Page 44 of One Last Rainy Day
When we met with RB—as I assumed—she’d passed judgment on us both in minutes. I called her out for it.
In truth, I set her up, then blamed her for her ignorance when she was just another victim of a system designed to keep us discriminatory and indifferent to each other’s circumstances.
The difference is, I know Cecelia’s circumstances...and now she knows mine—especially after forcing her way into my former childhood home and seeing the conditions in which I was raised. The second she stepped in, Ifeltthe understanding washing through her. Just after, her misplaced determination kicked in to care for yet another unforeseen adversary.
Delphine.
Delphine, who never got over our parents’ murder but could never put the vodka down long enough to do anything about it.
She was almost too slow on the uptake when I introduced Cecelia, if only to see how Delphine would react. When my aunt finally got on the page and realized who Cecelia was, the difference in personality and treatment was close to imperceptible...for those who didn’t know better. I did, and it was the difference I saw that shocked the fuck out of me.
There was no misinterpreting what was in Delphine’sexpression after decades of alcohol-induced tirades—guilt. She was littered with it after their little impromptu Bible study. But why?
Why in the hell would a woman who hates Roman as much, if not more than my brother and I, harbor guilt for anyone with Roman’s blood pumping through their veins?
It’s when Cecelia selflessly attempted to quiet my aunt’s fears that my world fucking tilted, and I realized I’m just as guilty of having my own preconceived notions.
Believing that when it comes to Cecelia, evil isinheritedinstead oftaught. Even if the former is possible, she’s untouched by it, by him, by choice. She’s rebuked her father in all the ways that matter.
It was then I glimpsed some of the blank canvas Sean’s been begging me to see. Unlike countless others, Cecelia’s anxious to understand the world around her—and the people in it. The why of it all.
She might be on some mission to play with fire and stick it to her father, but it’s her own rebellion against the hand she herself was personally dealt that fuels her. In that, we’re alike.
In that,she’s like us.
Ensnared by her in that short time, realization struck—Cecelia Horner is filled to the fucking brim withuntappedpotential.
There’s a sort of power brewing within her that not even she is aware of.
That’s what I saw, felt, and what rang through me with absolute certainty.
Not her age, beauty, or our undeniable chemistry, or even the danger she presents to us. The realization was so visceralthat it had the hairs on my neck rising. Now that I’ve seen it, it can’t be denied.
Tossing my wrench into my toolbox, I step back and stare up at the night sky as Delphine’s prediction rings clear.“She is too beautiful. Too smart. But too young. This girl will be your undoing.”
A warning that had me speeding Cecelia straight back into the safety of Sean’s arms.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The wind kicks up, the breeze rolling through the junkyard as thunder rumbles in the distance. A reminder that at some point in the future, a giant is coming to dole out retribution to those ignorant of its existence.
A giant that exists becauseI took partin its creation, and with each day that passes, it draws near. Dread cloaks me with the knowledge that when it finally arrives, it will be just as blind and unforgiving as I’ve been, and none of us will be able to stop it.
Chapter Twenty-One
PULLING UP TOthe garage after managing a few agitated hours of sleep, I join Jeremy, Peter, and Tyler at the high-top table tucked in the corner of the commercial bay. Russell approaches, wiping his hands on a shop towel, glancing back at the bustling lobby. Just inside, a preschooler presses his face against the glass door as Russell speaks up. “I have five minutes tops before Mrs. George starts demanding to know when I’ll be done.”
Tyler dives in. “All phones in the safe?”
Jeremy nods, not bothering with any of his usual antics. “So, we finally talking about the gun—”
“Just discussing strategy for our upcomingball game,” I jerk my head toward a customer exiting a nearby car, “now that we knowwhotheplayersare.”
Jeremy glances back and winces as Tyler leans in, speaking low. “So, here’s what we know. Spencer’s company—like most major shipping companies—isfreight forward. Meaning, when a requisition—or aball order—comes in from any foreign country, a US military specialist assigns the order to a freight forward company for fulfillment. Processing theballs from that point to gain authority from the ordering country to see it through until the balls are received and accounted for.”
Russell leans in on a whisper. “It goes that far? We’re talking dirty military and corrupt foreign government officials?”
“Yeah, it does,” Tyler supplies while scanning the parking lot. “And considering how rare these balls are, I knew exactly where to dig.”
