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He nods. “I think it’s going to help if you’re there. It might help her cope with all of this better if she has someone she’s close to who knows everything.”
“I really don’t think I’m going to be able to help her,” I tell him sadly. When Benton shoots me a questioning look as we reach the bottom of the stair, I add, “Alexis and I used to be close, but then our parents died… And… Well, she changed while I stayed the same.” I give a half shrug, but my heart aches at the brutal truth of what I’m about to say next. “We haven’t gotten along since then.”
“That sucks,” he says as we hike down the sidewalk toward the carport. “Maybe this can help you guys grow close again, though.”
“Yeah, maybe.” But I’m a bit skeptical. While Alexis is my sister, sometimes I feel like she wishes I wasn’t. That I’m only an annoyance to her. A reminder of another life she’s trying to forget. I shield my eyes from the sunlight and glance at Benton. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He stares ahead at the parking lot, the sunlight reflecting against the sudden pain filling his eyes. “I had a sister, but she died a while ago.”
“Oh my Gosh, I’m so sorry, Benton.” Knowing how hard it is to lose a loved one, my heart aches for him.
“It’s part of the reason why I started working for the organization.” He swallows hard, dazing off as we stop in front of his car. Then he quickly clears his throat. “But anyway, I think you should try to smooth things over with your sister. It’ll be good for you to have someone to talk to who knows about the organizations.” He busies himself with retrieving his car keys from his pocket, not meeting my gaze.
I stand at the front of the car, observing him as he fumbles to unlock the door. Whatever happened to his sister, had to be terrible. But what happened that made him join the organization? And how did he even find out about the organization?
Sensing he wants to change the subject, though, I refrain from asking him. Besides, Jett warned me that Benton doesn’t like talking about his past.
“What if they do know?” I ask, pulling open the passenger side door.
Benton glances over the roof at me with a pucker at his brow. “Who knows what?”
“Loki, Jessamine, and Annabella. They’re all older than me. Perhaps they knew more about what was going on, but just never said anything because my parents told them not to.”
He wavers. “That could be a possibility but I highly doubt it. Like I said earlier, a lot of parents that work for the organization choose not to tell their kids until they’re older. And sometimes they don’t tell them at all.”
“I know you said that, but what if one of my brothers or sisters knows something and can give us some answers. Then maybe you guys won’t have to do any of that kinda, sorta, not quite illegal stuff you’re planning on doing.”
A hint of an amused smile graces his lips. “You’re a sweet girl, Zhara. You really are.” When I start to frown, he adds, “Don’t take that the wrong way. I mean it as a compliment.”
He ducks into the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. I follow, slipping onto the warm leather of the passenger seat. We both close the doors then he twists in the seat to face me.
“Look, I know you want answers, but I think the best thing to do is let Ridge find as much as he can in the files about your parents. Then, if we can’t find the answers, we need, we’ll go talk to your brothers and sisters. But the files are a better option right now and probably will have more detailed information.”
Even though I want to talk to my siblings and find out if they know, I get what he’s saying.
“All right, I’ll wait,” I tell him. “I just hope you guys don’t get into trouble.”
He offers me a lopsided smile then reaches across the console and lightly tugs on a strand of my hair. “See, sweet.”
My mouth dips to a pouty frown, which only makes Benton’s grin broaden. Then his gaze travels in the direction of the window behind me and the smile goes poof. I turn to track his gaze, but his hand cups the back of my head, holding me in place. Before I can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans in to kiss me.
“Act natural,” he whispers then his lips softly collide with mine.
I tense. Act natural? Again? How is kissing him even acting natural? It’s not like we kiss all the time? And I’ve kissed Jett and Wilder for crying out loud! How is any of that natural! Seriously, acting natural is becoming complicated!
But all of my questioning goes bye bye, see ya later, as Benton parts my lips with his tongue.
Unlike the first time we kissed, I’m not such a bundle of nerves. Am I nervous? Sure. But not enough to break the kiss. In fact, I’m sort of enjoying his warm lips against mine, an unexpected moan faltering from my lips.
Okay, maybe I’m enjoying this a lot.
“I love it when you make that sound,” he whispers, his tone a mixture of amusement and something else I don’t recognize, but it makes my stomach flutter with crazy, dazed butterflies.
