by Elena Monroe
I looked down at the buttons piled onto the lapel of my shirt: anti everything I was standing right next to. I felt like a fraud. I felt like Vic had won. I felt like justice had exited stage left, and my parents were frowning down upon me.
I felt like a disappointment in being the infamous activist’s daughter.
Taking the Clave’s paychecks and putting it towards something good wasn’t good enough when I actually knew where it was coming from now.
I heard the heavy door scrape across the concrete when Bowen’s ghost-like demeanor almost willed itself to appear. He moved like water, hurt like fire to look at, and nothing about him seemed tangible.
“Shipment?” I don’t think I had ever heard Bowen’s voice. He was the mysterious Horseman, who never left his corner of the office and no one dared to step over that invisible boundary. His voice was more delicate than I expected. Some of his vowels got caught on this acrimonious tone he perfected.
“Yeah, Vic left already. I can’t verify his… shit.” I could feel all of the guys around me judge my choice of words.
Bowen glided over like air, only stopping to lift the crate that wasn’t open and peek inside before pushing the lid back enough to grab one of the guns. I felt myself tense. The gun was out of the box, and every other time I had seen a gun it ended in a riot.
Peace is always long gone when the guns come out.
“Looks like it’s all there,” Bowen walked off with a gun and a strap of cash he pushed into his back pocket.
Seeing someone own this moment enough to be comfortable made me want to throw up. I swore I could taste the sour building up at the back of my throat, ready to work its way up.
“Are you serious? I can’t deal with this. It’s your company.”
Dante strode closer to me after pushing a fist against Bowen’s in some kind of fucking frat boy salute. “Relax. Don’t get all worked up. Just give this to Vic—his receipt. I know how much he loves the rules.”
Pushing a piece of paper in my hands, I read letters and numbers shoved together in codes while Bowen made a break for his car, a blacked out Aston Martin that screamed fuck the speed limit. He was actually leaving me here to fend for myself after seeing my wide-eyed expression and discomfort.
These guys were exactly the kind of evil that made the world go round. Ignoring Dante and his goons, I marched over to Bowen’s car and planted myself right in his path with my arms folded against my chest tightly.
Perking back upright, his elbows pressed into the top of his car. Clearly so much taller than the toy car, he twisted his head in my direction. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Do you have a problem telling the truth? I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit. Guns? Drugs? Money? I’m not being an accomplice for people who can’t even tell me where my best friend is!” I felt my hard exterior just get harder. I was a shell of the fun-loving feminist I used to be.
He was on the wrong side of my mad.
“Quit then,” He shrugged, leaving a pause for me to consider his advice. “I have a meeting at Grimm’s. You aren’t going to get the truth unless Vic allows it. As for this shit? You don’t have to see it to know we aren’t good people, yet here you are. Pretty sure you aren’t a good person either, considering the company you keep.”
Bowen had a way of seeing through you that made you question your own moral contribution to the world. He wasn’t wrong to force me to see the other side of the argument. I only minded the particulars now because I knew exactly what those particulars were.
I stepped out of the way, dodging Dante’s black van speeding out of the garage, and Bowen was not far behind him, when I decided to call an Uber to pick me up from the Clave only to follow him to his meeting.
I was determined to get answers. I needed to satisfy my soul by doing something right. Apparently, everything else I had done lately wasn’t the winning behavior I always saw it as.
Enabler.
Accelerant.
Blind eye.
I needed to find Abigail first, then I could drop the bomb of quitting on Vic.
The Uber driver must have thought I was some stalker ex-girlfriend the way I was leaning between the seats and backseat driving his ass. He could think whatever he wanted as long as he followed Bowen to Grimm’s place.
Hitting his shoulder, I demanded he slow down enough to stay unnoticed when we got off the highway and hit the side roads. I watched the Aston Martin pause only long enough to punch in a code when I pushed the door open, shouting behind me, “5 stars and a tip! Promise!”
