’m getting myself into.
* * * *
Tatum Elizabeth Carter
Born on September 9, 1992 in Denver, Colorado, to Sarah Rose Carter.
Moved to Baton Rouge in 1998 when Tatum and her twin brother, Theodore, were six years old.
She works as a waitress in a diner and a gas station attendant on the rough side of town.
He’s a first class petty officer in the U.S. Navy
Their mother, Sarah, was killed in a car accident five days ago.
I read through the information a few more times, looking for any clue as to why Blaze asked me to do this but I’m still in the same spot I was three days ago when he first plopped this folder down in front of me. There are no answers here but I can’t stop reading, can’t stop searching. My phone starts beeping and I glance over at it, straightening in my seat when I see the alert from the tracker I put on Theodore’s car a few days ago.
They pull into the parking lot and I slip my sunglasses on despite the clouds blanketing the sky in an attempt to remain unnoticed. I’m glad I thought to borrow Smith’s truck. Had I shown up in my matte black Camaro there’s no way I could remain anonymous. They slip into a spot six spaces down from me and I grab my phone, pretending to look at it as they climb out and Tate grabs a plain looking urn from the back seat. Theo offers his arm and she takes it as they start off down the path to the beach.
Memories from my own father’s funeral surface and tears burn my eyes. Back then, I believed everyone when they told me that time heals all wounds and that things would get easier. In some ways, I suppose they were right but grief is tricky. Something will remind me of my dad and out of the blue, I’m overcome with pain like I’m that kid again, saying good-bye to my old man over a radio. Or I’ll wake up one morning and I won’t be able to think of anything else. That feeling will hang over me like a dark cloud all day long, assaulting me with pain.
There’s so much in my life that my father missed out on and so much that I still needed him for but he was stolen from us. Watching Tate and Theo as they stop by the water, I know the anguish they’re feeling for the loss of their mother. I understand the ache overwhelming them and it makes me feel connected to them in a way that only someone who’s lost a parent can be. Especially her. I’m not sure what it is exactly – maybe the steely set of her amber gaze that tells the world she can handle herself or the broken look she’s been wearing lately that reveals the soft side I suspect she keeps hidden most of the time but she is different than any other girl I’ve ever seen.
Rolling down the truck window, I shiver as cold air rushes into the cab and glance down at the parabolic microphone Blaze insisted I bring with me because when he said he wanted to know everything, he literally meant everything. It’s also why I had to sneak cameras into their mother’s house. I wonder how many Hail Marys I’d need to say to not feel like a creepy stalker when this is all over. Not that I even have a clue when it will end.
Up ahead, Tate and Theo turn to face each other as he unscrews the urn’s lid. Even from two hundred yards away, I can still see her take a breath before she reaches in and pulls out a handful of ashes, sprinkling them in the water. A single tear slips down her cheek and I empathize with her even more. It doesn’t matter what age it happens, losing a parent is always hard. A loss like that shakes your whole damn foundation and it takes time to find your footing again. Her brother is stoic and I wonder if he’s trying to be strong for her or he’s still too overwhelmed with shock to feel anything else. For me, it took weeks before the full magnitude of the loss of my father hit me.
I reach across the truck and grab the folder out of the passenger seat, flipping it open to read everything Blaze has about Tate’s brother. I’ve been engrossed in this file for days, so fucking curious about all the damn holes in the story. Of course I can’t get anything else out of Blaze and it’s not the first time that I’ve wondered if this is really on the up and up. If this is really okay, why won’t he tell me anything else and why am I not allowed to tell any of my brothers?
It makes no goddamn sense.
Glancing up, I watch them as they step toward the waves and sprinkle more of Sarah’s ashes in the ocean before Tate discreetly wipes away another tear. I haven’t even officially met this girl yet and she already has me reeling. I don’t know if it’s because she reminds me so much of my past but even standing on that beach at her mother’s funeral, she has my full attention. She’s sad, broken, and yet, still so fierce and strong. Beautiful but guarded.
In the past three days, I’ve spent most of my time parked outside of her house watching her on the video feed Streak, the club’s resident tech expert, was able to hack into for me. I was surprised when I broke into her house and noticed the discreet cameras hiding throughout each room but add that to my growing list of questions. Besides, I’m secretly glad for them since they give me a whole new insight into this girl. Somehow, she’s worming her way under my skin and I don’t like it. Tossing the folder back to the passenger seat, I grab the microphone again and slip the headphones on before holding it out of the open window.
