by C. M. Owens
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The sound of gunshots continue, and I clutch my gun in my hand. Maybe I even tremble a little as I watch the rear exit Sarah told me to keep an eye on, praying no one walks out, because…death and all that.
Death doesn’t bother me in the abstract. I can sentence someone to death…but actually causing death with an actual weapon? I haven’t popped that cherry, and I’m not so sure that I want to do it in roller skates.
I’m hiding by a massive, disgusting smelling dumpster also, because it’s that kind of day.
I’m starting to wish I’d at least shot one person in my life so I’d know how to deal with this, but I haven’t. Unlike Sarah, who is a freaking retired assassin. I have teams for a reason, damn it!
I need alcohol to deal with this day.
A few screams sound from inside the warehouse, and the gun rattles in my hand. That’s a lot of gunfire. And she’s only one person. What happens when that army of guys comes out here and decide I’m next in line to die?
Nope. I’m not leaving her. No worries.
I just wish I had picked a different outfit to die in. I can’t even remember what panties I have on, other than they have to be white. My shirt isn’t the best to tell the world this girl was once awesome. And roller skates? Who wants to die in roller skates?
The gunfire stops suddenly, and my heart thumps in my chest as I wait for any sign that tells me Sarah is alive.
Something buzzes against my right breast, and I squeal a little and jump, almost busting my ass in my skates, before I realize—that due to the lack of pockets on this ridiculous outfit—I put my phone in my bra.
I juggle it out, seeing the text is from Sarah.
SARAH: Come on in. I need some help.
I take a deep breath, swallowing down the nervous knot in my throat, prepare to be a badass, and skate like a demon toward the back bay door. An unplanned rebel yell tears from my throat like I’m Tarzan’s female counterpart, as I charge through, skating under the half-closed door.
But I skid sideways and to a halt when my eyes almost fall out of my head, looking around in disbelief at the scene. Sarah is standing before me, clutching her side, and her eyebrows are lifted in quiet mockery.
“I need you to gather all their phones. I’ll be way up front, waiting for the guys to show up. And take all their cash, too. Bring it all to me when you’re finished, Jungle Girl.”
The shaky gun gets lowered to my side as I slowly relax.
I see dead people. No, that’s not a Sixth Sense joke. There’s a lot of dead people in here. Good thing I’m not squeamish.
Tearing my eyes off the remains, I look back at her to see her giving me an exasperated expression. “Now, Maya.”
She turns and walks away, and I put my gun down as I start going from corpse to corpse to pick pockets like a total creep.
I feel like I’m at the ground level and trying to work my way up instead of being born on top.
Sarah pushes a button on a remote as she limps toward the front, and music blasts loudly, scaring the shit out of me as I pick up a phone. I do a total cartoonish skate walk, jazz hands flailing in the air, desperately trying to keep my balance, but an embarrassing scream escapes me when I crash to the ground.
Well, to a body that breaks my fall.
“Sorry,” I tell the dead guy whose vacant eyes stare back at me. I pat his chest appreciatively while pushing back up to a crouched position.
“This. Is. Not. My. Day,” I groan, then grimace as I look at Dead Guy. “Guess your day is worse than mine, huh?”
I almost don’t hear it over the music when Dead Guy’s phone starts ringing in his pocket. I grab it, looking at the name on the screen. Rush? I have no idea who Rush is.
Not that it matters. Dead Guy can’t answer the phone right now, because he’s…dead. I’m sure you didn’t need that explained.
Instead of answering the phone, I go about the carnage, doing my grunt work as instructed. If this is how Sarah wants me to pay back the favors I owe, life is going to suck.
I’ve racked up quite the favor bill in the past six months.
CHAPTER 8
AXLE
We roll up to the warehouse, our bikes rumbling as we take in the scene. No one is outside like they’re waiting to announce us. The doors are shut, even as music thumps from inside. I glance around, growing suspicious.
