Page 5 of Pride
She’d never intended to play her cards so soon, but the attack at the warehouse had brought her plans forward. Now she had to deal with the fallout.
Alice sighed and tied her long, sweaty hair back before setting to work on dusting the furniture. It was a little late, and they had a janitor for such things, but she’d rather know the place was in tip top shape for when—or if—Parker ever showed again.
When.
It had to be when.
And if he didn’t show soon, the Sisterhood would call her back to the abbey before she’d even had a chance to complete her mission.
Since she had no real home to go to after work, she came here. It was only the abbey out of town or the rental she’d acquired as part of her cover, which was virtually empty except for a bed and her daily clothes.
Another sigh slipped out of her as she made her way about the room, dusting the desk and sparse decor. Parker liked fine things. From the Cuban cigars to the crystal whiskey decanter to the vintage leather Chesterfield sofa to the floor to ceiling surround windows. Alice could see her reflection against the nighttime cityscape. And a smudge.
She tried to rub it away with her forearm, but the fabric was too sweaty. She made it worse. So she found a cleaning cloth. As she sprayed and wiped, she started humming a familiar tune.My Baby Just Cares for Meby Nina Simone.
The tune had been etched permanently into Alice’s mind since she was four years old. Dread tainted her wistful smile as the cityscape became pictures in a moving memory. Twinkling city lights morphed to sunlight glinting on the road as they sped by in the car. Her humming became the tune on the radio. Her reflection became her mother in the front seat of their car on that summer evening.
Alice smiled. Her mother smiled back. Her father joined in. Alice remembered how they had sung together in harmony, and how when Alice had tried to make up words she didn’t know, they had all laughed. Her parents were still smiling at each other when the drunk driver plowed into their car, causing it to roll and crash. Nina Simone was still singing when her mother’s bloody hand reached toward Alice. The CD player stuck on repeat while the tires spun and Alice waited for help to arrive... alone.
She stopped cleaning, her fingers clenching around the cloth. She had always wondered if it was her singing that caused the accident. If her parents hadn’t been laughing and looking at each other, or at Alice instead of the road, would they have seen the car swerve into their lane? She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her mother had kept singing to her, even when her words came out hoarse and bubbly, even as the light left her eyes.
The song died, but Alice forced herself to smile, just like her mother had. She worked until the windows were spotless, and then she started on some filing she’d not finished during the day. In her head—never aloud—she continued to sing Nina Simone’s song about high tone places and her baby caring just for her, but not cars or races.
The absurdity of her situation and the lyrics caused a new wave of laughter, because the man, the one this room belonged to, was exactly the kind of person the song was about. Who she needed and wanted him to be. Except he cared for no one but himself.
And she was a Sinner.
3
Despite the midnight hour,Parker dressed in his usual Armani suit and tie. Tying his hair back had become a chore, so he left it out, brushing his shoulders. He tucked his prosthetic hand into his pocket. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but none in the office were aware of his… set back. As far as they knew, he’d taken time off after a rock-climbing injury, and that was that. He had a very capable assistant. He oversaw production and board meetings via video conference. If anyone pieced together that he had lost his arm the same night the city’s vigilante Pride had lost his, then it was a clear link he couldn’t afford. Not when things with the Syndicate were heating up. Not when they had a sister to save.
He’d have to get out to some clubs soon. His absence had been noted by the society papers, and since Wyatt had quit his day job to focus on being a father, and Tony had quit acting to focus on defeating the Syndicate, yet another of their brood being absent from their cover identity’s life would raise questions.
He frowned as he slid into his Bugatti, thinking of his eldest sister. Just two years ago, he had thought she was dead. Before that, the last he’d seen of Daisy had been when she was eight and he was seven and she was running headlong into a burning building because she couldn’t stand to sense the sadness emanating from their mother. Daisy, known as Despair back then, was the one out of all of them who never gave up hope. She would kiss them all goodnight, sing them songs, and be the first in the morning to give them a hug.
Parker’s throat closed up at the distinct memory of Daisy forcing a hug on his stiff demeanor. If she hadn’t dragged him out of bed on some imaginative early morning adventure, he’d always go sit on the sofa to eat his Wheaties, away from the other children. Even at seven he’d seen himself as an adult.
“Na-uh,” Despair’s sing-song voice cooed. “You don’t get to avoid the morning cuddle monster, Pride.”
“Go away,” he replied. “I’m eating.”
“You eat like a pigeon,” she laughed, still creeping toward him, her fingers outstretched and wiggling. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Better get ready.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a child, D.”
“You’ll always be my little brother.”
The psychopath Daisy had grown into under the tutelage of their enemy was someone without scruples… until she’d saved Liza’s life. Right now they might be torturing, studying, or experimenting on her. He would never allow his family to suffer, and Daisy was family.
Parker hit the push button start. The car purred to life. Within moments he was coasting out of their secure basement garage and into the Cardinal City streets. As usual, the city was alive. People milled about. He wasn’t even sure of the day, but from the activity, it looked like the weekend. Maybe a Friday, since a few wore crumpled business attire.
He ignored the twinge in his gut as he sensed the sin of pride surrounding him. It had been a while since he’d been exposed and the sin squirmed like a worm in his gut, doing its best to make him nauseous. He planted his foot on the gas and took corners fast until he arrived at his destination. It felt strange to drive without AIMI there. He’d become accustomed to talking to her, even on short trips such as these. He often planned his work week by dictating to AIMI, who would then send an email to his assistant.
The Lazarus Tech garage was virtually empty; a good sign. While this was his company, and he could take whatever parts he wanted, there had to be accountability. He ran a tight ship. Missing parts would be noted, so he had to come up with an excuse. Doing that without the watchful eye of workers was preferred.
His company owned the seventy-three-floor building smack bang in the center of the business district. It wasn’t the tallest in the city, but it was close. He leased out many of the lower levels to other corporations, including startups and tech companies. On an early morning, if he went to the top, he’d only see a few tower peaks piercing through the blanket of cloud and smog. Sometimes it was like that at night and perfect for base jumping in his Deadly battle gear. He’d not jumped since the accident. Without a left arm, activating the wingsuit was impossible. His mind traveled to the gaudy golden robotic arm sitting on his table back home. Even if he could make the arm work, he’d have to hide the metal with a glove.
Security did a double take as he strolled into the building, but recovered quickly. Probably surprised to see Parker in there after the long absence. He nodded back to the fit, young guards manning the building entrance and headed straight in and through to the elevator. A retinal scan confirmed his identity and allowed him access to any part of the building he wished. First stop was the research and development floor where parts and supplies were readily available amongst the mish-mash of prototypes and demonstration areas. On the job card for the term was a new solar powered farming device, a daring think tank project for an electric jet, a body scanning smart watch, and edible packaging. Nothing was off limits at Lazarus Tech. He was often shunned as too radical, and most inventions failed. But those few that didn’t, made Parker his fortune.
