by K. A Knight
I force myself to step back, to put some distance between us, because the sad, messed up fact is it felt way too good to be wrapped in his arms. He lets me go, burying his hands in his pockets, and stares at me again, but instead of a scowl…is that a smile? It’s tiny for sure, merely a tip up at the corner of his lips, but it’s definitely there. Holy shit. It blows my mind, and for a moment I just stand there staring at him
He frowns then when it becomes awkward.
“Er, I guess I’ll just call a cab,” I mutter uneasily, leaning into my car to grab my phone and bag, before shutting the door.
“Don’t,” he snaps, and I blink at him in confusion. “I’ll drive you,” he offers.
“Er, Mr. Hunt?” I start, but when his eyes narrow dangerously, I try again. “Max, don’t you have a bike?”
He flashes me a rare grin then. “I have a car as well, come on.” He grabs my bag and throws it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing, before steering me around to his driveway. His palm rests on my lower back, heat radiating from his touch. I almost stumble, since I’m focusing so much on his hand, but he keeps me upright as he hits something and his garage door rises, showing me what looks like a brand new Jeep parked inside. I could have sworn I’ve never seen a car before.
“Hop in, you’re heading to university, right?” he inquires, rounding the passenger side of the car and opening the door for me.
I follow after him and clamber into the high vehicle. “Yes, please,” I reply softly.
He shuts the door and moves quickly around the front, before hopping into the driver’s side and starting it up. It purrs, and it’s so much smoother than my car that I find myself looking around in jealousy. I wonder how much a ride like this costs. Probably a lifetime debt for me. He rests his arm on the back of my seat and glances through the back window as he reverses, while I keep my eyes glued to the side of his face.
He smiles again like he can sense my gaze and I lower my eyes, gazing out the front window. He pulls out smoothly and faces the front as he guns it through the quiet, sleepy neighbourhood. Without looking, he flicks on the radio.
“Put on whatever you like,” he tells me.
I fidget nervously for a moment, but then decide what the hell, I’ve already crossed a line by hugging him like that, so I might as well cross some more. He’s probably just being nice so I don’t cry again, but I’m going to take advantage of that and ogle him the whole ride. Leaning over, I play with the radio until it clicks onto a rock station I like, and then I lean back into the leather seat and nosily look around the car. It’s spotless, crazy spotless—is it brand new? Nothing marks it as his, there’s not even an air freshener in the here.
“Is this new?” I find myself asking, stroking the leather of the seat by my thigh.
I glance up to see him staring at me before his eyes dart back to the road. It should take us about thirty minutes to get there, so I relax into my seat and rest my cheek on the leather and watch him. I observe as he reaches up and tugs on his beard before returning his hand to the wheel, the tattoos on his fingers and wrist catching my attention. He has a beautiful rose crawling up his thumb, the vines wrapping around the rest of his fingers and then blending into a skull on the back of his hand. He has two sleeves of intricate artwork like that, some tribal, others symbols and drawings, and I find my eyes moving from one to the next, wanting to memorise them all. I have to sit on my hands to stop the incessantly strong urge to reach out and touch them.
“Yes,” he answers suddenly, pulling me from my inspection.
“Why did you get it?” I query.
He shrugs then, changing gears and resting his hand there. “It gets too cold for the bike in winter.”
I nod, seems fair, but it does make me wonder again what he does for a living where he can just go out and by a brand new Jeep. The music fills the car, the beat of the drums and strumming of the guitar soothing me. I’m happy to sit in silence, and it seems he is too. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it with small talk, and other than a few shared glances, he appears to ignore my company altogether, which is a sad truth.
“Why aren’t you married?” I blurt, and then my eyes widen and I want to cover my mouth with my hand.
He huffs what I realise is a laugh and cuts me a look. “No woman has interested me enough to make me stick around.”
I gulp, analysing his words. He speaks so little that I gobble up these snippets, wanting to learn everything about him. “You move a lot?” I ask, and he doesn’t seem annoyed by my questions.
“I used to when I served, now I’ve settled.” He throws me a searching look I don’t understand before concentrating back on the road.
“What about you?” he eventually inquires, and I almost grin at the rustiness of him trying to converse, like he doesn’t do it often. I like the idea that I’m the only one he really talks to way too much.
“I’ve got another year of university, but I was hoping to move out soon and closer to campus. I guess that isn’t happening now that my car is fucked up,” I mutter, admitting that to him. He grins when I say “fucked,” but then frowns.
“You have something lined up?” he asks, his voice rough and low.
“No. I saw a nice flat, but nothing that blew me away. I just want space, some place that is entirely mine. My escape from the outside, you know? Plus, I love downtown, with all the greenery, coffee shops, venues, and music,” I divulge with a shrug, glancing out the window.
“Yeah, I can understand that.” He nods. “I’m sorry about your car.”
“Not your fault,” I say softly, crossing my legs.