“Rush, you sure these guys are good?” Drex asks, already thinking the same thing I am.
Rush walks his bike up alongside mine, his eyes scanning everything around us. “I asked three of our sources. All vouched for these guys to be legit. But I don’t like this. Someone should be outside.”
“Call Jude and tell him and Dash to circle around back,” Drex says to Rush, who nods.
As Rush calls them and starts relaying the message, I look over at Drex. “All our sources need to be re-vetted. A lot of them were strongly tied to Herrin, you know?”
He nods slowly, eyes not moving from the front of the warehouse.
“Didn’t really think about that being an issue, since I’m twice as lethal as Pop. But yeah. Now it’s definitely crossing my mind.”
“I’ll go in first. This is my mess. If anyone needs to take the risk, it’s me,” Rush tells us. “My guy isn’t answering his phone.”
“We go in ready for anything. Leave the bikes here,” Drex orders.
I’m off mine first, walking toward the warehouse as I cock my gun. Rush joins me at my side, his own gun drawn. Feeling exposed in the empty parking lot, I look around again, searching for any movement.
The music grows louder as we approach, and I realize what’s playing. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor is blaring when Rush opens the door, warily peering inside.
“Son of a bitch,” he hisses, shoving the door all the way open and rushing in.
Drex curses, and we both follow him in, guns drawn in front of us, but my eyes widen when I see the massacre. Five guys are dead at our feet, bullet holes and blood plumes littering their chests. And every one of them has one execution style shot in their forehead too.
It looks like they were trying to escape and all ended up in a heap by the hallway and door.
“What the—”
Drex’s words stop short as I look up, seeing another bout of feet sticking out past the corner, and we walk over, noting the same kill style here, too. That’s when my gaze swings up, and I see a blonde sitting on top of a SUV, her head banging as the song plays on.
Her eyes collide with us, and a slow smile spreads over her face.
Sarah. Or AJ. Or whatever.
Life has gotten confusing with all the motherfucking name changes lately.
She lifts a remote, and the music goes silent instantly.
The warehouse is massive, so I have no idea how many more bodies we’ll find or why Sarah decided to go on a killing spree.
“What the hell?” Rush bites out.
Sarah slides down the windshield to the hood of the SUV before scooting off it altogether. Rush draws his gun, aiming it at her, and she lazily moves her finger to the trigger of the gun she’s holding beside her leg.
One hand is clutching her side as she limps toward us, blood seeping through her fingers. “There’s only one guy I’ll let hold a gun on me for longer than a few seconds without me killing him for pissing me off.” She levels Rush with a crazy-looking stare. “You’re not that guy.”
Slowly, Rush lowers his gun.
“What the hell, AJ?” Drex asks, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
“You’re welcome,” she answers with a cold smile. “Your daddy set you up. Evidence is recorded. I wired the place a few days ago when I found out you’d be meeting here. But only found out this was the plan in time to get here before you and save all your lives.”
My lips twitch as she stares down Drex, waiting on some appreciation.
He blows out a breath, his hands going to his hips as he looks around. “You could have just call
ed me and gave me a head’s up.”
“Or you could say thank you for me handling this and all of you walking away unscathed. It’ll send a message to everyone else that you don’t fuck around, and they’ll be less likely to take Herrin up on his offers in the future.”
My eyes drop to her side. It’s not bleeding profusely, but she’s definitely been hit.
“How bad is it?” I ask her as Rush kneels down, examining one guy on the ground.
“I’ll live. Just a nasty graze. I’ve had worse. You guys need to vet your incoming clients better.” Rush glares over at her, about to defend this mess, when she adds, “But I have a job for you that you can trust.”
She sags against a beam like she’s in need of support.
“Let’s get you to a doctor,” Drex says, taking a step toward her, but she waves him off.
“I have to get out of town for a little while. You owe me several favors.” She grimaces as she bends over and picks up the backpack from the floor. “You’re going to take her up on her job offer, and you’re going to let her stay with you until I get back.”