Then he kisses me again, his fingers threading through my hair as he softly tugs on the strands, and forces my head to tilt back. His lips leave mine and travel downward, along my jawline, my throat, to the hollow of my neck. He pauses, breathing softly against my skin, before nipping and sucking a path toward my shoulder, slowly guiding my shirt over so his lips touch my bare skin. With every graze of his teeth, my heart turns more into a cracked out humming bird. By the time his mouth reaches my shoulder, goose bumps have sprouted across my skin and my entire body is trembling. But I’m not afraid. Well, sort of. Honestly, I’m partially afraid and partially excited.
“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” Benton mumbles as my body shudders again. “Maybe all of us.”
“What?” I asked dazedly as he gently sucks on my collarbone.
Instead of answering, he kisses the side of my neck, right where my pulse is hammering, then pulls away.
I open my mouth to ask him what on earth was that about, when someone raps on the window behind me. I nearly jolt out of my seat, whipping around to see who it is. But Benton places a hand on my thigh, stopping me. He mouths, bad girl, before withdrawing his hand.
Confusion tap dances in my mind until I peek over my shoulder. Then things—and by things, I mean all the kisses and biting that just happened between Benton and I—start to make sense. Because standing beside the passenger side door is none other than Tank and Ralpho.
Proof and an Invite
Zhara
They’re about as intimidating as I remember, decked out in black pants, leather jackets, and combat boots. Sunglasses cover their eyes and brass knuckles bedazzle their knuckles. Okay, maybe bedazzle isn’t the best word, but against the sunlight, the metal looks awfully sparkly.
“Just remain calm,” Benton whispers, reaching for the door handle. “And stay in the car.”
When I nod, he hops out and rounds the front of the car toward Tank and Ralpho.
“Gentlemen, to what do I owe yet another unexpected visit from you?” Benton asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Easy with the cocky tone,” the shorter guy warns—I still haven’t figured out which one is Tank and which one is Ralpho. “If Drake sends an unexpected visit on you, you don’t question his motives.”
Drake? Who’s Drake?
“I’m not questioning our boss’s motives, Ralpho,” Benton assures him. “I was just curious why you stopped by. That’s all.”
I make a mental note that the shorter guy is Ralpho and the taller one must be Tank, and that Drake is probably their boss.
Tank and Ralpho glance at each other and Tank nods his head. A sly grin slowly rises on Ralpho’s lips as he flits a glance at me. I can’t see his eyes, but just having his attention zeroed in on me is very intimidating. So much so that I nearly dive into the backseat to escape it. But then I remember the words Benton mouthed to me before he got out of the car.
Bad girl.
I’m supposed to be acting lik
e a bad girl who’s dating all of them. And a bad girl who’s dating six guys at once probably wouldn’t dive into the backseat to hide from the gazes of two guys. No, she’d probably only dive into the backseat with two guys.
I blink at my dirty thought. Holy crap, where did that dirty thought come from?
My fingers wander to my neck and then my lips. Maybe all this kissing is messing with my head?
“We came here to give you invitations.” Ralpho centers his gaze on Benton, the devious smile remaining on his face. “To Drake’s Annual Undead Masquerade.”
Undead Masquerade? That sounds… interesting. And seems to perk Benton up a tad.
“Really?” Benton asks, his brows raising toward his hairline. “I thought he didn’t invite first years?”
“Apparently you and your friends have impressed him.” A drop of disdain rings in Ralpho’s tone. “I don’t know why. I haven’t seen you do anything that impressive. In fact, you guys have done nothing but shitty work since the day you started working with us.”
“You know your boss wouldn’t be saying we’re doing a good job unless we were,” Benton points out. “It’s not his MO.”
“No, it’s not. Just like it’s not his MO to invite a first year to the masquerade,” Ralpho snaps. “And for a good reason. It takes time to trust people—more than a year.”
Huh. Benton said something similar to Brook.
I guess trust is a big deal in the drug world and in the undercover detective world. Wish it was in my family.
I shake my head. No, don’t think about that right now!
Shoving the thought aside, I concentrate on Benton, Tank, and Ralpho, wondering what happens at a masquerade party thrown by a drug lord and why the three of them are acting like it’s a huge deal. It’s just a party. Isn’t it?
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Benton leans against the passenger door, blocking my view of Ralpho. “But unfortunately, you don’t get the final say. Drake does.”
