Awaken The Dark Paradise Chronicles 1

by Isadora Brown

  There it was, as abrupt and shocking as a slap in the face. She knew where she had seen those eyes before.

  His lips on hers cut off her thoughts and her eyes closed instantly on their own accord. She sighed through her nose which might have sounded like a whimper, she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter because Jack was kissing her so softly and so tenderly, and his lips fit hers the way lips were supposed to, that it was so easy to stop holding back and just kiss him, just allow herself to fall irrevocably in love with him.

  She pulled back instantly at two things. For one, Jack was dating someone. Even if he wasn’t serious about Jean, he was still seeing a woman who probably liked him a lot. Andie couldn’t kiss a guy who romantically entangled, even if he was the only person she wanted to kiss. Secondly, the prospect of being in love with Jack terrified her. He might like her enough to kiss her, but she was positive Jack wasn’t in love with her. He had never spoken about the topic one way or another, but given the fact that his longest relationship—if one could even call it that—was a week and a half, Andie didn’t think he was interested in love. And if she loved him and he wasn’t ready or willing to love her, she was the only one who was going to get hurt.

  “Jack!” a voice called from the doorway. Andie turned her head to see Beverly still clad in a robe, waving a dish towel. “Andie! The food appears to be burning.”

  Andie jumped up and dashed inside. A part of her was disappointed her meal was ruined because she had worked hard on it and wanted to prove to herself that if she put her mind to it, she could cook. But another part of her was glad. As cowardly as it sounded, she needed an excuse to physically distance herself from Jack because she was positive she wanted him to kiss her over and over again, whether he could love her or not. Sweet misery was nothing she wanted and everything she craved.

  Distance also gave her time to clear her head and attempt to wrap her head around the fact that Jack Phillip was the Black Wing.

  35

  Keirah

  It had been a week. One week since she had been taken. She knew that only because Kane came in and tell her so. He got particular joy from reminding her that Noir hadn’t come. Every inch of her body was in pain, so much so that she had become comfortably numb. She could feel everything and nothing. Kane followed through on his promise of torture. There were many times when an lie, any random place, hovered on the tip of her tongue. Then she would think of Noir’s face and the lie vanished. She refused to say anything, but as each day passed, the thought that he might not rescue her grew more and more prevalent.

  Keirah was a logical person. Before she met him, she knew the reason Noir was such a successful criminal was because nothing could be held against him. There was no leverage because he didn’t care about anything. She thought he might have cared about her, but now she knew he didn’t. He couldn’t, and that was why he wasn’t here. But she still wouldn’t betray him. His feelings did not negate her own. If she was going to die, she would die remaining true to her feelings and to herself. She just wished she could have seen her family one last time.

  Keirah knew she was bleeding from various places on her body. She could feel lumps growing and bruises starting to swell. Her hair was matted with sweat, blood, and tears. If she looked in the mirror, she probably wouldn’t recognize herself. She didn’t think anything was broken, but a couple of ribs were cracked at least.

  “I admire your resilience,” came a voice, and Keirah muffled a whimper, knowing what was to come. Her body turned and attempted to curl into a ball, but she made sure to keep her eyes open. “But I know that you know you’re being a fool.” He gave her a bored look. “Humans.” He rolled his eyes. She narrowed hers. Did he have his mask on? “You know he doesn’t care about you. You know he’s not going to come rescue you. He’s not the Black Wing. The only person Noir looks after is himself.” Though the words hurt, Keirah resolved to keep quiet and focus on his face. “The only reason we took you in the first place was to piss him off. To remind him why he was here in the first place. To break his new toy. If you’re not going to tell me where he is, you had better pray to God you survive this.”

  Scars. He had scars. Like Noir.

  It was the last thought she had before Kane closed the gap between them and she passed out.

  Noir had to wait for the perfect moment to retrieve her, but once that moment came, he couldn’t reach Kane’s warehouse fast enough. Everything was in place. His calculations were perfect. Kane might even be pleased by his methods.

