Raven starts squirming in between the two of us. Despite her small size, there's still not much room for her between us on the bench seat.
"I hope you two don't plan for us to sleep inside of the truck. My legs are going numb trying to straddle the shifter for the last dozen or so hours."
"When you were sleeping at the last stop, I went into the store and bought a few sleeping bags and some mats. It's not a great idea to sleep directly on the metal. You never know how slow sleeping on the ridges can make your reflexes," Lucien tells her.
We have at least another day of driving before we arrive in one of the largest cities on the West Coast, and neither Lucien nor I can keep driving without more sleep than we can get sitting up inside the truck.
She hops out of the cab and stands looking at the bed of the truck with her hands planted on her hips. "There's no way the three of us are going to fit back here together. I'm tired of being squished between both of you."
Her brother joins her in assessing the dimensions. "She's probably right. One of us can sleep on the ground."
She rolls her eyes and stomps off muttering something about ignorant neanderthals.
Chasing after her I grab her arm and spin her around to face me. "You can't go storming off into the woods. There are bears and cougars out here."
"No shit," she deadpans. "Look, I'm the smallest. The fact of which you have both used as an excuse to not let me drive."
"You are the only one that fits between both of us, and if you were to drive, we'd have to scoot the bench seat up so far neither your brother nor I would be able to fit inside."
She rolls her eyes. "Right, well, I'm also the only one who can sleep somewhat comfortably inside the truck."
"Okay, but why are you heading for the trees, if your plan is to sleep inside the truck?"
She waves a roll of toilet paper we swiped from the hotel as we left. "Neither of you geniuses thought to wake me up at the last stop," she reminds me.
Scratching my head I take a few steps back. "I'll give you some privacy."
Lucien starts spreading out his mat and sleeping bag, and climbs in. The protective older brother act disappears without even making sure his sister is settled in and safe. Whatever his earlier apprehension of leaving Raven in my care apparently doesn't count when he needs to sleep.
I grab her sleeping bag and spread it out on the seat inside the truck. Since her fucker of a brother left me to figure out her sleeping situation, I double up the two remaining mats for myself. Only once she's tucked away in the truck do I climb into my own sleeping bag.
She slides the window open and peers down at me. It doesn't escape her notice that her brother is softly snoring. Her brow furrows, but whatever she's thinking, she doesn't say.
"Goodnight, Raven," I whisper.
"Same to you," she replies, and her head disappears from view.
The last thing I think before closing my eyes is that I'm going to miss holding her. Just the thought shakes my foundation. I don't get attached, especially not to women.
Lucien pulls up his GPS app and inputs the address for the apartment complex, and the computerized voice begins to give directions. It's his turn behind the wheel, and I'm free to watch the landscape as we drive the final leg of our cross country journey to Playa Pacifica.
Lying along the windward side of the Azure Mountains, Playa Pacifica is a popular tourist location, which will allow us to blend into the crowd. People tend not to scrutinize faces when they are accustomed to a steady stream of new ones. Combine that with an emerging tech community, and there is a sizable population for us to blend into.
As the day winds down we begin to descend down the mountain. Multi-million dollar homes dot the landscape, with views of the city below and the stretch of beach that lures people from all over the world. As we get closer to the main part of the city, sky scrapers dominate the landscape and block out the beach. The tall glass structures glitter under the late afternoon sun and reflect the cars traveling the streets below.
The GPS guides us to the freeway where we take a route around the city. Further from the beach, the buildings become more squat and utilitarian. Warehouses and other industrial buildings line the road, many with busted windows and graffiti covering their brick façades.
In the middle of this urban wasteland, we take an exit and drive through a rough part of town. Rent will be lower here compared to the polished city of glass, but it'll be harder to make sure Raven is kept out of harms way.
Soon, he pulls in front of a square apartment building. There are a few stores and gas stations, but nothing of the conveniences offered in better parts of town. All the structures have bars on the windows and project a sense of unwelcome. The sidewalks are cracked with weeds growing in clumps along the jagged seams. This isn't the Playa Pacifica that draws in the tourists. Rather, this is the part of town where the people who serve them reside. The income disparity laid out in concrete, glass, and steel.
He gets out and pockets the keys. "I've been texting with the manager, and he said he'll meet us here shortly. Pretty soon after we're inside I'm going to have to go and meet the manager of the bar that's a few blocks away. I guess we're going to see for sure if our IDs are going to work."
They would. I told Luce I had a guy who does them, but what he doesn’t know is I’m better. He prides himself on being the brains of our operation, always relegating me to do the dirty work. It isn't that I don't trust him, but I've been taught not to let anyone see all of your cards, and that includes my best friend. I'll have to find some time while he is working to make the documents Raven will need, since I had ours made months before she even returned to Devil's Crossing.
Focusing on the task at hand, I get out of the truck and help Raven down. The roughness of the neighborhood is going to present problems in keeping her safe. It seems hiding her from Damien won't be our only concern.
