Pretty Nightmare (Creeping Beautiful Book 2), page 15
Anyway, I’m gonna ask Indie to watch me. That’s the trade, I think. I’ll do her sessions and she can just watch mine. I have the videos, so I’m not expecting much. But Ana was right. The reason my progress has been so slow is because I don’t have anyone helping me.
Tomorrow night. That’s when we’ll start.
My phone rings. It’s Indie. “What’s up?”
“Where are you? In town?”
“Yup. At the office. Why?”
“We’re all heading in for pizza. Wanna meet us?”
“Sure.”
“OK, we’re on our way.”
“Oh, hey, Indie. Wait. So tomorrow?”
“What about it?”
“I think we should start. I have a plan. For you and for me.”
“What is it?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I just don’t want Adam and McKay to know what we’re doing. You didn’t tell them, right?”
“No. It’s our thing. Nothing to do with them.”
“Good. OK. Just checking. I don’t want Adam prying. It’s… you know.”
“Personal.”
“Right.”
“I get it. So we’ll be there about forty minutes. Bring your appetite.”
I can hear her smile on the phone before she ends the call.
She seems to be in a good place right now. And there’s a part of me that wants to leave well enough alone. Just… give her time to enjoy this new stability.
But this is a chance to learn all her secrets.
And there’s no way I’m walking back from that.
CHAPTER TWLEVE - McKAY
I think about Adam the whole drive into Pearl Springs. We take his truck, so he drives. Maggie wants to sit in front, so Indie and I sit in the back. She’s stretched out on the seat with her feet in my lap. If this were the time before, I’d be harping on her to put her fucking seatbelt on.
But she’s not a little girl anymore. And if she wants to stretch out and put her feet in my lap, fuck it.
Pick and choose your battles, right?
I play with one of her toes as she and Maggie have a conversation about frogs. Which makes me smile. And when I lean to the side a little, I can see Adam smiling too. Every few miles he checks me in the mirror. Habit? Maybe. Or maybe he’s thinking about our talk this afternoon.
So… this is happening.
I don’t really know what to expect. Indie is supposed to sleep with me tonight. She doesn’t know that Adam and I have come to an understanding, so if we’re gonna get things started tonight, the offer will have to come from me or Adam.
It’s a wait-and-see game, I guess.
Pizza in town is nothing special, really. But it’s refreshing to be out and all together.
Still here.
Still alive.
Still mostly sane.
Donovan meets us out front of the little Italian restaurant. Pearl Springs only has four eateries—this place, a fast-food taco place, a Subway connected to the gas station, and a place that is only open for brunch on Sundays.
We all slip into a large half-circle booth and it’s not quite big enough for three grown men, a small woman, and a child. Our elbows are all touching. But it feels good.
Adam and I sit on the outside. Maggie sits next to Adam like she’s attached to his hip. Indie sits next to me, like she’s attached to mine. And poor Donovan is stuck in the middle.
He’s in a good mood tonight. Joking and laughing with Mags. Teasing her the way he does with ridiculous statements and helping her do the word search on the kids’ menu using a broken red crayon.
We feel like… a family.
Indie gets in on their joking. And I lean back against the booth and look across the table to find Adam grinning at me.
I lift my chin up at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I wait for him to say something about our talk this afternoon. But he doesn’t mention it. Probably because Maggie is here.
He looks happy. Or maybe that’s not the right word.
He looks satisfied.
And that’s kinda how I feel too.
After we’re done eating, he asks Maggie if she wants to ride home with Donovan. And she jumps at this.
“I’ll ride with you too,” Indie offers. Then she squeezes my thigh under the table. Like she’s in on some secret plan.
And it does feel like a plan. Because now Adam and I have forty minutes to ourselves on the ride home.
I expect him to bring up what happened this afternoon. And he does. But it’s not the part I was thinking about.
Because he asks, “What are you gonna do about Nathan?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you gonna tell Indie?”
“Fuck, no.” I just stare at him. “Why? You think I should tell Indie?”
He shrugs as he pulls onto the highway. “Secrets, McKay. You should know better.”
“This is not the time to tell her. Trust me. She’s in a good place now.”
“Yeah. She is. But the longer you go—”
“It’s too late. The time to tell her he was alive was four months ago when we listened to those tapes together.”
“Yeah,” Adam says. “I don’t understand that. Why did you lie?”
“I thought he was dead.”
“McKay. She thinks she killed him. Indie thinks she killed her best friend in a fit of PSYOPS rage. You knew that wasn’t true. That’s the lie that’s gonna get you in the end.”
“I know.”
“And he’s not dead.”
“I know.”
“So what if he shows up here?”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.” He’s quiet for a few moments. But then he glances over at me. “If you’re gonna keep this lie going, then we need to find him. Threaten him, or pay him off, or…” Adam shrugs.
“Or what?”
“Kill him.”
“You’re not serious.”
