by LP Lovell
There’s a knock on the door, pulling me from my thoughts. The door opens, and Lucas comes inside.
“Hey, the boss said that from now on you have to come down to the kitchen for breakfast,” he says apologetically, shrugging his skinny shoulders.
I frown. “Why?”
Another shrug. “Dunno.” He pulls a packet from the pocket of his hoody and takes something from it, popping it in his mouth. He notices my glance and pauses before holding the packet out to me. “Want one?”
I peer at the collection of multi-colored candy. I haven’t had candy since I was a child. I take one and pop it in my mouth. A fruity sweetness fills my mouth, but it’s quickly chased by a vile sour taste that coats my tongue. I spit the sweet back into my hand and Lucas starts laughing. “Probably should have warned you; they’re really sour.”
“Why would you eat that?”
He keeps laughing. “I like them.”
“Strange,” I murmur.
“If you’re quick, you might get some bacon before the guys eat it all.”
I get up and go to the bathroom, throwing Lucas’ vile candy in the bin and washing my hands. When I come out, he hands me my crutches, and I follow him from the room. As we descend the stairs I can hear people moving around the house, smell the scent of coffee and bacon wafting from the kitchen.
I step into the kitchen behind Lucas and falter when I see a guy sitting at the bar. He glances at me, his hood pulled up over his baseball cap. It’s the same guy who was with Rafael when they came to get me, the one who shot Psycho. I’ve seen him around the house—from a distance, not like this.
“Ah, you’re here,” Maria glances over her shoulder and smiles before turning back to the pan of frying food. “Carlos, this is Anna. Anna, Carlos works for Rafael,” she says. The way she says, ‘works for Rafael’, it’s as if he’s a legitimate businessman with employees. He kills for Rafael, and Rafael runs drugs, guns, and women for business. I simply nod my head and follow Lucas farther into the kitchen. “Sit,” she says.
I take the seat furthest away from the man, and I catch him smiling as he watches me over the coffee mug clutched in front of his face. It’s not a warm smile, more amusement that I clearly don’t want to be near him. He has a quiet yet ominous air about him. He watches me, and I watch him.
Maria places a plate in front of me and huffs a breath. “Carlos stop.” She clips him around the back of the head and he ducks.
“Ow!” My eyebrows hike up. This tiny woman just hit the guy who looks like a serial killer, and he’s smiling at her like she’s his favorite person. “I’m just looking.”
She shakes her head. “You’re making her nervous.”
He flashes me a quick smirk. “Sorry,” he drawls.
“You’re not making me nervous,” I say. It’s true. I’m aware of him, of what he’s capable of, but I’m not scared. I never am anymore.
“Ignore the boys. They’re harmless really.” I almost choke on my coffee. She does know what they do, right? Carlos snorts, and I glance at him, just as he snaps a newspaper open and looks at it, that amused smirk remaining on his lips.
Lucas gets a plate of food before sitting next to Carlos. “Little bro. How is guard duty?” Carlos grins, ruffling Lucas’ hair. Lucas punches him in the arm.
“Fuck off,” he groans. “It’s fine.”
Carlos laughs. “Good. I’ll tell mum she can stop shouting at me for dragging you into my ‘gang’.” He rolls his eyes. I glance between the two of them, noticing the resemblance. Both have warm whiskey-colored eyes and a smile that says they get into trouble often. But where Carlos looks like he’s the one who starts that trouble, Lucas looks like he’d accidentally start it and then run at the sight of it.
“Carlos and Samuel live here,” Maria says to me, ignoring the guys. “Samuel’s gone to the warehouse with Rafael, but Carlos here is a night owl.” The woman talks and talks, but I find I don’t mind it. The sound of her cutting vegetables, bubbling pots, and chatting away almost to herself is somewhat soothing. I glance around the enormous kitchen with its marble counter tops and tall windows. For a second I allow my mind to wander to a fleeting memory: a big house with a kitchen similar to this. My mother cooking, my father kissing her neck and making her laugh, and my older sister sitting next to me, rolling her eyes. I smile at the memory and then snap back to reality. That was once normality, and now, well, even this isn’t my normal. I can’t help but feel the novelty though, and so for a moment, I revel in the simple act of sitting in a kitchen, eating bacon and drinking coffee like so many normal people do.
“So, you’re friends with Nero Verdi,” Carlos says without looking at me.
Maria scowls at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I glance at her, but she turns away, loading the dishwasher. I’d usually refuse to speak to him because of who and what he is, but he works for Rafael. I place no trust in him, but for some reason, I think I trust Rafael. And this is exactly how the devil lures you to hell, Anna, with a false smile and an abundance of charm. Not that Rafael is charming. Far from it.
“No,” I finally say.
His lips quirk, and he lowers the paper, cocking one pierced eyebrow. His eyes flick to my chest for a second before he lifts his gaze again, and I don’t mind because that one glance tells me all I need to know. It makes him predictable, and I like that. He brings his coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip. “Generous non-friends you have,” he mumbles.
“I have no friends. I’m a whore.”
A dish drops loudly into the sink, and Maria spins around, pointing at Carlos. “Enough!” She looks at me. “I don’t want to hear you say that again.” She’s upset. Why is she upset? I frown at her.
