Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (11 page)

“The best doughnuts in the freaking city.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

I chuckle and cross my legs in front of me. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, nothing…I just figured you’re used to the finer things.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Okay, enough of that already. You know me by now. You know I’m not some spoiled kid who grew up on a fancy ranch with his mommy and daddy getting anything and everything he wants. I was raised in Sagle, Idaho. You should’ve seen the house we lived in. I’m as ghetto as you, girl.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize being prosperous is something to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not. And I’m not…prosperous. Not yet.”

“Alright,” I put my hands up. “You win. You’re just as poor as the rest of us. At least for the next few weeks.”

“I guess I could say the same for you.”

My limbs tingle and I hug my knees to my chest. He’s right. If all goes well, I’ll be cashing in a nice bonus. Fifteen percent of twenty million is a number I can’t determine off the top of my head, but it’s a big one. And five percent of whatever the hell that big number is will put me in the black for a good long while.

The chime of my phone interrupts my thoughts and I jump up from the floor. Marx. Like clockwork. He never takes more than a few hours to track down a lead. The longest was twenty-four and that was only because he got his stupid ass arrested. I seize the phone and settle down in front of the laptop again, then scroll through to Marx’s text.
 

Sent the email. Damn

Shit. He’s not exactly a man of little words, even in texts. Four words from the God Damn Wizard, means trouble. I’m not even sure I want to open it.

“What is it?” Ray asks. “Is it about Mariah? Have you found her?”

“I…think I’ve got something. I’m not sure.” I press my lips together and tentatively open my inbox. The email from Marx is entitled MC Rap Sheet. It’s A Doozy.

I spend the first few seconds skimming through the document and the next several, processing the information. How much does this guy actually know about his sister?

“What? What is it?” Ray is hovering at my side now.
 

“Um…I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibil—”

“Oh, no.” His voice wavers at first then breaks on the last syllable. “Is she…? Oh, God no.”

“Ray,” I swivel to him, grabbing his hand. “It’s okay. She’s okay. According to this she’s still alive and living in…” I quickly glance at the screen. “ Moscow. Wait Moscow? How the hell does a twenty-one year old girl…?”

Ray lets go of my hand and stands erect. He clasps his hands on top of his head a lets out a forceful breath. “She’s in Idaho. She’s been there all this time.”

“But it says here—”

“Moscow, Idaho. It’s in Latah County. A few hours away from where we grew up.”

“She’s in Idaho?”

“All this time.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense. That’s the first place we checked. Obviously, if she were going to run away, why wouldn’t she go home? Where else would she go?”

“Did you search in Moscow?”

“We searched everywhere. Well, they did—my mom and dad. I was away at college—I had to go back, I didn’t want to but the new season was starting and Coach had already given me a week off. If I missed anymore time—”

“Ray,” I stand in front of him now. “It’s okay. We found her. At least her last known address. It was registered with the state eight months ago.”

“Why did she register her address with the state?”

I drop my gaze to the floor. “Well…she…it looks like she may have had a little trouble with the law.” A little is a serious understatement, but now isn’t exactly the time to get into it.

“Not again,” Ray breathes and sinks down into the armchair. “No, that doesn’t make sense either. If she’s been in jail all this time, they would have called our house. My parents would have known.”

“Not if she’s over eighteen. Legally she’s an adult. They wouldn’t have to know a thing.”

“What was she in for?”

“Ray—”

“I want to know. What did she do?”

I close my eyes, the list of offenses fresh in my memory. “B&E, attempted assault, assault causing bodily harm, uttering death threats and…you know, it’s really not important. What’s important is that you found her. She’s okay. And, if you want, we can drive out there tomorrow to see her.”

Did I just say ‘we’?

Verbal diarrhea has kicked in again and I clench my teeth. This isn’t part of the deal and I don’t have time to spend the weekend in freaking Idaho. I need to get ahold of Reese’s black book. Make some calls. I’ve got Ray Carlson. Everyone’ll take me seriously now.

