Scare Crow (13 page)

“He wasn’t the worst person in the world,” I whispered, the blood rushing to my
head.

“I start thinking of another escape plan and ways of trying to find my beautiful girl.
Ways to try to save both of us again. Before I know it, I’m sent to be with her in
this shithole, and I still have no idea who she is. And
yet …”

Griff stopped to catch his br
eath.

“And yet?” I started for him once he had regained his compo
sure.

“And yet,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m exactly where I want t
o be.”

Griff took my glass and finished my milk for me. Then he gently put the glass in front
of him and waited … for me to speak? I felt dizzy. I had to lean over the table and
rest my forehead on my hands. I didn’t know what to think, let alone
say.

“Why are you here, Em?” he wondered, his voice se
rene.

“Because I go to school here,” I told him. That was the simple answer an
yway.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said. “Why are you still here? On this earth?
A
live?”

I froze and looked at him. He was so wound up, but I could tell that he was trying
hard to keep calm fo
r me.

“Do you really think no one notices these?” he whispered. He reached over and passed
his thumb over the scar Victor had left on my cheek. I flinched, expecting pain. But
the scars were healing, and the physical pain was gone. Only the heat of Griff’s thumb
against my skin was
left.

I managed a smile. “Are we comparing scars now? Because I fell off my bike when I
was nine and got a really good gash on my
knee.”

Griff’s lips spread thin. “Whatever happened, whoever did that to you, they deserve
to
die.”

I suppose that this was what I had been hoping for. A partner in revenge. But the
dark look on Griff’s face made me miss the new Griff, the one who was free, the one
who was never going
back.

“Do you even want me here?” he asked me. I could see the despair in his
eyes.

And my heart was already screaming the answer to this. I nodded and held his eyes,
trying very hard to keep my tears at
bay.

Then I pulled the newspaper from between my legs, held it for a few seconds, and handed
it over to
him.

I cleared my throat. “This i
s me.”

I waited as Griff scanned the article and the picture. He glanced back up and waited
patiently for me to exp
lain.

I took a breath. “My name is Emily Sheppard. And this man is my father. I’m still
alive because of my fa
mily.”

Griff nodded. “So you’re still alive because your family paid your ra
nsom.”

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. I doubted my parents would ever pay my ransom, especially
now. “No, I’m alive because my parents are rich, and eventually, people would have
figured out that I was missing. My face would have been plastered all over the news,
and finding out what happened to me would have become a popular subject for every
news agency around the world. Drug lords don’t need that kind of publi
city.”

A wrinkle formed between Griff’s eyes. I could see him trying to understand this,
as Spider had made me unders
tand.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re Emily Sheppard. Rich Emily Shep
pard.”

“My parents are rich,” I corre
cted.

“Your parents are rich,” he said, trying to keep himself from looking too amused.
“And you can’t afford to pay your rent in this crappy p
lace?”

I was happy for the change in mood, even if it was at my expense. “I was going to
pay my rent. I just needed a bit more
time.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s not the p
oint—”

“You told me earlier that everything comes at a price. The same applies to my parents.
Their money, their rules.” I pointed to the newspaper article. “You can see what kind
of rules they live by. Money isn’t everyt
hing.”

“Says the girl who’s never had to share a bed with her siblings,” he j
oked.

But this had really hurt my feel
ings.

He leaned over and squeezed my shoulder so that I would look at him. Then he extended
his hand, and I too
k it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emily Shep
pard.”

As Griff shook my hand, my heart tugged and squeezed. The blood rushed to my head
again. All I could see was Cameron walking in the rain after I had crashed the car.
We had shaken hands, in truce, in this same
way.

“Hey,” Griff bellowed, “where’d yo
u go?”

I forced myself to start breathing a
gain.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier? About never going back into that w
orld?”

Griff’s eyes darkened.
“Why?”

“Do you remember the kid?” I asked, trying to keep myself comp
osed.

He nodded somberly. “Of course I remember him. He was a great kid. I liked him a
lot.”

“His name was Rocco.” Saying Rocco’s name aloud had felt like someone had just lit
a match against my lips. “The night that Rocco died … I was there. He got killed trying
to protect me. I saw everythin
g … ”

I had started shaking. Griff grabbed me by the shoulders and steadied me. “I knew
that the kid got somehow caught up … but I had no idea you were there. J
esus!”