Thankfully, the gates closed slowly enough for me to throw myself through before I heard the click of the gate close behind me. I was kicking myself for thinking I was some adventurous girl who liked adrenaline. I was an activist who liked peace; this was anything but peaceful. Staying along the skinny trees lining the driveway, I stayed hidden as I made my way closer to the house.
All modern.
All glass.
All cold like the rest of them.
I watched Bowen get out and head inside, and I stood straight up and argued with myself over what to do next.
Knock on the door?
Cause a scene?
Look for evidence?
All the while, I talked to myself out loud, pacing behind the row of bushes, and cursing myself for coming out here. An Uber home was going to be a huge chunk of my paycheck, never mind the one down here.
Too distracted by myself, I jumped out of my skin when I heard Vic’s deep voice say my name. “Justice? You can come out now. We aren’t that dumb. Bowen knows you followed him here.”
Crap.
VIC
Bowen didn’t even wait five minutes before telling the guys and Abigail, who was buzzing around the unused kitchen, that he was followed.
Nothing in my mind thought Justice would still be herself enough to think clearly enough to make good decisions after an interaction with Dante.
Apparently she was not only annoying but also resilient when it comes to adversity.
I wanted her interaction with Dante to scare her out of digging.
I wanted her to understand I wasn’t someone she should call Vicy or mock so willingly.
I wanted her to be just a damn secretary.
Really it was just another loss at the hands of Justice. Thinking she was plain, simple, or even easily manipulated was my understatement of the year.
Shaking my head, I sucked in a breath, trying to swallow another loss because of her, when Grimm spoke bluntly: “Go handle it. She’s your secretary.”
Grimm stood planted at the island next to Abigail, ready to make me deal with Justice at his house, even with her best friend by his side—even with the Horsemen coming to the realization I wasn’t all victories, not with this look on my face or plan ready to be fired off.
“Fine. I’ll handle it, but I’m not playing security for you again.”
Standing up straighter, spine still melted down from the loss, I made my way to the door. The camera laid in the wall didn’t give her location away, but I knew she was here. Pushing the door open I could smell her hippie perfume reeking up the fresh ocean air.
“Justice? You can come out now. We aren’t that dumb. Bowen knows you followed him here!” I shouted in a louder voice, but not so loud that it took effort.
That wasn’t something I was willing to succumb to: effort over taking her down.
She walked out of the bushes, standing tall, like it was normal that she was trespassing, normal to see me outside of work, and normal that she knew exactly how bad I was.
None of this was fucking normal.
Walking right up to me and not stopping, her chest was nearly flush with mine. I folded my arms between us, making sure the space wasn’t going anywhere.
“Do you feel powerful, big man? With your guns and drugs? You’re fucking pathetic.”
Letting my brow pop and my eyelids fall down, creating pensive slits, I watched her use the fear as fuel right in
front of me. She ate up every grenade I threw, and it only gave her thicker skin.
I was giving her thicker skin.
“Selling isn’t using them, sweetheart. Is that all you came here to say? Honestly... anti-climactic. Could have waited until tomorrow.”
The fear I saw behind her eyes liquifying into fuel? Well, now that fuel lit on fire, turning her cheeks a color that clashed with her pink hair.
Her fist collided with my chest so hard I stumbled back, not expecting her to resort to violence when she’s anti… everything.
Pushing past me, she bit out her words: “I’m done playing this game with you. You’re a bad person, and you don’t have to try so hard to make people see that. Maybe Grimm has answers.”
Not gonna lie… even my cold black heart felt that blow to my ego.
Don’t try so hard to convince people you’re a bad person.
I wasn’t an asshole because I needed people to have a precursor to my moral code. No, I was measured this way to warn people off and keep myself honest when it comes to the gold standard I can’t avoid.
News flash? I didn’t like me either.
Absorbing the hit, I followed her inside, not motivated to prevent the fallout headed straight for Grimm. Maybe his brand of asshole would do something for her, because mine wasn’t.