We lapse into silence then, and I stare out of the window as the view outside transforms from suburbs into towering sky rises, flats, schools, and bustling city life. He navigates the traffic well, and we are soon downtown with the vintage shops, boutiques, independent coffee houses, and an urban feel. Right on the edge is the university, and he swings into the car park of the main building and cuts off the engine. I turn to look at him to see him staring out of the window and not at me.
I don’t know what makes me do it, other than I want those dark eyes on me, but I lay my hand on his arm. He freezes under my touch, his eyes fixated on me with a scary intensity. “Thank you for the ride,” I murmur softly, smiling at him. I glance at the clock then and panic slashes through me.
“Shit, I’m going to be late.” I grab my bag and open the door, getting ready to climb out when his hand darts over and grabs my elbow, almost gently.
“How are you getting home?” he growls.
I blink and rack my brain. “Erm, bus probably?” Why does that sound like a question?
“No. What time do you finish?” he questions sternly.
“Three-thirty today,” I answer, automatically replying.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting here.” He lets go of my arm, but I stay seated.
“You don’t have to—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a twist of his lips.
“I’ll be here,” he snaps, and just like that it’s decided, his word is law.
I nod and slip from the car, shouldering my bag. “Thank you, Max,” I offer, before shutting the door and rushing away, feeling his gaze on me the entire time.
Chapter Five
Maximus
I watch her disappear into the grounds of the university before backing out of the car park. I was going to offer to let her borrow the car, but this is even better, because now she has to ride with me for an hour each day, and I won’t take no for an answer. I stop at the light and tap my fingers on the wheel, annoyed that she’s thinking of moving. I don’t blame her with her messed up parent, but that means she will be farther away from me.
I spot a coffee shop with an open space outside, so I park and hop out, settling in to wait for her for the day. I order a coffee and some breakfast, and then head to the back of the hippy cafe. I choose a table in the back corner, and place my back to the wall as I sip my overpriced coffee and watch the pe
ople coming and going. My food arrives quickly and it’s amazing. While I’m eating, I load up my phone and flip through some housing options, looking at the ones available on the market right now she might be interested in. My scowl gets increasingly worse with each place. They are either in terrible neighbourhoods, have sketchy roommates, or are downright stealing her money. I close my phone, disgusted, and since I’m sure she won’t be moving straight away, I have time. Time for what, I’m not sure.
My eyes glaze over, flickering constantly over everything like always until the vibration of my phone on the table interrupts me. The caller is unknown, so I swipe to accept and hold it to my ear.
“Red door,” I greet.
“Black window,” the male voice replies. “Connecting.”
I hold as I’m transferred through, leaning back in my chair and watching as a young man strums his guitar before marking down some notes at the end of the coffee shop.
“Maximus,” comes the stern voice down the phone.
“Donald,” I reply, my voice cool and emotionless.
“I have a job,” he begins, and I don’t say anything, letting him carry on, knowing he wouldn’t have rung me unless he had a job. “In your neighbourhood, Park and Fifth, uptown. Collection.” He stops, his breathing controlled as always.
“Payout?” I ask casually, drumming my fingers on the table.
“Four thousand, delivery address Regent Square, warehouse forty-one. Two hours, do you accept?”
“I accept.” I close the call and down my coffee, throwing it in the trash on the way out. I pull my sunglasses from my jacket and head to the Jeep, unlocking it as I go. I need to make a pitstop and gear up, then get the job over with to make sure I’m back in time for Scarlett.
I make it home, get ready, and leave again in record time. I take the Jeep with it being a pickup and not wanting to switch vehicles again later—a different car would surprise Scarlett. I pull into the garage and slip out, pocketing the keys as I head to the waiting BMW. I slide in, the keys already waiting in the ignition, and gun it when the garage shuts behind me. No doubt it’s a stolen car with untraceable plates made only to be used once. You see, the rumours are not far off. I’m a dangerous man and this is a dangerous, fucked up world.
When I left special forces, there were men looking for people with my skill set and experience, they valued me and paid handsomely. I couldn’t just slip back into civilian life, I wasn’t made for it, so four years agoI took them up on their offer. I chose which jobs and how much and I have my rules. I don’t kill innocents, I don’t do slavery, and no drugs. That doesn’t mean that others don’t, just not me. The system is near perfect. I have all the toys and gadgets I could want, and protection from the law as long as I’m good. The jobs come through a third party called the Clergy—blasphemous, I know—so we have no contact with the clients. Donald works for the Clergy as one of the top men, and the leader of safe house Serenity. Hits or jobs crop up a lot, some even for our own kind who have gone rogue. I don’t do as many as I used to, maybe I’m getting old, but I want more in life now…ever since her. I never used to question jobs, but now every time I look down the scope, I wonder if they are truly innocent or who will miss them.
It’s fucking annoying.
In this game, you don’t retire. You either die or keep working, so I accept jobs few and far between, usually the harder ones they don’t offer to many. I’m one of the best and Donald knows that.
I head to the address, staying below the speed limit so I don’t attract attention. This will be easy, almost too easy. They always are. I park right outside the uptown address then ring the doorman. I slip inside the apartment building and head straight for the elevator. I hit the button for the penthouse and I rise quickly, and when I step out, a man in a suit is waiting for me.