“Who?” Drex and I both ask as Rush kicks the dead guy at his feet.
“I’ve gotten fond of the weird girl, so it’s about to be your main priority to keep her breathing. But like I said, you get something out of it too,” she goes on, not making any damn sense, before her gaze shifts to Rush. “He’s not dead.”
“I noticed,” he says, peering over at her. “Thanks for leaving one for us to use against Herrin.”
She shrugs, but before she can say more, Dash is walking toward us, his head cocked in confusion. “Dude, there are at least half a dozen guys dead back there, and there’s a crazy girl in—”
His words die when his eyes find Sarah leaning against a pole. She smirks at him as she swings the backpack onto her shoulder with her free hand, and then uses the same hand to dig something out of the side pocket.
She launches something small at Drex, and he catches it.
“Proof you’ll need to know this was an ambush, along with your lone survivor that I just knocked out real good for you,” Sarah says quietly, using her head to gesture to the motionless guy at Rush’s feet.
“What’re you going to do with all the bodies?” Rush asks, and Sarah chuckles under her breath.
“I don’t know about you boys, but in my house, when someone does all the hard work of killing, someone else does all the cleaning. Have fun with that,” she chirps.
“Is she like the little psychotic, dark, guardian angel or something?” Dash asks under his breath as he moves back a few steps.
“I really don’t like guns being pointed at me!” a feminine voice snaps, tearing all our gazes away as a familiar face comes into view by the SUV.
Jude is behind her, gun pointed to the back of her head, as the girl skates—fucking skates—toward us. I recognize her immediately, even as my brow furrows in confusion.
Very short, white spandex shorts are suctioned to her body. Pale pink socks reach her thighs, along with a pale pink shirt that says something about Bubble Gum. Her hair is in twin balls on her head like she’s Princess fucking Leia or something.
And white roller skates.
With rainbow-striped shoe strings.
And she’s in a warehouse with massacred bodies lying around, but she’s not batting an eye. Her arms are loaded down with phones that she’s hoarding at her waist.
It’s the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Found this…whatever she’s supposed to be, picking the pockets of the guys back—”
Jude’s words die much like Dash’s did when his gaze lands on Sarah.
Sarah tenses, her lips creasing as she looks away first.
“Take care of her,” she says quietly to Drex, and goes to pluck cash out of the band of Maya’s shorts before winking at her.
Sarah limply starts walking toward the door, not looking back at us as she exits the building without another word.
“What the fucking hell is going on?” Jude demands, his eyes following the path Sarah used for retreat.
My gaze settles on the girl in roller skates, who, despite the gun pointed at the back of her head, does not look the least bit worried about dying. She looks annoyed.
Until her gaze settles on me. Then a slow smile curves her lips. She’s definitely fucking crazy. I should have known that the first time I met her.
Clearing my throat, I look over at Drex.
“We’re supposed to deal with this?” I ask, gesturing to…all of her.
“We owe her,” he tells me with a shrug.
“You mean we owe Sarah? For fucking what?” Jude growls.
“Saving our lives,” Rush drawls. “Again.”
Jude’s body goes rigid, and Drex pushes play on the recording device. My eyes flick to Jude as he stares at it while still holding the gun behind Maya. That’s starting to make me tense, so I walk over and push his hand away.
He glares at me for a second, but Maya quickly skates to my side, shadowing me like I’m her damn hero now when I move back over to where Drex is. Fucking eh.
This is not what I need.
CHAPTER 9
MAYA
Obviously I stick to Axle’s side, even as he casts warning glares over at me. I mean, no; he’s not the sweetest looking of the bunch. He’s the meanest in appearance.
The scars alone are a foreboding tale of a hardened fighter and survivor.
But since he pushed the gun away from the back of my head, it appears he wants me to die the least out of this bunch. And then there’s that whole sexy thing he has going for him. Obviously that is clouding my judgment a little.
