by Marie Wathen
“B…” Circling me, her mouth literally hangs open while her eyes inspect the intricate details of the dress. “Damn, baby girl. It was created for you.”
“Really?” Shocked by her reaction, I spin around toward the mirrors to see for myself.
“Absolutely! This is the most beautiful dress, and it’s perfect for you,” she insists.
Standing beside me now, Sam glances from my reflection back to the real me and I catch myself doing the same thing to her. With me standing on the four inch box, I’m exactly her height and even with the glasses on, I notice for the first time our similarities. We have the same dark brown, slightly wavy hair. Except for the height difference, we have the same physique, which includes toned arms and large chests. Her full lips match mine almost identically, too, except that right now her smile is bowing upward and mine is arching down.
“What’s the matter, B? Don’t you like the gown?” She stares with gray eyes, piercing me through the reflection, and I realize at this point that we have the exact same eye color. This is too weird. Sam could pass as my older sister and I can’t believe that I never noticed.
“Do you…” My words stall. Can I ask her if she sees these things, too? My mind can’t process what I’m observing, but something tells me that I might need to keep this epiphany to myself a little longer. I know that Barret isn’t Sam’s real father, but what I’m seeing in the mirrors tells me that whoever her dad is will no doubt blow everyone’s mind.
“What?”
“Hmm?” I turn away from our mirror images, needing to stall so I can come up with something legitimate to ask.
“You were about to ask me something.”
“Oh, um…yes. Do you think Marcus will like this one?” She snorts while walking away.
Calling back over her shoulder, Sam claims, “If my little brother wasn’t already enchanted, he would fall in love the instant he saw you in that gown.” She takes up her station in front of the window again and whips out her cell phone, taking a couple of quick pictures before stuffing it back inside her purse. “Change and I’ll pay for the dress. We need to get back to the house.”
Once outside, Sam stalls momentarily, searching the side parking area, and I feel a sudden increase of anxiety creeping up my spine. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to speak with someone for just a moment.” She stalks toward a man getting into a sports car parked three spaces down from us. Uncertain if she wants me to join her, I hang back and lean against the trunk of Morgan’s BMW. Twisting around toward the bistro, I spot Casandria still dining. My phone vibrates in my purse. I have two missed calls and three text messages. Finally, Marcus has contacted me. I click on the app just as I hear the man speak.
“Hey, Angel.” At the unusual nickname, I peek to see if I recognize him. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen the guy before so I continue studying them.
“What are you doing?” Sam crosses her arms, standing with her back to me, and the guy’s eyes roam the length of her. Hmm, interesting. Is he a boyfriend?
“Just running a few errands. Why are you off the compound today?” His gaze leaves Sam to drift over toward me. “Is that B?” Interested in how he knows me, I give their conversation my full attention.
“Yes, we’re dress shopping.”
“Ah, for the anniversary party,” He smiles at her like a predator would just before he pounces on his meal. “Do you have a date yet, Sweetness?”
“You know I’ll take Rhys.” The guy narrows his eyes angrily before shaking it off, peering back over at me and firing off a wicked wink.
“And, Breesan?” Okay, now I need to know who this guy is. Connecting me and Sam together implies that he is part of their plans. I join them, standing beside Sam. She catches sight of me and shifts subtly into what appears as a forced relaxed stance.
“What’s going on, Sam?” I ask, getting a better look at the man now that I’m standing only a few feet away from him. He’s extremely good looking--dark hair, tall and well-built--but I still don’t know him.
“Hey, B, I was just asking Sam here if you have a date for the party this weekend.” He smiles sweetly before turning and giving his attention back to Sam. As if it will help to get a better look at him, I lift my sunglasses, pushing them into my hair on top of my head.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” His smile drops, staring between me and Sam. Finally, his attention glues on Sam, like he’s waiting for her to explain.
She sighs heavily. “Beatrice,” she emphasizes my name. “This is Tyle.”