“Pickup?” I say calmly.
He nods, looking me over before another guy drags over a younger man. His hands are bound at the wrists, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his face pale, and I can almost taste his fear. I grab him and turn without another word.
After delivering the package, I dial the number programmed into my phone, frowning when I realise I don’t have Scarlett’s. “It’s done,” I declare straight away, and then hang up.
My phone pings then and I glance at the text to see the money has been transferred to my account. Satisfied, I toss my phone into the passenger seat and speed away from the warehouses. It takes me about thirty minutes to get through morning traffic to the garage. Once there, I leave the keys in the BMW and head back to my Jeep, but turn at the last minute.
“Samuel, you here?” I shout, the sound loud in the quiet garage.
I hear a grumble then booted feet heading my way. “Everything okay?” he calls, slipping around a door with a rag in his hands.
“I need you to tow the white car on the next driveway over from mine,” I order.
His bushy eyebrows rise and his lips twist. “I ain’t working the jobs.”
“I know, it’s not a job, it’s a favour,” I snap, before slipping into the Jeep and starting the engine over the sound of his grumbling. The door rises and I head out, going to pick up some things before I have to return for Scarlett.
Chapter Six
Scarlett
The exam went okay, I think. I felt prepared, but afterwards, talking with some of my friends about what they answered, I start to second-guess myself. Shaking it off, I wave goodbye, and Nadia and I split to go to our next lecture. She slips her arm through mine, hugging me tightly with a smile.
“I bet you did great, Scar,” she says loudly. “You always do, Miss Smarty Pants.” I stick my tongue out at her and she laughs, dragging me to our next lecture over in the west building, all the way across campus.
I peer over at my friend—not just any friend, but my best friend. We met on the first day of high school, and when I told a girl who was bullying her to go fuck herself, we became instant besties. We have been inseparable ever since—boys, family, school, none of it could get in the way of us. There used to be two more members of our inner circle, but they chose different universities, and though I still love them, we don’t see them as much as we used to.
I picked this one to be close to home, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford to go otherwise. Nadia picked this one for her family. She looks after her sick grandma as a caretaker. I guess we are both trapped here for different reasons, but knowing she’s here with me always helps. I had hoped she would move out with me, it would be so much fun, but I don’t want to ask, knowing she will never leave her gammie. How could I expect her to?
I was lucky in a sense. If it wasn’t for student finance, I wouldn’t have even been able to go. It’s the one thing my mother did right, I guess, since being a single mum means I got more money. I only receive enough to cover my tuition, books, and some of the rent, but it’s a helping hand that meant I could quit my third job. Then the tips got really good at Heels where I work at night, so I quit my second one just this week.
“Earth to Scarlett,” Nadia teases, nudging me as we pass the ivy archway leading to the west building.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I reply.
“I was complaining about how naturally beautiful you are. Are you even wearing foundation right now?” she grumbles.
“No, I overslept today and then my stupid car broke down,” I whine, then wince at the petulant quality in my tone.
“Damn, sorry, sweetie. How did you get here?”
We pass through the large wooden doors and into the air-conditioned, carpeted lobby with seats already half filled with students. A small coffee stall stands in the corner, but we pass it as we head to the brown door off the hallway that leads to the staircase. “I got a lift.” I shrug, not wanting to go into details with who for some reason.
Nadia starts talking again as we climb the four flights to the top floor of the west block where our seminar is. “I swear, Scar, who asks someone for a dick pic after the first date?” she gr
ouses.
I smile and nod, agreeing in the right places, but my mind keeps going back to the smouldering eyes of my next door neighbour.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of seminars and lectures, with twenty minutes between to snatch a quick sandwich and drink from the shop on campus. I eat quickly at a table with everyone before rushing off for the final lecture of the day. When I get there, I wait outside with the other students and check my phone to have something to do. I groan when I see an email pop up, announcing the lecture is cancelled due to staff sickness.
With nothing else to do, I head to the library to get some books I need to work on my latest essay, and get some studying in before Max picks me up. The library is over a small bridge on the other side of campus, so I hurry across, keeping my bag close, and blending into the crowd.
The old, red brick building, which I think used to be a lead mill, stands out in the middle of the other modern glass buildings. The front doors are open, letting in the breeze as I enter, my shoes loud in the silence. I smile at the young woman working the coffee stand in the entrance as I head to the scanners. Pulling out my student ID, I wait for it to flash green and the barriers to move before I head through. I pass the row of desks filled with assistants and go straight to the door at the back, which leads to a bank of elevators.
It dings straight away and I climb inside. I push the button for floor two and head to the silent reading floor that I’m hoping will make me concentrate on work. When the door opens onto the floor, I step out and curve around the many shelves of books all labelled according to genre. I head to the tables that litter the back corner. Some are full, but not as much as normal, since most people have finished their exams for now and are usually just starting their other classes. I pick one that has the chair with the wall behind it and spread my books out, placing my water bottle beside them before going and grabbing the other books I need, then hauling them back to my desk.