Identity

by Brandy Slaven

  Abraham and I had been splashing around in the water when Anderson threw me over his shoulder and marched us out into darker depths. It’s his fault my fear of sharks is even a thing now. I’d screamed for him to put me down or take me back. It’d garnered enough attention from the others that Alek and Alejandro were already swimming out to us.

  “Face your fears,” Anderson had growled at me, his dark brown eyes glued to me as if searching my soul.

  “If there’s a shark out here, and it’s your time to go, then it just is. But, let me tell you something, it’ll have to go through me first. Do you want to live in fear for the rest of your life? Let it rule you to the point that you miss out on the good moments like these?”

  Then he’d slammed his lips down on mine, making me forget about the others, the ocean, the sharks. All of it. The hard stubble he’d kept in clean lines down his jaw, chin, and upper lip scratched against the soft skin of my face.

  He wasn’t the first one of them to kiss me, but it was the first time I’d felt the hope of being able to keep them. Kissing me like that knowing the others were close, meant he didn’t care, and planned to do it again. It gave me the courage to pull myself up by his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist. When he’d opened his mouth, I did the same, giving him full access. The first brush of his tongue against mine sent tingles through my chest.

  I had run my fingers through the small amount of hair on top of his head. Since he kept the sides shaved, there was only enough room for one hand. The other I let wander over the broad expanse of his muscled shoulders, mainly over the tattoo that ran up toward his neck. A small thing that I’d wanted to do ever since he got the sexy thing.

  As I’d let my arm drift back into the water, something had latched onto it. I jerked away from Anderson with a scream at the same time Alejandro yanked my body toward him. Alek barely waited until I was out of the way before he’d slugged Anderson right across the jaw.

  Alejandro had towed us back toward the beach, but I was trying to pry his hands off my hips to get back out to the other two.

  “Come on, mi cariña,” he’d murmured in my ear. “If they start fighting and drawing blood, they’ll be the ones getting eaten by sharks.”

  Fear spiked higher than his soft accent that has always made my belly do flips.

  “Alek! Stop! Please!” I’d yelled at them.

  Anderson never even lifted a hand to defend himself, and Alek’s was already pulled back and ready to hit him again. My voice stopped him, and they both started our way. It was only then did I stop fighting Alejandro. The rest of the day had gone along as though nothing had happened, the only evidence being the slight swelling to Anderson’s jaw.

  He never did anything like that again, but he’d taught me the one lesson guaranteed to stick for a long time. It was the one I’d held onto when I left them. I refuse to let fear win.

  Securing the ankle strap for my board, I rush out into the cold water. The temperature is what drives people away this time of year, leaving more open water for me. Sometimes there are other locals out, but not today.

  Paddling out past the break, I sit up on my board, letting my feet dangle into the water. There’s a moment every single time that steals my breath. The one where my heart pounds in my throat as I sit waiting for a good wave, unable to see into the water around me. I’ve just got to hope that fate is on my side today and that I won’t get nommed by a shark or sucked down into the undertow.

  A wave builds, and I hold my breath as I watch it. Once I’m sure it’s the one, I lay down and turn to paddle back toward the beach. I can feel the life of the wave as though it’s speaking to me. When the moment is just right, I get to my feet and ride the glorious force of nature all the way to its peak. Joy flows all the way down to my toes, blending well with the adrenaline and chasing all traces of fear away.

  I spend another hour or so on the waves before a stock-still figure down the beach catches my attention. Without hawk eyes, I’m not able to tell for sure if they’re looking my way or not, but it seems that way. They’re tall and broad shouldered, too, which leaves me to think it’s a man rather than a woman. A shiver goes up my spine, and it has nothing to do with the cold or sharks this time.

  Letting the last wave carry me in, I meet a familiar face on the beach.

  “Knew I’d find you out here when you didn’t answer your phone,” Ransam tells me, coming to his feet and shaking sand off his ass.

  I grin at his skinny jeans and old band tee. He and his brother are so different it’s comical. Orsam is built like old school Schwarzenegger and likes wearing all the fancy clothes. Ransam isn’t as much muscle and prefers a more laid-back appeal. One’s literally the brains and the other the brawn. Orsam’s dark head never has a hair out of place, but his brother’s blonde mess is always in disarray like he just woke up and ran a hand through it. I’d thought more than once about doing it myself.

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended at your stalking,” I tease, standing my board up.

  He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m skilled enough to make you feel both.”

  My laugh is loud as he wiggles his eyebrows. Yeah, these brothers are something else. It’d be an easy feat to lose my heart to them if it didn’t already belong to six others.

  Accepting my laugh as a response, he adds, “We’ve got work to do tonight.”

  That one statement sobers all the humor out of me.

  “Let me change, and I’ll meet you there,” I tell him.

  “Yes, boss,” he replies with a salute. “I’d give you a hug before I leave, but I’d like to stay dry.”

  “Pussy,” I call at his back, his chuckle slipping over his shoulder.

