Page 39 of Risk
“You’ll have to read to find out,” she sing songs, a smirk on her lips. “If I’d known y’all would work things out, I would’ve waited to write and release it so I could see how you two handle things.”
“Nah,” I say, waving what she said away. “I bet it’d be boring for your readers. They’d want more drama and angst than what I could give them.”
Her brows raise into her hairline as she asks, “You don’t think they’d have their hearts racing when they discovered about your past and how it’s collided with your future? I couldn’t come upwith anything as jaw dropping as what’s taking place in real time. I didn’t make you the hero and survivor you should’ve been portrayed as in that novel, Kenna. I didn’t give you the justice you deserve.”
“I’m not a hero, Luna,” I disagree. “A survivor, yes, but not a hero. I see myself as one of the villains.”
“Then you don’t see yourself in the way the rest of us do. That’s a shame, Kenna. It really is. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You can ask me anything. It doesn’t mean I’ll answer, there are still some things I’m uncomfortable speaking about but there’s nothing wrong with you being curious.”
“If it was me in your place, Kenna, how would you view me?”
“If our roles were switched? I don’t know, Luna, I’m not good at role reversal.”
“Would you hate me for putting Jett first? Would you hold that against me?”
“Absolutely not! I’m a mother too, Luna.”
“I think before having Jett, I wouldn’t have appreciated why you did what you did. It takes one mother to comprehend another mother’s sacrifices. It’s time for you to forgive yourself, Kenna. The rest of us already have.” With that said, she leaves me alone with those words.
“Forgive myself,” I mumble, lifting the book back up and reading the cover. “Sacrifices and Forgiveness. What an appropriate title for the book and my life,” I muse.
I spend the next hour lost in thought, imagining Luna in my place. When it finally clicks and I do give myself some grace, a weight is lifted from my chest.
“I forgive us both, Risk,” I say to the cosmos. “I’m ready.” Just saying that is more freeing than when the wind blows through my hair. “I’m really ready to move on. Fuck you, Marshall, you don’t get to take the rest of my life from me. I won’t let you steal my happiness.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Risk
It’san interesting turn of events when the person we’re interrogating doesn’t resist and spills the beans all nonchalant-like. Usually, we have to beat information out of a person, and even though I thrive on brawling and spilling blood, I’m somewhat enjoying this relaxed atmosphere too—makes me wonder if I’m going soft in my old age. My body is in good shape, just nowhere as good as it was in my late teens and early twenties.
“Tell us everything you know about Marshall Pierce,” Kodiak begins.
Something lifelike flickers in Albright’s eyes before they dim again, and he says, “Pierce is one sick puppy. In the beginning, we tried to stop him from his debauchery, but he dug deep and found our skeletons and threatened to expose us. Blackmail isn’t something I’d normally give in to, but the things he found wouldn’t only destroy my political career but would annihilate my wife and my children.”
Dragon stops him, a sneered beratement in his tone. “We didn’t ask for your pitiful life story, Albright. We don’t give a shit how he wrangled you into his web of deceit, at least not yet anyway. What we need to know is where he is and who’s covering his ass.”
Albright gulps, letting me know he’s fractionally cognizant of what he’s confessing to. “You won’t find him, not for a while, if ever. He’s been shipped overseas. He pissed off the Trifecta so they had their people snatch him from his bed and put him into a cargo ship container and postmarked him for Guatemala… I think.”
“You think? Is he still breathing?” I probe.
“If he is, he won’t be for long,” Albright states, not acting contrite about it in the least. If anything, he seems thrilled that Marshall won’t be a thorn in his side for much longer. “They don’t necessarily keep us in the loop of where they’re sending people who have either gone against their wishes or have double-crossed them. They’re an unforgiving group.”
No shit. Unforgiving is not the word I’d personally use to define them. They’re ruthless, blood-thirsty, and will cut your digits off and ship them off to your family as a warning. They have zero shits to give and getting caught is never a worry for them. They have more servicemen than the President of the United States does. They shoot first and ask no questions.
In the background, Conan is whistling the theme fromJaws, which is fitting considering Marshall was tossed into the most dangerous depths of the ocean without a lifejacket to preserve his life.
“Why’d they take him? What infraction of his caused them to step in and take action?” I continue my line of questioning, wondering if this means my woman is no longer on their radar.
“He stepped over the cautionary line and got sloppy. He stopped covering his tracks and took someone that has strong community ties. If you look in the right places, you can link him back to them,” Albright confides. “That’s something they can’t, and won’t, ignore.”
He’s not lying. If you cross them they will come back at you tenfold with no remorse.
“So, you’re in bed with the Trifecta too?” Kodiak asks.