“When did Mom bring us down here for that vacation?” Tate asks, staring out at the ocean as the wind blows her hair all around her face.
“I don’t know. It was shortly after we moved here.”
She nods, pulling her sweater tighter and I barely resist the urge to climb out of the car and offer her my damn jacket. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“Do you think we’ll ever get any answers?” she asks and there’s vulnerability in her voice but if Theo notices, he doesn’t let on.
“No. I think Mom had more secrets than we can ever imagine.”
Tate wipes away another tear and I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that it will get easier. “It feels like I didn’t even know her.”
“I don
’t think we really did, T,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.
“You have to promise that you’ll never keep secrets from me, Theo.”
He turns to her and wraps her up in a hug. “I promise. Besides, you’d know if I tried.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” she agrees with a smile as she pulls away. “You ready to get out of here?”
He nods and they turn, disappearing behind one of the dunes as I pull the headphones off and toss the microphone in the passenger seat with a sigh. Pulling her photo from the folder, I let out an annoyed growl because despite the fact that I’ve never even met this girl, I’m eager to see her again.
Chapter Three
Tatum
Standing at the entrance of the living room, I look around the space with a cup of coffee in my hand, memories flooding my mind. Mom’s house is a classic southern cottage and one of the basic criteria of the design is its homey feel but Mom took it a step further. The light teal blue walls are welcoming but not overbearing or too bright and she managed to find white couches that don’t feel sterile or untouchable. She coupled that with the wicker chairs that give it a coastal flair and two teal ottomans that are more like beanbags. Large windows allow the sunlight to flood the room and you can’t take a step without the old hardwood floors creaking but, for me, that’s always added to the charm of the place.
If I close my eyes, I can almost hear Mom moving around the kitchen, making dinner for Theo and me as a cool summer breeze blows through the house. Everything is exactly as she left it six days ago and it makes it so much harder to cope with the fact that she’s gone. But she is. Her ashes are currently floating around in the Gulf of Mexico right now, seeing the rest of the world like she always wanted to.
Theo comes bounding down the stairs behind me and I quickly wipe a stray tear away and sniffle as I raise my coffee mug to my lips. He steps into the living room from the archway in the kitchen and I glance in his direction as he sips his own coffee.
“What are we going to do with this place?”
He peeks over at me before glancing around the room and shrugging. “I don’t know. I suppose you could move in here.”
Theo and I were born in Denver but as soon as we were released from the hospital, Mama loaded us up and hit the road. We always stayed in cheap, roadside hotels and we never stayed longer than three months before she would pack us up again and move to some other part of the country. First it was Arizona, then Iowa, North Carolina, North Dakota, Maine, Texas… We’d visited almost every state in the country before we landed in Baton Rouge when Theo and I were six. I have no idea what changed for her here but she decided to finally put down some roots and this place has been my home ever since. There isn’t a single part of me that wants to lose it but I know I can’t afford to keep it.
“And take over her mortgage payment?” I ask, shaking my head as tears build in my eyes. “I can’t afford that, Theo.”
Compassion fills his eyes. “I’ll help you. I can send you money every month.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
Setting his coffee down on the table, he walks over to me and wraps me up in a hug. “You didn’t ask, I offered and I don’t want to lose this place either. This is our house, the only one we’ve ever had.”
Biting my bottom lip, I look up at him and mull it over. “Be honest with me. Can you really afford to send me money for the house?”
The moment of hesitation is all I need to see to know that as much as he wants to help, he’s not in a much better position than I am.
“We have to sell it,” I say before he can answer me and he shakes his head.
“Don’t be stubborn,” he growls. “This is our home.”
“We can’t afford it.”
“I’ll find a way, T. You need a better, safer place to live and Mom wouldn’t want us to lose the house.”
“Mom wouldn’t want us to kill ourselves to keep it, either.”
As he sighs again, I know that he’s on the same page as me. Neither one of us wants to lose it but there’s only so much we can do. Some things are just out of our control.
“If we’re going to sell it, we need to start sorting through her things,” Theo points out and I nod, gazing around the room.
“Where do we even start?”
He peeks over my shoulder to the storage closet in the hall. “There, I suppose.”
I let out a groan. The last time I peeked in that particular closet, I was almost buried under a mountain of boxes.
“Oh, goody.”
“Come on.” He laughs, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “Let’s finish our coffee and then we can get to work.”
We sit across from each other at the kitchen table and start sharing memories of Mom as we finish off our coffee.
