Twins

by Tiya Rayne

  Damn, does this dude ever get tired of talking? I take notice of their positions again. I need to get out of this spot, but I’m going to need a little help.

  Placing one gun down at my side, I pull out my phone. Once I’m done, I replace it. Not two seconds later, glass shatters and bullets fly. Everyone in the room spins around to fire at the drone outside the window.

  “Thanks, Lucien,” I say out loud before picking up my extra gun. I stay low so not to be taken out by Lucien’s drone.

  The drone takes out two gunmen before going down. I fire two shots, taking out two more guys before finding refuge behind a wall leading down a short hallway. My new positions puts me at a better advantage to see the room. Everyone is hiding at the moment but counting the dead bodies I can say—thanks to the drone—the fight is a little more evened out now. Five down and five to go.

  “You can’t win this, Twin. Even if you happen to make it out of here alive today, you won’t win this.”

  I follow the sound of Takar’s voice. He’s hiding on the other side of the couch by the large glass window.

  I don’t bother defending myself to Takar, I’ll let him believe that bullshit. Instead, I try to determine the fastest route to him. Which most likely will require me to take out his men first. Takar is definitely my main target, if for no other reason than to shut him the fuck up. However, I need to be smart.

  “Is this about the girl?”

  His question stops me cold, and he knows he has my attention.

  “She is beautiful, but is she worth dying for?”

  I don’t answer the question. I told Lia once before she is worth killing for, but I would honestly kill for anything. However, I never stopped to ask the question—is she worth dying for? Now is not the time for deep reflections, I scold myself, sounding a lot like my brother.

  I have one goal, eliminate his guards. Tucking one gun at my waist, I decide to go for it. There’s a wet bar around the corner from me, to my far right. From my angle I can tell no one is hiding there. I shoot the lamp off the table near Takar’s head. One of his guards peeks around the corner of the entryway.

  “Gotcha.” I shoot, making a clean shot and then run for the cover of the wet bar. I dive for cover as a bullet whizzes by my head, taking a piece of wood with it.

  One more down, only three more to go before I get to Takar.

  “Maybe, I’ll let you die here, then I’ll go pay your brother’s girl a visit. I want to introduce her to better company,” Takar continues on.

  I sigh, fuck it. I come from around the wet bar, guns blazing. I shoot near the sofa where Takar is hiding.

  Another guard looks up over the kitchen counter. I fire a shot, taking him out, moving closer to Takar. The last two make their locations known.

  I fire one gun and then the other, killing them both on the spot. I toss my borrowed gun to the ground, its empty now. Walking right up to the couch, I aim my own gun at Takar’s head while he looks up wide-eyed at me.

  “Not so talkative now are you?” I ask before I go to pull the trigger.

  However, I never get a shot off. A fucking mac truck rams into me, knocking me to the ground. I look up into the face of the biggest motherfucker I have ever seen.

  Beast is six eight, 350 pounds of hard muscle, this dude has to be twice his fucking size. I bring my arms down on top of his head and he loosens his hold on me.

  I lost my gun somewhere when he crashed into me. The giant lumbers toward me. I realize one difference between him and Beast other than the weight. Whereas Beast is agile and light on his feet, this guy moves like he has lead in his shoes.

  I give him two blows to the face and he barely even blinks. Then he wraps me up, lifting me off the ground, crushing me like a boa constrictor. I wiggle like a worm on a hook, trying to break free. Remembering my small carving knife in my boot, I fight to get it out with very limited arm movement.

  I think I hear my fucking rib crack as I finally pull the blade loose. Holding it firmly in my hand, I jab it into the belly of the giant. He roars and releases me, I fall to the floor sucking air, aggravating my sore ribs.

  Squinting my eyes, I find my gun under a chair. I crawl to it, but right as my fingers touch the metal, I’m pulled away by the giant. Having use of my hands, I pull another blade out of my holster and toss it into his eye.