  It was easy for him to break into the Hall of Records and steal the floor plan of the warehouse Kane currently occupied. He studied it with a attentiveness he didn’t know he possessed and designed seven different plans for the seven different rooms Keirah could possibly be kept in. Then he used the majority of the money he saved from their multiple bank robberies and bought information from some of Kane’s mimes—since everyone could be bought—to pinpoint Keirah’s exact place before he killed them and reclaimed the money for himself. After that, he made explosives from scratch and calculated where to set them off so every room—and everything in said rooms—was destroyed, save for Keirah’s. Once that was taken care of, he bribed more mimes on patrol to look the other way while he set everything up as quietly and as carefully as possible. Kane couldn’t know anything or else it would all be ruined. That was the only reason he couldn’t kill the mimes. Kane would be suspicious if all his men started dropping like flies. He promised them more money once he had Keirah to ensure they wouldn’t say anything. Of course, they’d be killed in the blast, so the promise was one of the easiest he had made.

  He drove erratically, running red lights, swerving to miss cars. If pedestrians had crossed in front of him, he wouldn’t have stopped. It took longer than he wanted, but he was certain Kane hadn't yet killed her. Not yet. Not until he was there to witness it.

  “Where is she?” he bellowed as he entered the warehouse. As if he didn’t already know. None of Kane’s mimes stopped him; they were probably ordered not to.

  “I’ll show you,” Kane said, appearing out of nowhere with a pleased smile on his face. He wasn’t wearing his mask, a rarity, and Noir watched as Kane’s scars twitched. He began to lead Noir down a looming hallway. “You know, you should be proud of her. No matter what I put her through, she wouldn’t give up your location.” He stopped talking and opened the door. Through the darkness, Noir could see Keirah’s crumpled form lying motionless on the floor, and for a moment, his entire world stopped. “Now that I have you here, I can show you what it means to truly corrupt.” He laughed and patted Noir wholeheartedly on the back. “As you know, I have always been quite fond of explosions. I like them big and quick, with no warning. And since I was sent here, I have been waiting to see the town go up in flames.”

  “It’s not … fun, if the people … don’t know.” Noir couldn’t take his eyes off of Keirah’s motionless body so his response was slow and articulate. He clenched his jaw and walked over to her. When he reached her, he knelt down to get a better view. She looked terrible. In fact, she looked … Swallowing, Noir slipped off one of his gloves and placed his index and middle fingers against the column of her throat hoping that her pulse would give him some indication of life. It took him a heart-stopping moment before he actually found it; it was slow, but it was there. He glanced at his wristwatch.

  “Which is why,” Noir said, glancing over his shoulder and tilting his head at an quizzical angle as he looked at Kane, “I should probably warn you …”

  Before Noir could finish his sentence, he threw his body over Keirah’s, being extra-wary of her injuries. A large explosion shook the warehouse. Sulfur tainted the air and ash littered the floor. A fatal stillness surrounded the remains of the building. Noir began to cough, and he opened his eyes, trying to see through the smoky haze. His ears were ringing but he didn’t notice.

  “You’re right,” he drawled at Kane’s unmoving body. “That was, uh, fun.”

  He turne
d to Keirah and, after another quick check, deemed her still alive, but barely. Noir slowly stood up and coughed some more before bending down and picking her up. He walked through the rubble, glad that his math had been correct and this particular room had not been as impacted by the blast as others. He paused before he left and turned to look at his former partner once more. Noir knew the bastard couldn’t die but hoped he was in Purgatory.

  “I was always the, ah, smart one,” he said, looking down at Kane. “I know you too well. And your, uh, henchmen, they can be rather talkative if they’re, hum … dangling in the air before being thrown off a, uh, bridge.”

