Pretty Monsters

by Kimberly Carrillo

  He pulls into an industrial park with several warehouses laid out covering what looks like a city block. He drives through them, and parks next to a large building in the back.

  "Why would you buy this?" I ask, staring at a rundown looking building.

  Several of the windows are boarded up, which I suppose is an improvement on the others that simply have broken windows. It's a large, squat structure built of concrete. The door has peeling red paint, and there's a faded emblem on the side, but whatever it is has been lost to time.

  "The price was right, it has the square footage I need, and it's hard to find," he answers, shrugging his shoulders.

  He gets out of the car and unlocks the door, letting us in. I expect the inside to be as rough as the outside, but I am pleasantly surprised. There's a wall of mirrors on one side, with mats on the floor to train on. On the opposite side there are punching bags, weights, and other equipment you'd expect to find in a gym. He guides us through a door leading to a large office filled with computer equipment.

  He points to another door inside the office. "That leads to the second floor. I've framed it out for dorm style rooms. A central kitchen and den are in the middle. I plan to offer those rooms to women and children who need a place to hide out."

  "Wow. This is incredible. I am impressed." It's lame, and not even a fraction of what I feel about what he's doing here.

  "I have one other thing to show you," he says, and strolls back out of the office. There's another section behind the office set up as a shooting range.

  "I don't know what possessed me to build this. I don't really advocate violence if it can be avoided, but–"

  "Sometimes you can't," Sin finishes for him.

  Ford scrubs his hand through his hair. "Yeah." He looks me in the eyes. "I guess, I'd rather know that the women we help will be able to save themselves in any way they need to."

  I know he's talking to me. Sin said himself at the start of our journey that I'd need to learn to survive. Something gives him the idea I'm helpless. Perhaps if he knew me better he'd stop thinking he needs to be around to protect me. If we were on more even footing, would he leave?

  He's got a table set up with ear protection, a couple of different handguns, and throwing knives. I pick one up, getting a feel for the balance and weight in my hand. He's already set up a target, so I take my stance, grip the knife by the blade, and throw it.

  After all three knives land in the center of the target I turn to face them. Ford is smirking, and Sin looks confused.

  "I had a lot of time at school, and not much to do. One of the PE instructors taught various self-defense techniques, and I have always been a quick study."

  "What else can you do?" Sin asks, reassessing me.

  I smile at him. I love the fact he isn't looking at me like he did when we first met. Then I see how much of a liability he thinks I am in every gaze. He hovers, but at first it wasn't out of a need to be near me. Like Lucien, he thought I was fragile.

  "Do you have a recurve bow?" I ask Ford.

  "Actually, yeah. Not because they are practical from a self defense point of view, but great to improve focus and relieve stress. Give me a second and I'll go get one and some arrows."

  Alone, Sin approaches me. His hands go around my waist, and he pulls me into him. "You never stop surprising me."

  "I'm not helpless," I tell him.

  "I never thought you were helpless. I know you can protect yourself, but your father isn't like most threats. He consumes the innocent. Even if you can take care of yourself, it isn't going to stop me wanting to protect you, you know."

  An awareness creeps over me. His need to protect me isn't because he thinks I'm weak, it's because I make him weak. Sin is telling me I'm precious to him, in the only way he knows how.

  Moving toward him, his breath catches. I hope he never stops responding like this to me. Stretching up, I kiss his cheek. His hands fall to my waist, and he lifts me up.

  "More," he growls, and turns his face.

  In contradiction to the way his fingers are digging into my skin, his lips brush softly against mine. I lace my hands through his hair and pull his mouth to mine, seeking more pressure. Our mouths battle for dominance, tongues tangling; it's a fight not for control but for the heart of the other.

  Sin doesn't have words for how he feels. My guess is that his feelings are confusing for him, and I don't think he'd know what to do with my words. I can wait for him to name what is going on between us, because I can feel it. He's falling for me, but he needs to come to that conclusion on his own.

