by Nia Arthurs
I’ve been with this motley crew for less than two weeks, but they have such genuine, kind souls that I want to stay with them some more. Dust and Ashes is unlike any band I’ve ever heard about. They don’t drink. They don’t smoke. They don’t curse. They don’t do anything illegal.
In fact if I hadn’t known from the get-go, I wouldn’t have been able to tell that they were uber-rich and famous. Arrogance isn’t a part of their vocabulary. It’s weird but the only thing the band enjoys talking about is a Kingdom that lives in the invisible and a King that provides for his citizens.
The topic always spurred some deep conversations. Especially between Jace and Damien. Unfortunately, I was rarely a part of the discussions. I was too busy practicing my tambourine solo.
I glance over at my companion. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Damien’s dark sunglasses camouflage his expression. I bet he’ll miss the band too. He seemed to get along with all of them.
“Ready to go?” He grabs my bags.
I nod. “Yup.”
We catch a cab to the train station. Damien doesn’t speak the entire way there. I don’t know what his problem is. Maybe he’s taking separation from the band harder than I am. The thought amuses me and I don’t mind the quiet as much.
I focus on enjoying the scenery outside my window. Cardiff is absolutely amazing. The skyline is beautiful. The sunlight playing over the water is like a ladder of fairies. I know I could die at any point, but right now, I’m grateful that I’m here, enjoying this place.
It’s good to be alive.
“Thank you,” Damien shoves some money at the taxi man when he comes to a stop in front of the terminal.
I follow him out of the cab and stay close as he confidently strides into the busy station. Damien seems to know exactly what he’s doing. In this moment, he appears much older than his true age. I’m guessing that he’s been in Cardiff a time or two.
While we walk, my eyes scan the room. The terminal is packed. The sound of a hundred languages colliding in one place is like stepping into the fish market back home. But that’s the only similarity to Belize.
I come from a small country in the Caribbean. Since coming on this trip, my eyes have been opened to the true immensity of the world. I am seriously one in a billion.
The truth can be depressing or uplifting, depending on how you look at it.
I’m about to ask Damien if he can call to check if Alistair’s arrived yet, when I spot him. He’s wearing his favorite white polo shirt over a pair of dark blue jeans. He stands tall amidst the crowd bustling in front of and behind him.
His dark brown hair is as thick as ever. Like Damien, his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses. My heart skips a beat and then starts pounding like a congo drum. For nearly two weeks, I wasn’t sure if Alistair was alive or dead.
And now he’s here.
I start running. Damien’s head snaps to attention as I streak past him, but I really don’t care.
“Excuse me, sorry,” I apologize as I bounce people aside in my rush to reach the other end of the terminal.
I’m a few paces off when Alistair sees me coming. I can’t gauge how he’s feeling thanks to those stupid glasses. For a moment, I falter, wondering if I’m showing too much emotion. Wondering if he’ll even accept me if I express my happiness.
The stoic assassin puts all my fears to rest when he starts moving toward me. His black bag flaps against his back as he weaves and dips through the crowd. We collide in the middle. Alistair grasps me around my waist, lifting me into the air.
I wrap my legs around him and squeeze him tight. Tears crop in my eyes and I can’t keep them back. He’s here. He’s okay. He’s safe.
The travelers are staring at us, but I honestly can’t see anyone but Alistair right now. I straighten my shoulders and lean away. Still he doesn’t release me. I’m not complaining.
“You’re okay,” I press a hand to his cheek.
The raspy scruff on his face tickles the inside of my palm. I run my fingertips over the surface of his forehead, pushing a thatch of dark hair away from his face.
“Alistair, you’re hurt,” I frown.
“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head and gazes into my eyes. “I’m okay.”
“Old Man, it’s good to see you again.” Damien approaches our little huddle.
Only then do I realize where we are and what people must be thinking. I wiggle around until Alistair sets me down.
“Damien.”
Alistair’s voice is dark, with an unwelcome tinge in the timber. I pick up on the tension right away, though I don’t think this is the place to talk it out.
“Are you hungry?” I inquire, trying to draw attention away from the awkward feeling in the air.
“Are you?”
I have a feeling that Alistair hasn’t eaten yet. I haven’t known him for long, but he seems the type to focus on one thing while neglecting himself. Damien and I have already eaten. I made a huge going away breakfast this morning for the band.
But Alistair doesn’t need to know that.
“Yeah, I’m hungry.” I smile, “do you mind?”
Alistair’s expression softens when he looks at me. Or at least when he looks in my general direction. The glasses make it hard to tell.
“No, let’s go eat.”
Damien sends me a strange look. I shrug, hoping that he won’t say anything about breakfast this morning. I don’t want Alistair to know that I’m setting him up.
Instead of outing me, Damien joins along.
“I know this great place close to here.”
Alistair stiffens again.
“Fine,” he acknowledges, but I have a feeling he’s only speaking to Damien for my sake. “Let’s go.”
Damien leads the way down the sidewalk. Both men seem to be tightly coiled. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re assassins, who are constantly in danger or if it’s because of the whole I-could-have-died-at-the-concert thing.
