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I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the way her imperfect body felt under my fingertips, scars and all. Fucking perfect. Even when we fell together into the sheets of a stranger’s bed under the full moon with masks, I felt her history at my fingertips. There's a map on her flesh I want to fully explore and memorize.
I have my suspicions and theories. About her. About my father. Especially after seeing the mark on her flesh between her delectable tits. Something I’ve seen so many times before first-hand throughout the years. Just never on a woman. They’re not allowed to bear that mark. I’ll discover soon enough, though. Journey doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to spill every ounce of her life to us in one way or another. I have my ways of loosening tongues, especially hers.
And I’m going to enlist some help from a trusted friend I once thought dead. Why I hadn’t called her sooner, I’ll never know. Despite how helpful Olivia could be, I tend to keep our affairs to myself. She could also turn on us at any second. My cousin may be on the other side of the law, but I know she’ll help. This time at least. Years before, when Journey’s name fell into my lap, Olivia wasn’t an option. Her company wasn't a choice. For years, I've had to rely on people from inside the organization. Now is the time to trust someone on the outside. Someone who bleeds the same as me.
I take one last look at Arrow and Journey in their sleeping heap, memorizing their expressions. Arrow won’t wake up until the sun is high in the sky, sleeping so deeply you’d think he was dead. Journey on the other hand? Well she might be a different story after years of depending on pills. I silently walk out the bedroom door and down the hall, stopping before the only open door illuminated with light.
“I’m going to call Liv,” I say, leaning against the doorframe with a sigh.
Shepp stops with a paintbrush trapped between his lips. Red paint decorates his face and fingers. Slowly, he brings his eyes to mine, and I see the muse dancing there. He’s been blocked for so long, and now, it’s rushing to relieve itself on his once-empty canvas.
All because of her.
‘Okay,’ he signs quickly with furrowed brows.
“You could never pull anything else up on our girl?” I question, keeping my distance and respecting Shepp’s domain—his art room. The one place he can completely lose himself in the process and not have to worry about us.
Shepp’s eyes wander over the canvas, losing himself in deep thought until he nods. ‘When I was there that night after we took Journey home from Rave, she had a nightmare. She kept calling out for someone named Sunny or Sunshine.’ He rolls his lips in, almost hesitantly continuing. ‘She has a sister,’ he signs, waltzing over to the couch he likes to call his bed and picks up white pieces of paper. Coming to stand right in front of me, he places them in my hands. ‘She writes to her. She’s in a hospital somewhere.’ He swallows hard when my eyes fall to the sheets of paper.
A sickening feeling takes me over. The letters sit like heavy lead in my hands. Maybe the answers to all our questions reside in these letters? Shepp turns his back to me and takes a deep breath when he ventures back to his painting, giving it all his attention.
“A sister?” Thoughts tickle the back of my mind. A sister, really?
How the hell did we not know she had a sister? I’ve known Journey West for years now. We may not have been best friends by any means, but she was my obsession. Every chance I got, I watched her from a distance at school. Of course, I wasn’t allowed around anyone but the family outside of school. Not that I didn’t sneak over and watch her house from afar, wishing I was inside. Not once in the years that I watched did I see someone younger than Journey exiting the house.
So, how the hell did I miss her having a sister?
I know everything about her. Except for the important things, I’ve come to realize. I’ve been through all her records before, delivered to me by our trusted PI. And a sister living with her was never mentioned. In fact, according to her records, she’s an only child, which furthers my questioning on why my father insists I marry her. Because I know now that’s all bullshit.
Her records are nothing more than a fabricated lie, concocted by someone trying to cover something up about her.
‘She said her monster had her hidden, Jer,’ he signs again, shaking his head at those words. ‘A monster?’ he questions.
But my hackles immediately rise. Her monster. Of course. “So, where is this mysterious sister I’ve never heard of?” I cock my head.
Everything in my brain swirls at the information, clicking into place piece by piece. Yes. I think I might have an idea at who her monster might be. I just need a little more information.
“Liv will help with that.”
I check my watch, noting the time. We got back so late from the police station that by the time I locked Journey to Arrow, the sun had come up over the horizon, signifying a brand new day.
‘Do you trust Liv?’ Shepp boldly asks, raising a brow.
Trust. Now, that’s a word. I only trust a handful of people in my life, and my cousin, Olivia, is included in that. He knows that. We’ve been together since birth, bound by blood and torn apart by ruin. In the back of my mind, I shouldn’t trust my cousin. She died. I went to her funeral. And then, I watched her reanimate years later with a fucking badge strapped to her chest, becoming the very person we loathed. The law. A person who could stop a multiple-decades-long rule of the underbelly.
“With my life.”
Shepp nods a few times, grasping his paintbrush. ‘Then ask her the million-dollar question.’
I tip my head, leaving the man to continue his art piece and find myself down the hall in my own office. Large bookshelves line the walls, filled with useless books. Some classics. Some encyclopedias. None that interest me.
But this does.
My fingers glide over a black leather case on a shelf, holding the instrument, the one thing that brings me life besides Journey. My eyes fall shut as the cool leather swishes beneath my fingertips, reminding me why I’m here. Later. I’ll play you later and spill my anguish into my music—my drug of choice.
Wandering to the cart in the corner, housing my liquor, I pour two fingers of expensive sipping whiskey. The amber liquid runs smoothly down my throat as I sit in my leather chair facing the massive fireplace. I swallow another gulp of my drink, staring at the letters in front of me. When Shepp got these, I haven’t a clue. He’s constantly sneaking off though, and my suspicion is to Journey's. Like I’ve done plenty of times before. And Arrow, too. We’re all hopelessly addicted to the smart mouth girl who refused to bow in our presence.
And I guess that's what leads me here with an ache in my heart, curious to unwrap the mystery surrounding my girl.
