by Piper Rayne
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I should call them and let them know I’m okay. It has been two weeks since I upped and left my life behind to come here. I glance at my watch. Maybe I have some time now to escape to the loading bay? There’s hardly any signal here…
I grab my jacket and a packet of unopened cigarettes from my bag and head back into the tunnels to make my way to the rear exit of the warehouse. I don’t smoke, but I had the bright idea to use them as cover for when I’m snooping around. I can say I’m just out for a smoke or something. I just hope to God that they don’t make me light up as I’m pretty sure I’d fail right there. I lied about my age, of course. And my qualifications.
If I get caught, impersonating a doctor and being younger than the legal age is the last of my worries. I’m pretty sure the Twins would drag me into the bowels of this place and torture every last secret from me. After that they’d probably rape me, beat me, and leave my body in a river somewhere.
Ever since I forged my qualifications and took the job as resident medic for the club—which happens to come with an all-expenses paid apartment above the strip of businesses owned by the Twins—Elias has invited me to his club almost every night for after hours drinks, and every night he’s tried it on. Though, I don’t mind Elias; he’s the lesser evil of the two brothers, if a little grabby at times. He likes to possess women, so he’s easy to play. I know his type, it’s how I got this dammed job in the first place. Wearing the tightest, shortest skirt I could find, throwing myself all over him and teasing him until he was salivating at the bat of an eyelash.
Alexei, on the other hand, is a different story. He looks at me like he wants to see inside of me and tinker around a bit, and not my inner emotional state either but my actual working organs. Creepy as hell.
Outside, it smells like rain and the only light is from a solo streetlamp and the loading bay interior. The place is deserted. Cold, damp air passes through the thin shirt I’m wearing. Quickly, I pull on my jacket and lean against the warehouse wall, then speed dial Zac’s number.
I’m not looking forward to calling him. Zac will be pissed that I disobeyed him. He said it was dangerous, and he’s probably right. But what’s a girl to do? My brother has been missing for several months after fighting in that damned ring. If he’s not dead already, I need to find him.
It rings once before he picks up. That’s the fastest he’s ever answered. Usually he lets it ring while he’s on a job. He must be pissed.
“Rae. What the fuck? Where are you?” His voice is all authority. I want to tell him. I have to tell him.
I take a breath, before my resilience caves in and makes me give myself up. I think of my brother, and how much I miss him. That, and having a distance between us gives me the strength I need.
“Screw you, Zac. I’m not coming home.”
“Just tell me where the fuck you are. Now.”
“Or what? You’ll drag me back? You’re not my father, you’re not even in charge. I don’t have to listen to you.” Not all of the family supported my cousin’s claim to takeover the family business, Mother included. When my dad was around, Zac wasn’t even on the radar. That makes him as low as Darius in my mind. Third. One step up from no one.
I breathe in deeply.
None of that matters anymore. I couldn’t care less about family politics. I just want Dylan, my brother, back home where he belongs, with me. The thought of Dylan spears a dull ache into the center of my chest and causes tears to spring from the corners of my eyes. I blink and have to suck down a breath to calm myself.
“So, you’re not coming home?” Zac growls.
“Not right now,” I sniff.
“Shall I tell your mother that?”
What am I? Twelve? But I don’t say that, instead I remind him of how much he’s going to hurt when she finds out he doesn’t know where the hell I am.
“It’s your funeral,” I say with a shrug even though Zac can’t see me.
I know I sound like a petulant child, but I’m not going to give in. Not when I’m this close. I know the brothers had something to do with Dylan’s disappearance, I just know it. Zac might be standing-in as the boss but he’s a freaking coward. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t need to do this by fucking myself. I’m a Hunter just like my father. I can do this. I have to.
There’s a hissing down the other end of the line and I flatten my lips in response as the cold wind blows a gale around me.
“Fuck, Rae, you do my head in, you know that? If you’re not going to tell me where you are, just tell me you’re safe, at least,” Zac says down the line.
“I’m safe.” Lying is easier on the phone when he can’t see his way to the truth.
Suddenly there’s a noise coming from the garage door which doubles as an entrance to the Twins’ apartment; a two-story, glass tower duplex sitting adjacent to the arena warehouse. From my spot against the wall, I glance over. It looks like the shutters are starting to open, and I can just about hear the sound of a car engine as it approaches.
Someone is coming home.
“Zac, I’ve got to go,” I say, backing out of the way of the headlights and into the protective shadow of the building. It might be Elias. If he catches me outside while the fight is on, I can kiss this job goodbye.
“Wait—” I don’t. I hang up on Zac, forgetting him instantly, and crouch down in the dark to the side of the loading bay. I slip my phone into my pocket in time as a rather luxurious-looking black vehicle with huge silver wheels pulls into the loading bay area, and then into the Twins’ driveway. It’s not Elias. He has a McLaren, if I remember rightly.
From my hiding place, and by the soft light of the streetlamp, I can just about make out the driver is a woman; a rather beautiful one with reddish-brown hair piled high on her head and dark red lipstick. I switch position to get a better glimpse and I swear she looks right at me as she drives by.