I could see it in his eyes. The compassion. But that wasn’t what I was going for.
I pulled his hands down and used my own hands to steady
him.

“The people who are responsible for Rocco’s death are the same people who are responsible
for what happened t
o me.”

Griff stared back at me, his eyes falling on the marks that Victor had left on my
face.

“Em—” he started, his voice low-s
lung.

My face twisted. “I’m not looking for pity, G
riff.”

“What are you gettin
g at?”

I knew this was a pivotal moment. I had to decide whether I could trust him and tell
him about my p
lans.

“I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you. That the people who are responsible
for this need to
die.”

He frowned. “Yes, I do feel that way. What happened to you, someone needs to pay for
this. But if I’m understanding you correctly, I don’t think we’re on the same page
as to
who
should make them pay fo
r it.”

I bit my lip. I knew I’d have a hard time convincing Griff that this was what needed
to be done. I had to try ha
rder.

“Did you know that Rocco was only fourteen? They shot him down when he wasn’t even
a
rmed.”

Griff considered this and sighed. “How many people are we talking a
bout?”

“Just
two.”

“Just two,” he repeated in a mumble. “Let me guess. The creep who walks around like
he’s a god. The big boss man. The one you followed into the
barn?”

I could feel my throat closing. “No. He’s long gone. I’m talking about the guy who
used to work for him. The one with the spider tattoo on his
neck.”

“Sheesh. Okay, so that’s psycho number one. Who’s psycho number
two?”

“His name is Shield. His men killed Rocco, and he personally left his impression on
my
face.”

Griff took a moment to let all this sink in, his finger nervously tapping the table
in front of
him.

“Em, I’m sorry all this happened to
you—”

“I already told you, Griff, I’m not looking for pity,” I said, my voice cold and steady.
“I’m looking for your
help.”

“What you’re asking is ridiculous,” he exclaimed. “What exactly is your plan? To march
in with a gun and shoot these scumbags while their millions of armed minions look
the other
way?”

“That’s why I need your
help.”

Griff got up, and I watched and waited as he paced the dining
room.

He stopped and kneeled before me. “No,” he said, keeping my
eyes.

“No?” I repeated, incredu
lous.

“No, I won’t help you. And no, I won’t let you do
this.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “You won’t
le
t
me?”

“I won’t let you put yourself in that kind of danger. These men you’re after, they
eat girls like you with their afternoon tea. You’re safe now, and that’s how I’m going
to kee
p it.”

“No, I’m not safe. They’ll eventually come afte
r me.”

He squinted. “Why would they do that? Why would they have let you go just to come
back to take you a
gain?”

My hand had made its way to my stomach, but I pulled it away before he could no
tice.

Griff scowled. “Emily, are you telling me everyt
hing?”

I grabbed my stack of mail and pushed away from the table. I got up, and he followed
my
lead.

“I’m going to do this with or without your help,” I told him, holding his g
lare.

He pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Then I won’t leave your side. Ever.
I need you to stay safe, Emily. The fact that you’re still alive, the fact that you’re
still in one piece, is a miracle. I’m not going to throw that
away.”

I turned my eyes ahead and called for Meat
ball.

****

When I got into my bedroom, I yanked my curtain shut and sank to my f
loor.

What just happened?
This was the question that was circling my brain as I stroked Meatball’s meaty head.
His normal horrid dog breath now had a bouquet of peanut butter added t
o it.

I hadn’t expected Griff’s reaction. To me, it was crystal clear. Victor and Spider
had to die. Though I suppose I couldn’t really fault Griff for refusing to help me,
especially when he didn’t have all the information. The fact that I was pregnant,
I knew that I couldn’t divulge this. But I was still unclear on whether I was keeping
this secret because I didn’t trust him or because I was afraid that he would leave.
The best of humans were only equipped to handle a certain degree of mess. I was a
walking disaster. A cala
mity.

When Griff had insisted on keeping me safe, Cameron’s face had popped into my head
because he had said the same thing to me. I had always suspected that Griff had feelings
for me. How deep those feelings ran, I wasn’t sure. To me, he was more than a friend.
His arrival had brought me the air that I needed. Was there something in between friendship
and
love?

One thing was clear: when it came to Spider and Victor, I was on my own. If Griff
held his promise of never leaving my side, my decision to try to enlist Griff’s help
had just made my life a living
hell.