A throat clears, and I look up to find Rafael standing in the doorway. His gaze is fixed on me, and for a second I find myself simply staring back, taking in every hard detail of his face.
“Boss?” Carlos says.
I snatch my eyes away, focusing on the mug of coffee on the breakfast bar in front of me.
“Carlos, we have a problem.” Rafael jerks his head toward the door, and Carlos stands, his expression suddenly steely and serious. “Lucas, stay with Anna today,” Rafael says as though Lucas doesn’t stand outside my room every day.
“Yes, boss,” Lucas says a little too enthusiastically. I sit there for a moment, listening to men running along the hallway before the engines of several cars start outside, gravel crunching under their tires as they pull away. The house suddenly feels very quiet.
“So, uh…” Lucas starts, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Do you…want to do something today?” he asks me quietly.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Something?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Other than staying in your room, I mean.”
“Like what?” I ask suspiciously.
“We could…watch a film?”
“Oh, that’s a lovely idea, Lucas,” Maria suddenly interjects, a wide smile on her aging face.
“Okay,” I say warily, following him out of the kitchen. He leads me across the house and ducks into a dark room. I linger in the doorway, not liking the distinct lack of light.
He flips a switch, and the room comes into view. Several huge chairs sit facing a big white screen. It’s a movie theatre. I remember going to the movies with my parents once to watch an animated movie. I haven’t been since. Lucas flops down in one of the chairs, and I lower myself into the one next to him. There’s a divider between us with huge cup holders cut into the furniture. He reaches over to me, and I eye his outstretched hand.
“Sorry,” he says, pressing a button. The bottom of my chair moves, lifting my legs up and tilting my body back. He leans back again, picking up a remote and pressing various buttons until the screen lights up. “What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t know.”
He turns his face toward me. “Well, what sort of films do you like?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
He pause
s for a moment, tilting his head to the side before he nods. “Okay, well you have action films: fast cars, guns, and badassery.”
My lips twitch at that. “Badassery?”
“Yeah, like James Bond. Totally badass.”
“What else?” I ask.
“Comedy? Stuff that makes you laugh.”
I shake my head. “What do you usually watch with the other guys?”
His eyebrows pull together in a frown. “I don’t really hang out with them.”
“Why not?” I ask.
He huffs out a breath. “I guess I just don’t like them much.”
I can’t help but smile. “Me neither.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When my brother looks at you like he wants to…fuck you, you don’t care.” He ducks his head nervously. “But when I ask you to watch a film, you seem scared.” He looks up at me, those whiskey eyes of his swimming with confusion and curiosity. “Why?”
I let out a long breath and lean back into the comfortable chair. “I understand what your brother wants,” I admit. “I don’t understand…this.” I gesture between us.
“What?”
“Kindness.” He blushes hard enough that I can see it under the dim lights of the room. “You’re kind, Lucas.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles awkwardly, making me smile harder. “I think I have a film for you.”
He presses some buttons, and music starts before the image of clear turquoise waters and white sands comes into view. It makes me long to see a world I’d given up hope of ever gazing upon. I sit quietly and watch the film, my attention firmly fixed on the screen. There are pirates and walking dead men, and I find myself laughing at the main character. In the end, the girl in the film falls in love with one of the other characters, and I intently watch the way their love is depicted. The way he looks at her, as though she is precious and worthy; it pulls at something in my chest. When it ends, I turn my gaze to Lucas, only to find him sleeping.
Rafael has had him working late into the night, ‘guarding’ me. It’s completely unnecessary. Where would I even go? How would I get over that fence? It’s impossible. He looks so peaceful, so I get up and leave as quietly as I can with a pair of crutches. I head to the kitchen to get a drink, seeing no one as I walk through the usually busy house. Despite the fact that I hate most people, it’s almost unsettling.
I’m pouring out a glass of orange juice when I sense someone watching me. Turning around, I take a step back when I see the unknown man standing in the doorway. The counter bumps against my back and I realize I have no way out.
“Anna,” he says, moving slowly towards me. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. His shoulder length dark hair is pulled into a low ponytail and a metal ring loops through his bottom lip. These are the only things I notice. I know I don’t recognize him though.
“How do you know me?” I ask, edging along the breakfast bar as he rounds it. I keep it between us.
“I’m here to help you.” He holds his hands up. “I work for Rafael.”
“I’ve never seen you.”
He laughs. “You won’t have seen most of the people who work for him.”
“Look, I’m just going to go back to my room,” I say, hoping he lets me leave. I haven’t survived this long by being a poor judge. My gut is telling me not to trust this man.
“Rafael sent me to pick you up. I’m to take you to him.” I watch him carefully, noting the way his eyes shift from the window to the door every so often. He’s nervous. Rafael has made it very clear that it’s not safe outside his walls. He’s contracted to protect me, so why would he want me brought to him? I’m safe in his house, aren’t I?
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll wait here for him,” I say quickly, making a dash toward the door. I’m halfway down the hall when I’m dragged backward by my hair. I let out a cry of both shock and alarm as an arm wraps around my throat.
