Saturday Late Morning
Lucy made it to the soccer game just before halftime. She was surprised to see both Nate Dunning and Brad Donnelly there—Nate was sitting with the boys from St. Catherine’s, and both Brad and Sean were clearly working a protection gig.
She walked up to Sean and kissed him. “What’s going on?”
“Long story short: Brian’s gangbanger brother is out of prison. Michael turned him in to the DEA—but he slipped away.”
“Does he know Michael turned him in?”
“We’re assuming that he does.”
“This is what Jesse has been keeping from us,” Lucy said.
“Yes.”
It was clear now. Michael had a knack for instilling loyalty in people. It’s how he had led the boys at St. Catherine’s during their darkest hour. It’s how he kept them alive. They trusted him. Jesse trusted him.
But Michael was still a kid, and he was not bulletproof.
Sean continued. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to Jesse. He’s with his team.” He paused, glanced at her. “Kane’s on his way.”
“It’s that serious?”
“Brad thinks so. I have some ideas on how to draw Torres out.”
“You know why Jesse didn’t talk to you, right?”
“No. I don’t. I should have been the first person he came to.”
“He wants to be strong like you and Kane.”
“Like Kane.”
“Excuse me?”
“Michael essentially said that if he thought this situation was serious enough, he would have called Kane. That I have too much to lose.”
“Don’t take that personally. Kane is a warrior to Michael.”
“That kid—I don’t know what to think.”
“You love him. He trusts you, Sean—but he’s been solving his own problems for years. It’s not going to be easy for him to change.”
“But now Jesse is involved. I just—damn, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong.”
Brad approached before Lucy could say anything else. Sean always took things personally, and she had to get him to see what was really going on.
“Hey, Lucy, thought you were working.”
“I am. I’m waiting for a call that our suspect has been located.”
“Status?” Sean asked Brad.
“I have two agents patrolling. No sign of Torres.”
“Do you think he would show up here? At a soccer game?”
Brad shook his head. “I think he’s going to hang low until he can hit hard. Does Brian know what his brother was in prison for?”
“I don’t know,” Sean said. “We were focused on the boys’ parents. I can tell you the fate or disposition of every mother and father of those boys, but not siblings. I should have seen this coming.”
“I should have seen this coming,” Brad said. “You’re not a cop, Sean. I had all their files. I should have tagged Jose Torres.”
“I have an idea,” Sean said.
“I’m listening.”
“I want all the boys in my house. I have the room.”
“You can protect them there, but they have to go to school. They can’t live there forever.”
“Michael and Brian will remain at Saint Catherine’s. Jose is going to be looking for them, and he’ll think that a house with a nun as the only adult will be easy pickings.”
“Bait.”
“It’s the only way. This can’t drag on for weeks or months. We don’t have the manpower to watch them all twenty-four seven. We lay a trap. It’s the only way we can protect them. But we keep this information tight and contained. I know your house is clean, but I can’t risk anyone getting wind of this.”
“The two agents I have with me today I trust with my life. We’ll keep it small and sharp. Plus we have Kane and Nate, right?”
Sean nodded.
“Good. I’m waiting for intel back on Torres and the two others that slipped away, then we’ll figure out a solid plan.”
Sean looked down at his phone. “Kane just landed. He’ll be here before the game is over.”
Lucy left just as Kane arrived at the soccer field. “Where’s she going,” he asked Sean in lieu of hello.
“Back to work. Murder suspect has been located.”
“What’s the plan?”
For now, it was him, Brad, and Kane. Michael was back in the stands with Nate and the boys, and Brad’s two agents were patrolling the park.
Sean told Kane what he wanted to do—split up the boys and set a trap for Torres.
“And when that fails?” Kane asked.
“It’s a good plan.”
“He’s not going to walk into a trap.”
“Not if it’s obvious.”
The last thing Sean needed right now was Kane completely taking over. He would lose all respect from Michael and Jesse. They both saw Kane as a hero, a warrior—and he was. Sean loved and admired his brother more than anyone on the planet. Sean couldn’t compete with that. He hadn’t even been able to protect Jesse and Madison in his own house.
Maybe he should listen to Kane. Kane knew a hell of a lot more about this shit than Sean did.
“Bait is a good idea,” Kane said, “but we need more intel about Torres. Who he runs with, what he’s done.”
Brad said, “He was in prison for possession with intent and manufacturing meth. Because he fled the scene, resisted arrest, and shot a cop—not fatally—he was tried as an adult at the age of fifteen. Given five to ten. Served seven—three in juvie, four in max. Ties to the Saints through his father, who was killed in prison. I dug around last night into senior’s life—he was killed after the boys were rescued.”
“Shit. So retaliation. And Torres probably knows that.”
“Good bet.”
Sean said, “According to Michael, Jose enticed Brian with dreams of being a family again. That they were brothers, bonded for life, and Brian had some sort of obligation to him. Michael said Brian has come back into the fold, but we need to verify that. This is his big brother—he has an idyllic image of him. He might be humoring Michael because Michael threatened to call you.”