I just wished Griff had had enough faith in me to help me, or at least, let me be.
Even if he didn’t know
everyt
hing
.

Even though it was the middle of the night, I grabbed my phone and dialed my mother’s
nu
mber.

“It’s urgent,” I told the maid who picked up my mother’s
line.

****

“Emily, why on earth are you calling me this late?” she asked me, her voice groggy
and irrit
ated.

Most mothers would have been worried if they had received a call in the middle of
the night from their daughters. But Isabelle Sheppard wasn’t like most mot
hers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “Dad gets arrested, and I have to find this
out from the newspaper. Why didn’t anyone call me to tell me what was happe
ning?”

My mother tittered. “Oh, dear. It’s nothing to worry about at all. These things happen
all the time. It will all blow over
soon.”

I took a moment and sighed. “Okay. Can you just call me if something else like this
happens? I really don’t want to have to read the paper to find out what’s going on
with my fa
ther.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed, her voice a little tighter. “Now let me get some s
leep.”

I hung up. My mother was being overly nice. And she had actually laughed. I knew that
this wasn’t about to blow over. And I knew that my father was gu
ilty.

I heard Griff walk up the stairs and stop in front of my door. Then he kept going
into his room, leaving the door
open.

I laid my head on my pillow and closed my eyes, only to open them again. There was
no way I was going to be able to s
leep.

I grabbed my stack of mail and started shuffling thr
ough.

It wasn’t until I got to an envelope the size of a greeting card that I realized that
today had been my birthday. Happy birthday t
o me.

CHAPTER SIX:
CAMERON

SIXTEEN CANDLES

Today was Emmy’s birt
hday.

Today she got to reach the age of twenty. This was the best gift I could have ever
offered
her.

It was four years ago to the day that I realized I was in love with
Emmy.

I would always find a way to check on her as often as possible, but especially on
holidays and her birthday. Initially, because I had promised this to Bill. But eventually,
this became more of a ritual, something that I needed. It made those days seem a little
less lonely t
o me.

When I drove by her parents’ East Hampton mansion that evening on Emmy’s birthday,
cars were lined up for miles down the adjoining streets, parked neatly by the hired
help. It was Emmy’s sweet sixteen party, and it was the social event of the year.
I was a little surprised by this—Emmy had never seemed like the type, though I supposed
I didn’t know her that well after all, even if I thought I
did.

I didn’t have an invitation, but luckily I was driving a Maserati. No one ever questioned
that I didn’t belong there when I drove up to the valets and tossed my keys over to
them.

I had always watched Emmy from the outside, at school mostly, because it was easier—I
could do it without attracting too much attention. Actually getting onto the Sheppard
acres, this was a definite first. The drive through the iron gates and the parklike
grounds had been impressive enough. But inside, it was excessive. The foyer itself
was bigger than my high school gym, with a marble staircase that split in two halfway
before leading to a mezzanine. It reminded me of a two-headed s
nake.

Everyone was dressed like they were going to an over-the-hill prom. I was wearing
a T-shirt and jeans, but that didn’t scare me off. I grabbed a glass of champagne
from the first paid penguin I could find and immediately blended in, searching for
Bill’s little si
ster.

That year, we had finally established the Canadian pipeline, and I hadn’t had time
to check on Emmy. But I would never dream of missing seeing her on her birt
hday.

I hiked through the crowds, walking through rooms with ceilings as high as a movie
theater and the ugliest paintings I had ever seen. The orchestra was so loud I could
barely hear myself drink. The expensive perfume, the cigars, the feigning of interest
in someone else’s topic of conversation … When I finally found the outdoors, I barely
had time to breathe a sigh of relief before I realized there was another damn orchestra
playing outside. These people were obsessed with vio
lins.

I was looking for an escape route out of this luxurious madness when the inside and
the outside orchestras finally stopped playing and a voice over a microphone directed
the crowd pool
side.

“The
outside
pool,” the voice specified after a few seconds of c
haos.

I managed to politely nudge my way through the crowd to the edge of the outside water.
And as the last of the gray heads parted, I saw her, and something inside me shi
fted.

Emmy.

