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  In no time, I was down two floors and entering our command center—2.

  Three sets of eyes met mine.

  “What the fuck? Don’t you have places to be?” I asked.

  “Garrett’s waiting in the parking garage,” Sparrow said, glancing at his watch.

  Mason’s eyes met mine. “Andrew Jettison, sergeant major.”

  My gut twisted. “Tell me he’s alive so I can fucking kill him.”

  “He died in battle,” Sparrow said.

  “Six years ago,” Patrick added.

  Lorna

  As Reid turned away, his broad shoulders straightened in a nonverbal show of determination. That wasn’t all that left me uneasy. There was something in his tone and expression. Yes, he’d joked and left me with unmet sexual tension and desire, yet he’d also given me a glimpse of his vendetta, his need to punish. I knew my husband well enough to recognize his projection. If and when we ventured into any type of role play, it would be pleasure he delivered, not pain. Reid’s current desire to punish wasn’t directed toward me but to whoever hurt me.

  I didn’t doubt his or any of the other men’s capability. It was that I didn’t want to lose my husband or anyone in our family because they sought to avenge me. The worry twisted my stomach as I wrapped my arms around myself and watched him disappear beyond the stairs toward the elevator. “Please keep him safe and let him concentrate,” I whispered. “And bring him home to me.”

  “Lorna?”

  I turned to the sight of the only teenager in our tower, the one whose presence I’d warned Reid about. “Ruby, did you overhear?”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No, I was hoping I could talk to you, and I waited until Reid left.”

  Ruby’s kind heart was the crowning jewel to her outward beauty. It would have been easy for her life to have turned out differently, or her outlook to have been soured by the circumstances around her, yet it hadn’t. I was certain her mother, Madeline, was responsible for the well-rounded young lady before me.

  I lifted my hand to her. “Of course we can talk. It’s great to have you home.”

  Ruby reached toward me, our hands meeting, not in a shake but a squeeze of familiarity. “The more I’m here, the more it feels like home.”

  “Good.”

  “I-I’m sorry about what happened to you,” she said.

  “I know I look like I lost the heavyweight championship.”

  Ruby laughed. “Try lightweight.”

  “The truth is that I don’t remember a thing.”

  We both sat, each in one of a pair of plush chairs near a wall of windows. The morning sun streamed through the tempered panes as far below leaves turned from green to orange, yellow, and red. Autumn was upon us.

  Time continued to move despite my memories or lack thereof.

  “When you do—remember,” she began, “please talk to Reid.”

  I sat straighter. “Are you giving me life advice?”

  “If you want to hear it.”

  Leaning back in the chair, I grinned. “When did you become so worldly?”

  “I think since I was born,” Ruby said, her back straight and legs crossed at her ankles, reminding me of her mother. “I know you all see me as a kid,” she went on, “but when we first got here—when Mom got here, too—it was like a faucet opened inside of her or a dam broke. She had so many memories, things she’d packed away.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “I love her, and yet I didn’t know what to say to her or what to do.”

  “I’m sure just having you here,” I offered, “and knowing you and she were safe—”

  Ruby shook her head. “No, it was all Patrick. He got to her. I mean they hadn’t been together in seventeen years and he...” She grinned, taking a deep breath. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t want details of what he did. I just know my mom. I know that never before in my life had she been anything other than...perfect. It probably was what Andros expected. No matter why, I never saw her cry or get upset. I saw her try to hide her fear when she was scared, but no matter what, she was always in control of her own emotions. She used to say that only you have power over yourself. Of course, I didn’t know what had happened through her life.”

  Madeline’s past was a complicated story unto itself.

  “Ruby, it wasn’t your burden to carry.”

  “I know that. I also know that when my mom finally allowed herself to remember and feel, the memories threatened to drown her. There were so many that they were overwhelming, taking her down an emotional spiral she may not have come back from.”

  “No,” I said, “your mom is strong. She’s a survivor.”

