My body is still tingling, my face glowing as I sketch everything of the underground pathways I remember for Liam, Damien, and Mateo. Those heavy doors, every detail my memory can salvage. My lines are shaky, and Damien helps me refine them. Once it’s done, and upon seeing their faces as they study the final work, there’s validation that it was worth the danger of going in there. I see a glimmer of hope. They also want to know if I heard voices or screams behind the doors, but between the pounding metal music and my racing heartbeat, I can’t give them what they need.
“This helps more than you know,” Damien says, squeezing my shoulder.
I should feel something like triumph, I suppose, as we might be closer to finding those missing girls, but I keep circling back to Joe. Why would he have been down there? What was he doing with all that cash and those poker chips? And the question that keeps Liam awake beside me at night when we find ourselves talking for too many hours; why wouldn't Joe have told his own brother about any of it?
Before thoughts can haunt me any further while folding some laundry on Liam’s bed, the doorbell rings. Out of habit and feeling at home here, I walk through the picture-framed hallway, Joe’s smile looking back at me and slowly fading into my memory. I shut my eyes. It hurts when it all shrinks, when the sound of his voice dissolves into untraceable echoes.
As I step into the living room and reach for the door, I’m pulled back hard against Liam’s chest, his arms circling my waist, possessively anchoring me to him, and another knock reverberates again.
“What are you doing?” He growls in my ear, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m opening the door, someone’s here,” I explain casually, melting into his arms.
“No, you leave that to me,” he orders and lets me go, pushing me gently deeper into the kitchen. Pulling out his gun, he looks into the eye socket and takes a breath, his shoulders loosening, and I can almost hear the stress leaving his body as he puts his gun away. He opens the door and greets Artemis with open arms and a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Princess, come in.” His annoyed smirk plastered, borderline unfriendly, and it reminds me of the days I hated him.
“Where is she?” Artemis walks in like a bulldozer and sees me in the kitchen, her body tense, her eyes watering at my sight, the splendid big sister I never had. I look a lot better than three days ago, the cut on my forehead is less angry, but some bruises have turned deep purple, and her eyes narrow with fury in them.
“She’s fine, Artemis.” Liam drags his voice, but she doesn't care to listen.
Her arms envelop in a hug, towering over me in her heels and her vanilla perfume tickling my nose, inspecting every corner of my face, my arms, my hands, petting my hair, even squeezing my boobs. God forbid they’d disappear.
“Don’t you ever freak me out like that ever again, do you hear me?” She sniffs and buries my face in her cleavage. I almost can’t breathe at how tightly she’s holding me against her, but she’s my safe place. When she took me under her wing so many times against bullies and past exes’ heartbreaks, or simply showed me how strong I am, she was a rock to me. She’s more than a best friend, she’s a part of my soul, so I hug her back, breathing a little deeper, and tears I didn’t think I had any longer mingle with hers. I don’t even know what I’m crying about anymore, but there’s happiness and warmth that has emerged in my life despite it all, and I can’t wait to tell her all about it.
“I’m okay.” I dry my tears away and she laughs, the laughs she makes when everything is so absurd she’s unsure to cry or, well, laugh.
She looks back at Liam as if her eyes could strangle him, “What the fuck did you do, Liam?” she says between her teeth.
“Artemis, chill out. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been trying to keep her safe, and you know that.”
“And when did you decide that? Before or after you slept with her?” She’s angry with amusement, and I want to crawl in a box.
“Artemis…” I whisper.
“Neither. I always intended to protect her, and you willingly went to the poker game yourself,” he says calmly, his hands going into his pockets, rooted in place with no intention to run or hide.
“Yes, but no one told me it might get that dangerous. All of you hid that from me. So can I trust you with her?” she challenges, as she looks in her purse and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it.
“I’m curious why you’d ask that now, Artemis.” He looks at her, inquisitive, and walks slowly towards us.
“That was before I knew what the fuck you’re up to, Liam. That was before I saw with my own eyes the seriousness of who these men are. I’m already in a shitload of trouble myself. I don’t want any of it in my village or near my best friend.” She blows smoke in his face at the last words, watching intently as he rips the cigarette away from her fingers, extinguishing it on a pile of mail on the kitchen island behind her.
“What I’m up to? I’m up to making this village safer for Sara, you, your daughter, and many more. This place is my blood and soul, but there’s trash around needing to drown.”
He smiles snarly, and she gasps at that, her eyes darkening.
“My daughter, how do you—?”
“I know Artemis. I know. So both of you are going to make yourselves a bowl of popcorn, drown in a pit of ice cream, paintyour nails, watch a movie, or even paint the damn dog if you want, I don’t give a fuck what you do, but all you need to know is that this girl, right here.” He points at me. “I stop breathing if she isn’t. That simple. That’s where it all stops. With her.” Her eyes glisten and she nods.
Liam retreats to his office after that little showdown, saying something about checking in with Mateo and Riviera. Leaving Artemis and me alone in the living room. The tension slowly dissipates like morning fog burning off under the sun.
“So, ice cream or paint the dog?” I suggest, and we both laugh as I open Liam's freezer to find three different flavors. “He's got cookie dough, mint chocolate chip, and some fancy bourbon vanilla.”
“All three,” Artemis declares, kicking off her heels and making herself comfortable on the couch. “And whatever ridiculous rom-com selection this bachelor has on his TV.”
I hurry to her, balancing all the ice cream pints in my arms with a pep in my step.