She was standing on the other side of the lake-sized pool, hidden only by her mother’s
shadow. She was wearing a white eyelet lace dress that went down to her knees. Her
red hair fell over her shoulders in long thick locks. The white of her dress made
every freckle, every strand of red stand out and made the green of her eyes entirely
magnetic. White immediately became my new favorite color. I could just stand there
and watch her for
ever.

Emmy kept her eyes on the back of her mother’s head and tucked her hair behind her
ear. Then she waited for her mother to pick up the microphone before tucking the other
side behind her other
ear.

Emmy’s mother was a beautiful woman, and on any other day, I would not have been able
to take my eyes off of her. Her dress alone was obviously meant to be a showstopper—a
silver spaghetti-strap number that hugged all of her tight curves. Her red hair pulled
up with strands falling perfectly around her face. But even she was no match for her
daughter’s be
auty.

Emmy’s mother took center stage, but my eyes stayed on Emmy. She was no longer just
a cute kid; she had blossomed into an entirely different spe
cies.

Emmy’s mother said her words of welcome, as well as a bunch of other stuff rich people
say to each other when they’re forced to be nice. During her mother’s speech, I watched
as Emmy’s eyes momentarily veered to her left to a gray-haired man who was deep in
business talk with some other joke in a tux. Burt Sheppard—Emmy’s fa
ther.

A birthday cake that looked like it could hide at least two strippers was brought
out. Emmy stood by her cake while the crowd sang “Happy Birthday,” led by the damn
orchestra. As Emmy blew out the sixteen candles, her mother looked onto the crowd,
a smile pasted on her face. And Emmy’s father never broke away from his conversa
tion.

As soon as the candles were blown out and the orchestra changed its tune, Emmy was
off the stage and disappeared into the c
rowd.

I immediately started pushing through people so that I could have her in my sight
again, trying to get around the pool as quickly as I c
ould.

I searched the grounds, then went back inside and searched for her there. The partygoers
were getting drunker by the second, making it difficult for me to weave around them.
When some frisky old lady grabbed my ass as I walked by, I left the hub of the party
and stuck to the sides, my eyes continuously scanning faces, hoping Emmy’s would pop
up a
gain.

But once I stood on the outskirts of the party, I was exposed. It didn’t take long
for my tux-less self to get spotted by one of the Sheppard guards. An older fellow
who, by the extra-crisp and extra-white short-sleeved shirt, seemed like he was running
security on the prop
erty.

I ducked back into the crowd before he had taken one step in my direction and headed
out back, sticking close to the house so that I wouldn’t get lost in the Sheppard
parklands on my way to my car. I got to the help quarters unscathed and ran into a
bunch of waiters who were smoking pot outside the kitchen. When they spotted me, they
stood still, took one look at my T-shirt and jeans, and offered me a smoke. I civilly
refused, not having the heart to tell these poor slobs that what they were smoking
was rolled-up
shit.

Then I heard it—Emmy’s laugh. It had echoed out of the kitchen through the screen
door. I inched over a step and immediately saw Emmy. She was sitting on a bar stool,
with two other women at her side. From the uniforms, I gathered that one was a maid,
and the other was a cook. They were congregated around the stainless steel countertop,
eating cake, while the rest of the help bustled around them. Emmy’s hair was back
into a ponytail, and her sandals were kicked off under her. She had her legs crossed
up on her
seat.

The maid kept adding more and more whipped cream to Emmy’s plate until the piece of
cake disappeared under the whipped mountain. Every time Emmy took a bite, more whipped
cream was sprayed on, and this made my Emmy laugh from her core. And I found myself
standing outside, chuckling with her. I had never heard her laugh before. To be honest,
I never saw her smile much either. She was serious most of the time; the rest, she
would find a way to put on a fake smile when the occasion called fo
r it.

I didn’t know what love was until the moment when I heard her laugh, and I felt joy
and freedom and more alive than I had ever been be
fore.

I knew I loved
her.

I knew that I wanted to be with her and that I needed this more than
air.

I also knew I could never be with her. And I felt pain, like a limb had just been
cut
off.

As realization set in, I took a step back. Horrified by what all of this meant for
her and for me. I would learn to know everything about her, but she would never know
me and I would have to make sure of
that.

By the time the old security guard had located me again, I was already getting the
keys to my car back from the valet. I drove away from the Sheppards’, dreaming of
the next time I would be able to see my Emmy while she remained completely oblivious
t
o me.