His eyes dart over to me again, then return to the road. “Are you trying to tell me that thought didn’t cross your mind this afternoon?”
I draw in a deep breath. “Maybe.”
Adam laughs. “Asshole. Don’t try to make me feel like a psychopath.”
“But then I came to my senses because—”
“Listen. We either have to tell her or we have to take care of it, McKay. Those are the options. I don’t really fucking care either way. But we need to figure it out.”
“You should care.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s back now. And that means…” I pause, unsure if I really want to go there.
“That means what?”
“Maggie is not your child, Adam.”
“She’s not his, either.”
“You don’t know that. We get some stupid birthday card from Carter Couture telling us he’s Maggie’s father, and we’re what? Just supposed to believe it? Maggie looks just like Nathan.”
“Bullshit. Maggie looks just like Indie.”
“Yeah, I thought that too. Until I got a phone call today from her other maybe-daddy.”
Adam side-eyes me. “He’s not her father.”
“You can’t prove that. But he sure as fuck can prove you’re not her father. All it takes is one DNA test.”
“Fuck you, man. She is my kid.”
“She’s not your kid, Adam. You took her when she was two years old. She feels like your kid because you’re all she’s had.”
“So you’re what? Holding a grudge about that?”
“I thought I explained this.”
“I thought you did too. But obviously, you left a few things out.”
“Look, I get it. You love this little girl. If anyone understands that, it’s me, Adam. Because I feel the same way about Indie.”
“Gross. Do not compare your relationship with Indie to my relationship with Maggie. It’s totally different. Trust me on this, if nothing else. I will not be sleeping with my daughter when she comes of age.”
“What the fuck, Adam? You’re an asshole.”
He huffs a little air. Stays quiet.
“Maggie does look like Indie. But she looks like me too. And you. And Nathan. And you know why she looks like all of us, Adam?”
“I don’t need a lecture on the Zero Program genetics, thank you.”
“Well, Maggie sure the fuck doesn’t look like Donovan. Does she? Not a single fucking thing about Maggie reminds me of Donovan. So the logical conclusion is—”
“The logical conclusion has been settled.” He glances at me. “She’s ours.”
“Fine.” I throw up my hands. “She’s ours.”
“You know, for a man who just said he’s not interested in making Nathan St. James really dead, you’re sure making a good case for it.”
“If I was gonna kill that boy, I’d have done it four years ago when I had the chance.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because he wasn’t even that hurt. His face was fucked up and I’m pretty sure she broke a few ribs, but he was walking and talking. I wasn’t gonna kill Indie’s best friend in the spirit of finishing him off.”
“If he comes back, you have as much to lose as me.”
“Of course I do. I love both of them just as much as you do.”
He’s shaking his head no. “I’m not giving up Maggie. I’ll share her.” He glances at me. “I would love for you to be close to her the way I am. But I’m not giving her up. I don’t care what the fucking DNA test says. She’s mine.”
I sigh and give up. “OK.”
“It’s not OK. We need to find Nathan and get ahead of this.”
“Be my guest.”
“I’m not doing it alone, McKay. It’s your secret. Not mine. So what town were you running this little side operation out of? And who’s left that we can talk to?”
“Savannah.”
“The same place where you thought all your people were taken out at a party?”
“Correct.”
“Why Savannah?”
I lean my elbow on the edge of the door where it meets the window and look out. There’s not really anything to see. The moon is full, but this stretch of highway is just trees.
“Why Savannah, McKay?”
I blow out some air. “Because…”
He waits. But not very long. “Because what?”
“Nick.”
“Nick? Nick? Nick as in—”
“Yup.”
I glance over at him. He’s not looking at me. He’s squinting his eyes, focusing on the road ahead. But I’ve known this man nearly my entire life. I can see the wheels spinning in his head.
“Hold on. Give me this timeline again. When did you start up this little side job?”
“Right after Indie attacked you. During your recovery.”
“You said that was James this afternoon. You said James sent Beck and Moore—”
“Right. But then I was gonna tell you this part and Maggie came up to the dock.”
“And you couldn’t pull me aside and fill me in on the rest?”
“I’m filling you in now.”
“Because I’m practically dragging it out of you. So when did Nick come up?”
“A week later. When I first started paying the bills for that training camp.”
“That’s who really sent Beck and Moore.”
“Yes.”
He works his jaw. Practically growls out the words. “So you knew. You knew he was alive. Jesus fucking Christ. Anybody else alive that I need to know about?”
“Are you telling me you didn’t know?”
“I suspected. Like most intelligent people. But no. It was never confirmed to me. In fact, I saw Vincent Fenici in the Maldives about eighteen months ago. I even asked him—”
“Wait.” I rub my temple with my finger, a fucking headache starting up. “Who the fuck is Vincent?”
“James’s twin.”
“Wow.” I shake my head, tab the little button on the door, and roll the window down. Because I need air. “Do I have a twin?”
“Not that I know of, why?”