Whatever the problem is, I would hate for it tear Damien and Alistair’s friendship apart. These guys need each other. I just have to figure out a way to fix the bridges so they can meet in the middle.
Chapter 12
Alistair
I told myself I wouldn’t show any emotions when I saw her. I practiced the way I would hold my stance, keep my arms locked over my chest, stare right through her. I knew I would have to start putting distance between us right away if I wanted to keep her safe.
It was a wasted effort. The moment I spotted Kendall in the station, all my promises and expectations were forgotten. She stood out immediately, though it was not by a quality that I could name or express.
Her white shorts and green T-shirt were regular fare, blending in with the attire favored by other travelers in the station. Her brown skin, though beautiful to me, matched the tone of other patrons milling about. Her curly hair stuffed into the messy bun that she seems to enjoy was present on a hundred other women.
But I saw none of them.
My eyes zoomed in and locked on her with little effort. I did not move immediately. Instead, I coached myself once more, a pathetic attempt at keeping my composure. It was no use. When Kendall started running toward me, all I could think about was holding her.
I wanted her close, just for a minute. When my arms came around her, there was nothing I could do but squeeze her tight, enjoying her flowery fragrance, capturing every nuance of her kind and sparkling brown eyes.
I was surprised by the intensity of her greeting. We left things in Belize on shaky footing. I hadn’t spoken to her in several weeks. Her glowing acceptance feels like more than I deserve.
“It’s this way,” Damien’s voice is an unwelcome addition to this beautiful day.
For Kendall’s sake, I haven’t spoken to him the way I want to. He’s keeping his cool, playing nice as well. I’m glad he’s also decided to leave the business talk until later. I don’t want to lambast him in front of Kendall as much as he probably doesn’t want
to be lambasted.
“Oh, something smells great.” Kendall smiles.
I glance down at the woman by my side. She’s doing her best to pretend that the tension in the air is non-existent. I admire her grit. I have learned to hide my emotions, but when it comes to Kendall, they ache to be expressed.
“It does.”
“Let’s sit here,” Damien suggests a booth away from the window and with our backs to the wall. I nod my approval and we journey to the table.
“What would you like today?” A waitress steps up to us.
Damien and Kendall exchange looks that I cannot interpret. When they catch me looking at them, they quickly glance down.
Am I missing something?
“Um, can I have a muffin, please?” Kendall nods when the woman scribbles her order.
“A muffin?” I frown, “are you not hungry?”
“Just a little bit,” she holds her forefinger and thumb and inch apart, “I’m okay. You go ahead.”
I feel like a glutton when I order the breakfast special, but Kendall seems satisfied so I pay the strange exchange between the younger assassin and Kendall no mind.
“So,” Kendall taps her fingers against the table when the waitress leaves, “did you find what you needed to?”
I glance around the busy café. This is not the right time to reveal my discoveries. Choosing to be cautious, I answer simply.
“No, but I have found some leads.”
“Oh,” Kendall nods.
Awkwardness descends on the table. Damien is not being his usual, boisterous self. Kendall is biting her lip like a nervous child. And I’m torn between pulling Kendall away so that I can kiss her and pulling Damien away so that I can clock him.
Kendall clears her throat.
“I had a fun time with the band.”
“Did you?”
I ask through gritted teeth. The conversation topic only serves to remind me of Damien’s irresponsible decision.
Kendall pushes through the tension.
“Yes, they were a lot of fun. You should have seen what Trey did to Jace, the lead singer. It was pretty funny, right, Damien?”
“Yeah,” the young assassin grins at Kendall. “Yeah, it was.”
I catch something in his voice, a note of longing that I don’t understand. No, surely I’m wrong. Damien has known Kendall for less than two weeks. My irritation with him is creating problems where there are none.
Kendal laughs and turns more fully to Damien.
“Oh my gosh, were you there when Will tried to sit on the plastic chair and…”
“He broke it.” Damien finishes for her.
The two crack up as if the experience was extremely hilarious. I personally cannot see the joke. I’m glad when the laughter calms.
Kendall smiles at me. I can see the pride in her eyes. She’s glad to have broken the awkward silence. I am drawn to her guileless invitation, but before I can forge another route of conversation, Damien leans forward.
“Do you remember the way Morgan practices before going on stage?”
“Oh, yeah!”
Kendall turns away from me and focuses on the man across from her. The two begin speaking about another event that occurred on the tour bus. I am unable to join in, but more than that, I envy the ease with which Damien interacts with Kendall.
From the moment I first met her, I’ve been struggling to express my interest. Kendall Villanueva is the first woman that’s challenged my appreciation for solitude. I am no conversationalist. Unlike Damien, whose lively charisma grabs the admiration of a room, I tend to repel.
My skills lie in blending into an environment, fading into the background. I’m not flashy or ostentatious. If it comes down to a race for Kendall’s heart, I’m not certain which assassin she would choose.
“Alistair, Alistair,” I feel a soft touch on my arm and glance up.