  He howls, letting me go. I scrabble back to the gun in time, flipping onto my back. The giant rips the knife out of his eye, and I plant a bullet in the center of his forehead. He drops to the ground like a dead tree.

  I exhale a painful breath before standing. The moment I’m upright I get barreled in the side again. My fucking ribs are screaming. We crash into the window, where the glass was already shattered.

  I keep a hold on Takar, if I die, he’s going with me. We fall only a short distance before hitting a window-washing rig. It knocks the air out of both of us and it takes us a few minutes to catch our breath.

  Takar rolls off of me and we both stand facing each other. I take a step forward and he pulls a gun.

  “Aht aht,” he taunts. “Not so fun when the rabbit has the gun.”

  I hit the button on the box near me, the rig drops down one floor, catching Takar off guard. Once we’re stable, I rush to him, knocking the gun out of his hand and to the floor of the rig. At the same time, the gun goes off shattering the window near us.

  Screaming comes from inside the apartment. We both scuffle to get to the weapon, but I kick it over the edge when I realize he’ll get to it first. We watch it fall to the parking lot below.

  Well, that sucks. Once again, we face off, trading blow for blow. We are too equally matched for either of us to make a difference and I’m out of knives. It isn’t until I take a blow to my sore ribs that he gets the upper hand. I crumble to the floor of the rig, and Takar climbs over the side.

  “Until we meet again, Twin.”

  He punches the button on the rig and then jumps off the side into the shattered window. The rig moves up before I can get to him, passing the window he went through.

  “Fuck,” I shout. This night didn’t end the way I thought it would.

  Chapter 31

  My Superpower

  Malia

  * * *

  Sitting on my bed, I lotion my legs after my shower. Checking the time on my phone, it reads ten after ten. Lucien hasn’t texted me yet.

  It’s not like him to not text me goodnight. Lately, even if he’s working one of his cases, he will usually send at least two texts a day to let me know he’s thinking about me. I don’t want to come off as one of those women who needs things like that, but I do miss it when I don’t get it.

  Lucien is the most attentive man I’ve ever dated. He’s so considerate of my time and he’s always giving me attention. I have to admit, I’m a little spoiled. He makes me feel sexy, empowered, and cherished.

  When we’re apart I think of him and when we’re together I can’t stop smiling. Hell, I don’t think it was like this with Trent, and I thought I loved him. Never once have I felt like this.

  The vibrating of my phone on my nightstand gets my attention. I smile as I answer the phone. No one else would call me this late.

  “For a moment I thought you forgot about me,” I tease, getting that fluttery feeling in my stomach from anticipating his voice.

  “That’s the problem, I can never forget about you, Candy Girl.”

  My smile slips. I pull the phone away from my ear and realize it says Seth and not Lucien. Why is he calling me, and when the hell did he program his number in my phone?

  “What do you want, Seth?”

  “What, no sexy talk for me?”

  “I’m five seconds away from hanging up.”

  He chuckles, but I notice it sounds breathy. “You told me to call first. I did, I need your help.”

  “Trust me, I am not qualified to help you.”

  “Please.” It’s a simple word but coming from his mouth it makes all the laughter and the joking d
isappear. Seth doesn’t ask for anything and he damn sure doesn’t beg.

  Sitting up straighter, I ask, “What do you need?”

  “Open your back door.”

  Climbing from my bed, I head down the stairs to the back door. I don’t click on the kitchen light, it would only draw Grams’ attention. I’m a grown woman and I pay bills in this house, so I don’t have to hide the fact that I have company. However, I don’t feel like having a Seth and Grams fiasco. I let the soft light over the oven illuminate the room.

  “I swear, you better be here,” I mumble more to myself than to him.

  “Will you open the door. I see you.”

  Checking out the window first, I spot a very Seth like figure standing on my back porch. His head is down and one arm is propped on the wall by the door as the other hand still has the phone to his ear. I hang up the phone when I spot him and open the door.