  Ford clears his throat and chuckles when I blush. He holds a bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows in the other. "You knew I was coming back."

  I unwrap my legs from Sin's hips, not realizing I was clinging to him like a baby monkey.

  Sin chuckles. "Knew it. Still didn't give a shit."

  Ford sets up a target on the far lane, and I slip the arm guard over my hand. I wait until he joins us before notching an arrow. Taking a second to aim, I release it. It whistles quietly as it sails through the target, landing dead center with a soft thud.

  "Again," Sin orders.

  I repeat the process, landing a succession of arrows right next to each other. Both men stare at me with awe and a new appreciation.

  I shrug. "Like I said, I had a lot of time on my hands. Not that a bow and arrows are practical for self-defense."

  "Let's try the nine mil," Sin suggests. "I don't suppose you're an expert marksman with that too, are you?"

  Shaking my head. "No, they didn't teach us target shooting."

  We all put on the ear muffs to preserve our hearing before Sin picks up the weapon, loads a clip, flips off the safety, and pulls the slide back to chamber a bullet. Lucien and Sin both told me how dangerous he is, but seeing the fluidity of his movement speaks volumes about how comfortable he is with a gun.

  When he aims, it only takes him seconds to sight the gun and fire several shots rapidly. When Ford presses the button to pull the target forward, all I see is one large hole dead center. Each and every one of his shots went straight through the middle.

  Ford places a new target in the clips and sends it back to position. Sin lays the gun on the table in front of us. He puts his hands on my hips and encourages me to take his place.

  "I know you were watching. Load it. Remember never put your finger on the trigger unless you plan to shoot. This gun has a safety, but don't rely on that. The real safety is your trigger finger."

  I nod and follow the same steps to load the gun he did. Keeping my finger off the trigger and the weapon pointed down. I mimic his stance, feet shoulder width apart, and aim the gun.

  It's loud, despite the hearing protection. The kick of the gun jars my body, and I realize I barely hit the target, not even close to the image of the torso on it. I make a few adjustments in the way I'm standing and aim again. This time my shot hits the shoulder of the image. Not a killing blow. I frown.

  "We'll practice until it's natural," Sin says, his hands sliding down my arms. He adjusts the way I'm holding the gun and steps back.

  This time when I aim I hit just below center. It takes a few clips before I'm consistently hitting the center of the target.

  "You're a natural," Ford praises.

  Sin nods. "You are very dangerous, princess."

  My arms shake, unused to the kickback of the gun. After I put the weapon down, I shake life back into them.

  "That's probably enough for today," Sin comments. "Next time I'd like to go over some self-defense moves. Even if you have trained in the past, I need you to be able to fight like I do. All of them men your father will send learned the same style of fighting. If you can fight me, you stand a better chance of getting away from them."

  I nod, and I'm thankful we aren't doing that today. I haven't trained for a few weeks now, and I know it's time to restart my old regimen. I told myself at school that the running and fight training was to occupy my time, but in the back of
my mind I somehow knew I needed the skills to survive on my own. Perhaps it was women's intuition or repressed memories, but I wasn't going to be a lamb among wolves.

  I'm a raven, harbinger of death. My father would live to regret me, but only just. Someday his black cloud wouldn't hang over our heads, even if that meant he needed to lose his.

  22

  Fear of Falling

  Sin

  I thought knowing Raven could defend herself would put me at ease. In a way it does, but it also terrifies me. When I first saw her she appeared like an apparition in her white nightgown, backlit by the moon. It’s as if the night itself birthed her from the sky, hair black as night and skin pale as the light of the stars. She's so small it gives her an air of fragility, but it's a ruse.