“You’d do that? Come with me?”

Well, the man did cook me lunch.

“Sure.” I force the word out with a smile. “I will drive to Idaho with you. But I need to be back here by Monday. Can we make that happen?”

I don’t know whether to be relieved or angry. I’ve spent the last few years of my life, living like a king. And Mariah…

I hold my breath and do the best to compose myself as I reach out to grip the doorknob. I don’t want to come back here. Not after everything I found out today. I want to crawl inside a hole and feel sorry for myself. I want to sleep in my car. Or a ditch. Maybe under a bridge somewhere. Anywhere but here.

The porch light flicks on and the doorknob slips from my hands. My mom stands on the other side of the threshold a concerned expression washed over her face.
 

“Where on earth have you been?” She ushers me inside. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

It’s barely after midnight. I’ve spent the last two hours at the Blarney Stone. And I would have stayed there too, drowning my guilt in another pitcher of lager, if it weren’t for tomorrow morning’s road trip.
 

“I’m twenty-three years old, Auntie. You don’t have to treat me like a girl.”

“Are you…?” She stands on her tiptoes to sniff my breath. “You’re drunk.”

I step back, avoiding her, then make my way around her and toward the stairs.

“Get out of those clothes,” she says. “And into the shower now, before your father comes out here and smells it all over you. Have you lost our mind coming home like that?”

“I’m not drunk,” I insist. And I’m not. Not even close. With my frame I’d have to drink three pitchers to get to that point. I’ve never been more than a little cloudy a day in my life.
 

Aunt Sheila marches toward the window and draws back the curtain. “And you drove home? Ray Carlson, have you—?”

“I’m fine,” I snap, then rub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but I have to go out of town tomorrow and I didn’t want leave my truck downtown.”

“So you risked your life and the lives of god knows who else, just so you’d have a ride?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Ray. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” She crosses her arms. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

“With Sydney.” I tell her to make her angry. It’s vindictive and even a little immature, but the look that spreads across her face makes me feel a little better.
 

It’s her fault Mariah left. They hated each other. It’s her fault. And she sits here in this house like a queen.

“Don’t tell me you’re dating her now.”

“She’s helping me.” I respond, not bothering to mask the harshness in my tone.
 

“With what? Destroying your career?”

I don’t give her the satisfaction of responding to her insult. I don’t care what she thinks anymore. I’ll do what I want. She’s going to be pissed when I tell her I’m signing with Reese Clarke. But she’ll get over it.

“Where are you going?” she asks once she realizes she hasn’t fazed me.

“To Moscow.” And with that I head up the stairs.
 

“What’s in Moscow?”

I turn halfway. I didn’t plan on telling them until I knew for sure. In my head, I planned a nice reunion. At least between three of us. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe after all these years, my aunt and my sister will have put their past behind them. “I think I may have found Mariah.”
 

She gasps and I turn to regard an unexpected expression.

“Aren’t you happy about that?” I ask, my voice rising.

“I just didn’t think…you never said you were still looking.”

“Of course I’m still looking. She’s my little sister and I haven’t seen her in years. She’s out there somewhere all by herself while we live it up without a care in the world. What kind of brother would I be if I wasn’t still looking?”

She lowers her voice. “Ray, you’d be just who you are. A good man. A caring person. We looked for that girl for weeks with no success. Some people just don’t want to be found.”

“Weeks? You said you told me you looked for two years. That’s what you said.” My voice is growing louder now and I bound back down the stairs to stand in front of her. “What do you mean weeks?”

My aunt backs up, her chin still level as she stares into my eyes. “We looked for as long as our budget would allow. We couldn’t spend every cent we had. We reported it to the police and let them do their job. She was eighteen, Ray.”

“Oh, and a hell of a job they did huh?” I am yelling now and Dad is sure to appear at any minute, but I don’t care. They lied to me. All this time my sister has been in and out of jail, living a crappy life and they didn’t even bother to try and save her. “And you’re worried about money? What about this house, huh? You could’ve sold it. Did you think of that?”

