Page 34 of Property of Riptide
“Texas is known for tornadoes, so it wouldn’t hurt to have one anyway,” she debates.
“That’s true, but we have a room underground that keeps us safe for those occurrences,” I profess.
“Is it where you burn the bodies?” she asks, emitting a full body shiver.
“Scared?” I taunt.
“I’m picturing bodies flying around and having to duck and weave. It’s not a pretty picture,” she acknowledges.
Laughter erupts from my chest. When I get myself back under control, I tell her, “It’s in the same general area, but in a separate room. The incinerator isn’t seen from where we’d end up if Mother Nature throws a fit.”
“That’s good to know,” she giggles.
“What are you laughing at, Van?”
She snorts with amusement before confessing, “Every time a tornado comes to mind, I revert back to my childhood and think about the Wizard of Oz. Flying monkeys, witches riding broomsticks, as well as munchkins singing and dancing.”
“Well, there won’t be any yellow brick roads to follow. Only marble and concrete,” I inform her. “It’s all austere and clinical in the bowels of the mortuary. The only thing that takes that cold and practical aesthetic away are the couches, television, and board games we have stocked down below in case we’re stuck there for a long period of time.”
“You may have to add to that inventory now that there are kids involved. You’ll need things to entertain them and keep their minds busy,” she recommends.
“You and Zoey should get together and make a list.” I stop and scan, trying to locate Icer. “Where the hell has he taken them? Do you see Icer and the kids?”
“I haven’t seen any signs of them. Can you text Indiana or Zoey and ask if they found him?” she asks, her once calm and playful demeanor has shifted to one of nervousness.
Nodding my head, I pull out my cell and call. I don’t want anything getting lost in translation. When Indiana answers, instead of greeting him, I spit out my question, “Have you found the kids?”
“Yes. I had Booker track his phone. Did you know Issy set up a nap area for the small kids?” Indiana asks, sounding perplexed.
Sighing, I ask, “I didn’t know that but it was a fantastic idea. Issy is full of surprises. Is that where you are?”
“Yes. Elodie and little G are sharing a sleeping bag. It’s cute as hell, I’m gonna snap a picture and send it to you,” Indiana says.
“Or you could drop me a pin to your location and I could see it for myself,” I growl.
“I can, but my way is more fun,” Indiana jokes.
“Indiana,” I warn. “Not in the mood for your games. My woman is restless and getting anxious. The sooner she puts eyes on her boy, the better.”
“You’re such a party pooper, Rip. Fine, dropping the pin now. See you soon, fucker.”
“I don’t envy you,” Van states. “You must have a backbone of steel to deal with him.”
“Not just him, all of my men need a strong man to lead them,” I reply. “And my spine is titanium, baby. It’s the only reason I’m able to deal nine tenths of the time.”
“Alright, Man of Steel, lead the way,” she says, waving her hand in front of us. “This crowd is making me nervous.”
“Then let’s get away from these people and go get our boy.”
“Our boy, Riptide?”
“Are you mine, Van?”
“I think we already established that I am,” she comments.
“That we have, Van, that we have. And since little G is yours, that makes him mine too.”
“Don’t make me cry, Riptide. I’m not a pretty crier. We’re talking snot and puffy eyes.”