“Because everyone but me seems to have one floating out there in the ether.”
“Well, you’re not Untouchable. So no. There is no other McKay out there. My point is, I specifically asked Vincent if he had heard anything about Nick being alive. And he said no. But you”—he glances over at me—“you knew. James told you. Why?”
“I just told you. I was running—”
“Under James’s orders.”
I hesitate.
“That’s what you told me this afternoon, McKay.”
“No. For fuck’s sake, Adam. What’s wrong with you? I just said Beck and Moore showed up and I assumed they were from James.”
“Jesus. You’re leaving things out on purpose. Aren’t you?”
“I just told you it was Nick, didn’t I?”
“Five hours late by my standards.”
“Anyway. Beck and Moore ended up being there on the orders of Nick. So I did what I was told because you could barely walk back then and shit needed to get done.”
“Do you know where Nick is now?”
“No. I haven’t heard from him since Beck, Moore, and Nathan were presumed dead.”
“That was nearly four years ago. This whole thing started nine years ago, McKay.”
“I am aware.”
“So you’re telling me you’ve been in contact with Nick Tate for nine. Fucking. Years?”
“It’s not like that, Adam. Jesus. After the massacre at the Savannah party, Nick just… disappeared.”
“It is like that! Don’t you understand? Nick Tate is the missing fucking link. You could’ve told me this earlier, McKay. I could’ve had people on this already. Now Nathan is calling you, and Carter is out there, planning who knows what, and we’re all sitting here like a bunch of fucking ducks. Waiting for the shit show to come to us!”
He turns into the driveway of Old Home and I press the button on the gate clicker attached to the driver’s side visor.
Two minutes later we’re parked, he’s getting out of the truck, Donovan is pulling up behind us, and of all the ways I thought we might be spending tonight, Adam walking away pissed at me wasn’t one of them.
Maggie and Donovan follow Adam into the house, but Indie comes up to me and hooks her arm around mine. “What are you doing?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Nothing.”
She smiles up at me. “It’s our night, McKay.”
“Yeah. It is, I guess.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing, Indie. Sorry. Adam and I just had a disagreement. That’s all.”
Indie sighs. “You two need to work this out. We’re all waiting on you.”
She starts to leave, but I grab her arm and pull her back. “Indie?”
She turns back to me. “What?”
“You don’t think of me like a… like a father. Do you?”
She side-eyes me. “That’s a loaded question.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, it is. Because…”
“Because what?” My heart thumps inside my chest. Because I know what she’s gonna say.
“Well.” She shrugs. “You were the closest thing I ever had to a parent.”
I nod at her. Say nothing.
She stares into my eyes. “It’s not weird though.”
“Isn’t it?”
She yanks her arm out of my grip. “Fuck you, McKay.”
And then she walks off and leaves me standing in the driveway all alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - ADAM
Someone had to die.
That’s how stories like this go.
But the only thing I really care about is that it wasn’t me. And won’t be. Not anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
Everyone dies. But it seems like everything in this world has a hack these days.
Why not death?
The summer heat in New Orleans is something I’ve come to terms with, but I would not say I like it. I didn’t know any better growing up. I thought this was just what summer felt like. It was hot, and sticky, and uncomfortable for everyone.
Also true for most places. But summer here feels like an invisible force is trying to suffocate you from the inside out. That’s another familiar feeling for me.
The light from the lantern wobbles, obscuring my view of the dirt below my feet. Then it disappears altogether.
“Dammit, Magnolia. I gave you one job. Can you keep the fucking light still?”
“Sorry.” She peeks her head over the side of the hole I’m digging, smiling like being out at four in the morning while her father digs a hole in Holt Cemetery is no particular big deal.
I both hate and love that at the same time. Everything about her is complicated in that way. I love that she’s so smart. A little genius. Raising her has been the greatest pleasure of my life even though how I’ve done it has been questionable.
And let’s face it. I’m not winning any Father of the Year awards right now.
Especially in McKay’s mind.
“I was swatting mosquitoes,” she says, sighing. “There’s blood on my calf. I took a hit. But I’ll live.”
I look up into Maggie’s blue, blue eyes. They sparkle a sea-green color with the amber glow from the lantern light she’s holding for me. She smiles at me with a grin that says, I know I’m adorable.
“Just keep the light steady. The sooner I get done, the sooner we go home.”
“We’re gonna miss breakfast. They’re gonna know we were gone.”
I love her accent. It’s soft and barely there. But it is there. She didn’t pick it up here. She’s barely spent any time in Louisiana after I took her away. And we’ve only been back a few short months.
So she picked it up from me. And I like that because she didn’t inherit anything else of mine.
I forgot I had an accent, to be honest. People do that. Sometimes one never even knows they have one until they are told. But that’s like the chicken and the egg in a way. Which one of us has the accent? The one who notices or the one who doesn’t?
This might not be a deep philosophical question, but it’s worth some casual consideration while I dig up this grave.
