“So…,” I said, carefully choosing my next words. “These are happy tears?”
Ari nodded, and I laughed, hugging her to me.
God, she was precious. I never met a woman who felt so deeply as she did. To cry over a children’s cartoon was unexpected. But for a woman who had never experienced a simple movie, I guess it was too much for her.
“Are all movies like that?”
“The good ones are.”
Reaching behind me, I grabbed the box of tissues Healer must have brought in after we all left and handed her a few. While she blew her nose, I wiped her tears away. Clutching the tissues in her hand, she snuggled closer to me as her body started to calm down.
She was perfect, just the way she was. I wouldn’t change the hair on her head. I knew her future was unwritten, and there were many things she would need to learn, but I wanted her to stay just the way she was right now. Humble, sincere, honest. She was a breath of fresh air in my horrible, disgusting world. I needed her pureness, her compassion, more than she’d ever know.
I don’t know how long I lay there, but when I heard her soft breath against my chest, I knew she had fallen asleep. I wanted so much to stay here with her in my arms, but it wasn’t possible. I had things to do, and I was already running behind because of that stupid movie.
As carefully as I could, I eased myself out of bed and put my shoes on, leaving her to what I prayed were happy dreams. Making my way upstairs, I saw some of the brothers playing pool while others were at the bar drinking.
Needing coffee, I headed for the kitchen only to walk in on Reaper, who had Remi bent over the table, fucking her as if it were going out of style. Ignoring them, I headed over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup.
Reaper growled, never missing a beat as he continued to pound into his woman. “You mind?”
“Not at all,” I smiled, turning to look him in the face. “Don’t mind me. Continue.”
“Get the fuck out!” He yelled while pumping into his woman, who was now laughing uncontrollably. Taking my coffee with me, I left my President and his woman to his ministrations. As I walked down the hallway, I saw Phantom typing away on her laptop as she looked at the several screens in front of her. Seeing an empty chair, I sat down.
“I’m not talking to you.” She said, typing away furiously.
“Okay, then I’ll talk,” I said, placing my cup on her desk. “The Disciples of the Word are not going to stop looking for her. You know it, and I know it. That’s why they had two trackers in her. She means something to them, and I need to know why?”
Sighing, Phantom leaned back in her chair, looked at me, and said. “I know. I’ve been searching for anything on Aariaani. Only there is nothing there. When her parents left Cairo, that was it. Which reminds me, I’ve ordered her a new birth certificate and Social Security Card. She should at least have those items. I’m still digging into her parents, mainly her mother. I’m hoping there’s some nugget we can use. As for the asshats at the Disciples of the Word, I’m running background checks on all the people Gadget was able to identify. But Ghost, there were hundreds there. Men, women, and children. It’s going to take time.”
“What about that fucker Remi spotted on TV, Christopher Wheatly? Any link between him and Reynolds?”
“I found something, but it's weak,” She replied, typing something into her computer. Instantly the screen in front of her changed. “Christopher Wheatly does own the airstrip where we found the plane Reynolds used to take Remi. But the plane doesn’t belong to either one. It belongs to someone named Thomas Collingsworth. When I looked him up, he is the President of one of the world's largest banks. Head-quartered in London, England, the Bank, as it is called, caters to high-profile clientele, and before you ask, there is no fucking way I can break into their system. But here is the thing that confuses me. Reynolds was FBI, he ran the human trafficking task force in the United States. He reported to Congress and not just anyone in Congress, a select few. And I mean five people, to be exact. This Collingsworth dude, his nephew, is one of those five. How can a British citizen hold an elected office in the United States Government?”
“They can’t. They have to be a US Citizen.”
“Exactly, but when I looked into Senator Richard Lyle Collingsworth, he wasn’t born in the US. He was born in England. His mother was a resident of the United States, his dad a British citizen.”
“Fake birth certificate?”
“Possibly, but I can’t even find that. It’s like the man doesn’t exist. When I search his name, I get his full bio from the federal websites. He has no footprint.”
“What about the trackers?”
“Oh, just your run-of-the-mill tracker. Nothing special. But I did manage to figure something out,” Phantom smiled before reaching for a folder and handing it to me. Opening it, I cringed, seeing the pictures of the brand on my back in color.
“Those initials at the tip of each point. I’ve deciphered three of them,” She said, pointing to the top point and going clockwise. “W. D. is William Doherty, A. P. is Andrew Peterson, and T. C. is none other than Thomas Collingsworth. I’m still working on the other four.”
“So, these fuckers were in that photo Reaper had?”
“Yeah, I am running facial recognition on the others, but that picture is old and grainy. It’s going to take time.”
Nodding, I handed her back the file and got to my feet. I needed some air. There were too many questions and not enough answers.
The sun was blaring as I walked out the front doors of the club house. It was fucking hot, and without a damn cloud in the sky, it was going to be a scorcher today. Looking around, I saw that Player and Massacre had the garage open, and two cars were on the lift for oil changes. Massacre wasn’t happy unless he had grease on his hands. Which was funny because his brother, Player, was more suited behind a damn computer. Those brothers couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.
I grinned when I heard Player shout at his brother, waiving his finger in Massacre’s face. They never quit. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Sighing, I slowly made my way over to them, praying I didn’t have to break up another fight.