  Noir walked out of the warehouse with only a few scratches and bleeding ears, his sole focus what to do with the woman in his arms. Police sirens pierced the night sky as they drew closer, but he took his time placing Keirah in the backseat of his car. Afternoon light seeped in through his tinted windows and he could make out her features better. Her delicate face was riddled with various cuts, each with a different depth. Some were still bleeding, some clotted with ease, and some dried. Bruises and swelling caused her once-hollow cheeks to puff out unattractively and she couldn’t shut one eye all the way. Her lips were cracked in three different places. He thanked God she was out cold so she wouldn’t have to feel the pain she must be in, and then ignored the fact that he thanked God for anything.

  Noir didn’t cry. Not even now. But the mask that guarded his eyes and feelings was torn down and he couldn’t concentrate on putting it back up. Not when Keirah looked so pathetic. He was almost mad at her, in fact, for allowing Kane to inflict such pain on her. A part of him wanted to force her awake so he could yell at her, followed by holding her tightly in his arms and kissing her as hard as he could. It still baffled him that someone as good as she was could love someone like him, and yet, he knew it couldn’t be any other way. He absolutely loved her, more than anything he could ever remember loving. He wanted to see the familiar sparkle in her brown eyes, and he wanted to see the corner of her lips turn up in one of her knowing smiles. He wanted to fuck her over and over again until they both forgot their names. But he could do none of those things with her in this state.

  Before slipping out of the backseat, Noir allowed himself a long moment to explore his options. He racked his brain for any doctors or physicians he knew of who could mend Keirah’s body while allowing him to stay by her side without the worry of capture by the police. Those who came to mind were either dead or in prison. He knew that despite his knowledge of mending flesh wounds, it wouldn’t be enough. She needed fluids and rest and licensed medical professionals.

  Was her life worth his freedom? It surprised him how quickly he knew the answer to what should have been a difficult question.

  Of course she was.

  He could easily slip out of whatever holding cell he might be placed in. Hell, he could escape from anyone and anything.

  But Keirah …

  He looked down at her and traced her bottom lip with his fingertip. Keirah couldn’t escape from this without help. He hated to admit it, but this time, he couldn’t help her. The only thing he could do was take her to a hospital.

  Then what? Would he ever see her after this? Would she want to see him again? The uncertainty actually scared Noir because he couldn’t imagine not seeing her again. If she hated him, he was sure he could convince himself hate her. When love was forgotten, it was easily replaced by such an emotion. Never could he be merely indifferent to her. If he had to, he would watch over her in the shadows while wreaking havoc on the city.

  “You’re right,” a voice said in a strained whisper. Immediately, his hazel eyes snapped down into her eyes. Her wounded eye was only able to open a bit, but she was looking up at him with such adoration, he was actually surprised. “I … I do love you.” A soft, tight smile touched her face before she slipped into unconsciousness once more.

  He hurried to the driver’s seat and threw the car into drive. With most of the police and firemen here, he might get away with breaking the speed limit. He decided on Onyx General since it was the closest and he knew the layout inside out. He also knew he would get caught. Security would detain him somewhere until the police could take him into custody.

  That didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

  In a manner of minutes, he pulled a sharp turn followed by a U-turn and was idling in the hospital’s driveway. He shifted the car into park and hopped out, the car still running. With swift softness, he picked her up in his arms and headed through the sliding doors. He could feel the stares as soon as he was inside, followed by whispers and murmurs. A few people even backed up in fear. He ignored everybody, but made a note that if need be, he could use them as hostages. Noir walked up to the nurse’s station where a young nurse sat, paralyzed with fear.

  “This, uh, woman needs help,” he stated. The nurse swallowed but remained silent. He closed one of his eyes in agitation and then slid his tongue across his splattered lips. “I said this woman needs, hum … help.”

  “You’re Noir,” she said, her voice shaking and her blue eyes going wide.

  “Very good sleuth work, de-tec-tive,” he said. “However, if I wanted a, uh, detective, I would have gone to the police station. I. Need. A. Doctor. Now.”

