Page 18 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Chapter nine

Babalon

Today

T his is the story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there. I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.*

This is the story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there. I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.*

This is the story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute, just si—*

“Goddamnit, Nadia, wake the fuck up!” Ra’s voice booms through the speakers of the car. Vibrating my chest until it sends me into sudden awareness.

I instantly jolt awake, eyes popping open as if the things were spring-loaded and packed tightly into a Jack-in-the-box.

Looking around the small space, my heart races so furiously it may just beat right out of my damn throat.

Takes me several panicked breaths to realize that I’m not in my cell anymore, this isn’t a raid, and I’m safe.

“Easy, easy, it’s just me,” Ra coos. His voice is much softer this time, giving me the brief moment I need to drop back in the driver seat again and rub my face.

The sleep crusting my eyes blurs my vision, making it a little difficult for them to focus.

My rest was abruptly disturbed by the man that keeps lingering at the edges of my thoughts.

He’s always there like some sort of specter, loitering to barter my soul.

I don’t like it—the way his tone always sounds as if he is judging me.

Reminding me of my court days, of how the Judge sat in his podium of perfection , issuing punishments as if he were dealing cards at a Black Jack table.

Dragging my hands down my face, I stop for a moment and dig the sleep out of them, and give each a good rub before huffing out an annoyed breath and sitting up. On guard, on edge, and on a rampage.

“What in the absolute fuck is your problem, Ra? You couldn’t have treated me like a normal person and not yelled at me to stir? No, you just had to barge into the only fucking place I have—“

He tries to talk; I can hear him through the speakers again. A half spoken word here, a stutter there, but I’m not stopping.

“—to sleep and feel safe. But you had to throw yourself in here and start barking as if you’re some sort of goddamned dictator. I’ll have you know I’m not in prison anymore and I’m not about to sit here and get woken up at the ass crack of dawn by a cock-sucking officer!” I shout.

Once the words are out, the heat in my face simmers down from volcanic rage to just a little sunburn.

“Are you finished reaming me, precious?”

“Condescending chode,” Answering with a grumble.

“Nice to know you’ve taken my advice and got on Urban Dictionary.”

There is no amount of coffee or adrenaline at this point to make dealing with Ra bearable, which awards him my silence. I’m old enough to know when to keep my mouth shut, even if he’s still too young to care.

“I’ll take your silence as compliance, then.”

Compliance—go fuck yourself.

The faint clicking of his keyboard echoes through the car as I scowl out of the window.

Racking my brain on how the hell—oh never mind.

Jerk probably hacked the car or something.

Some Pentagon level shit that doesn’t interest me in the slightest. It’s a violation of privacy and frowned upon not just by moral standards but legal ones at that.

Since he obviously doesn’t abide by the law, then it’s got to be his fucked up code of ethics.

“You should change your ringtone if it’s not adequate enough to rouse you, Nadia. Of all people, I thought you would be sitting by your device. Eagerly waiting for an update on your daughter, but no, I had to do it for you,” Ra scoffs.

“Are you going to keep busting my chops or tell me what you called for? I have an unlimited credit card in your name and suddenly developed the most intense urge to buy a whole country.”

“You’d still have enough for coffee when you’re done, precious. Promise you that.”

“What’s with the ‘precious’ shit?”

“‘Petulant chit’ doesn’t quite roll off the tongue as easily. Stop getting sidetracked. I have a hit on Sadie. I’m updating your GPS now and starting it. Then I’ll have the surveillance footage sent over, that way you have an idea of what they’re wearing. And what you’re walking into.”

If I wasn’t awake before, I am now. The mention of her name is all it takes.

My hand drops down between the seat and the door and hits the entirely-too-slow button to recline and return it to an upright position.

There’s enough time for a quick run to the restroom and to grab a snack.

Patting myself down, looking for the thing he calls a cellphone, I barely hear him as he keeps talking.

‘Gas station’ this, ‘trunk’ that. I wanna beat him with a wiffle ball bat.

Just when I find the god-awful wallet and my phone, I reach for the door and the fucking thing locks. Instinctively, I whip around and glare at the screen. Sitting there, staring right back at me as if he’s some mad scientists watching his lab rat run in circles, is Ra.

“Unlock the doors.” My voice is low and sharp. The firm command masking the rage simmering just beneath.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“GPS, footage, clothes, gas station.”

An unintended nod rocks my head for a second, but instead of him waving me off, he stares harder.

Feeling it in my bones, my hand releases the door lever and I face him completely.

I’ve always been like this, able to absorb what is being said without needing to look at the person speaking to me.

Why do I always receive a look of disbelief after rattling off the key points of conversation as if I were ignoring the speaker?

“One, you could have led with the whole ‘I found your child’ thing. Two, I need to go to the bathroom so I can get on the road.”

“And three,” he snaps, “you should hear the entire spiel before running in guns blazing, Doc Holiday. I said, she’s putting up a hell of a fight but he keeps knocking her out.

Therefore, I will have a medical team on standby within a ten mile radius of where you find her.

She may have facial fractures, brain swelling, or something far worse than what you can see on the outside. ”

Doing my best to hide it, my skin goes clammy when the blood drains from my face.

I can feel it slipping away, similar to the tides when a tsunami threatens to overtake the shore.

One moment the sea is crashing along the water-heavy sand then the tide is hundreds of yards away in the blink of an eye.

The sound of Ra’s voice drastically fades from intelligible words to a low murmur, barely able to sense the bass of it anymore. Now—now he’s losing me.

Lucien has been hurting her.

A part of me isn’t surprised; it’s something that we all knew would happen but that doesn’t stop the mother in me from fearing for her child.

Outside of being a jealous and obsessive lunatic, there’s no reason Lucien should be remotely interested in hurting her.

She’s a child, for fucks sake. A child who hasn’t hurt anyone—I mean, that was his thing back then, right?

Hurting those who chose to harm children?

Here he is, though, possibly causing irreparable damage to my daughter.

“Why…“ is the only word my mouth spills.

It’s soft, likely a whisper, and regarded as sound rather than a word by Ra. The fool still rambles on and on. And he thinks I am the one who wasn’t paying attention.

Hazelwood didn’t necessarily spit out the most brilliant people, and I may have passed my state-required courses, but there’s no wrapping my head around how or why Lucien would do such a thing to an innocent. Other than to hurt me.

Does he know I’m out?

Surely he doesn’t; Whitlock and my other attorneys were adamant on ensuring he didn’t have any knowledge of me. Not my whereabouts, not the outcome of my trial, not where Sadie went to live. Nothing but—

The letter.

“Fuck. He knows everything.”

“Knows what, Nadia?” Ra asks, perplexed.

There’s no time to explain. Flipping over in my seat, knees digging into the buttery soft leather still warm from my body's heat, I reach for the duffle bag in the back and start ripping the items out of it. Flinging them over the seats and ignoring where they land. Shirts, pants, shorts, socks, underwear, bras—everything. At least until I find the jeans I took off the day I went to Sadie’s childhood home.

“Nadia, I need you to start talking.”

Ra sounds calm; wouldn’t be surprised if he’s maintaining this low tone and speaking calmly to bring me down from this panic. I know he can see it, since he’s watching me through that fucking monitor. Almost as if I traded one prison for another.

Finding the jeans, I shove my hand into the pocket stuffed with paper, and draw out the letter I found in her room.

Chucking the denim right back to the rear seat, a light slap on the upholstery fading into the tense-silence, white I ignore the unimpressed huff that Ra snorts.

Sitting in the driver seat, facing forward, my hands tremble as I hesitantly unfold the ends and read it all over again.