arbitrate (daynight) (40 page)

“We come in peace,” the head of security bellowed out.
 

The Exilers scattered like the beetles in the canyons, not willing to test whether “peace” and “semiautomatic weapons” were compatible.

Only a few remained at the mouth of the main cave a few moments later—Blake, Bailey, and some much older guys.

I pushed my way through my overkill security force. “For Gads sake, guys, back off and let me talk to my brother.” To Blake I winked and said, “Long time no see, bro. I’m here to discuss some SCI business. Our mother was kind enough to send me with protection. You like?”

He walked toward me and folded his arms across his chest. “How sweet of her. There’s nothing that gives off warm and fuzzy maternal vibes like the gift of armed thugs.”

“So, can we chat?” I asked him.

“Sure, though we better do it out here. I don’t think your buddies are going to be welcome in the cave. If it is official SCI business, I hope you don’t mind if Bailey and Doc join us. Anything that involves the Exilers impacts all of us.” He motioned for me to join him and sit on one of the many boulders that ringed a now extinguished campfire. It might as well have been still lit given the heat emanating from the entire area. Sweat poured down my back, soaking my belt-line.

Night threatened to swallow any remaining tint of light in the sky, so I was thankful to have a portable lantern. I switched on the light and set it down, which only served to attract some rather unsightly bugs. I pushed it farther away with my foot, not wanting to see all the nightlife the darkness had to offer.

In perfect formation, my security detail spread out in a large circle surrounding us, each facing out so they could take on any potential threat. Bailey and Doc were nervously watching them and whispering furiously to one another.

“I guess it pays to be one of the Ten. Do they feed you and wipe you after you take a crap, too?” Blake joked.

“No, but I’d be happy to arrange to have them do that for you if you’d like,” I retorted. “In all seriousness, I am here to talk to you about that vacant seat on the Ten that has your name on it. Mommy is rather anxious for you to return to the nest and take up the SCI mantle.”

Bailey’s head snapped up, and she scooted close to Blake and put her hand high up on his leg, squeezing tight. “He’s not interested.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It’s so nice of you to speak for Blake, but I’m pretty sure he understands that he is locked into the gig.”

That didn’t stop her from continuing to be Blake’s mouthpiece. “
I
am Blake’s family now. He doesn’t need you, his mother, or that annoying twit of a Cleave of yours. Do you understand that?”

Blake seemed amused by Bailey’s territorial display. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this. Why don’t you and Doc head back in and let me tell Ethan where he can put our mother’s offer in private?”

“Fine.” She proceeded to straddle him and give him a
very
long goodbye kiss that bordered on pornographic. I’m sure she hoped I’d go tell Kira how very happy and satisfied Blake was. Oh how I wished I could.

After Bailey and Doc left, I cut to the chase. “You’re the one who negotiated the temporary peace treaty. I warned you against agreeing to the clause that said you had to be back within the year to take a seat on the Ten…but you agreed nonetheless.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about Bailey. I know what I signed up for. But my year is far from up. I’ve got other things that need to be…accomplished…before I’m ready to return. So, you can tell our mother not to expect me early.”

I anticipated that my visit would be futile. I only wished that I knew what he needed to “accomplish” in his year of Exile. Unfortunately, with twenty listening ears, I couldn’t discuss that with him. And I doubted he’d tell me, given that I’d accepted my seat on the Ten. “I hope that your agenda doesn’t include any dangerous or life-threatening ventures.”

Blake chuckled. “I assure you that my pursuits are all educational in nature. Don’t you worry about me. You just make sure our mother keeps her end of the bargain and keeps doing the supply drops.”

“Will do.”

We said our goodbyes, and I watched Blake disappear back into the cave. A moment later Bailey reappeared. She cursed at one of the guards, insisting he let her through. “It’s fine,” I told the guy. “I’ll talk to her.”

She came and sat right next to me, her body pressed uncomfortably close to mine so that she could whisper in my ear. “I apologize, Ethan. I came on a little strong earlier. I know you’re just doing your job.”