My mouth hangs open. Get the freak out! I shut it and narrow my eyes. Goth attire totally hides his good looks. He is a total babe without all the heavy makeup and weird clothing.
“Aww, you didn’t even recognize your own cousin, B?” he jokes, stepping forward and wrapping me in a tight hug, “I’m hurt.”
“Um,” is all I can offer in return.
He laughs, peering down at me, “Yeah, the grunge look hides all of my good looks, huh?”
“I’d say,” I sputter and then sputter some more. “I mean…you look fantastic in Goth, too..I mean...”
“I could say the same thing about you, beautiful. I had no idea that Auntie Janessa had it in her to birth such an exquisite creature.” Tyle is a master player.
Pulling away from him, I shake out of my haze. “Oh, you’re just as funny as that brother of yours.” It’s Rhys who created this stupid cousin facade, but I can’t believe I’ve never seen Tyle out of his work attire or at Rhys’ house before, for that matter. It seems odd to me that brothers don’t spend more time together. All the other guys, including Raithe who isn’t really part of their DTF team, spend more time at the compound than Rhys’ blood relative. How weird.
“Breesan–” Tyle starts, his brown eyes darkening to nearly black. He looks pissed and ready to jump me, but Sam cuts him off.
“Sorry, we have to get back now.” She grabs hold of me and pushes me toward our car. “Stay out of trouble, Tyle!” she shouts back at him. Chancing a glimpse backward, I see him striking us with wild anger boiling from his chocolate eyes and rolling off of him.
“What’s the matter with him?” I pose, drawing out of her hold and getting inside the car. She slams her door shut and pulls out of the parking lot before answering.
“Stay away from him, Breesan.”
“What?” I stare at her, waiting for an explanation, but she just ignores me. “You’ll need to give me a little more than that, Sam.”
“He’s bad news and not at all what you think he is.”
“I don’t know what I think he is. It’s not like I spend any real time with the guy. We just work together.” Something about the way they behaved bothers me. “That was really odd back there. Is something going on between you two?”
She laughs loudly. “No, definitely not.”
“But, there was?”
All laughter gone, she sighs. “Not like that. Not really. I can’t explain it all now. Just do me a favor and stay away from him. Please?”
“Okay…” Her phone rings, interrupting us, and I skim through my text messages.
MARCUS: HEY BABY!
“Um, we have a situation…” I look up from my phone to see Sam biting her bottom lip while glancing out of the corner of her eye at me. Clearly, she doesn’t want me to hear her so I try to block her out and give my full attention to my phone.
MARCUS: NOT SURE WHEN I’LL B HOME. MISS U.
MARCUS: HEY WHERE R U?
Replying to his last text, I pause before hitting send when Sam growls. She growls into the phone a second time and I giggle. “No…No…I can’t right now…Yes…Ugh, fine! He’s up to his old tricks with the redhead again…” She snorts. “Oh, I’m certain…I smelled her.” She listens intently to the caller. A new text comes through at the same time, drawing my attention away from her phone call again.
UNKNOWN CALLER: I HAVE INFO ABOUT YOUR DAD MEET AT LAGOON
Violent trembling starts with my hands, pus
hing through every muscle in my body, and I nearly drop my phone. This can’t be happening again! This can’t be the same person. Can it? The unknown caller who texted me all those strange messages about Mars, and Tristan not being dead, is now texting me about my dad? Who the hell is this sicko?
“Yep, see ya.” Sam slams her phone into the cup holder. “You okay?”
My ears are ringing. Is she talking to me? “Huh?” I twist my head her way too quickly and feel lightheaded, or maybe that’s because of the text, too. I passed out because of the last one I read from this unknown caller.
“I asked if you are okay.” I flip my phone face down on my lap and nod dramatically while freaking out completely.
“Good. Now, I know I have a pair of shoes that will go perfect with your dress at my condo, but I’ll drop you home first....”