She must be a patron of the club. I can’t imagine the Twins have many visitors, so it stands to reason. They certainly don’t bring girls back home. They have a suite in the casino hotel for that.
As she rolls into the building’s underground garage like she owns it, I hesitate to follow. Curiosity has got the better of me and I really want to slip under the shutters before they can seal shut, but I can’t. I have to get back. The fight should be over by now.
I have a job to do if I don’t want to get fired.
Or worse killed.
When I get back to the corridor where the clinic is, Darius in all his half-naked, beaten up glory, is waiting—leaning against the wall with a dark look on his face. He’s still wearing the bloodied wraps on his hands. He looks like he’s been dragged through hell a hundred times.
He also looks like he wants to eat me.
Maybe I want to be eaten.
Shit. Where did that come from?
His pale-blue eyes rove over me. There’s a question in them. No doubt he wonders where the hell I’ve been, but he doesn’t say anything, instead he folds his arms while I open the clinic door and then follows me inside.
I grab my white coat from behind the door and gesture to the examination bench, trying not to stare too much as he strips off his wraps. I reach for my stethoscope to start the check-up.
My eyes do wander a little though, I can’t help it. It’s hard not to take in his broad, sculpted shoulders complimented by a set of perfectly chiseled abs. This close he smells of sweat, salt, and fresh blood. You’d think the smell would repel me but it doesn’t. It does the opposite. Images flash through my mind of me licking his bicep as desire floods my body.
Fuck.
What the hell is wrong with me?
You’d think I’d be used to half naked men by now given the job and usually I am, but there's something about Darius that has me an emotional mess inside. He was a legend to me growing up. The one guy my father trusted beyond anything. I’ll even admit I had a crush on him. How could I not. He was my father’s right hand man; domineering,
arrogant, cocksure. He was also panty-dropping hot as hell. Still is.
Even though I knew he was a player and women would fall all over themselves just to get his attention, I dreamt Darius would be my first. Looking back, that was a ludicrous idea. Darius never saw me that way. I was the boss’s teenage daughter. If he had my father would have cut his dick off, fed it to the dogs, and grounded me for fucking life.
Still, one night with Darius back then might have been so worth it.
My mouth goes dry and I find my gaze sliding down to the solid v of muscle just above his shorts. You’re not a teenager now, Rae. You’re a grown woman. There’s nothing to stop you living out that fantasy.
Heat flushes my cheeks as it does everywhere else, especially between my legs. There’s a clearing of a throat. I drag my eyes up to see Darius looking straight at me, a ghost of a smile straying over his lips as though he can read my mind. I ignore him and my hormones, and carry on running my hands over his firm abs checking for internal injuries, playing at being professional. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him see how much his semi-naked body affects me. Even if his skin feels so warm to touch and I desperately want to know how it feels against mine, I step away.
Breathe, Rae. This is your job so fucking do it already.
On the side bench is my suture kit. I grab it, open it up, and start to close the nasty gash on his side from the crushed glass the fighters like to cover their wraps in before a match. I do it all without administering anesthetic. I know Darius won’t take anything to block the pain so there’s no point in asking.
He's still staring at me. Blue orbs burning into my soul from the periphery of my vision as I try to work.
“Do you have to stare at me like that?” I say without looking up from what I’m doing.
Darius regards me, all mussed dark hair and piercing blue eyes, the same body of a god as the first day he showed up at my house. He was younger then, although, he hasn’t changed much. I still feel I know him like I know the back of my hand.
But that was then, when I was just a teenager with a school-girl crush. I must not forget who he works for and that he’s a killer.
“Have we met before?”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Er yes, we met last week? In this room?”
“No, no, I mean before that?”
My breath catches and I almost drop the needle. He’d better not be joking. Suddenly, for some reason I'm angry. I know I was a teenager when I last saw him but I haven’t changed that much. Why is he still pretending not to know me? The fucker. At first I thought that he was doing it to protect me but we’re alone here. I know there are cameras in every part of this shitty warehouse but he could give me some kind of inaudible signal that he remembers me. Is he faking to make it easier for him? Does he not know how hurtful that is?
Fucking traitor!
He grunts as I stab the needle a little deeper than I intend.
“Sorry. Did I hurt you?” I say, not quite able to meet those blue eyes of his, unable to keep the annoyance from my voice.
“No. It’s all good. You're doing great,” he adds.
“I'm doing fucking amazing,” I retort.
He gives me an incredulous look, a smirk forming on that luscious mouth making me want to kiss it. “That’s some mouth you have on you.”
It’s my turn to frown at him. “You’re calling me out for bad language after you just killed someone?”
Okay, so I’m not really over that either. The fact that I’m treating Darius first means the other guy is clearly dead which makes him a murderer, just like everyone else in this God forsaken building. He’s worse than all the others, given who he used to be. The Darius I know would have stopped this. He wouldn’t kill for fun or money. The Darius I knew did only what he had to do to protect the business, and protect the family. He wouldn’t become the reigning champion of The Pit—slaughtering more souls than anyone else I've ever met. What's his kill-count again? Elias spouts it at every opportunity he can get. To be honest, I don't even want to remember.