  “You better have a very good reason to show up…” Taking in his face, disheveled clothes, and the bloodstains all on his shirt, I would say he has a great reason. “Oh my god, are you all right?”

  He limps inside. I reach out to help him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He flinches from my touch.

  “Easy on the ribs. They’re a bit sore.” He stumbles to the closest chair. I look him over. He looks like he went a couple rounds with a heavy weight.

  “What happened to you?” I whisper, trying not to wake anyone else in the house. Lord knows I don’t need Emory to stumble down here and see him like this.

  “I think I need to lie down before you start the interrogation.”

  “Yeah sure, come on.” I help him up the stairs to my bedroom very slowly. For the first time, I wish I would have taken the master on main from my Grams.

  Once I get Seth inside the room, I close my door for privacy. “What happened to you?” I ask as soon as I turn back to face him. He sits down on my bed before lying back gingerly.

  “I got into a fight.”

  “That’s an understatement. It looks like you got your ass kicked.”

  “Well, it was eleven of them and that one big guy could have counted for two, so I kind of did.”

  I put my hands on my hips and I shake my head. “This isn’t funny. They could have killed you,” I scold, heading into my attached bathroom to get my first aid kit.

  “Where did all these fucking pillows come from?” he calls out to me from the room.

  “Excuse you. You’re a guest, you don’t get to insult my decorations.” Walking back into the room with the first aid kit in my hand, I head toward him. I place the kit down on the bed and nudge his leg for him to sit up. He obliges.

  Despite the many scrapes, bruises, and some swelling, he doesn’t have many cuts. The only one that needs cleaning is the small one by his ear. The rest of the damage seems to be to his fist and his ribs.

  Tossing the bloody cotton swabs in the trash, I say, “You might need to get those ribs checked out.” Next, I hand him some extra strength pain pills and a cup of water from my sink. He quickly takes them both down.

  “They’re not broke. Trust me, I’ve had them broken a few times. These are sore.”

  I take the glass from him and place it down on my nightstand. Seth kicks off his boots and crawls in my bed as if he’s home. I would usually tell his ass to go home, but I kind of feel bad for him.

  “Are you going to tell me why you would pick a fight with eleven men?”

  “In my defense, I picked a fight with one, he just brought a lot of back up.”

  I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Why did you pick a fight with the one man?”

  “Because that’s what I do. That’s my superpower.” His words come out in a low drawl.

  “Seth, you’re not making sense.” And honestly, I’m worried about him having a concussion.

  He lets out a big yawn. “Fighting is what I do, Candy Girl. That’s why they keep me around. That’s my only purpose.”

  I have a seat on the side of the bed. I push the dark brown hair off his forehead. For a moment, I get sidetracked on how much he looks like Lucien here and now. His features are softened and he’s not so intense with his eyes closed. It changes the way he looks completely.

  “That isn’t your only purpose,” I argue. “You have more to offer.” He doesn’t open his eyes and for a moment, I think he has fallen asleep.

  “No, I don’t,” he says, but his voice sounds even more drained. “That’s why they won’t let me have the only thing I ever wanted.”

  “What, Seth? What won’t they let you have?”

  His soft snore answers the question. I climb off the bed and cover him with my spare blanket. I grab the throw off my recliner and have a seat. I’ll let him get a few hours of rest before I wake him to leave.

  Grabbing my phone, I send Lucien a text letting him know his brother is here. I fall asleep waiting for his reply.

  Chapter 32

  Who are They?

  Seth

  * * *

  I come awake abruptly. Sitting up, my gun is out and aimed at my enemy. Yeah, I went back for my gun after getting off that fucking rig.

  Bright light brown eyes gaze back at me.

  “What are you doing in my room, Tiny Soldier?” I grumble, putting my gun down.