Just like that, our conversation becomes wrapped up in party talk like nothing life-altering has happened. Irritated no longer applies to my emotions. I’m being summoned by someone who may not be making my needs or safety a priority, but I need answers. Impulsive and determined may get me killed, but I can’t wait around for the crew to debate this topic to death, only to tell me that I would be stupid to meet him. Quickly and without Sam aware, I reply to the unknown caller, confirming that I’ll meet in one hour. One way or another, with or without the team’s help, I will find out who this asshole is and why he insist on making my life a living hell.
Chapter Eighteen
Anna
“When can we leave?” In the shadows of the damp room, I observe Mattox intently when I ask him this question. I’ve asked several times now and each time he gives me the same deadpan response. Sitting next to me on one of the air mattresses that he brought a few days ago, he stares down at his hands fisted in his lap and my eyes lower to them.
“I’m not sure.” No emotion.
“Where are we?” His fingers grip tighter, knuckles turning white before he releases, and he flexes them to wipe his palms over his thighs. I assume he’s removing sweat, but what’s making him so nervous?
“It’s not safe for you to know that right now, Anna.” Same response every time. My fingernails dig into my scalp and I glance up at his eyes again.
“Are we in the US?”
“No!” He insists almost too quickly.
“Who are you hiding us from?”
“Anna, I’ve told you everything that I can.” Running one hand through his hair and sighing heavily, his eyes finally lift to meet mine. We stare each other down. It’s me who breaks the intense hold, allowing my eyes to wander across to the other side of this cold cave or prison or basement.
“What is this place?” He clears his throat, but doesn’t answer. “She’s not well and this place isn’t exactly the healthiest to keep someone in her condition,” I hiss through clenched teeth, pointing toward an unconscious Waverly. “If she dies, it will be your fault, Tox!”
“I know.” He turns his attention to my sleeping friend. “I promise you that I’ll get you out soon.”
Done with the questions that are getting me nowhere, I draw into myself and wrap my arms around my knees. Sitting here, waiting for him to be the good guy is making me hate him more and more each day. He has no idea the torment I’m going through with these flashbacks and nightmares. He came in once while I was talking in my sleep, but I refused to tell him anything. He’s not my friend and he doesn’t deserve to know anything about me. Suddenly it hits me that this is where I’ve screwed up. I need to tell him things. Things that will make him see me as a person, someone vulnerable and real. If I can reach him, maybe he’ll let us go.
“I’m supposed to go to Paris,” I whisper against my arm draped over my bent knee, my eyes pinched tightly. “All of my life I dreamed of being a famous fashion designer.” A maniacal laugh bubbles up out of my throat suggesting that I could be losing my mind. “What a joke! I’m not going to live to be anything. Because you’re never going to let us leave this hell hole.” A sob escapes my lips and I turn my face away from him. I feel movement on the air mattress and expect him to leave again. Instead he moves closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shift away, but he won’t relent.
“Anna…” His voice is so soft and filled with so much compassion that bile rolls in my stomach, threatening to burn my throat. I hate him, and I hate needing him. “I’m not going to let you die and you will get your life back. When I get you out of here, you’ll be free to do everything that you’ve planned.”
“You think I can go back to being that same naive woman?” With bitter hatred, I glare at him and he doesn’t flinch. “That life is over. That door is slammed shut and that dream is dead.”
Tox’s eyebrows squeeze together and his silver-gray eyes swirl into a slate hue signifying pure anger. “You’re the most dramatic little girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Get out!” I seethe for several long moments. He just watches me.
“I’ll go soon.” Settling in, he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. Needing space, I stand up and move over to sit on Waverly’s mattress.
“Why are you here? Don’t most abductors do vile things to their hostages, like kill them and then dump their bodies in a shallow grave?” Silence consumes the space and I wonder if maybe I pushed that a little too far. I’m too scared to look at him to confirm either way. Did I just give him ideas on how to be an effective kidnapper?
