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And then I spot him. Kai Carrington, heir to the Void. Playboy, rich, arrogant, red flag, red flag,red-fucking-flag.Try telling that to my confused hormones. His hair’s smoothed in his usual dark, slick quiff, leather jacket fitting like a glove around his tall, strong build. That cocky grin in his dark eyes as he takes Mia in for a quick hug. A sizzle of something tightens my chest, its sting so sharp and abrupt that I need to press my empty palm flat against it to feel my heart.
Breathe.
I do, inhaling deeply through my nose, while my burning eyes stay locked on Kai’s impressive frame. He’s moved on to hugging Charlie then Samuel, and if I try my very best, I can even imagine how his strong hands would feel around my shoulders as they’d pull me close. Close to his broad chest, to his delicate flesh, decorated with black ink. It would feel hot and cold, soft and rough, and it would be perfect. I turn away, needing to get a grip on myself.
Just press the goddamn remote.
All Saints are here, their presence looming over me like some growling beast breathing down my neck. Damon, their leader, is waiting in his white van. Wanting to make sure that the job gets done, thatIdo as I’m told.
You see, there is no way out. The envelope All Saints have promised me for doing this job… I need it.Weneed it. To pay the bills, to pay for her booze. To survive. Yet it isn’t just the money that has turned me into All Saint’s lowest-ranking lackey.
It’s the letter. Handwritten. Tome.
Dad didn't disappear when he left five months ago, didn't die like I feared. No. He's alive, and working for our future. He misses me, and wants me to be happy. I know that our relationship wasn’t great, and that he hurt me when he shouldn’t, but at least he was there. And he still loves me, the letter is direct proof. That means I still have time, I can still make him proud of me, of his son. We can still find a way to get the cash to buy our penthouse, and I won't let him down.
I need that to be the truth.
There. Right ahead of me, a limo stops. My heart thumps loudly in my chest when I peer at the opening door, and for the shortest of seconds I believe that it’s them, Connor and Austin. Which means that I’ll need to press that button. But then a tall, golden-haired man gets out, accepting the howls and cheers that come straight at him with a grin and a slight bow, before he holds out his hand for a smaller, blond-haired man.Gabriel Corbin.Initiatorof theFrères Perdus. With his unparallelled beauty and the silk pants and shirt wrapped around his delicate features, he’s easily recognizable. Last time we saw each other was in France, during the storm. He’d been so scared, so lonely. And look at him now, holding Mason’s hand and beaming at the world.
And then time stops. Kai’s no longer there. My eyes dart frantically around, searching under the canopy of trees, around footpaths, then linger for a moment when they capture a father and son playing soccer under the sun rays, and I breathe through the tightening of my chest.
I can’t find him.
“Excuse me?” An older woman waves at me from a similar spot under the next cherry tree. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?” The remote burns in my palm, slick with sweat and agony.
“No—” I swallow, then give them the first excuse I can think of. “No English.” The woman gives me an understanding smile and a nod. “Ah, that’s okay. Where are you from?”
Christ. “No English,” I repeat, copying her smile. I must look like a complete imbecile, but she buys it.
“What did he say?” Her husband asks, his suspicious gaze on me.
“He doesn’t speak English, love. Let’s go and ask that friendly gentleman over there.” Sweeping my gaze back in front of me, my breathing falters. There they are, Connor and Austin. Smiling, hugging, and celebrating as they get out of a white Audi R8.
Time’s up.
Big, black, army boots step over my blanket, leaving clotters of mud on the fabric. I look up, eyes locking with a scowl. “Get it done, bitch,” he hisses, “I’d hate to shred that envelope that’s waiting for you.” Then Damon walks on, making a show of passing by the oblivious group, before he turns to leave the park to head back to the white van.
“Why didn’t you stay on your own turf?” I mumble to myself, sweat dripping down my face, where it mingles with the acidness of sorrow and regret. My hand’s shaking uncontrollably, and I fear that I might even miss that fucking button. When someone plops down onto my blanket, my balance falters. My skin prickles and my heart rate picks up, as if warning me that this situation is about to get worse. And it does. Because a pair of dark brown eyes stare back at me, the thick brows arched in a perfect bow. Kai quirks them into a perfect, smug look when he catches me gaping. He's fucking gorgeous. Long, dark lashes, the straight nose, his full lips. And then he grins, and my breathing halts, because he’s got a dimple in his left cheek, ever so subtle, ever so pretty.
“Baby mouse,” he drawls huskily, and it's enough for my hackles to rise, for my shame to burn, and for venom to spew.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarl. Kai grins at that.
“Ah yeah? That’s how you want to play this?” He clicks with his tongue and my eyes fall down, back to his wicked lips. I have never been this close to him before, and the added confusion to my anxiety and despair is creating a dangerous cocktail.
“I’m not playing,” I spit infuriatingly, “I need you to leave. I have a—” I swallow thickly and search around for help that won’t come. “I’m meeting with someone.”
“That so?” His voice is drenched with irony, and he catches my stare while I feel his fingers graze my trembling wrist. Sucking in my breath, I can’t stop him from tracing his fingers along my veins, leaving a zip of sizzling electricity on their way. When he looks down to my palm, I bend my head as well, eying his long, tattooed fingers crawling around mine in their search for the metal to hell. When they wrap them around it, my breath leaves me on a shuddering gasp.
“You don’t want to do that, trust me.” His confident statement rings in my ears, rattling around inside my head until it dims like an echo.
He doesn’t think I can do it. No oneeverthinks I can do it. No oneeverthinks I am good enough. No oneeverthinks ofme. And it hurts. So I swallow down this ridiculous rejection and snarl, “You’re so wrong.” But he’s not. Because I watch his hand retreat, the remote tucked between his long fingers. I watch him open it and take out the batteries, removing the poison from the snake, making useless casing of the metal. Then he places it silently back into my palm, and the breath I’d somehow held back, leaves my mouth in a long and relieved whoosh.
“I—” We look up at the same time and I clear my throat. My mind is spiraling, his dark stare somehow warm and comforting, strange and confusing. And then his gaze lowers to my lips, and he chuckles. My skin feels clammy, heart beating the shit outta me, mind a useless soup of scattering thoughts.
“Fuck you,” is all I can come up with. And then I run. I somehow find my way out of the park past the wooden crossed fences, heart leaping in my throat. The frenzy of the city is strangely comforting, this mismatch of cars, people, of buses, bikes and noise. Noise. Everywhere.
I failed. Two words that echo through my mind, in a non-stop, thick voice. Running toward the nearest subway, I practically fly down, my cold, trembling hands grabbing the dirty stair edge, down—down!—until I can make my way through the gates. I don’t stop running until the doors of the train close behind me, tossing the empty remote into the nearest bin, chest heaving and spluttering. It takes me a long time to get my breathing back on track, to realize that I’m not being followed, that I’m getting closer to safety with each step that I take. But for how long? How the fuck did Kai know about me? About my mission, about my presence in the park today?