  Her spine is made of steel, and despite her size she's a weapon. I've no doubt someone at the school she attended had an inkling what she would face someday. Teachers can impart more than facts. True, some of them don't go above and beyond, but a good one makes sure to impart the tools their students will need beyond the knowledge they were hired to deliver. I've mostly taught myself, but there was one trainer who took extra time and showed me more than how to be a killer. Those skills are proving themselves invaluable now.

  The ride to the apartment is quick. Raven yawns in the back, and I'm looking forward to something I've never done before. I want to make use of the television Lucien bought while we were gone, turn on a movie, and hold her close to me.

  The idea should freak me out. Emotions make you vulnerable, but I wouldn't say that my feelings for Raven make me weak. I'd burn down the world to protect her. If anything I'm more dangerous now than I ever have been, because now I have a reason to live.

  Ford and I walk upstairs behind Raven. I signal her to stand back while I sweep through the apartment before letting her in.

  I kiss her forehead. "Why don't you go take a shower to ease your muscles. I'm going to talk to Ford a minute."

  She covers her face to fight another yawn. "Yeah, that sounds like heaven actually."

  Once she's inside the bathroom and the water kicks on, I go grab my laptop from the bed where I left it. Booting it up I scan through the communications between Damien's soldiers. Without Lucien they don't know enough to look for the spyware I installed.

  "What are you searching for?" Ford asks.

  "The location of her father's army. We made sure to go to a place none of us had any ties, but I don't think we'll be able to hide forever. He's got to be desperate to get her back. There's emails between the family he was trying to marry her off to and him. Apparently, they needed a marriage for the son as badly as her father wanted the political alliance. It won't be too much longer before they plaster her face all over the news."

  "What about going to the police? Surely you're far enough out of his reach here to find someone to help you," he suggests.

  I shake my head. "No, he has bribed officials all over the country. His empire isn't local, it's global. There's not a place on this earth we can hide he can't reach."

  "So then, what's the plan?"

  I drop my head into my hands, scrubbing my palms against my face. "Right now they are searching the places Raven has lived. Going after anyone she knew. It won't take long before they realize those are dead ends. Short of killing Damien, I'm not sure we can do anything but stay on the move."

  "Why don't you do that then?" he asks.

  "Which, stay on the move or kill him?"

  "Kill him." He shudders, like even making the suggestion has blackened his soul. "I don't like advocating violence, but if there's no other option, what else can you do?"

  I look up at him. "See, that's the problem. I'd have to get to him first. He's never alone, and I'd have to fight my way to get to him. We need an ally more powerful than he is. Right now, we need to stay out of his reach long enough to have him lose the election. Getting dirt to the current governor to help him win is also a must. Then we have to leverage our help for a favor."

  "This thing Lucien is involved in puts her at risk, doesn't it?" he asks.

  "Yeah," I confirm. "But, he won't leave women to be victimized. It's the only thing keeping him human, playing avenging angel. I can't take that from him."

  "Could you walk away from it?" he pushes.

  "Only to protect Raven. I'd come back when she was safe, but no. I know what it feels like to be owned."

  I open a file full of pictures and start to show him. "Anyone could be on Damien's payroll, but if you see one of these men around, I need time to get Raven out."

  He studies each face. "Email them to me. I'll make sure everyone studies their faces. Shane can rig up the apartment to create enough of a distraction to get out. Meanwhile, we should get the living quarters of the warehouse ready and install security there too. Living here might be too much of a risk."

  "We aren't the only ones at risk if they find out you know us. Can Ted hold up against torture, because they will stop at nothing if they think you have information they need."

  "Ted seems easy going on the outside. I think he even believes it sometimes, but of all of us, those tactics won't work on him," Ford replies.

  I raise an eyebrow. "It isn't my story to tell. Let's just say the three of us bonded for a reason."

  "What about Shane?" I ask.

  "Ever notice he doesn't talk about his parents? Only his grandfather?"

  I nod.

  "Let's just say his mother and my father had a lot in common. Once his grandfather found out, he stepped in, but he was old enough and big enough to protect himself by then. None of them will put Raven at risk. Amber is the only one who might break, but she's cagier than she seems."