“Yeah, it’s fine Bailey. Don’t worry about it.”
 

“I can see why Kira chose you. You’re awfully pretty to look at.” She rubbed her arm down mine and then settled it on my upper thigh. I shivered, and not with desire. “If you ever want to try out a
real
woman—one that can actually satisfy you—just let me know. I’m good at keeping secrets. Blake and Kira wouldn’t have to know.”

I jumped off the boulder, pushing her away from me. I was disgusted. Bailey was pretty, but evil emanated from her every pore. Her advances had nothing to do with wanting me and everything to do with getting me Exiled or hurting Kira. “I’m not interested.”

A wicked grin washed across her face. “They say that Cleaving is forever. But nothing is forever, Ethan. You’re a fool to believe it is.”

Present

The easiest and fastest
way to check out the slew of properties Victor owned would be to use my Arbiter abilities. Unfortunately, the SCI didn’t know and wouldn’t approve of my true lineage, and so I am stuck on a private jet with Brad for the next…who knows how long.

“I hope you packed a swimsuit. We’re going to have some free time on our hands.” For someone who just lost his Cleave, he doesn’t seem all that broken up about it.

“Shouldn’t we be in and out at each location? They will either be there or not there. If they aren’t there, we need to move on. We don’t have time to waste.” I need to find Alexa…and answers.

Brad says, “The team requires time to thoroughly search each location, and the plane will need to refuel and be serviced. There will be plenty of time to enjoy the facilities at Victor’s SCI getaway spots.” His words are laden with sarcasm, given that the evidence points to one of the locations being used to “get away” from the SCI and the authorities.

“It would be a whole lot faster if I asked Jax to give Arbiter support. It would completely eliminate travel time, and I could do the search on my own.” I wouldn’t actually ask Jax. I’d just do it on my own and
say
I had Jax help.

He looks annoyed at me. “Jax made it very clear that the Arbiters were staying neutral on this. Besides, the SCI needs to inventory the properties purchased with their funds. The FBI expects the investigation to be on the up and up. And, I think you and I need this time together to mourn your mother’s passing.” He pulls an urn out from under his seat. The lid is duct-taped to the base. “I brought her ashes with us, and we can spread them throughout the world. I figure, we’ll only be gone a few weeks.”

I groan at the thought of a “few-week” funeral, the slow pace we’ll be performing our investigation at, and the thought of being stuck with Brad for that long. I’m panicked that we’ll be too late…to save Alexa and Joshua or that we will never find them because they don’t want to be found.
 

Hope. It’s dangling in front of me, just out of reach, but I’m bound and determined to close the distance. I stare out the jet’s window at the clouds and promise myself I’ll find what I’m looking for.

We fly to Guam first because that’s where Victor’s hired plane was headed. The air’s sticky and hot when we arrive, and we have to jump through a lot of bureaucratic hoops to find out what happened to the plane.

When the officials tell us that the passengers never got off the plane…just refueled and continued on to the Philippines, my fingertips brush the edge of hope. One of Victor’s properties is in the Philippines. We refuel our own plane and continue on after thirty hours with no shower and one marginal meal. I don’t care as long as we find them.

The private island is in the Sulu Sea. We experience a bumpy landing on the island’s short, less than well-maintained airstrip and then travel by buggy to the resort. The place is beautiful. There are detached casitas speckling the beach and more in the treetops. The sand seems to continue on endlessly, being lapped up by the blue-green waves.
 

This would be the perfect honeymoon destination.

I quiet the voices by joining the search team and scouring the island for signs of Victor, Violet, Alexa, and Joshua. The small staff is of minimal help. Their memories are “hazy” about the events of the last few days. Yes, a plane arrived. The pilot requested the guests be given “utmost privacy,” and so, they cannot give descriptions or tell us little more than what they ate during their stay. Nor can they agree as to when the plane left and whether the passengers were onboard. A member of Brad’s team uses more coercive methods to get answers, but it is almost like the staff was drugged. There are big holes in their memories that not even torture can fill.