As they listen to the recorded proof of the plan to ambush them—which I’ve never heard before this moment—I take the time to study Axle. I also put all the damn phones in a bag that Cold Eyes thrusts in front of me.
But my attention mostly stays on the man I’ve been curious about since the day I set eyes on him.
He has dark hair that was made to be permanently windblown—and hot. And he’s tall. Really tall. Even in my skates that give me a lot of extra height, my forehead barely comes to his chin. His stubble is intentional and lines his jaw, only interrupted by the scars that deny the hair the right to grow, and possibly why he doesn’t grow a full beard.
One scar cuts across his lips in a diagonal, and another jagged one stands out too. It’s clear that none of these had proper stitches, because they would have healed so much better and less obvious if they had.
I want to reach up and trace the marks across his lips, curious how they feel. But he’s like a wolf. They look pretty, but they’ll bite your hand off even if you think they’re tame. And Sarah informed me Axle is a total bear when he gets touched.
As the recording ends, the cold-eyed one looks over at me. Well, not me. He’s tall too, so his level gaze is over my head as he looks to Axle or Drex. Jude’s jaw tics like he’s furious about something.
“If we’d known what we were walking into, we could have survived,” Jude says angrily.
“But we wouldn’t have known, because our sources helped Herrin set us up,” the cold-eyed one growls. “Which means they would have at least killed one or two of us by catching us unaware if they hadn’t already been dead.”
Drex eyes me for a second, and I shift a little closer to Axle, careful not to brush up against him since Sarah gave me the “no touchy touchy” advice.
Which is totally a shame.
“She can’t just kill a bunch of guys in our territory, even if she is saying she killed them for us,” Jude snaps. “She has a war at her back. How do we know she’s not dragging us into it with shit like this?”
He gestures around to the carnage called bodies.
Man, for a model, he sure does sound scary when he’s pissed. And he looks half crazed right now too. All because Sarah lied? Little over the top if you ask me.
Then again, I’m wearing rainbow shoest
rings in my skates around a bunch of seasoned killers. So what do I know?
“Sarah saved our lives,” Drex repeats, his eyes still on me. “We owe her. So let’s hear the girl out.”
With Drex studying me like a science experiment, it’s making me uneasy. In fact, I notice everyone’s gaze has shifted to me.
That’s not intimidating at all.
It’s like I was asked a question, but I don’t remember hearing it.
The first thing to come to my mind is what shoots out of my mouth. “Sarah’s like a cat,” I tell them.
“A cat?” the cold-eyed one asks, his tone devoid of any emotion to tell me if he’s amused or confused. Or just wants me dead.
Tough crowd.
“A cat,” I repeat. “She disappears for days at a time, but always comes back. She doesn’t react well when backed into a corner. As pointed out to me by Model Boy six months ago, she really does have sharp claws—metaphorically speaking. And she gifts you dead rodents as a show of affection.”
Just to be clear, I point to a few corpses.
To make things worse, I add, “And she’s always clean.”
No one says anything as I awkwardly stand still in my skates—total badass achievement. “Cat,” I repeat quietly for no reason at all as I pick at an imaginary piece of lint on the hem of my shirt.
Shutting up now. I promise.
“Model Boy? Six months ago?” Drex asks, causing my eyes to move back to him.
I toss a thumb in Jude’s direction. “Model Boy.”
Jude glares at me like he might just slice my throat. That has me shuffling even closer to Axle; so close I can feel the static forming between us.
Drex’s gaze flicks to Axle, who has his arms crossed over his chest, then down to me.
“She’s the girl Jude and I brought in six months ago after finding out a potential client was a junkie.” Axle’s sex-rumble of a voice has my body doing really inappropriate things at the worst of times.
“That’s her?” Jude asks, eyebrows creasing. Then his eyes go flat. “AJ took her home that night. She said the girl was quiet all the way home. Just one more lie.”