  “What did you do to her?” the nurse asked, picking up the phone. It seemed to be the first time she noticed Keirah.

  “What makes you think I did this?” He arched his brow.

  Two male nurses emerged from the emergency room with a stretcher. They were strong, but even their physicality could not keep the apprehension from their eyes. They said nothing as they wheeled the bed over, but their bodies were tense, as though they expected this to be some sort of trick. Noir carefully laid Keirah down, pressing his lips together. His fingers laced themselves in her hair while his thumb gently caressed her cheek. He hated to leave her but he knew he had to. This was what was best for her, for them. His hazel eyes bronzed and he looked back at the nurse. She swallowed.

  “Take care of her,” he said, “or I will, hum … kill you.”

  He walked out of the hospital just as the sirens got closer. But it didn’t matter. Noir was already gone.

  36

  Reese

  Reese was surprised by how easy it was to pretend to be normal. Eventually, she and Ollo headed back downstairs in order to help her mother set the table. Reese made sure she touched up her makeup so her mother wouldn’t recognize that she had been crying. Fifteen minutes later, her father and brother returned from golfing just in time to eat. The turkey had finished cooking, and while the men were introduced to Ollo, Reese and her mother put food on the table. A prayer was said before the family started piling their plates with food. Reese didn’t have much of an appetite, but she forced herself to enjoy the moment she was in, rather than worrying about what was to come and how she planned to stop it.

  The conversation during their late lunch was easy, carefree, and just a tad embarrassing. Reese didn’t correct her mother when she called Ollo her boyfriend, and while Ollo looked surprised by the title, she was glad he didn’t say anything about it either. She wanted to give her mother something she could obsess about, and since she never had to worry about Reese’s grades or her making friends, it would have to be about boys. Reese wasn’t sure how long this would last, but she wanted to make sure every moment was worth it. If that meant she had to pretend to be dating Ollo, so be it. In fact, the thought of being with Ollo didn’t sound so bad, especially now that he was sober. As crazy as it sounded, she trusted him more than she ever expected to. He might even be her best friend.

  Reese blinked.

  Ollo was her best friend.

  Not Piper or Andie or Carey.

  Ollo.

  Maybe it had always been this way. Maybe it was supposed to be this way. Tilting her head a fraction to the side, she focused on Ollo sitting next to her, looking at his profile from the corner of her eye. She had never had a best guy friend before. She was a girl’s
girl, through and through, and she was proud of that. She loved her new friends and trusted them without question, but Ollo knew everything about her. She had never been friends with an Australian-Irish recovering alcoholic before, and she wasn’t sure how to be, really. Life was weird, unexpected, beautiful, and perfect all at the same time. She continued to look at him, at the scruff, the blue-brown eyes, and she felt her lips turn up into a soft smile.

  As though he knew she was looking at him, he caught her eye and a similar smile crept onto his face. Her heart didn’t stop or skip; instead, it squeezed, spreading warmth through her entire being.

  “So tell me,” Edina said, looking across the table at her husband with a knowing sparkle in her eyes, “how did you two meet?”

  Reese pushed her brow up, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t thought her parents would ask such a question, so she hadn’t even thought to come up with a story to explain their relationship. Luckily, she didn’t need to.

  “I run track every now and then,” Ollo said without missing a beat. Reese nearly choked on her own saliva at the comment, because the thought of Ollo putting any effort into running was too hilarious to picture with a straight face. He shot her a warning look and she glanced away, pretending to cough in order to hide her amusement. Of course he couldn’t tell her family how they really knew each other. She hated lying but at least her family was happy. At least they believed she was happy. “I remember the first time I saw her. She was on a soccer field at the park by herself, wearing white. Her hair was down, natural and wavy, and she wore light makeup, if any. She was the most beautiful being I had ever seen in my entire life. I was so nervous. My heart was beating faster than it does when I run.”