Her beauty, though she doesn't seem to see it, will be a beacon for horny assholes. Training her to defend herself is going to become a top priority. I make a mental note to find a place where I can teach her what she needs to know to stay safe in case Lucien or I can't protect her.
Dust and Doilies
Raven
"If you decide to take the apartment, I'll need first and last before I can give you the keys. There's one bedroom, and the sofa pulls out into a bed. I'll accept cash or money orders. No checks," he says around a mouthful of the hot dog he's been eating while quickly showing us the apartment.
Sin glances over the apartment with a blank face. We could be anywhere for as much as his expression gives away. Lucien seems reluctant to touch anything in the apartment. I've never seen the conditions either of them lived under in Blackthorne Manor, but it's clear watching their reactions there is a gulf between what each of them is used to.
It's fully furnished, I'm guessing some time in the eighties judging by the brown shag carpeting, brown floral couch, and off-white appliances. The kitchen is only big enough to fit one person. There's a window cut out over the counter that allows you to see into the kitchen. Both the floors and countertops are laminate. The floor is also off-white with a beige repeating pattern. Deep gouges mar the surface, along with some random burn marks. The counters are a sickly yellow color, and contain years of scratches and chips.
It's hard to determine the color of the walls. The light coming in through the small windows is weak, and highlights a color that seems beige, white, and yellow simultaneously. My guess is it is probably years worth of grime from cigarette smoke, preparing food, and dust.
A light coating of dust covers all the furniture, except where a few dingy doilies are placed in a sad effort to dress up the depressing decor. I know if I sit on the sofa I'll be engulfed in a cloud of dust. Unfortunately, we don't have cleaning products or a vacuum. Really, only a lit match will improve this place.
Still, it's the first place I've ever been where I felt my lungs were able to fully inflate. Even when I was away at school, t
here was always the sensation of being watched. Not that I knew then I was being watched to make sure I remained valuable to my father when he decided to sell me into marriage.
It didn't matter I had beautifully appointed rooms at all of my boarding schools, or that I was sent to luxury homes on my breaks. My life has been spent in a cage. Perhaps that's why I was really named after a bird.
I feel his eyes on me before I even turn around. The apartment manager stares at me with more hunger than he regarded his hotdog moments ago. Lazily, he wipes his greasy fingers on his stained white tank top. His protruding gut seems to have caught some stray crumbs. Thin, oily hair is poorly combed over his bald head.
Having his attention makes my gut flip. His gaze is nearly tangible, and it slides across my skin like a film. He's clearly fantasizing about me, making me want to scrub my skin.
"Do you keep copies of the keys to the apartments?" Sin's voice cuts through my unease. His unaffected demeanor is gone, replaced by barely contained loathing.
The manager stupidly licks his lips, still watching me. His hand sits on his beer gut, making the already strained and threadbare shirt rise to show a sliver of pasty skin.
"Yeah, in case anyone loses a key, or if there's an emergencies."
"Are those emergencies usually only in the apartments of single women?" Lucien asks, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Sin.
It appears the manager does not possess the ability to sense a threat when it is standing in front of him. The mannerisms of both Sin and Lucien switch to mirrors of each other. Both men seem coiled tight and ready to pounce on their unsuspecting prey.
He shrugs. "You know how women are. There's always an emergency."
"Do you live on the property?" Sin asks.
Shaking his head, making his fleshy cheeks wiggle with the movement, he replies. "Nah, there's three properties run by my employer. I live in one on the other side of town."
"You will never stop by here unannounced, and we will change the locks. You will not have a key until we move out." Lucien peels an extra hundred off the limited funds we have, and extends it to him.
The lust in his eyes converts to greed, but he still registers no awareness how much danger they present to him. His big, meaty hand reaches for the cash and he nods. With a sigh, he gives me one last look, and leaves the keys on the counter.
He exits the room, leaving a lingering odor of sweat and processed meat.
"We need to go to the store. Can Raven and I drop you off at the bar?" Sin asks.
Lucien nods and hands the truck keys to Sin.
Sin turns into the parking lot of Fallen Angels, pulling as close to the door as possible. There are a few cars parked, from old beaters to luxury sedans. An obscene neon sign of a naked woman with wings sits on top of the building. Turns out the bar is actually a strip club.
A tatted up boulder of a man stands guard outside the door. When Lucien approaches he assesses him with a shrewdness I've only seen in the eyes of Lucien and Sin. Not that I've seen a lot of men. Perhaps most of them view the world through eyes of a predator.
"Close your mouth, princess. A job is a job."
My eyes snap to Sin. His jaw is clenched and his fingers squeeze the wheel like he's trying to strangle it. It reminds me of my brother's comment the previous day. You don't need to learn about life at the hands of a killer.
My entire life I've felt alone, and to be honest, I resented my brother for being the one they kept while I was sent away. In the few short days I spent under my father's roof I started to see I knew less about my family than I'd imagined.
Despite the warning, I can't bring myself to fear Sin. Yes, he's clearly lethal. Oddly, that particular quality makes me feel safe. The only part of me I feel threatened by him is my heart. I feel myself needing to reach out to him, but he will probably disappear in a haze of smoke.