I was chewing on my eat-shitting-smirk behind her, while she continued to shout “Grimm!” into the air. Rounding the corner, I watched her get blown over by what she saw: the Horsemen and her precious best friend, not in fact dead or hostage, but cooking dinner—living a normal life, while Justice spiraled down into being some more annoying version of Sherlock Holmes.
Standing right at her back, I leaned down close enough to whisper, “Good things come to those who wait. Maybe you shouldn’t fight me so hard for the win.”
I wasn’t going to high five her ass, but I had to learn to lose gracefully. Insulting how she won my trophy was as good as it was going to get.
Grimm was fuming in his silent but deadly way from behind the kitchen island, and I watched his hand dip into a drawer that Justice wouldn’t see. I knew where his mind was going as Abigail shrieked at such a high volume that made Bowen cringe.
Bowen already cringed when it came to human emotions. He was a fucking volt when it came to locking those parts of himself away.
Realistically, he should be the gold fucking standard. He was maniacal and cold the way they conditioned us to be.
Grimm finally spoke when he was checking the chamber for ammo and slipping the safety off, “Bo, get Abigail out of here.”
All the excitement was robbed from the girls having a reunion in his kitchen, and it turned into a kind of flat uneasiness.
Stepping towards the kitchen island, I somehow ended up closer to Justice, not protecting her, but close enough to yank her out of a bullet’s way if I had to. I couldn’t let Grimm take my greatest competition away from me before I got to beat her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice was sharp and assuming the role I played in this group as our fucked-up leader.
Abigail’s protesting fell on deaf ears when I slammed my hand down, trying to get some sort of eye contact with the monster now in front of me.
“What you should have done. You’re the one who’s heartless, and you couldn’t put her down. Why? Surely not because she’s Abigail’s friend.” Dark, moody, sinister… that’s what the rumble of his voice brought to the table.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” It was all I could muster up in the moment without giving away my real motive to keeping her alive.
Abigail was still pleading, while we talked over her crying and glossy eyes by Grimm’s side, gun in hand, still ready to kill her best friend right in front of her.
I would take being heartless if it meant not playing the monster he was right now.
“The Golden Boy growing a heart?”
Our eyes locked, and the mockery of his words was the second blow my ego took tonight. It wasn’t going unnoticed.
Grimm and I used to be thick as thieves, but something changed our senior year at Servants of Patmos. We became different people. He chose to be this kind of reaper, one that moved between personalities to cope, while I had to live with being the masked machine that I was and hate it regardless.
We all had ways to cope with this lifestyle.
“I didn’t grow shit I have no use for. She’s useful to me…” I was coping with a singular idea that maybe Justice wasn’t going to have me grow a heart any time soon, but she could be the motivation to cope with this bullshit.
“Useful? She’s going to run her mouth and get Abigail noticed by the Clave. We didn’t fake her death for no reason, Vic.”
“Abigail is safe. You never leave her damn side. Justice is my problem, remember? I’ll handle it if she can’t keep a secret.”
Grimm lifted the gun up, arm extended and the barrel aimed at Justice, who looked very uncomfortable, as she should be. Too bad I couldn’t actually enjoy it right now. Her bottom lip trembled, but her fists were balled up, like she was mad, refusing to move an inch under everyone’s watchful eye. Justice was never one thing, never that simple.
“Remember this feeling, Golden Boy. I won’t hesitate next time, and you know I never miss.”
Grimm never missed a mark; that’s why he was so good at being the reaper.
All he cared about was Abigail and his unborn child. It was hard to swallow that kind of truth when he was anti-people.
My hand closed around her elbow and yanked her closer to my side. It didn’t stop her from trying to whisper to her, “Blink twice if you need me to knee him in the balls so you can get away. Seriously, he’s crazy.”
Abigail’s hands were on Justice’s forearms still, holding her in place. “No, no, he’s just intense.”
