Lyric: Delta Security, #1.5

By D.L. Lane

He was my best friend, my protector, the beating of my heart, the blaze that set my body on fire, the boy I adored, the man I loved, the person I couldn't live without.

 

For me, it took one press of his lips on mine to understand loving Gabriel Romero was my only option. He would forever be my only option. So I had no choice. It was my turn to protect him, even if it ripped our lives apart.

 

—Lyric Whitfield

• Language: English
• Publisher: Up All-Night Publications
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889923589

Book preview

Monsters

Gabriel Romero – United States Navy SEAL

July 2nd – Ten years ago

Undisclosed Coordinates

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Lyric;

It was a total cluster today. As bad as it gets. We were pinned down in a fire fight and lost Lopez. Even though I know death is a risk we all take, none of us were prepared. That’s such BS, isn’t it? Prepared? Really? No amount of training in the world could have equipped us for our brother to be blown apart. I know this sounds callus, but we had to press on. There wasn’t time to mourn; man-down or not, the team had a mission to complete. Later, I will come to terms with the nightmare somehow. The only good news to report is that we got those kids out before everything went to hell.

Maybe I’m sitting here writing this to you because it’s my way of dealing, or perhaps the reason is I recognized the look on those little ones’ faces—the horror of what men are capable of—since once upon a time, I wore that expression too. You see, if there’s one thing I know for sure, its monsters are real. No, they don’t hide under the bed or lurk in the dark recesses of your closets. They don’t keep to the shadows of night or live in the land of Nod, waiting to devour children in their dreams. They don’t possess razor-sharp teeth or elongated claws. No deforming scars or hunchbacked limps. They are tall and strong and walk among us with the regal gait of kings in broad daylight, doing what monsters do—bad things.

I know I’ve never told you this, but I was five when my baby sister, Mariana, and I became terrifyingly aware of their existence. Yet, before that knowledge, we’d been playing in the kitchen while Momma baked a cake. It’s strange those pictures in my head of that day, the things I recall, like the way the breeze coming through the open window blew the yellow gingham curtains in a fluttery billow that prompted Mari’s sweet giggle. A barking dog somewhere in the distance. My discarded neon green Matchbox car sitting on one of the scratched chairs at the table. The melody my mother hummed.

That scent of chocolate permeating the space.

It might seem crazy, but I still recall the curve of our mother’s smile when she handed us the big mixing bowl she’d used, telling us to ‘go ahead’, we could lick the leftovers. Our fingers dove right in.

I don’t think I have ever tasted anything as good as that batter.

Mari grinned at me, her lips and teeth covered in homemade love. Even though we were a mess with smears of brown everywhere, we were happy.

Momma laughed as she said we needed to wash up and took hold of our sticky hands. I think that’s where we’d been headed, the bathroom, when the rumble of thunder came from the driveway. I know my mother’s voice had changed to rapid bursts of sound, telling Mariana and me to run and hide, but it was too late. He came through the front door, followed by a couple of his men.

Alfonse, Mom greeted stiffly, I wasn’t expecting you today.

The man I’d been told was my uncle cocked a brow. No?

Momma drew me closer to her leg. Let me change Gabe and Mari’s soiled clothing, and then we can talk.

Tony! he snapped, never removing his black gaze from her, take my brother’s bastard brats outside to play.

The rapid thumps of my heart beat so fast they drummed in my ears before the hold on my hand tightened, then I was snatched up. My sister crying, Momma, momma! caused me to squirm, trying to reach her, but I couldn’t.

Regardless of the years that have passed, I’ve never forgotten how my jittery tummy twisted into knots.

Wait! Our mother started toward us but was abruptly stopped when Uncle’s arm banded around her chest. Don’t hurt my babies!

Shh...Carmelita, shh... he hissed by her ear, "no one is hurting them."

He stroked her cheek, but it wasn’t loving.

Please, Alfonse.

Uncle looked at me, a sneer on his face. Take them.

Fearful brown eyes met mine before Mari and I were carried from the house.

Thwack! The front door slammed behind us, rattling the weatherworn knocker.

I tried to bite Tony, but the big man had wrapped me up like a pretzel, squeezing me so tightly I struggled to breathe. Still, I continued the useless fight.