Not everyone who fights in The Pit is there to win the prize money, most take to the ring out of debt to the Twins, having no choice but to enter the cage and fight Darius. If he knows that and takes their lives anyway…
My blood boils just thinking about it. I steal another glimpse into his eyes. Traces of regret seem to lurk in their blue depths. There’s a distance in the way he regards me back, like he’s looking at me from behind a sheet of glass. When I first saw him fight, I had hoped he wasn't killing all his opponents. I prayed he wasn't. Otherwise, what's the hope for Dylan still being alive?
If Darius killed my brother, I’m going to end him myself. I don’t know how but I will, so fucking help me God.
“Do you kill them all?” I snap, unable to help myself. Tears spring up in my eyes as I finish his stitches and not-to-gently apply iodine and an alcoholic salve to the wound.
I hope it stings like hell.
“All who?”
“Your opponents. Are they all dead?” My words are high-pitched and blunt as the pain in my heart. If Dylan is dead…
His nostrils flare as he looks at me. “Not all, no.”
“So, what happens to the ones you don't kill?” I’m hyper aware my voice is raised and my eyes are blazing, but I don’t care. I’m risking everything by asking but I have to know. I can’t not know.
“Honestly, I’ve no idea.”
“Of course, you don’t,” I snap. I narrow my eyes at him, resisting the urge to slap him. Then, I concentrate on rolling a bandage but it all goes back wonky. I unroll and roll again. My hands are trembling. I can't help it.
After a minute of him watching me fail at life, he’s still staring at me. I glance up as his brows raises. The confusion on his face is real. He looks at me like I’m not who he thought I was. He’s right. I’m so not. He really doesn't have a clue and for the first time since I got here the sheet of glass between us has a crack. It’s the call with Zac. It’s riled me up. That and the fact that I’ve been in this depraved world two weeks and found nothing. Zilch. It’s like the ones who fight here just fucking vanish into thin air.
“You knew what this place was before you took the job, right? You know who the Twins are?”
I give up on the bandage and opt for an adhesive gauze. Once unpeeled, I slap it over his wound super hard. The noise of my hand cracking his flash is strangely satisfying. “I know who the Twins are. That doesn’t mean I have to like what they do. You on the other hand seem to like it more than you let on,” I say.
“Is that right?” he says, his face darkening.
“That’s what I see.”
“You don’t even know me,” he snorts.
I know you more than you think.
“Maybe you’re right,” I lie. “Maybe, I don't know you or what happened to make you a cold-blooded killer taking innocent lives so fucking easily, working for the worst kind of people on earth, but I damn well know I'd rather die than become what you are.”
You left us to die Darius. You left us all.
There’s an awkward and strained silence while he stares at me. You can hear a pin drop and maybe my heart racing to catch up with my thoughts.
What the hell. I'm supposed to be under fucking cover! Well done, Rae. Why not dump all your shitty opinions right out in the open. If the cameras don’t catch it, Darius being the turncoat he is will fucking report it back to the Twins!
“I see” he says, flatly.
The air is thick with frost between us, making it hard to breathe. Great, Rae, this is not the way to get Darius on your side!
Oh well, fuck it. If he tells Elias, I’m going out guns blazing and Darius can rot with the guilt for the rest of his shitty life.
I blink a few times, gnawing my lower lip. “Maybe…I shouldn't have said that,” I say.
He cocks a brow and snorts. “Just be careful what you say around here, babe. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”
/> “Is that a threat?”
“A threat? Is that what you think that was? Do you think I’d hurt you? Are you afraid of me?” His eyes are cold now, narrowed at me like he can’t quite believe we’re having this conversation. I can’t quite believe it either but I’m glad we are. I hate all this passive aggressive shit. I’m tired of secrets. Part of me wants this all out in the open.
“After what I’ve seen, maybe.”
He shakes his head. “Maybe? Fuck.”
“Now who has the potty mouth,” I say, glaring.
He stares at me for the longest time and then sighs, running his hand through his dark hair. “Babe, it’s been a long night. We should rest.”
I nod, feeling more angry by the second. “Fine, we’re done here anyway.” I turn away from him and head to the cabinet above the countertop. “Just avoid vigorous movement for a few days and take these until I see you next.” I produce a couple of medicine bottles from within the locked cabinet.
“What is it?” I hear him say behind me. He sounds full of distrust, like what I’m prescribing him might contain poison.
I check the labels to make sure. “Oral antibiotics and some painkillers. They should help you heal a bit faster and stave off any secondary infection”
“No, I don’t do drugs.”
I cast my eyes heavenward and turn around to face him. “If you don’t take them that wound will get infected and you won’t be able to fight. They won’t affect your reaction ti—”
He’s no longer on the bench but right behind me, towering over me. How did he move so fast and so quietly?
His fingers brush over mine as he reaches to take both medicine bottles and I jump back since I’m not expecting it or him to be so close, hitting my head on the edge of the shelf behind me. Some of the precariously stacked glass bottles in the cabinet fall and drop, shattering on impact.