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His chuckle is deep and raspy. “I never thought I would say this but thank you for speeding.”
I toss my head back and laugh, happy knowing that something that started out ugly and disturbing turned out to be something beautiful and forever lasting.
JW
I WALK UP THE STEPS TO the older brick house and ring the doorbell. The sun has already set and with the warm temperature, there’re bugs flying around the porch light.
As I wait for someone to answer the door, I think back to the note Eden received a week ago. It was from a female housekeeper who used to work for Diego. Apparently, one of the girls on the microchip we found in Eden’s birth control pack was her daughter. She had suspected Diego had done something to her. One day, when she was cleaning his office, Diego left his computer on. Frozen on the screen was a video of Diego with his knife jammed in her daughter’s gut. She found other videos of him murdering women and took the microchip. She planted the chip in Eden’s birth control pack, knowing she would eventually find it. She didn’t go to the police herself because she was living in the states illegally and was worried she would be deported back to Mexico, where her husband, who had been abusing her for years, was looking for her.
I understand her fear, but it still pisses me off that she put Eden’s life on the line. She apologized in her letter and Eden forgave her. Me, not so much. I’d never want what happened to her daughter to happen to anyone else, but I’ll always chose Eden’s safety over anyone else’s.
She went on to explain she sent the picture I got the day I visited Emiliano, gathering more evidence against Diego. When he went to take a shower, she snuck in the room and took the picture of the girl, then sent it to me, hoping that it would motivate us even more to turn over the evidence to the police.
I’m brought back to the present when I hear footsteps on the other side of the door, and I brace myself. I recognize the man who answers right away, and it takes every bit of will power I possess to not plant my fist against his face. He’s older, twenty-four years older to be exact, but he’s smaller than I remember. Smaller than I am by several inches and at least forty pounds.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his brows lifted in expectation.
Instead of answering, my hand darts out and my fingers wrap around his neck before he knows what’s happening. His hand flies up to mine and he tries to pry it away as I shove him inside, slamming the door closed with my boot. Spotting a couch in the living room, I push him backwards until he falls onto it. He coughs and sputters as he tries to catch his breath.
“Who… in the fuck… are you?” he wheezes.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m shocked, Trey. You don’t recognize your little brother?”
His hands are braced on his knees while he leans over to pull in much-needed air. At my words, he sits up straight and stops breathing again. His eyes narrow as he looks me over.
“Liam?” he croaks, his eyes growing big in disbelief.
I spread my arms wide. “In the flesh.”
I have to give it to my brother. He’s not stupid. He knows just what this little visit means for him. He proves this when he jumps from the couch and tries to dart to the hallway. He only gets three feet before my fist is in his stomach and he’s once again wheezing for breath. I throw him in the closest chair and he slumps over.
A shocked gasp has me turning. An older version of the woman I remember my mother being walks out of the dark hallway. Judge is at her back, not letting her too far out of his grasp.
“Liam?” she whispers in a broken voice through the hand she has covering her mouth.
Like Trey, she looks a lot older. Her hair is mostly grey and her face has wrinkles now. I fucking hate that I have her eyes and nose.
“Hello, Mother.”
When she stops walking, Judge nudges her forward. She stops about five feet away.
“Oh, my, God. I thought you were dead,” she breaths.
“As you can see, I’m very much alive, but I can guarantee you’ll wish I were dead by the time I’m through with you and Trey.”
Tears appear in her eyes before they run freely down her face.
“I can’t believe it.” Her voice is still low and she still appears surpris
ed. “I can’t believe you’re really alive. Your father died that night. I thought you did too, or we would have looked for you before we left.”
“Thank fuck for small miracles,” I mutter. I jerk my chin to the couch beside Trey. “Take a seat.”
Seeming to come out of her stupor, she glances back and sees the hunched over form of Trey. Her head swings back to me. “What did you do to him?”
“Not nearly enough. Now sit down,” I order in a hard tone.
Her chin quivers, but she does what she’s told. Judge stands off to the side with his hands shoved into his pockets.