  Ruby reached over to my knee. “So are you, Lorna. Aunt Araneae told me about Mason, that for years he was gone. She even mentioned a sister who you lost when you were young. And through it all, you survived. I know Mom’s story is different, and she chose not to face her memories. Your loss of memory isn’t a choice. Which is...” —she shrugged— “maybe worse because you can’t decide when they will come back.”

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  “But please,” Ruby implored, “if and when your memories do come back, grab a life raft. Hold on to Reid, or” —she motioned toward the kitchen— “anyone in there. This place is super weird.”

  I scoffed. “Weird?”

  “Yeah, it’s like we’re all family. Every one of you rallied around my mom even before she was ready to tell you her story. But everyone has a story. I mean, Uncle Sterling thinks he rules the world. Patrick enables him. Aunt Araneae has, like, dozens of names. Laurel is some kind of genius. Reid can do anything on a computer. I bet he’s a whiz at hacking. And your brother was an assassin for hire.”

  I shook my head at her voicing what was never meant to be uttered. “Ruby, we don’t—”

  “I’m not dumb,” she interrupted with a grin. “I think it’s all cool, and I know not to say anything. I mean, I may be young, but after growing up in the Ivanov bratva and moving here, I pick up on more than the average eighteen-year-old.

  “No one in this tower has lived an unscathed life, even me. I still sometimes think of watching Oleg die.” She forced a smile. “That’s what makes it” —she paused and looked around the luxurious room— “perfect. Because people here accept things that others might not. No matter what you remember or when you remember, everyone here will still love you.”

  Her words prickled my skin and brought unshed tears to my eyes. Listening to her wisdom, it was easy to forget I was speaking to a teenager. Her life truly had made her wise beyond her years. “I’ll remember that. Right now, I really don’t remember.”

  “When you do, don’t do it alone.”

  Madeline came around the corner with a sigh, a kitchen towel in hand. And with the light from the archway, her baby bump appeared more like a round beach ball beneath her sweater. “Is everything all right?”

  I smiled. “I’m getting great life advice from Ruby.”

  Madeline’s head tilted to the side.

  I reached for Ruby’s hand. “Thank you.” As we stood, we reached for one another and embraced. I stifled a small wince as she applied pressure to my sore muscles.

  “Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Ruby said as she hurriedly stepped back.

  “Ruby Cynthia,” Madeline corrected.

  “Mom, update, I’m an adult. Adults say shit.”

  Araneae and Laurel came from the kitchen.

  “What do adults do?” Araneae asked.

  “Cuss,” Madeline and I said together as Ruby repeated, “say shit.”

  Araneae’s hand went in the air. “I do.” Her expression changed. “Wait, am I the aunt who’s a bad influence?”

  Ruby went to Araneae and wrapped her arm around her waist. “You’re my only aunt, so I think that makes you the best influence.” She turned her blue eyes to her mother. “And don’t get mad at Aunt Araneae. I learned all the cuss words from Andros, others at school, and...well, life.”

  Madeline laid her hand on
her midsection and smiled at Araneae. “Maybe we can work on not saying them as much for these next little ones.”

  “I know, we can have a cussing jar,” Ruby volunteered.

  Araneae smiled. “Great idea. Now, is it possible that I could arrange an automatic thousand-dollar deposit the first of each month and call it even?”

  “It’s only a dollar a word,” Ruby explained.

  “Well, fuck” —Araneae’s hand flew to her lips— “I better make it two thousand.”

  Laughter, unforced and natural, filtered through the penthouse, a comforting melody to remind me of our shared connections.

  “Did I miss dishes?” I asked.

  “All taken care of,” Madeline said. “And we started a big pot of chili for lunch. I guess we can all rest.” She looked around. “Or do schoolwork, or work-work.”

  Araneae’s and Laurel’s technology was already upgraded for safety as they both had work outside the tower that they needed to access.

  Rest.

  A sigh escaped my lips as I turned toward the glistening waves of Lake Michigan, suddenly dreading spending time alone.