“Ray. This house…” She touches my arm.
 

But I shrug her off. “No. Don’t touch me.” I hold my head between my hands like it’ll keep every messy emotion from spilling out, but all I can feel is the rapid rhythm of my heart in my temples.
 

Every ounce of guilt I’ve been feeling. The small bouts over the years and the ones so heavy I feel like I’m drowning—like today—they’ve all been warranted. I’ve been happy, while she’s been suffering. Mariah. My little sister. The only real family I have left.
 

“I have to get out of here.” My voice sounds hoarse as I drag myself toward the door.

“Ray, no. You’ve been drinking.”
 

And I could use another drink. Many more. I glance toward the curio cabinet in the corner of the dining room and trudge over, yanking the door open. The dishes inside clink together, as the fragile piece of furniture quivers. In the center of the top shelf is the gift Sydney sent a few weeks back. Before I knew her, what her name was and what she would do for me. I grip the black bottle, running my fingers over the crystal studs. Then without another word, I brush past Aunt Sheila and back out into the damp night.

I knock on the door once more and let out a heavy sigh. Why did I come here? It was impulsive and stupid. I barely know this girl and I bang down her door in the middle of the night because I got in a fight with my parents?

“Who is it?” From the other side, Sydney sounds unsure.
 

I squeeze my eyes closed and clear my throat. “It’s, uh, Ray.”

There is a shuffling sound and then a curse. “Just a second,” she calls.
 

I shouldn’t have come. I could’ve crashed at Jimmy’s place. It’s paid up for another month and he gave me the key. I could have parked my truck down the street and slept in there too. But no, I drive for thirty minutes and come here. She’s going to think I’m a freak. I’ve already embarrassed her enough today by buying groceries.
 

I smack myself on the forehead, an over-emphasized gesture that echoes through the hallway. Why did I buy her groceries? And cook?
 

The downside of drinking is that it gives me clarity. Most people would argue that I just think I’m more level headed after a few beers, but I actually am. When I drink and think, I come up with a lot of reasons I should just stay behind a closed door and never show my face. Ever.
 

Some people think I’m a saint. A good guy that’s always looking out for people and is pretty much selfless. That’s only partly true. I do nice things to make me feel better. Then sometimes I go overboard and it results in a situation I find myself in now.

The door swings open and I stand to attention, trying to force a neutral expression on my face. “Hey,” I say.
 

Sydney stands there in a thin white tank top, and a pair of shorts that shows most of her legs.

“Hey,” she says. “You forget something?”

“Uh…no. I was…I was driving around…um…” That’s it Ray go with that. You didn’t come all the way out just to see her. You were in the neighborhood. “Uh, in the neighborhood. And…” You looked up at her window. “I saw your light on.”
 

The last part comes out as more of a question than a statement and Sydney smirks.
 

Screw it.
 

“You want to blow through four thousand dollars with me?” I hold up the bottle of Lordanov with a grin.

“Well, come on in.” Sydney steps to the side.

Sydney lies across the futon on her stomach and I lean my back up against it, legs stretched out in front of me.
 

“I’m thinking it’s time I get that tattoo,” I say.

She fills a Styrofoam cup halfway and passes it to me. “Oh, yeah? Of what?”

“Was thinking maybe Shannon, my mother’s name. Names are kind of lame, overdone and everything, but I don’t know, it’s got meaning.”

“Sure does. And you could always do something cool, like the letters in a hidden picture. A vine maybe. Or even better, a football, with her autograph instead of yours. I’m sure you could find a copy of her signature somewhere.”
 

“That’s a great idea.” I bring the cup to my nose and sniff once. “I’m going to be honest. I’ve never come this close to hard liquor before.”

She holds her cup toward me and I meet her halfway. “Well there’s no time like the present.”

I watch as she brings the cup to her mouth, downing it in a few quick seconds. She frowns, then bobs her head and reaches for the bottle. “Oh, yeah. Worth every penny. Go ahead. What’re you waiting for?”