He shifts the truck into gear and peels out of the lot. "Let's go pick up whatever girly shit you need from the store."
"I'd hardly call cleaning supplies 'girly shit'."
The corner of his mouth quirks up, but he forces his expression back to the blank mask he usually wears.
He's become more withdrawn as the miles increased between us and Devil's Crossing. I've been biting my tongue, knowing even if he or Lucien could answer the questions I have, they likely wouldn't. No one ever feels the need to let me know what direction my life is headed. Whether they know it or not, there's a countdown on the time I'm willing to go along with their plan. Eighteen years is long enough to wait to live.
Using his phone for directions, we find a Target several miles from the rundown neighborhood we will be calling home for the foreseeable future. He taps his thumb on the steering wheel after he's parked in a far corner of the lot.
"Couldn't find a closer spot?" The lot is about half full, and yet he pulls into a desolate spot in the far corner of the lot.
"I don't want the truck to appear on security cameras. If we are discovered, I'd like to be able to use it at least until we can find another one. The last thing we need is to drive a stolen vehicle and risk getting pulled over."
I'm not going to argue with him. It's clear he has more skills at evasion than I do. My mouth turns down when my mind drifts to what other skills he possesses that I don't. After all, he's twenty-one and hasn't spent his entire life in virtual storage.
"If I ask you to wait in the truck, would you?" he asks.
I stare directly into his dark eyes. They're unreadable, a brown so dark they are nearly black. "That depends. Do you have any idea what household items we need to get that pit of an apartment to be something we can actually live in."
He scratches the back of his neck. "Fine, but you do as I say."
"Sounds like every day of my life."
From behind the bench seat he pulls out a hat and a hoodie. He shoves both into my hands. "Put those on. When we go in keep your head down. Don't look up. I don't want anyone seeing those freaky ass eyes of yours."
"So, you want me to stare at the ground? Won't that make me look like something is wrong? That's not going to hide anyone getting suspicious."
The sharp bite of motor oil, the musky smell of marijuana mingle with the scent of leather and something spicy cling to the material of the sweater. Pulling the material up to my nose, I inhale deeply. It's an odd mix unique to Sin.
"Put the hat on, and do something to hide most of your hair."
I pull half of my hair through the loop in the back of the hat, tucking the stray pieces inside to obscure the length. There's nothing I can do about the color, but it's far less unusual if not combined with the waist length of it.
Sin grunts. "Good, you look fourteen." He tosses his phone in my lap. "This should go along with a bratty teenager vibe. Just do whatever normal teenage girls do and pretend you're my sister."
"How would I know what normal teenage girls do?" I try not to let it sting that he thinks I look like a barely pubescent girl. Try, but fail. It won't be hard to glare at the phone and act like I'm insolently ignoring an annoying older brother.
In an act of defiance I open a text to his number and start sending messages for him to find when I give him back his phone.
If I look like a little girl, why can't you keep your eyes off of me?
Sin grabs a cart, and I follow behind engrossed in my imaginary conversation.
Why did you cling to me the other night in bed?
I'm playing with fire, and the burn is going to be torture. Still, I can't stop myself from being drawn to the flames.
He moves through the store and after a little meandering, finds the tools. He loads a drill, a set of screwdrivers, and a few locks into the cart.
Next, he moves on to the cleaning supplies and goes straight for the oxygen cleaners. I stop texting when I realize the box advertises, among other things, it's ability to get rid of blood.
I raise one eyebrow at him, and he murmurs, "You never know."
Right, I'd forgotten the w
orld I'd stumbled into. Or, I guess it was the world I've always lived in, just unknowingly. I grab an all purpose cleaner, toilet cleaner, air freshener, cleaning utensils, and paper towels.
Sin grabs a few other items, and I move toward the household goods. I knew he'd follow behind me, so I keep my head down and focus on his phone.
The aisle is filled with duvets and decorative pillows. Sin groans seeing the lace and frilly bed coverings.
"Not man enough for a little lace?" I mutter.
"Just hurry up, that lady has passed us three times," he urges. "I told you, we can't get noticed."
"This place is filled with bored housewives. You're like cougar catnip."
"Just tell me what to grab so we can get the fuck out of here, princess."
"Pillows, towels, two sets of sheets for full sized mattresses, and a vacuum. I saw pots, pans, and dishes in the cupboard, so I think that will cover it."
He nods, and moves to the end of the aisle where he randomly grabs a few of the items on the list I dictated. The older woman makes another pass by where we are loading our cart.
"Need help shopping? It must be hard," she moves close enough to reach out and brush her hand across his forearm, "for a single man to set up house."
The muscle in his jaw clenches, but otherwise he lets no sign of his irritation show. "We're fine."
He reaches behind me, planting his hand on my back and tries to encourage me to move forward.
"The things you chose are quite plain, I'm sure your younger sister would like something pretty. I know how hard it is to get them off their phone to help."
"I said, we're fine." His teeth clench and he applies more pressure to my back to push me forward.
Pretty Monsters Page 6