  “What is it, Lorna?” Laurel asked.

  “A lot of things. I wasn’t going to say anything” —I winked at Ruby— “but a friend just gave me some great advice. Would you mind if we talked for a little bit? Or do you need to do work?”

  “Let’s go downstairs. My place or yours?”

  “Yours would be good.” I peered around the penthouse. “I need a change of scenery.”

  Reid

  My steps staggered. “He died six years ago?”

  Mason’s complexion paled as he dropped into his chair and laid his head back against the leather. “This is all on me. I brought the Order into this world. How in the fuck did I think they’d let me go?”

  Sparrow took a deep breath. “We need to deal with this. But right now, I have to get to the office. Hell, I’m already behind on meetings. Shit doesn’t stop just because more is coming our way. It just piles deeper.” He looked at Mason. “Get this pity-party shit out of your system because we need you. We need your understanding of the Order and what we’re dealing with. We have the DNA of a dead soldier who obviously missed the memo of his death.”

  Mason’s jaw clenched. “Been there.”

  “Yes, and we took you back. I took you back.” Sparrow emphasized the personal pronoun, “You didn’t lie to me or us. You didn’t downplay the Order. We knew what it meant to have you here and we chose you.” He stood taller. “So if you want to blame someone for bringing the Order to Chicago, blame me. The fucking buck stops here.”

  “I’m also to blame. I had a say,” Patrick said.

  “Me, too,” I added. And then a thought occurred to me. “Maybe you should stop being so damn narcissistic.”

  All eyes were on me.

  I walked closer to the group and my desk area. Before sitting, I turned to Mason. “Hear me out. Even if this is the Order, they don’t want you.”

  Mason’s green eyes, so much like his sister’s, opened wider. “They want Laurel.”

  “That’s why she’s not leaving the tower and you can,” Sparrow said.

  “Did you introduce Laurel to the Order?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  He hadn’t.

  “Fuck,” Mason said as he stood again and began to pace before the rows of active computer screens. “I’ve been so focused on the fact this could be the Order and that they could have taken Lorna and Araneae, I wasn’t seeing the entire picture.” He spun toward us, running his fingers through his untethered hair. “I didn’t—introduce them to her. The Order had a tracker on her for years.”

  “Because?” I asked, also knowing this answer.

  “Her compound. She—the tracker—was fucking there when Laurel was recreating...” His sentences weren’t keeping up with his thoughts. It was all right. We could fill in the blanks.

  “Why is Laurel alive today?” Patrick asked.

  When Mason hesitated, Sparrow answered, “Dr. Laurel Carlson wouldn’t have lived if she’d been with any other person, male or female, in the entire world. I wouldn’t have understood who was after her. Reid or Patrick wouldn’t, and you know we’re about as badass as they come. You were able to save her because you understand the Order. You’re not the weak link here. You’re the fucking asset.” Sparrow looked again at his watch. “I need to be downtown.” He took a step and stopped, staring us all down. “I want intel today. Nothing but intel. No one takes off for DC or anywhere outside our city. No rogue shit. Am I clear?”

  We nodded.

  “Learn for sure where Walters is. Is he in DC? If not, where?” Sparrow turned to Mason and Patrick. “We need to put out these little fires everywhere around my city. Get on the street. Talk to capos. Check with the informants with contacts in the gangs. I want to know why we’re on the edge of a constant battle. This is our city. I make the rules.

  “If any of this annoying shit is coming from within our ranks, we have a round of housekeeping to do. I don’t want to lose Sparrows, but I won’t stand for insubordination in the lines.” He straightened the cuffs of his starched shirt visible below the cuffs of his suit coat and righted the gold and diamond cuff links. “Tomorrow, we’re going to Walters.”

  “All of us?” I asked.

  His dark gaze met mine. “I sure as fuck plan to look in the eye of the man who was ultimately responsible for my wife being taken. Was I wrong to suppose you felt the same?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I need to be there,” Mason said.