“Don’t lie to her. I’m sure she’s anti-lies too.”
Shaking my head at Justice’s idea of escaping, Khaos sent a disruptive wave through the kitchen, when his Vans smacked the countertop and he leaned back. “So Vic, you wanted Grimm to kill Abigail when you fired her, and Grimm you want Vic to kill Justice. Okay, I’m following. You can proceed now. This is better than reality TV.”
I gave Khaos a hard stare at his fucking recap of how these women have done nothing but turn things upside down while he popped Starbursts in his open mouth. This is why I don’t invite people into my life; having a rotation of women is much easier.
“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Let’s go, Peace Corps.” I was speaking to Justice at my side, but I didn’t take my eyes off Grimm and his gun.
My whole life I took out the competition instead of winning the way I knew I could. Not with her.
“I’m not leaving Abigail.”
Turning towards her, I leaned against the counter, my hair falling from the low bun, and my patience was just as messy. “Into threesomes?”
Her face scrunched up like I offered.
“Exactly, so we’re leaving before Grimm gets any other great ideas.”
Dragging her behind me, I pushed my closed fist against Bo’s with a look of pure annoyance for everything this situation was. He was the only one I saw eye to eye with, and I wasn’t even sure how when he wasn’t humoring any humanity.
Justice tried to escape my grip, even hitting me with some fierce slaps. Letting her go, I pulled open the door to my off-white Porsche that sat low on the ground. “Don’t you get that I’m the only thing between you and death? Literally. Get in the damn car.”
I was giving her clues and hints the whole time.
“I’d rather call an Uber than get in the car with you.” She leaned against my car, trying to come off as tough, when I saw how much she felt betrayed and out of control. I felt the same shit every day; I just didn’t let my mask slip in any way.
She was getting in the damn car. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I would lose this battle with her. Leaving her at Grimm’s might as well be a fucking death certificate.
>
Pinning her against my car, I pressed my hands against the cold metal, caging her in and forcing her to listen to me.
“You think he won't kill you?”
She licked her lips, and I knew the proximity was creating a fire between her legs when her mouth fell silent. Justice could help me cope until the day I die if it meant my cock shut her up.
“I’m not having sex with you in Grimm’s driveway, so keep those fucking bedroom eyes to yourself,” I barked my words in her face, while our hips touched and her hand slid down the front of me.
“Don’t you hate him just as much as losing? Seems it...” Justice’s voice got smoother and lower between us, and her hands weren’t shy at all. She undid my belt between us without hesitation, before shoving her hand between us, wrapping around my length.
Pushing my hips further into hers I felt her hand tug on me with more of a grip than necessary. I didn’t care if she kept going. My hands tugged at her jeans, and I growled into her chest, “Take these off. I’m not a teenager, and a handy doesn’t do it for me anymore.”
I was lying through my teeth, but she couldn’t tell. Handies were fine with anyone else, but with her, they were Viagra and blue balls compared to being between her legs.
She gritted her teeth, trying to clearly hold back whatever feisty fucking come back she had rolling around in her thoughts, while she had me by the balls… literally. Her hand came up, closing around my throat, while her lips pushed against mine in a soft kiss, despite our grip on each other.
Her lips still lingering on mine, she whispered, “I win.”
I must have looked dumbfounded at the fact that something so mundane made my dick stand up even harder. I could taste her; everything Justice was melted down into this taste: sour then sweet, tough then pillow soft, but most notably... intimate. Kissing Justice was a kind of intimacy I had never felt before.
Her lips had a way of leaving a trail of regret that I had put my dick in any other woman, and if I was sappy enough to write poetry, I could probably trace romantic ass shit with my tongue along her limbs.
“You win what exactly? Embarrassing yourself?” Trying to compose myself, I pushed it all down deep with a cough. Her lips tugged at the edges into a smile—the same smile that normally meant she was, in fact, winning.