  Turning my gaze down the shoreline, the strange man is nothing more than a tiny dot on the horizon. My imagination is running wild today. There’s no way that’s who I thought it was, I muse while walking up the sand dunes. Aric wouldn’t be here, and if he was, he wouldn’t walk away without saying anything. Not after the way I left them. Hell, maybe they've moved on by now, and I worried myself sick for years for no reason, thinking they'd be searching for me. Though, being honest with myself, I know it's not really the guys I was running from. No, it was their father. Ralph Trenton. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I would seriously walk into the sea with no intention of coming back out before going back to him.

  As I make my way back to the shed, I place my board in its spot before stripping out of my wetsuit and back into my work uniform. I'd rather a nice pair of leather or jeans, but the last time I was out here, I forgot to bring a replacement for the ones I wore home. Work uniform it is, then. Not like the guys will mind. Neither will our client.

  I hop on my bike and start the trek across town. It was my one demand with this business. Our base couldn't be anywhere near where any of us live or work. The less traceable footsteps we leave, the better. Unfortunately, this day and age, it's almost impossible to do things anonymously. There are cameras in every store and on every street corner, which is why I'm driving toward one of the worst parts of the city. The thugs and deviants there took care of all the cameras and stuff a long time ago. Can't have the man breathing down your neck while you sell your drugs on the street corner.

  Turning down Cherry Street, I guide Baby into the rundown parking garage a few blocks over from our meeting place. I take her all the way up to the third floor where I know they've got a place to lock up motorcycles. In all seriousness, all it would take is a giant pair of bolt cutters, and they could steal her. Unfortunately for them, this place has cameras in one spot. I avoid it like the plague since I know a secret way out, but they'd have to drive right by it to leave. It would take me a day at the most to find them. Then their ass would be grass.

  I don't dally on the streets after leaving the garage. Doing dumb shit like that will get you killed or worse in these parts. However, it might be fun for one of them to try. I didn't earn the nickname Voice Stealer for no reason.

 
; When I come up on the old building that houses us, I climb up the stairs of the fire exit to the third floor. The door leading inside is always unlocked. Five minutes in the streets around here, and anyone will find out this is the last place you want to be breaking into. Walking all the way to the end of the hall, I rap on the plain brick-colored door twice, once, and then three times. The code changes every week, not like this is the banging spot to hang out or anything, but we still can't risk it.

  Orsam's handsome face pokes through the crack. "Magic password?"

  "Let me in before I punch you in the throat?" I reply.

  He laughs, but it's cut short by another voice behind him. "You better let her in, bro. I was there that night she punched Neeks."

  Orsam chuckles again as he moves his wide-ass shoulders to let me through.

  Mike stands with his back propped against the wall with a thoughtful expression. "You know that man still can't talk properly. Sounds like an old squeaker toy."

  I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. "That's not true. Even if it was, he deserved that shit. It's what he gets for not taking no for an answer."

  Orsam grunts his agreement at my back while Mike nods. I leave them to it and join Ransam at the computers, "What have we got?"

  "Pretty simple stuff," he replies without taking his eyes from the screen. "A woman and child needing papers to get them as far as Mexico."

  It's not our business to ask why, but sometimes I just can't help it. Especially when there are children involved.

  Apparently, Ransam's been working with me long enough to sate my curiosity without me having to ask. "Abusive husband situation. She can't stay in the states because she thinks he'll find her. Says he's got connections or something."

  "Damn, I hate the ones with kids," I growl.

  He lifts his chin in agreement. "Yeah, me, too. She's got family down there somewhere, so maybe it'll be the best thing for 'em."

  "We can always hope," I murmur, getting to work on running files and internally burning others.

  Mike props his ass on the desk beside me while looking down at his phone. "She said she can pay extra for the rush, too."

  My spine stiffens as I glare up at him, "You're seriously going to take extra money from a woman about to go on the run with her kid when it's only going to take another thirty minutes to have this ready to roll?"

  "Yeah," he replies before noting the silence in the room. Once he finally glances at us, he adds, "Look, this is a business. If we start feeling sorry for one person, then they all expect handouts, and soon, none of us are putting any cash in our pockets."

  I can't fault him for that, but I can't say I agree with him. "It's not like we're giving her a discount or anything, Mikey. She offered extra money, and we should respectfully decline it."

  That glazed in thought expression flashes on his face again. "Would you turn it down if there wasn't a kid involved?"

  "Yes," I reply without hesitation. "I've been in their shoes, and I wish I would've had just one person that was nice to me when I needed it the most. Sometimes it's more than what you can physically get from people, Mike. Money isn't everything."

  He shrugs because he knows he's not going to win this one. "Whatever you want to do."

  It doesn’t help my case that Orsam snorts loudly somewhere behind my chair, letting Mike know he just got beat in a debate. He hates that shit, especially when it comes to his money. This is an odd and extremely illegal business, and we could all go to jail for a very long time. It’s why we’ve all got our own roles to play.

  Mike brings us the clients. When I say clients, I mean we’ve seen just about every brand now. The rich. The poor. The abused. The criminals. The runaways. It doesn’t matter to Mike one way or the other who these people are or who they plan to be. All he sees are dollar signs. One of our last cases was for a murderer, and that’s when I finally put my foot down. I’m not going to be helping someone escape their crime and just punishment. Of course, all that makes me in the end is just a giant fucking hypocrite. However, when I told Mike I’d quit before I helped anymore of those clients, he conceded.