  We turned to Patrick as Sparrow spoke. “Patrick, we need your skills, but we can have them from here. After you meet with the capos and street gangs, get back here with Reid so we can rely on you to shoot us whatever is necessary from this command center. Also, line up a handful of Sparrows to join us on our trip and give them orders. I want them to arrive before we do and secure every loose end. We’ll need a private location to meet and the assurance of staying under the radar. Walters won’t want to be seen with me any more than I want to be seen with him.”

  Patrick nodded.

  It was no secret; Patrick didn’t want to be distanced from Madeline. Leaving her in Montana happened because we convinced him that it was for her good. We were wrong. Now she was safe in this tower. It wasn’t only her location. As he’d mentioned privately to each of us, Madeline gave birth to Ruby over six weeks early. He refused to not be present and at his wife’s side when his son entered this world.

  None of us could blame him.

  The world’s fires would rage as would those in Chicago. That didn’t mean our priorities weren’t constantly changing. It wasn’t that we cared less about the Sparrow Empire; it meant we also had other concerns.

  Settling in my chair, I lifted my chin to my brother-in-law. “I could use you to stay here for a bit.”

  He nodded as Sparrow and Patrick disappeared behind the closing steel door, leaving the two of us alone.

  “I want to know everything I can about Andrew Jettison, sergeant major.”

  Mason wheeled his chair closer to my workstation. “Since his blood was found in that bunker five days ago, I think we can safely say that he didn’t die six years ago in combat.”

  “You found his DNA match...”

  “It was matched through government records.” Mason leaned back in the chair, bringing one of his ankles to the opposite knee. “Even the Order hasn’t figured out how to completely erase someone’s identity. They’ve been content to end it, to declare the man or woman dead.”

  I hit a few keys, making my way into the program Patrick had run. A summary of Andrew Jettison’s education and service record appeared, and I began to read. “Jettison was a member of TACP, tactical air control party specialist.”

  Mason grunted. “Sounds like a man who could handle flying a chopper.”

  I continued reading. “His family received what was left of his remains in a ceremony in DC after his plane was
shot down during airstrikes over Iraq and Syria. Jettison was honored for his service. The airstrikes took out a huge weapons depot.” My mind went to Lorna, how she’d bravely gone to the coroner’s office and identified the charred remains we’d been led to believe belonged to the man now sitting beside me. “Jettison had an impressive history of service with a list of commendations.”

  “The Order only spends its resources on the best.”

  My lips twitched. “A little full of yourself.”

  Mason shook his head. “I don’t envy Jettison.”

  “No,” I replied, “because I’m going to make him suffer.”

  “I’m certain he already has.”

  When I turned to my side, Mason’s gaze was distant. From my vantage, I imagined that his mind was immersed in a cloud of memories. “Man, are you all right?”

  Abruptly, he stood, his chair scooting across the cement floor. “Talk to me and then I need to get out to the docks.”

  “Talk, be more specific. I was talking.”

  Mason took a few steps, his boots clipping across the floor. “I don’t want this to sound wrong.”

  I waited because his change in tone and demeanor already sounded...not right.

  “Doc wants to help Lorna and Araneae any way she can,” Mason began. “She’s also practically elated over the drug that they were given. She’s been up late researching the toxicology reports and writing in notebooks—plural—all full of notes.” He stopped walking. “You have to understand, we’ve devoted our lives to Sparrow and the outfit. We have done a shit ton of good, an equal amount of bad, and made some great money along the way.” He gestured around. “This life we live is nothing like what Lorna and I had when that bitch-on-ice gave us life.”

  Bitch-on-ice—Nancy Pierce. My mind went back to Lorna’s dream—Missy.

  “Laurel’s whole life,” Mason continued, “has been about helping people. Even as a kid, she’d accompany her dad—”

  “Lorna told me,” I interrupted, trying to move his story forward.

  “Okay, so when she was an undergrad, Laurel was selected for a project. It was very secretive.”