Kendall is looking at me with those big brown eyes. I mentally berate myself. The gravest mistake any mercenary can make is to lose sight of his surroundings. I must endeavor to be more vigilant.
I straighten in my seat and perform a cursory sweep of the diner. Patrons are enjoying hot meals around the traditional round wooden tables. Shouts streams from the diners around the television, eagerly applauding their favorite football team.
Disaster can strike at any time.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
She purses her lips and sends me a tentative stare. “The food is here.”
Only then do I realize that the waitress is waiting for me to remove my hands from the table so that she can set her platter down. Feeling sheepish, I slide my arms away from the wood and wait for her to place the food before me.
When everyone has been served, the waitress catches my eye before sauntering away.
“Some people have no manners,” Kendall mumbles.
Amused by her comment, I decide to tease. “Is something wrong?”
Her eyes widen. It dawns on me that Kendall did not intend for anyone to hear that particular comment.
She glances at Damien, who is occupied with his own meal, before she leans close to whisper.
“She was totally checking you out.”
“Checking me out?” I echo.
“Yeah, it means she was flirting.”
I know what the phrase means. I just can’t believe Kendall is pointing it out. It almost sounds as if she’s … jealous.
“I didn’t notice.”
“Please,” Kendall rolls her eyes, “you’re just saying that to be nice.”
I don’t know why I’d say something just to be nice. This isn’t a mission and Kendall isn’t a target that I need to exterminate. Everything I say to her is true.
“I’m not,” I say honestly, “when I’m around you, you’re the only woman I see.”
Chapter 13
Kendall
Is it possible for a human being to melt into a pile of goo? Because I think I might about to. Alistair Howard is the most handsome man that I have ever met and he just admitted that I’m the only girl he’s interested in.
Can I get an ‘amen’ or what?
I don’t know what to say to that beautiful confession, so I duck my head and stare at my muffin. If I wasn’t black, I’d probably be blushing. I guess… I’m blushing on the inside. Seriously, heat is spreading everywhere.
“What are you two whispering about?” Damien scoots closer to me.
A flash of annoyance crosses Alistair’s face, but when he responds, his voice is carefully neutral.
“We’re just discussing how great this food looks.”
Damien’s incredulous stare says he isn’t buying it, but Alistair ignores the other man and digs into his food. I awkwardly pick at the flesh of my muffin. The cupcake is moist and soft, but the edges are crispy.
It’s a strange combination, but I definitely love it. I wish I could ask the pastry chef a few questions. The flavor in this muffin is exquisite. How did they get that particular consistency…?
I glance up from my muffin, realizing that the air has gone still again. This tension is seriously getting old. I thought assassins were supposed to be super-mature. They deal in life and death after all.
These two definitely are as human as the rest of us.
“Alright,” I slap my hand against the table. “The whole cold-shoulder-thing between you two is getting ridiculous.”
“What are you talking about?” Damien asks innocently.
I can see right through him. He knows exactly what I’m getting at.
Turning in my seat, I stare at Alistair. He’s purposefully avoiding my gaze, but I train my eyes on him until he looks back at me.
“Look, I wasn’t giving Damien much of a choice yesterday. I wanted to be a part of the concert. It was my choice. He had nothing to do with it.”
Alistair clenches his jaw.
“He has everything to do with it. You could have been exterminated right there in front of everyone.”
“
Then I would have died doing something that I really enjoy.”
“Kendall…” Alistair begins. I can tell that he’s about to lecture me, but I don’t want to go back and forth unless it’s helping the assassins recreate their bromance.
“I don’t want to hear it.” I stick a hand up in his face.
Alistair is visibly taken aback. He blinks three times in surprise.
“And you!” I face Damien next, “I’m sure you get where Alistair is coming from. He must have been scared out of his mind when he found out I went on stage. Cut him some slack. He has a right to be upset.”
Damien shrugs like a petulant child.
I can’t deal with these two.
“Fine,” I grab my purse and head toward the door.
“Hey!”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
They stand up, refusing to let me pass.
“See,” I point to their protective stances. “You guys are friends. No, you’re more like brothers. I don’t mind being the person that brings you together, but I won’t be the person that tears you apart.”
I see my words gaining a bit of a foothold.
“I’m sorry,” Damien dips his head toward Alistair.
I don’t know much about assassin customs, but even I know that the younger man is giving Alistair respect.
“All is well.” Alistair replies gruffly.
He’s still not completely over his irritation at Damien, but at least he’s making an effort. That’s all I can ask for after all.
“Great,” I smile and sink back into my seat. “I was hoping you two would make up. I really didn’t want to leave my muffin.”
They both chuckle at my words.
“Were you very unsuccessful in your mission?” Damien inquires of Alistair.
Now that they’re bros again, Alistair replies.
“No, I found something.”
“You did?” I lean forward with interest. “What did you find?”
Alistair glances about. The diner is pretty well-occupied, maybe he feels weird about discussing something so sensitive in public. I doubt that anyone is interested, however. And even if someone in here knew who we were, I don’t think they’d let us sit around and talk.