  Raven chooses this moment to exit the bathroom, wearing nothing except a towel. Ford doesn't miss the display of glistening wet skin as she moves through the room.

  "I'm starting to like you, but that'll end if you keep eye fucking my girl," I growl.

  He tips his head back and laughs. Fucking laughs. "I know she's yours. You can't blame me for appreciating the view, especially when I know what she looks like without the towel."

  My fists clench. "Not the right thing to say, fucker."

  "Calm down, killer. Don't you think it kills me to know that you fucked Tessa? I had to see that shit with my own eyes. As much as we all hate what happened, at least the three of us know that Raven and I are just friends."

  "She deserves more than being a curiosity fuck," I growl.

  "Yeah, she does. It isn't that I don't have feelings for her."

  I growl again. While I didn't want to believe he used her for pleasure, I also don't like hearing him admit he has feelings for her either. My head is all sorts of screwed up.

  "But," he continues, ignoring my outburst. "What I feel for her isn't the same as what I feel for Tessa, or what she feels for you. If we'd pushed ahead we'd have been settling. We both deserve more than that. Tessa and I are irrevocably damaged, but at least Raven can be with who she wants the most."

  It's not enough to calm the beast inside of me that wants to lay claim to her in every possible way, but it's the best I'm going to get.

  Ford's voice lowers. "I know what it feels like to have a woman so deep inside of your soul that it hurts. But, when she feels the same way, it lessens the sting a little. Perhaps in time I'll get over Tessa, but that doesn't mean I can move on to Raven. Not knowing she loves you the way I'd want her to love me."

  "You think she loves me?" I ask in the same quiet tone.

  He cocks his head, studying me. "Don't you?"

  I shrug. No one has ever loved me. Desired me, yes, but love? No, not even my own parents, whoever the hell they are.

  He shakes his head. "You're clueless. I bet you aren't even ready to admit you love her too."

  "How would I know?" I sound vulnerable, and I fucking hate it. It's also weird that I can talk to him in a way I can't talk to Lucien, and not just because the subject is his sister.

  "How does it feel wh
en you look at her?"

  An ache blooms in the middle of my chest, and I try to rub it away. "A little like dying. There are so many things that could take her away from me."

  "There's a reason they call it falling in love. It's scary and hurts like a bitch," he says.

  "Then why?" I honestly can't figure out why people search the world for another person to make them feel this out of control.

  He shrugs. "Partly biology, but I think it's also because life would be boring without the rush. People do all sorts of things that scare the shit out of them to feel alive, jump out of planes, swim with sharks, you name it."

  "You really do sound like a psych major," I grumble.

  "Can't help it." He shrugs. "When this is all over, you should really find someone to talk to. It isn't a weakness to heal yourself."

  "Would you?" I ask. Ford gives off the typical jock vibes when you meet him, but it's as much of a mask as Ted's extroverted persona.

  He nods. "Yeah, I mean I was forced to in high school. When you come to school too often with bruises, they tend to step in. It saved me though. I was looking for an escape, and it would have ended in blood, either mine or my dad's."

  Ford stands up. "I'm going to go down stairs. I've got a paper to write, and you have a woman who probably wants your attention."

  I lock the door behind him and enter the bedroom. Raven is sitting on the bed, dressed in sleep shorts and a tank top, running a comb through her long black hair.

  Taking it from her, I sit next to her and start working the knots out of her hair.

  "You don't have to do that," she protests, but it's weak. She practically purrs as I start from the bottom.

  "I know I don't, but your arms must be tired, and you have a lot of hair."

  She sighs a sound of contentment. "If you insist. I love having my hair brushed. I had a nanny that used to brush it every night."

  It doesn't take me long to work the comb through her hair. When I'm done I move it to the side and kiss her neck. She leans into me and tips her head giving me better access.