Kane stared at him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“All those boys, include Jesse, see you as their savior. You fought for them and you won. Take no prisoners. I get it—you’re a hero.”
“I’m no fucking hero.”
“To them you are. No one can compete with that.”
“Donnelly, check the perimeter,” Kane said without looking at the agent.
Brad didn’t even object to the order, just turned and walked away.
“Spill,” Kane said.
What could Sean say? “I’m glad you’re here because I’m out of my depth with this bullshit, but the fact remains that Michael and my son see you as the only one who can fix this. They had every opportunity to tell me what was going on, but they didn’t. They thought they could fix it themselves, and if they couldn’t, you were waiting in the wings.”
“This is what I do, Sean. So your nose is out of joint because they don’t see you as a killing machine? Damn, you’re an idiot. You’re just as much a hero to those kids as I am.”
“Jesse lied to me! Torres punched him in the gut and cracked his rib and Jesse lied about it. He doesn’t think I can keep him safe.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I couldn’t! His mother died because I couldn’t keep them safe. And deep down he knows that, and that’s why he didn’t tell me what was going on this week. And here we are.”
“I’m going to tell you this once, Little Rogan. Jack and I were there, in the house, two of the best-trained mercenaries working today, and we couldn’t keep any of you safe. Get it? You were also a target. Are you so dead set on feeling guilty that you don’t remember that Carson Spade put a fucking million-dollar price on your head? Do you think that I didn’t feel exactly what you’re feeling when I woke up and my little brother was missing? That I couldn’t protect you when you asked for my help?
“Get over the damn pity party right now, Sean, because we don’t have time for it. I don’t know what’s going through Michael’s or Jesse’s head right now. And neither do you. We’ll set them straight. But right now, I need you completely focused. You are the fucking smartest guy I know, but if you keep second-guessing yourself we’re going to fail, and I’m not about to lose any of those boys—not Michael, not Brian, and certainly not Jesse.”
Sean wanted to hit Kane—and he wanted to hug him. He did neither. His emotions had been a wreck for the last two and a half months since Madison had been killed, and it was true—he had been holding on to the guilt because it was something tangible.
But he had to let it go. He had to find a way to let it go and forgive himself.
“What’s your plan?” Sean asked.
“I was special forces. No way am I coming up with a strategy without more intel. First thing: We get those boys out of the line of fire, they’re sitting ducks here. Put Donnelly’s people at Saint Catherine’s with them. Then I’m talking to Brian, and no one is going to be in the room with me.”
“Kane—”
“I’m not going to beat him, but he will wish I did when I’m through. And I’ll know what we need to know to find Jose Torres and put an end to his threat, once and for all.”
Sean wished there was another way, but Kane was right—moving the boys into his house would split their protective detail, and everyone wanted to keep this operation as tight and controlled as possible. But Kane liked Sean’s idea of getting the younger boys as far from potential danger as they could. He called a friend, Father Francis in Hidalgo who’d served with Jack in the army—known as Padre to his closest friends, not because he was a priest, but because he had been a former seminarian when he first enlisted. He joined the priesthood when he left the army.
Padre had helped rescue the boys eighteen months ago, and would do anything to help them now. Better, the boys would feel safe with him. He ran a summer camp for fatherless boys, and the facility—located halfway between Hidalgo and San Antonio—was currently vacant. Sister Ruth packed up all the boys—except Brian and Michael.
They were still at the boys’ home as they worked through their plan. Kane had gone off with Brian. Sean was worried—the kid might say anything to avoid getting in trouble. Brad was in the dining room talking with Michael about how he’d put the connections together. Nate was escorting Sister Ruth and would return in a few hours, while Brad’s two agents were watching the house outside. That left Sean alone with Jesse in the family room. Jesse sat glumly in the corner of the couch, still in his soccer uniform.
Sean sat next to his son. “I’m sorry,” Jesse said, not for the first time. “I should have told you from the beginning.”
“You didn’t trust me.”
“That’s not it.”
Sean had absorbed what Kane told him. “Then why? Because I don’t get it, Jess. You put yourself in danger and didn’t come to me for help.”
“I—I didn’t think it would get this far. Michael promised we’d come clean if we couldn’t get Brian out from under his brother’s thumb. We thought if you and Mateo knew what Brian was doing, that he would be sent away. And—I guess I wanted to prove to Michael that he could trust me. That I’m not this soft kid who can’t do anything. But I am. I don’t know how to fight back. I don’t know how not to be scared.”
“I can help with the first. But the second—we all get scared. Do you think that Kane is fearless? He’s not. The difference is that he knows how to manage the fear. I see why you look up to him—he’s practically a superhero.”
“So are you, Dad.”
“No. I’m just a worried father who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I knew when I saw the bruises that they weren’t caused by a soccer ball, and I knew you’d lied to me about it. I wanted to confront you then. I didn’t—but if I had, I would have known about Michael’s insane plan to give the DEA an anonymous tip. I didn’t because I was scared. I don’t know how to do this parenting thing. I second-guess every decision I make.”