Mari’s screech of pain yanked my attention to her as her back arched. The man with the mustache holding her had a fist full of my sister’s dark hair, yelling, Shut up!

Her little feet kicked, and the pretty doll she gripped plummeted to the ground before his snakeskin boots smashed its pale face into the dirty, uneven cobbles of the walkway.

It happened in the blink of an eye, yet everything switched into slow motion as I witnessed ‘Mustache’ purposely let go of my baby sister.

Screaming, Mari fell, arms flailing wildly in the air, hit her head on the corner of a cement planter, and went still.

Rivulets of blood ran from her temple as the panic burst past my numb lips, Mariana!

She didn’t move.

Ice skittered over my skin. Wake up, Mari! Wake up!

Uncle came barreling out of the house, followed by my mother. She shouldered her way past him, fell to her knees, and clutched my lifeless sister to her, sobbing into Mari’s neck, I’m here, baby. Momma’s here.

What happened? my uncle demanded.

She bit me. Sweat beads were forming crystals on Mustache’s forehead.

Liar! I screamed as uncontrollable tears streamed down my face. You dropped her!

It was an accident. I swear, boss.

Mariana’s limp arm hung at her side, the fingertips on her left hand skimming the twisted foot of her mangled doll as Momma gently rocked her, murmuring words I couldn’t understand.

Uncle’s gaze swung to me. Let him go, Tony.

Something within me broke when he put me down, altering me so profoundly that it restructured my genetic code and reshaped the boy I’d been into the visage of vengeance.

Bellowing some guttural sound of pain and pure, undiluted hatred, I ran to my uncle, grabbed the handle peeking from the waistband of his slacks, jerked, spun, and pointed the pistol at the man stumbling back with his hands up.

Put the gun down, Gabriel, my uncle instructed calmly.

No! I swiped snot and tears from my nose and lips using my wrist. He let go of Mari on purpose!

Momma was still rocking my motionless sister, softly murmuring, lost in grief.

Advancing on Mustache, I pulled the trigger.

Uncle barked a twisted laugh. Always leave the first chamber empty.

He strode to me in three steps, took the heavy weapon from my grip, and put the barrel right between Mustache’s eyes. Pray.

Chin trembling, I shuffled my feet until my legs gave out, and I slumped by my mother. I don’t think she knew I was even there as Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death quavered around us.

Boom!

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Finished, I sat the stubby pencil down, then held the corner of my confessions over the flickering candle. The paper began turning black, the orange glow spreading, and the letter crinkled as ash drifted away. Then, whoomph, the fire grew, engulfing the words that Ly would never read.

Rolling my head along my stiff shoulders, I stood, licked two fingers, and extinguished the flame with a sizzle, taking comfort in the only thing I could. None of the ugly would ever touch the woman I loved because I would make damn sure the monsters, both old and new haunting me, couldn’t find their way to her.

One

Gabriel

March 4th – Twenty-seven years ago

Eden Hill, Kentucky

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Her cries woke me. They always did. Maybe the reason was after my sister’s death, I had become a light sleeper, or perhaps the promise I’d made my mother when we moved here—I would watch over the baby—kept me alert.

"I have to keep her safe, I’d said as Momma placed the newborn in her pillowy bassinet, I can’t let anything happen to her."

She smiled softly, hugged me, and whispered, Thank you, hijo. I need my big boy helper, then kissed my forehead. Turning to go, her, Don’t worry anymore, Alfonse is in the past, drifted to me. I nodded, but I’ve never stopped worrying he’d find us, even though we left everything behind following Mariana’s funeral, clothes and all, running away from our home in rural Texas like fugitives in the middle of the night.

Scrubbing a palm down my face, I glanced at the time on my alarm clock—1:13 A.M.

My mother was the Whitfield’s nanny and had a lot of responsibility, especially since they weren’t home much. But earlier, she wasn’t feeling well when she tucked me in for the night. It was in her eyes and the weary way she held her shoulders and not the usual sadness that clung to her. No, this was different, like she was coming down with something. If I didn’t quiet Lyric, she’d wake Momma, and I couldn’t let that happen. Both of them needed their sleep. Besides, I was eight now and the man of the house when Mr. Whitfield was gone. I could handle everything.