We search and search for traces of them. And since a private airstrip was used to access the property, no manifests had to be filled out. They could be anywhere.
 

Brad and I spread a tablespoon of my mother’s ashes across the beach. I cry myself to sleep that night on a hammock between two trees near the beach, mourning more than just the loss of my mother. I mourn the loss of my innocence and naivety, my Cleave, my girlfriend, my friendship with Jax, my free will…

Days go by, and we have nothing to show for it. So we move on.

Off the coast of Singapore, we find beautiful rock formations, rain forests, and houses built from local driftwood and grasses, but no sign of those we hunt. Brad and I climb the rocks and let the wind take another piece of my mother. And I cry myself to sleep under a Banyan tree. I feel like I’m racing against hope and losing, being left in the dust of her wake.

Why are you here? What do you think you will accomplish?

The resort in Fiji is posh, with an eighteen-hole golf course, walking trails, bamboo cottages with palm-thatched roofs, and lots of mosquitos. Brad interrogates each staff member, and we all rejoice when a maid remembers a “family of mixed color” arriving at the resort. Alexa’s creamy, mocha skin comes to mind, and I think we may finally find them.

Do you want to find her? Is she the one you want?

We spend days searching and leave no stone unturned. At night, I grab a few hours of sleep in one of the cottages, protected by mosquito netting.

You are searching in all the wrong places.

If Alexa and Joshua were here, they are long gone. An hour before we have to be on the plane, Brad and I walk in silence along one of the trails, spreading a little of my mother amongst the lush foliage.

Thanksgiving goes by. No sign.

Your life is being wasted. This obsession will kill you.

We head to the Solomon Islands in the Southern Pacific. By now, I’m immune to the turquoise waters, soft sand beneath my feet, and beautiful sunshine. I begin to despair. The not-knowing is the worst. At this point, I’d rather find out Joshua and Alexa were responsible than to never know what happened. I hunt and search twelve hours a day. I rarely eat. I barely sleep. I spread ashes. I’ve stopped talking, stopped hoping, stopped wishing. This is ruining me.

It has ruined you.

The Great Barrier Reef provides no relief. There are dozens of white-painted, wooden huts with white iron roofs to search. I do the search myself. The team has gotten lazy. They’re off hiking and diving and swimming and sunbathing while I search for the smallest sign that will return hope to me and give me clues.

Abandon this foolishness. Being right is not more important than being home.

We move to a different part of the globe. Dubai holds no answers. The Seychelles are full of bats and tortoises and other wildlife, but not Alexa, Joshua, Victor, or Violet.

I’m losing myself. I think I’m going crazy. Every once in a while someone will report a “sighting,” so I keep going, keep hunting, keep moving. All in vain.
 

You know this is a wild goose chase.

Croatia has a stunning coastline with small villages built along steep mountains, charming, brick-red-colored roofs, and Victor’s “lighthouse island” purchase. But it, too, has no one who can give me the answers I need. The entire team knows it is hopeless. So, they’re enjoying their American tax-funded vacation and pretend that “it’s only a matter of time before we catch up with them.”

They have outsmarted you.

Christmas goes by. And I can’t even pop home to wish my son a Merry Christmas, because I am watched at all times. If I sleep on the beach, Brad is there. If I sleep in a cottage, hut, casita, villa, or beach house, he is there. He is always there, doing business on his phone, yet watching as I slowly self-destruct.

They’re not here.
 

Not here.
 

Not here.
 

Not here.
 

Not here.

Our last bastion of hope is the Caribbean and Central America. Brad hovers as I search the ventanas, simple wood structures built over the water in Belize. He continues to shadow me as we explore Victor’s jungle-laden, mountainous isle in the British Virgin Islands.
 

Nothing.

No sign.

No clues.

Hope is lost.

We arrive in the Turks and the Caicos Islands. The resort looks like it is straight out of New England. It’s being renovated, so there are only construction workers on-site.

They’re not anywhere. Go home. You were wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

We run out of properties to search. I’m positive, we’ve been played for fools. Someone’s laughing at our expense right now. I just wish I knew who that someone was.