“Do you remember that hotel in Kansas City?” Theo asks and I start laughing.
“With the guy that would shout movie lines all night long? I thought Mom was gonna tear him a new one.”
“For the love of God, it’s three in the morning,” Theo says, imitating Mom’s voice and I start laughing but they quickly turn to tears as I realize I’ll never hear that voice again.
“I miss her so much,” I whisper and he nods.
“I wish I’d come home more these past few years.” His voice breaks and a tear falls down his cheek. “The last time I saw her was almost a year ago.”
Reaching across the table, I grab his hand. “You’re all I have left now, Theo. We have to promise to not let so much time pass.”
He nods. “I promise.”
We finish our coffee as he tells me about what’s going on in Charleston and after we rinse our mugs out in the sink, we walk over to the closet and stop in front of the closed door.
“If we don’t make it through this, just know that I love you,” I quip and glance over at Theo as he rolls his eyes.
“You’re so goddamn dramatic.”
I scoff, vividly remembering one time when we were younger when Theo was convinced a simple cold was going to kill him as I step forward and grip the door handle. “Whatever you say, kettle.”
“Are you calling me dramatic?” he asks but I ignore him, opening the door and wincing. When nothing happens, I peek open my eyes and sigh. I half expected everything to just come pouring out of it like in cartoons. “Yes, clearly, I’m the dramatic one.”
“Shut up,” I say with a laugh, shoving him backward and he grabs onto my arm, almost sending us both crashing to the floor.
“Be serious. We have work to do,” he scolds, his face serious but playfulness still in his tone. Smiling, I turn back to the closet and the pain of the last few days crashes down on me again. It’s weird the way you can forget sometimes. Even though it just happened, there are still moments when I smile or something makes me laugh before I remember that my mother is gone and the guilt descends on me for daring to enjoy even a single moment of my life right now.
Sighing, I nod. “All right, let’s do this.”
We start gently pulling boxes out of the closet and setting them in various places around the room. When we run out of room to move around, we each go to a separate box and start digging through them.
“Do you remember these?” I ask, holding up the child-sized boxing gloves from when Mom made us start training.
“Shit, yeah. You hated it and Mom would drag us to class everyday.”
I turn the gloves over in my hand, remembering the horrific fights Mom and I would have whenever it was time to go to class or practice.
“Oh, God, and then she bought that bag, set it up in the garage, and made me practice for hours a day.”
Theo laughs. “Yeah, but look how good of a boxer you are now.”
“I still hate it,” I pout. Out of all the things our mother made us train in, boxing will always be my least favorite.
“You’ll thank her when you get in a fight.”
Arching a brow, I meet his gaze. “When am I ever goi
ng to get in a fight, Theo? When am I going to need to be able to reload a gun in two seconds or less? And yeah, sure, I can hit a target at fifteen hundred yards but who cares? I know all this useless stuff that I’m never going to need because I’m not a goddamn super spy or assassin.”
“Come on, T. Some of that stuff she taught us is useful.”
Sighing, I sink onto the ottoman and nod. “Yeah, it’s useful and I guess, if it ever comes down to it, I’ll be glad to have those skills but can you really say we had a childhood? As soon as we stopped bouncing from place to place every couple months, she started in with all this training. And for what? We may never know why she felt the need to teach us these things.”
“I know,” he says with a nod. “I’m not defending her choices but they aren’t useless either. We both know how to defend ourselves better than most people should the need ever arise.”
I press my fingers into my forehead. “I just want answers, Theo. I want to know what all of this was for and I want to know what happened to her. There’s this nagging feeling, deep down in my gut, that her death wasn’t just some random accident but as soon as I go down that rabbit hole, I start thinking that I’m losing my mind. Accidents happen all the time but she seemed invincible and it feels like I’m never going to get any peace.”
“It hasn’t even been a week, sis. Just give it time.” He walks over and sits next to me on the ottoman, wrapping his arm around me as I lay my head on his shoulder.
“I think I’m losing my mind.”
He laughs, giving me a squeeze. “Naw, T. You’re just grieving.”
“How are you holding it together so well?” I ask, lifting my head off his shoulder to study him.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’m probably just going to break one day out of the blue and shock the shit out of everyone, including myself.”
I want to tell him that’s not healthy but who am I to talk? I’m over here dreaming up conspiracy theories.
“We better get back to it,” I say, sighing. “I only have you for another day and a half.”