“Tell me about Paris.” Shocked that he wants to know, I whip my head around and see his features softening once again, but I remain quiet. “If you want me to leave, I will, but I don’t think you really want that.” He keeps staring at me and even though he’s right, I don’t want him to be. I hate that I need him here, talking to me, to keep the nightmares away. “Come on, Anna. Tell me something about Paris. Even after all of my travels, I’ve never been to that particular city.”
He remains quiet for a long time. I relent finally because I hate the silence; it brings the visions. So I ask, “You traveled?”
Mattox snorts, “Understatement of the year. I have been to every continent and more countries than I care to list.”
“You’re so young.”
Glancing up to the ceiling, he shrugs. “I guess, but I’ve traveled since birth.”
“Every continent, that’s unbelievable. I’ve only been to Europe. Breesan traveled every summer, and I was always secretly jealous of everything she experienced. In one way she loved it, because sometimes Julia would send her off to the places that she enjoyed or let her do things that she actually wanted to learn. But in other ways…” I realize that except for my voice, the room is a weighty silence. Then it hits me that I mentioned Mattox’s mother.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wasn’t thinking–”
“It’s fine.” He cuts me off. He seems sincere, but an ache pierces deep within my chest. Even as evil as Julia was, she was still his mother, and he missed out on being with her. Just like Breesan.
After several long minutes, I chance a glance at him and notice that he’s watching me again. “Was your father in the military? Is that why you traveled so much?”
“Oh, God, no!” He rolls with laughter, clutching his arms around his stomach, gasping for air. I don’t get the humor, but seeing him like this humanizes him and makes him kind of cute. Not that I give a darn about how cute he might be, but at least he doesn’t look evil at the moment.
“If you’re Breesan’s cousin then you should know that I recently met her other cousin, Wren. She was living in Paris.” All of his laughter comes to an immediate halt and he pushes up off the mattress.
“Wren?” His eyes are swirling black again. Clearly he’s more than curious about this topic. “How did you meet her?”
“It’s strange that you ask me that question because I had a flashback of our meeting last night. She passed in front of me on the street and I thought that she looked so familiar. She stopped to glance inside a shop window and my breath caught when I noticed how much she looked lik
e Breesan. Initially after we talked, I thought it was crazy that I could find the last possible relative of my best friend, and I was so excited that I brought her home for Breesan’s birthday party. Now, looking through my flashback…It’s so...it almost seemed like she was watching me before I actually discovered her.” Suddenly the temperature in the room is stifling, like someone is pumping humidity into the cave. “Oh, God…” I mumble, biting on my bottom lip as I glance over at Mattox. What if Wren was a fraud and in on this plan to hurt Breesan? That means Mattox must know who she is.
“What do you mean flashback?”
Dang it! I didn’t want him to know that I was suffering with those. Biting my lip painfully, I turn toward Waverly again and shake my head in response to his question.
“Anna…” He kneels beside me. “Are these flashbacks happening every night?” I shake my head. Technically, it’s not a lie. I have them more than every night, but he’ll never know it. “When do you have them and how often?”
“I’m not discussing this with you. Just drop it.” I twist around and sit on my bottom with my back pressing against the wall. His knees are touching the bottom of my feet, his hand dangling just inches above my calf. He drops it and wraps his long fingers around my ankle.
“It’s the Ryske.” He explains and I scowl.
“I know,” I whisper, lowering my eyes to our connected flesh. Heat radiates from his warm fingers wrapping so tenderly around me, causing me to shiver. I pull back and he willingly releases me.
“Do you want to talk about them?”
“No!” I lower my eyes to the floor, but remember that I need him.
He sighs. “Fine.” Frustrated, he runs his hand through his dark hair, pushing the long strands behind his ears.
“Do you know her? Wren?” He shakes his head roughly, like he’s determined to shake some bad thought away.
When he responds his eyes don’t connect with mine. “No. I don’t know her.” Pause. Deep breath, “I need to go.” Running from the truth? He stands and sadness falls on me like a wet blanket.