Today was Emmy’s birthday … and I wasn’t there to celebrate it with her. She would
have many more birthdays because I wasn’t there. And I had to be thankful for
this.

****

Spider threw a newspaper on the desk in front of me, sending my coffee flying into
the graph charts that Carly had put together. We were holed up in one of our safe
houses in Calli
ster.

I did a once-over of the front page. A picture of Shield cuddling up to the drugs
he had confiscated from a
ship.

I used the paper to soak up my co
ffee.

Spider ripped the front page from my hands before my coffee took it over. “Shield
just made the front page seizing our drug shipment in Los Angeles, and you have nothing
to
say?”

Tiny came through the door and gave me a signal. I nodded and got up. “It’s not ours,”
I said to Sp
ider.

“What do you mean it’s not ours? I was there when we arranged for the shipment. Are
you trying to tell me that a drug cargo came in on the same day, same port that ours
was supposed to come in, and yet this cargo got seized and not
ours?”

“Ours is actually coming in tomorrow in San Franc
isco.”

I could tell that Spider was trying to make sense of all
this.

“While the feds are congratulating themselves with this seizure and spending their
precious government dollars on the investigation and determining who’s going to get
promoted, our cargo will be quietly coming into the port of San Francisco,” I explained,
even though I didn’t hav
e to.

“You set up a dummy shipment just to throw off the feds?” There was a sharp edge to
his v
oice.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. I could tell that this hurt Spider, as I knew it
would, but it had to happen this
way.

“Look at how much was seized, Cameron. How can we even afford
this?”

I took another look at the article. The amount that was declared seized wasn’t even
half of what I had actually shipped. Someone was keeping a commission for himself
or herself. Shield was so predict
able.

I slapped Spider’s shoulder. “Don’t worry abou
t it.”

I met Tiny at the door, and we headed outside to the waiting veh
icle.

“Our guy got arrested,” Spider said, keeping pace wit
h us.

“And he’ll be handsomely rewarded for his service and his confidentiality. We have
a new guy
now.”

I shut the door, and we drove away, leaving Spider in the parking lot of our Callister
apart
ment.

“I couldn’t find Norestrom,” Tiny immediately confessed to me. “Nobody knows where
he is. Shield kicked him out of his
clan.”

“Jesus Ch
rist!”

I wanted to get Norestrom so bad I could taste it … almost as much as I wanted Shield
dead. Though I wasn’t surprised. I hadn’t hidden my desire to torture and kill the
man who ordered the kill on my little brother, and Shield wouldn’t want to keep a
liability like that around him. I had to remind myself that smashing my fist through
the window would not have changed anyt
hing.

“So, where are we going?” I asked, trying to disguise my disappointment. Tiny had
been putting in a lot of hours trying to get me intel on Shield’s men while keeping
everything hidden from Spider and the rest of the underworld. I didn’t want Spider
involved in any of this because he wouldn’t approve of me doing all this dirty work
with my own hands. And because things could go wrong very quickly, and I didn’t want
him to get caught up in my mess—the sort of mess one doesn’t walk away from alive.
Spider was one of my only two best friends He and Carly were like family. I needed
to know that they would survive me. The shit I was getting myself involved in had
to stay hidden from them for their own protec
tion.

Spider didn’t know that I had met with Shield a few weeks ago and told him about a
shipment that I had coming in to Los Angeles. I had offered to split it with him in
exchange for truce—letting bygones be bygones. Or so he thought. He had had my brother
killed, he had kidnapped, almost killed Emmy, but what the underworld saw was that
I was the loose cannon. Victor knew this, and he was using this to plot against me.
But when he saw the amount of dope that he would be stealing from me, he was blinded
by the possibilities, temporarily forgetting his scheming, not realizing how badly
I wanted to rip the esophagus out of his throat. He had lost a big chunk of his own
money when I stole it from him and pinned it on Breland. He was desperate to make
up the lost f
unds.

I knew full well that he would betray me and use some of the shipment to position
himself in the media, though I hadn’t expected him to sock away such a large chunk
of the shipment for himself. He was becoming more brazen—or st
upid.

All this money and media attention, I hoped, would keep him distracted and away from
Emmy. While we had taken every step possible to ensure that everyone in the underworld
believed that I had left her and didn’t care what happened to her, I needed to keep
Shield away, even if it cost me everything I
had.