Heather

I’m glad I came back home. Having Bean and the guys in my life has made it all worth it. I love my job, working here has proved that Cali will always be home.

Yet, I still handle what I came back for. I make sure to check in on my little sister. Up until recently, I didn’t feel I had anything to worry about,—not until today. I usually only go to look in on her once a week. I’d checked in this week, on Friday.

This morning, something just nagged at me to check in a second time this week. After emailing all the guys schedules out and filing a few closed cases, I took off for the rest of the day. The office was quiet anyway. With the rest of the afternoon to myself, I decided to just follow my instincts and check in.

I know from my digging two years ago that my mother is working again. I found that to be interesting. Now she works mostly days, with a few night shifts.

I usually head over during her shifts. I haven’t been ready to see my mom. Seeing her with the knowledge that she’s fine, but has never checked in on me is a hard pill to swallow, so I avoid it at all costs.

Amanda seemed to be fine yesterday. She’d come home from school and spent time with a book, sitting in the grass, in the front yard. My sister is a cute kid, although seemingly a bit of a nerd. I like that, she’s smart.

She’s a bit paler than me, but she can definitely pass for my sister in every other way, the hair, the eyes, and the body type. She reminds me a lot of when I was her age.

It churned my stomach when I first saw her and took notice of the similarities. In my head, I reasoned that Ernest isn’t sick enough to harm his own flesh and blood. It took me almost a year to believe that.

With each month that passed, I watched and paid attention. Amanda seemed to be okay. So, for the last three years. I’ve just watched. Only, today, that’s about to change.

Pulling up to the house, I knew something was wrong. It’s in Amanda’s posture and the lack of a book in her hands. Instead, she has a cast on her right arm. I don’t have proof, but I know Ernest has something to do with it.

As if to prove me right, after about ten minutes, he steps from the house, calling Amanda’s name. I stiffen in my car, that old panic coming back to haunt me. Yet, I reach deep down and push it aside. I have my little sister to worry about, I can’t afford to freeze.

The way Amanda jumps out of her skin, speaks volumes. I’m seconds from getting my gun from my glove compartment. Only thing stopping me is the thought of scarring Amanda the way I’d been scarred, when I was only three years younger than her.

I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel, pretending it’s Ernest’s neck. I keep watching, as Amanda gets off the swing and ambles over to him. He reaches to stroke her hair, causing her to flinch back.

I see nothing but red from there. I pop my door open, ready to end Ernest’s life with my bare hands. I’m shocked out of my singular focus, when the door is shut back on me.

The air leaves my lungs, when Eugene’s face appears in my open driver’s side window. He lean into the car, reaching across me to push in the car lighter. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath, until the lighter pops and he retrieves it.

He lights his cigarette and blows the smoke into my face. I wish I would’ve grabbed my gun, before I went to exit the car. Eugene narrows his gaze on me, his eyes sweeping over me. It’s assessing, not pervy like the looks Ernest used to give me.

“I wasn’t sure it was you the first time I noticed you. You’ve grown up and changed, Kid,” he says, after pulling another drag and letting it out of his nose.

“Back up off of my car,” I hiss out.

“Not going to do that. I can see your intentions in your eyes,” he replies.

“All the more reason for you to back up off my car,” I say tightly.

“I put in a lot of work to keep him away from you. I don’t see the point in undoing all of that,” Eugene says, lifting a brow at me.

I blink a few times as his words set in. Remembering Ernest’s threat to see me again and the fear I had of him showing up someday. My brows wrinkle slightly, I eye Eugene suspiciously.

“What’s it to you?” I murmur.

“Listen to me, that fucker irks my last fucking nerve, but he’s valuable to the family I work for. As I said, I knew it was you. I did some digging. I know who your father and your friends are. I’m Irish too kid, I know the stock you come from.

“Ernest is one stupid motherfucker, even I know not to fuck with the likes of your kind, but this is not the way,” his eyes lock firmly on mine to make sure I’m catching his drift.

In the back of my head, his words are setting off all kinds of warning signs. Things I should pay attention to, but the mix of my fear and anger are shorting out my brain. One thing that stands out though is the fact that he had to dig into my family.

Wasn’t that something Ernest said they’d already done?

I lose the thought as Eugene’s next words hit me. They rub me raw and rock me to my core, bring up my hackles. I straighten my back, focusing on the man before me.

“Don’t set this shit in motion. I can’t allow you to and I don’t want to hurt you. If I’m right, you’ve been hurt enough. Go home, honey,” his hard eyes soften.

“I’m not your honey. Fuck you and get the fuck off my car,” I retort.

Eugene sighs taking another drag of his cigarette. He turns to look towards the house. I curse under my breath, as I catch Ernest’s black eyes locked on me.

A chill runs through me. I shouldn’t fear this man anymore. I can take him. However, no matter how many times I tell myself that in my head, ten-year-old Heather keeps screaming that that’s a lie.

I jump when Eugene raps on the roof of my car. I don’t pull my eyes away from the monster across the street. I can’t, I know he sees me, but from the squint of his eyes, I’m not quite sure he recognizes me yet.

“For the sake of those you love, don’t start a war. Get out of here, Kid. You’ve lost the element of surprise anyway,” Eugene says, from outside the car.

His words ring in my ears. I’m Irish too kid, I know the stock you come from…Don’t start a war. I shiver at the implication of his words. I’ve seen the Black family in action. I’ll never forget that night at the bar. Working at Black and Lock over the last three years, has taught me a lot about my Dad and the Blacks.

In addition to that knowledge, I know the McGowans and O’Briens are more than meets the eye. I may not know what all that entails, but I know it’s not something to take lightly. If I knew what I know now, back when Ernest threatened my family, I probably would’ve risked telling someone. Yet, hearing the word war and thinking of bringing some shit to my family’s doorstep gives me pause.

I bite back my anger and call on my level head. I have to be smart about this. I have plans and nothing will stop me from seeing them through. I just won’t allow the blowback to reach those I care about most.

For now, I want to know what happened to my sister. If I need to speed things up, I will. I won’t drag Brax into this. He has his whole life before him, but I’m ready.

“What happened to her arm?”

Eugene sighs, flicking his cigarette across my sightline. “Bastard has a nasty temper,” he mutters. “First time I’ve seen him lose it on the kid. Listen, he’s been fucking up. The day is coming when he won’t be so valuable anymore. You get me?”

I snort. “Yeah, I got you,” I reply and start my car, but before I pull off I need to make one thing clear. “Not that I give a fuck.”