I took a breath, flipped the cover back, got out of bed, and went across the dimly lit hall to the nursery, though I wasn’t sure we should call it that anymore since the baby had turned three and no longer slept in a crib.

Twisting the knob, then opening the door, I stepped into the room made for a princess, with a spindled canopy bed draped in antique lace tied back in swooping swags. A pink-velvet wingback sat by the large window. Shelves of stuffed toys and pretty dolls in frilly dresses took up another wall. A teeny table and chairs with the miniature tea set was over by the walk-in closet, a wooden rocking horse in the corner, and the bedside table with the spinning nightlight that shot twirling stars onto the arching sky-blue ceiling was on.

My attention shifted to Lyric, curled into a ball, sucking her thumb, her snowy nightgown twisted across her thin legs with shimmering tears flowing down her little face.

"Shh...don’t cry. I quickly crossed the room. I’m here."

She sniffed, lifted, and glanced at me with watery blue-gray eyes. Riel...

I sat next to her, one leg bent on the mattress, my bare foot on the thick carpet, wondering when she’d ever get my name right, but I didn’t care she said it all wrong.

Ly scrambled into my lap. Bad.

The monsters again?

Uh-huh.

I knew about them, they visited me often in my thoughts, but my tormentors couldn’t be allowed to torture her.

Wrapping my arms around Lyric’s delicate frame, I kissed the top of her honey-blonde head. Her curls smelled of baby shampoo. I’ll scare them away, okay?

She nodded.

Rocking Lyric back and forth, I started humming one of the lullabies Momma would sing to her, feeling her rigid body relax. It wouldn’t take long for her to fall back to sleep—it never did.

Arm lifting, Ly wound her small fingers into the hair that brushed the collar of my T-shirt and tried to mimic the tune.

I kept humming and rocking, rocking and humming.

Eventually, her breathing slowed, and she went quiet as I transitioned into singing softly.

"Las niñas bonitas se duermen aquí

Soñar, soñar

Con una estrellita que empieza a brillar..."

I knew the moment she had drifted off because her twirling fingers went still, then her hand slackened and slowly slipped down the material on my chest.

Taking Ly with me, I stood, turned, lay her down, tugged the quilt over her, tucking it under her chin, brushed some super soft spirals from her forehead, and whispered, No more bad dreams now. The monsters are gone. I promise you are safe.

I was at the door when her sleepy Riel caused me to flip around. No go, prease?

I scrubbed the back of my head with my palm, then went to the bed, pulled the corner of the quilted blanket down, scooted next to her, and took hold of Ly’s tiny hand. I won’t leave.

Her murmured, ’K, drew my gaze, but her eyelids were closed.

I studied her face, those pink bow lips, and long lashes. They curled at the ends and created shadows on the top of her rosy cheeks. She was so pretty, like those baby angels on the painting downstairs in Mr. Whitfield’s study.

Looking up, I stared at the underside of the white canopy, releasing a long-ago vow, "I will keep you safe, Lyric. Always."

Two

Lyric

June 28th – Twenty years ago

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Kerplunk!

I grinned. The splash shot up and surrounded the small gray rock I’d tossed in the pond, quickly sinking into the murky depths. It might be gone, but I focused on a million glittering peaks the impact left behind as they bounced along the surface before glancing at my open palm.

Carefully, I picked through the pebbles I’d collected.

Tilting my head, I plucked one up and studied what I held between two fingers, absorbed in my observations.

What is it?

Littering the tall reeds by releasing my rocky stash, I could swipe my grubby hand over the material of my T-shirt-covered stomach. Compared to what I kept, that loot was nothing special. But there was something odd about the shape of the one I had, so I squatted at the water’s edge and plunged the dirt-caked stone in to wash it off. Once I was sure it was clean, I yanked it out.

My eyes widened. What I held wasn’t anything I expected. It was a tiny, polished-smooth heart the color of a turquoise sky.

Cool, I breathed, knowing I would add this to the treasure box Gabriel made me, a gift for my eighth birthday. Two years of valuable discoveries were beginning to add up, but this was by far the best.

Lyric!

I jolted, startled by