  I’m the wiz with internal workings of the internet and black markets, so naturally I’m responsible for burning all the right things before rebuilding new lives from the ashes.

  Ransam has my back as he goes behind me and ties up loose ends or footprints we’ve left. He’s also in charge of our online security. A part of the whole erasing footprints thing and making sure no breadcrumbs can be linked back to us.

  Orsam is our other kind of security. We’ve all seen the man press twice his weight, and then some, at the gym. So, it’s only natural he owns the position of being our physical guard, in case we ever need one. Knock on wood, that time will never come. For now, he serves his purpose well just being around to keep me and Ransam in check if we get lost in our work for hours, bringing us drinks and making sure we eat.

  It’s a team effort, and the gears can’t grind if one of us is missing or broken.

  “There we go,” I announce to the room as I hit the button to send all the new documents to the printer.

  “Easy,” Ransam starts.

  And I finish for him. “Peasy.”

  We do a quick fist bump before turning back to our screens and shutting everything down.

  I spin my chair to face Mike where he’s gathering up the papers and placing them in manila envelopes. I want to ask if that small amount of time was worth asking her to pay more, but I don’t bother. I’ve already won my case, so I leave it.

  Without another word to any of us, he dips his chin to us and takes his leave.

  “Rude,” Ransam murmurs.

  It’s the way it always is. Mike is here for one thing and one thing only. He doesn’t pretend to have a friendship with any of us, but we know there’s some kind of kindred there. He never wants to be seen with us in public and will make his time here as short as possible, but I’m not offended. We’ll all have extra money in our bank accounts in a few short hours.

  Clapping my hands together, I rub my palms together in an evil fashion. “Anyone up for pizza?”

  A few days later, I’m practically skipping down the hallway at work. This morning, I took my board out in the wee hours before sunrise. Risky move, considering it’s prime feeding time for the sharks, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. The storm that’s now raging war against the outside wall brought some huge swells in this morning. There were a lot of happy surfers out this morning, too. At least I had a better percentage of not dying. I’m calling that winning.

  It’s the right way to start the morning. I wasn’t even late to work either, so the entire thing has put me in one of the best moods I’ve been in for a while. Especially since the damn Trenton brothers have invaded my dreams every single night this week.

  On my way past the break room, a flyer pinned to the corkboard catches my eye. I put on the brakes and cut inside the room. Sure enough, I’d read it right the first time. Someone is holding a fifties-themed get together at the community center tomorrow. Oh junk, this is right up my alley, and I know two cats that will make sure I don’t have to go alone.

  “Oh, come on, Orsam,” I beg a couple hours later.

  We sit in the middle of their floor around a small coffee table eating Chinese takeout. I can’t even remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Our apartments are only equipped with a tiny counter space and a single burner that is barely good enough to fix macaroni and cheese. Tonight, the guys had picked up dinner on their way home and invited me to join. They knew I would because they’d gotten my favorite dim sum dumplings and pepper chicken. Getting home to a blacked-out building hadn’t even deterred us as I’d come to the rescue with some candles I’d been hoarding under my sink. They’d never even been lit. My tiny little apartment wouldn’t survive a fire, and I’d rather not go up in a puff of smoke with it. The brothers have them carefully placed around the room, apparently not wanting the same thing.

  The firelight
plays across the big man’s face as he glares at me over his box of fried rice and beef. “Look, weirdo, I’m sure it’ll be fun and all that, but these things are really weird. Weird people crawl out of their weird little hovels to show off in front of a bunch of other weird people. All the women that show up are weird.”

  “Say weird one more time,” I tease him, making Ransam choke on a bite of his noodles.

  Orsam sighs with a smile. “Weird.”

  Ransam and I both belly laugh at his brother. After we calm down, I wipe a stray tear from my eye. “That’s what makes them so much fun. You’re guaranteed to not know anyone, which means two things…”

  I tick them off on my fingers. “One. You won’t know anyone, so you can broaden your horizons. You never know, you might find a keeper in the midst of all those weirdos. Two. Even if you don’t find someone, we have the freedom to go out and act a fool or dance the night away without having to ever face these people again.”

  I know I’ve almost won when his face drops into a frown as he says, “But what if we go to this thing, act like fools, then I see them in the supermarket or something. What then?”

  “Then they’ll likely think, ‘Hey, that’s the weirdo from that weird dance I went to,” I say grinning.

  Ransam tries his best to get his hand up in time but doesn’t quite make it. He spews water all across the table with a laugh that sends him straight into a coughing fit.

  “Dude!” Orsam yells as I struggle to catch my breath and pound Ransam on the back at the same time.

  Settling down, we’ve got to relight one of the tall pillar candles Ransam either blew or spewed out. After which, he finally weighs in on the situation.

  “Is this going to be another one of those things like that costume party you took us to?” he asks. “You know, the one that benefited that Hearts and Paws Sanctuary where everyone dressed up as African animals.”