“This will be easier if you’re quiet,” he breathes over my neck. I fight the urge to just shut down and block it all out. Instead, I grab my crutch and swing it at his shin. He yells a string of curses before wrapping his arm more firmly around my neck and squeezing tight. I struggle desperately for air. Blackness licks at the edges of my vision, and I fight it, despite my burning lungs and the voice in my head screaming at me that I’m about to die. My head spins, and then everything goes dark.
I’m jolted awake by a loud bang, followed by the sound of crunching metal. My body goes completely weightless, and a strange silence reigns for a moment before all the sound comes rushing back in at once. I’m flung against something hard, and pain radiates across my forehead as something yanks against my chest painfully. And then it all stops. I open my eyes and blink as liquid drips onto my eyelashes. The scent of diesel invades my senses, and when I glance around, I realize I’m in a car, except I’m half sprawled against the window, my seat belt lifting my hips into the air. Fumbling around, I unplug the seat belt and fall fully onto the window. Bits of broken glass cut into my skin, and I cough at the dust swirling around me. The pop, pop, pop of gunfire starts somewhere nearby, but I can’t work out where. I tilt my head forward and watch through blurred vision as heavy red droplets fall onto the cracked glass beneath my hands. There’s another round of gunfire and a heavy thud above me. When I look up, I see a man hanging limply, half of his body out of the broken window. A stream of blood starts to pour through the gap, dropping onto me. I need to move, but I can barely get my vision to stop doubling.
The scent of diesel… The gunfire. All it will take is one bullet. I don’t want to die.
Fifteen
Rafael
“Motherfuckers. Need. To. Die,” Carlos growls, pushing to his feet and firing off a round of shots with a semi-auto. I listen for the return fire, but it never comes.
“Think that might have done it. Find Anna,” I instruct. Carlos moves away from our position behind the SUV and starts ordering my men around.
I glance around the back of the SUV and see no one left standing. Fuck. Getting up, I walk over to the upturned SUV sprawled on its side. It was in the middle of the three cars that were coming up the road from my house. If Lucas hadn’t rung me, we would have missed them, and Anna would be halfway to fuck knows where by now. It’s a little too coincidental that someone blew up my warehouse while these fucktards took Anna from my damn house. I was pissed that the kid let them take her, but judging by how many armed men we just took down, he only would have gotten himself killed, and then we would have lost her.
A figure emerges from the back of the car, crawling through the smashed back window on hands and knees. I instinctively lift my gun before I see the mass of blonde hair, streaked with red.
“Anna,” I call her name as she falls to her back on the hard ground. Rushing over, I drop to my knees beside her. She’s bleeding. Cuts litter her arms and the exposed skin of her chest, as well as a deep gash in her forehead.
She blinks, her gaze focusing on me. “Rafael?” She reaches up, her fingers brushing over my jaw as though she’s not sure I’m real.
“I’ve got you,” I say quietly, scooping her into my arms and standing.
She closes her eyes, a frown line sinking between her brows. “Where am I?” she mumbles. She’s probably concussed and confused. They might even have drugged her, although judging by the deep purple mark around her throat I’d say she was choked out. I dig my fingers into her thigh in an attempt to bite back the blind rage coursing through me. They took her. From my fucking house. Who would be stupid enough to take her from under my nose like that? I can think of only one person who so very desperately wants her back.
I hold her tighter. “You’re with me,” I say. ‘In the desert’ isn’t exactly a great explanation either. There’s a reason my home is built far outside the city. It’s easily defended, with a vast, wide open space leading up to it so that no one can sneak up to the front gate.
It’s impossible.
Carlos opens the back door of the SUV for me, and I climb in, holding Anna on my lap. The car starts moving, bumping over the rough desert ground before pulling back onto the smooth road. Someone hands me a cloth, and I press it to the cut on her head that’s still bleeding.
“Anna.” I stroke my fingertips gently down her cheek and her eyes flash open, disorientated but aware. “What happened?” I ask.
“He wanted me to go with him. I think he choked me,” she says, lifting her hand to her neck.
I inhale a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I’m pissed that they made me look weak, but I’m fucking savage that they touched her. My rage is palpable—burning so hot it leaves an acidic taste in my mouth. She watches me for a minute and then reaches up, placing her hand over mine on her face.
“You saved me,” she breathes. Definitely concussed. The blood from her forehead is still soaking into the cloth; the golden strands of her hair now a morbid crimson.
She closes her eyes again and turns her face into my shirt, inhaling. “Did you just smell me?” I ask, fighting a smile.
“I have a head injury,” she says without opening her eyes.
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Maybe.”
“Of course, the wounded little bird would crack a joke when she’s in the most danger.”
“I’m not in danger. I’m with you,” she says sleepily. Her words have an unexpected effect as something akin to possession tears through me. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all.
“Anna.” I shake her slightly. “Don’t fall asleep. Not yet. Stay awake.” She tilts her head back, and I shift my arm, resting her back against the car door. “Keep talking.”
She frowns. “About what?”
“Tell me what your life was like before all this.”
She says nothing for a moment. “I don’t know. I lived in an orphanage with my sister.”