“I’m really, really sorry I lied. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I worried more because I knew someone hit you. I just didn’t know who or why or why you wouldn’t tell me.” Sean considered what Lucy had told him earlier this week. “You know,” he said, “I grew up in an unusual family. There were a lot of us, but we weren’t close like Lucy’s family. I was fourteen when my parents died. Duke left the army to become my guardian. I was an angry kid. Angry that my parents were dead and I couldn’t save them. Angry that Duke was so hard on me. I got in a lot of trouble. I should have been in juvie, but Duke had a lot of friends. Every time he got me out of a situation, I doubled down. I don’t know if I had a death wish or just wanted the world to know I wasn’t happy. I lied a lot, and every time Duke called me on it he tightened the screws and I fought back.
“In hindsight, we were both wrong. But Duke didn’t know anything more about being a father than I do now.”
“But he wasn’t your father. He was your brother. That had to be weird.”
Astute, Sean thought. “Maybe. Duke had his own issues with our parents, and with Kane. Kane has always been this way. It’s like he was born a warrior. He joined the marines right out of high school. He left because he doesn’t take orders well and formed his own soldiers-for-hire group. He’s gone down some dark paths … but everything he’s done, the good and the bad, he’s done for the right reasons. When I was a teen, I didn’t do things for the right reasons. I did them because I could, because it pissed off Duke, and because I was angry. I don’t want you to go down that path. I know you have a lot of anger right now, and I don’t blame you at all if part of it’s directed at me.”
“You? Why would I be mad at you?”
Sean was about to tell him when Jesse continued. “I guess you’re right. I am angry. I’m angry that Brian’s brother used him and manipulated him and made him feel guilty so that he snuck around and actually considered joining the gang. I’m angry that I couldn’t fight back when Jose hit me. I’m mad that you didn’t stand up to my grandfather, that you let him make you feel bad about what happened to my mom, when it wasn’t your fault at all. I’m angry at myself that I didn’t tell you, because I do trust you, Dad. More than anyone. You’ve never lied to me, you’ve never said a bad word against my mom even though I know what she did to you, that she lied to me and she lied to you and to everyone else who ever asked who my father was. And I know she knew what Carson was doing with the drug cartels and just looked the other way. I mean, I look at what happened to Michael and the others and I get so mad that Carson and my mom were a part of that.”
“They weren’t—that wasn’t Carson’s operation.”
“You can say that with a straight face? They might not have been part of the people who actually hurt Michael and Tito and the others, but they were part of the people who hurt kids like Michael. Or is there a good drug cartel? A drug cartel that doesn’t hurt people or kill them or force them to do things they don’t want to do? Did Carson work for a good cartel?”
Jesse was going from slow burn to full boil. “No,” Sean said quietly.
“See? So they can pretend that they didn’t know what was going on, but that was because they chose to ignore it. And then Carson wanted you dead. And he might have said that he wanted you dead because you were in my life, but he really wanted you dead because you took down his illegal business and he got in trouble. And my mom—I can’t even tell her I’m so mad at her because she’s dead. I can’t yell at her or ask her why or say goodbye.”
Tears were streaming down his face and Sean pulled him into a hug. He was so tense, his body shaking with emotion as he fought the tears.
Sean didn’t know what to say, and maybe there was nothing to say.
“L-lucy,” Jesse said, “s-she said to forgive th-them. I c-can’t. I try. I c-can’t.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Sean took a deep breath, then extracted Jesse’s arms and looked into his face. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, held his head. “I promise you, Jess, that we’re going to get through this. We’ll find a way to forgive Madison. She loved you, I know that and you know that. We both have to let it go.”
“Can you forgive Carson? Tell me the truth. Can you? After he wanted you dead?”
“For that? Yes. He’s not the first person who wanted me dead.” Don’t lie to him, Sean. He’ll know. Don’t lie about your feelings.
Sean took a deep breath. “Lucy is amazing, and I love her more than my life. But if you want the truth, I will never forgive Carson Spade for putting you and Madison in danger. Never. And I’m okay with that.”
Jesse sighed, his whole body relaxing, and he hugged Sean again.
Sean closed his eyes and absorbed the love coming from his son. “When this is all over, and when your rib is healed, we’ll start basic training.”
“Basic training?” Jesse leaned back and wiped his face on his shirt. “What’s that?”
“Self-defense, boxing, karate, whatever you want. I’ll teach you how to use a punching bag—it’s a great way to work out frustration, and it’s good exercise. I taught you basic gun safety, but you should know more than how to be safe with firearms. I can teach you, but I think Nate would be better. He has a lot more experience, and he’s part of SWAT. I would have loved to learn how to shoot with SWAT.”
“That would be fun.”
“You will be scared in your life—that’s a given. But I never want you to feel helpless again.”
Sean knew exactly how that felt—when he couldn’t save his parents after the plane crash. When he couldn’t save Madison after she’d been drugged. The former made him angry, but the latter was different … he froze. Feared. Second-guessed himself. Doubted.
No more.