  She smiles and places a finger over her lips to quiet me down before pointing behind me. I turn to see what she’s looking at and find Lia curled up in a recliner sleeping peacefully. A plaid blanket is lying over her.

  She’s so fucking beautiful when she sleeps. I can never let her know how long I watched her that night I slipped in after their date. I tried to find things about her then.

  Things that would make me not want her. Things that would make it easier for me to let go of her for him. I couldn’t find anything.

  Turning back to the kid, I ask, “What time is it?”

  She points to the clock and I read it’s a little after six.

  “Can you fix me breakfast?” She signs.

  I sigh and scratch the back of my head. “Don’t you have another adult in this house more qualified?”

  She shakes her head. “She’s gone.” She then grabs my hand and tugs me out of bed.

  I allow it, sticking my gun in my holster at my back. We go downstairs, into the kitchen. Tiny Rambo climbs onto the stool behind the island.

  “All right,” I say. “You got two options with me. Cereal with milk or cereal without it. Which will it be?”

  She scrunches up her nose before climbing out of the chair. She walks over to the fridge and opens it up, pulling out a carton of eggs.

  I shake my head. “What kind of kid doesn’t like cereal?”

  She points to herself, then walks over and places the carton down. I start to look for pots and pans in the cabinets. She finds a small skillet for me and puts it on the stove.

  “At this rate, you should probably cook it yourself.”

  She smiles at my joke and her shoulders shake, she then signs. “I’m too young to touch the stove.”

  I snort. “By the time I was your age, I was…” I stop myself. Lia might have a problem with me telling her daughter about my ability to filet a man. “Never mind.”

  I turn the stove on and the fire roars to life. First, I place the pan on the burner. Next, I go grab the butter out of the fridge. Dropping the entire stick in the pan, it sizzles and pops. The kid and I both step back.

  “Is that supposed to happen?” I ask, looking down at her. She shakes her head.

  Fuck it, we’re halfway through it now. I open the egg crate and take out two, smacking them together over the pan, allowing the insides to ooze out. The kid laughs when I toss the eggshells into the sink.

  “Want to try it?” I ask and she nods.

  I pick her up. She grabs two eggs out of the crate and smacks them together, shells and egg fall into the pan with a sizzle. She then tosses the shells into the sink.

  “Can I do it again?” She signs.

  “Have at it,” I sa
y.

  She grabs two more eggs and repeats the process until there are no more eggs left. I place her back on the floor and search for something to stir the eggs with. Pulling out a drawer, I come across a spatula.

  Going back to the eggs I stir them around. They don’t look like the eggs I’ve eaten at restaurants before. They’re brown in some places, watery in others and then chunky.

  I take the pan off the fire and turn off the stove. I head to the counter and place the hot pan on the cold marble.

  “Breakfast is served.”

  Tiny Rambo looks down at the pan, then climbs off her stool and goes to the fridge. She comes back with a bottle of ketchup, squirting it over the eggs. She then pulls out two forks, handing one to me and keeping one for herself. Taking her seat, she smiles at me.

  “Here goes nothing,” I say before we both dig in and take a bite of my first attempt at scrambling eggs. Without the ketchup they would have no flavor and there are a few crunchy shells, but not bad. She must agree because she goes for seconds.

  “Let me ask you,” I say, taking another bite of our eggs. “How do you like my brother?”

  She looks up me and tilts her head to the side. She watches me for a long moment without replying. After placing her fork down in the pan, she signs.

  “I like you better.”

  I smile. I’m not even sure why, but I do. “He isn’t bad you know. A little on the dorky side, but he’s not a bad guy.”

  Again, she watches me closely before replying. “He likes my mom, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you like her too?”

  I look to her eyes after deciphering her hands. What I find staring back at me is a wise kid. One that might know more than she lets on.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She shrugs. “Then I like you both. I want her to be happy.” She picks up her fork and starts back eating.

  “You know, for my first time, this isn’t bad at all. The ketchup was a good addition.”