by Tiya Rayne
“Is she the reason you decided to be an art teacher?”
I smile at his question. “Yeah, she is. Well, that and the fear of being homeless,” I joke. “I remember her telling me that my art was so good people would one day pay thousands for it.” I chuckle at the memory. “She clearly had grander goals for me than I did. Hey, I won’t knock it, that art did pay for itself.”
“You sold your art?” This seems to catch him off guard. Ha, I finally got him.
“Not for thousands, but one-time Albany and I had gotten bad. Our foster mom loved to travel, but not necessarily with us. She was always going off for a few days and leaving us alone. When we were about thirteen, she disappeared for nearly two weeks, leaving us with no food.
“I wasn’t going to let my sister starve so I painted three pictures and went on the corner of Lexington Ave to sell my paintings. I didn’t bring home thousands,” I say with a shrug. “But I got enough to feed my sister and I for the rest of the time our foster mom was gone.”
He sits quietly for a second, absorbing my words. “What do you paint?”
I sigh. “Anything. Everything. If I see it and it makes me feel some kind of way, I paint it.”
I paint it the same way I paint those pictures in my head. Taking my time recalling the details and putting them on a canvas. Feeling like we’ve talked enough about me I turn the tables on him.
“What about you, you have any hobbies, Kilian Walker?”
He smiles ruefully. “I think you have witnessed my hobbies.”
That comment sobers me. I’ve definitely seen what he’s good at. If everyone else from the Church is as good as Walker, I can see how they’ve been around for thousands of years.
“What about outside of that? What do you like to do when you’re not doing that?”
He seems to mull over my question for a minute. “I don’t know. This is all I’ve ever done.”
That makes me feel sad. I had a shitty childhood, but I can’t imagine what he must have gone through. He admitted that he was eight when the Church came for him.
I imagine that in order to be as good as he is, he must have practiced twenty-four hours a day. I love to draw and could get lost in it all day, but even I need a break. The Church doesn’t strike me as an organization that offered kid-friendly free time.
When I say the next words out of my mouth, I truly mean them. “That’s fucked up.”
He nods in agreement.
“But you were away for nearly five years, right?” I think back to what I’ve assumed to know about him. “Didn’t you find something you enjoyed doing then?”
A smile so sweet and so sexy—apparently that’s a thing—spreads over his face.
“I did.”
“Wait a minute,” I say teasingly. “I know that smile. That’s the I met someone smile.”
Oh my god, Kilian fucking Walker just blushed. I’m seriously starting to believe his Church superpower is actually his looks. And I guess I can stop riding him about my sister.
I’ve mentioned Albany a hundred times to him and not once did his face light up the way it did with nothing but a vague mention of this girl. She must be special.
“You’re reading too much into it.” He continues to redden.
“Oh no, sir, I know that look. So, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with her?”
Another one of those thought-filled silences surrounds us. “I’m where I need to be,” he replies.
I roll my eyes. “You and all these vague responses.”
“They aren’t vague. They’re the truth. Besides, there’s nothing more important than helping track down Red’s killer and protecting you.”
Okay, that last part was sweet. “You don’t even know me, Walker.”
“You don’t believe that, Brooklyn.”
I don’t respond right away. I watch him, taking in his appearance. That focus in his eyes that tells me he’s reading me as well.
He’s right, I don’t believe that, and that makes me nervous. Not for the obvious reason, being that this man who I met five days ago could know me. It scares me because my walls are up for a reason.
To keep people out. It’s how I protect myself, if you get past my walls, I become defenseless. And when you’re defenseless, you can be hurt.
He must sense my negative train of thought. “What else do you want to know about me?” He easily changes the subject for me.
I shrug. “There isn’t much I don’t already know.” He quirks a brow. I think I seriously catch him off guard with that. “I told you, Albany talked about you all the time.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me. I lean forward and bite my bottom lip.
“You like country music, but you will definitely listen to early 90’s hip hop. You’re not a fan of spicy food, but you love Mexican. You like to dance, can’t sing, and can’t retell a joke to save your life. You’re strong-willed, protective, and a bit of a romantic. Oh, and you have no idea what a fandem is.”
Walker’s smile is so big it could light up a room. He looks at me with so much mirth in his eyes, before shaking his head. “I stand corrected.”
“I told you, never doubt me.”
“Hurry up and eat.” He chuckles, pointing to my half-eaten plate. “The library will open soon, and I don’t want you complaining about being hungry.”
I don’t argue with him. I’m actually happy for another subject change. Being with him is easy. Too easy. That scares the hell out of me.
The canvas of my sister lying across my bed comes to mind again. I push the memory away. For the rest of our breakfast, I unsuccessfully try to guess his Church superpower.
Chapter 9
Many
Brooklyn
By the time we get to the library, the computer area is nearly filled. Walker had to ditch his duffle bag in a hiding spot outside before he’s able to grab one of the only free computers. He plops down in the chair and logs on.
“Sit,” he demands.
I look around the silent room, everyone’s attention is fixed to the monitors in front of them.
“There’s no more seats,” I whisper toward him.
He sighs, then tugs my arm, dropping me into his lap. “I don’t bite,” he jokes.
However, I don’t laugh because I can’t focus on the joke. My ass is flush to his crotch and the knot that is underneath me has my mouth dry. I sit ramrod straight. My body so tight that if I were a guitar string, one stroke and I would pop in half. I want to adjust, maybe not sit directly on it, but I fear if I move it will only make it worse.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear with that deep voice.
With everything I know about Walker, the relationship he had with my sister—although he hasn’t admitted to it being sexual—and there possibly being a woman out there somewhere that he loves, I shouldn’t be getting these subtle little flutters in my belly. It’s been a while since I felt these little bastards.
The last time I let my guard down it lead me down such a fucking rabbit hole, I vowed off men. After my last relationship, I’ve been celibate. Which, ironically, had been a suggestion from my sister.
I have no time for flutters and especially not with a man like Walker. Yet damn if those things aren’t groggily coming to life.
“If your dick gets hard underneath me, I’m popping you in the fucking throat,” I whisper shout at him.
He chuckles, causing my body to vibrate and those flutters to erupt.
“Just put the flash drive in,” he says as he wraps a strong arm around my stomach. He lifts me slightly and readjusts me so that I can’t feel him right at my ass crack anymore.
I pull the flash drive out of the backpack at my feet and place it into the side of the computer. A box pops up on the screen asking me what I want to do with the file.
“I should open it, right?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder to him.
However, he isn’t paying attention to me. He’s looking back out toward the front of the lib
rary. I turn to find what he’s so interested in.
Nothing looks out of the ordinary to me. At the counter is a man in slacks and a blue dress shirt, talking to the librarian. Another man sits in one of the chairs by the exit, reading a newspaper. Everything else looks pretty normal.
“Walker?” I call his name again.
He turns to me and smiles. “Yes, open the file.”
I look back at the computer screen and click the mouse to open the file. The little spinning circle comes on the screen and rotates, letting me know it’s pulling up the file for me. I take the time to scan the library a second time, taking a look at the man by the door once again.
The canvas in my head pops up unexpectedly, and it automatically starts painting. I close my eyes to focus on the bright blotches of paint as they form. This time, things about the library scene stand out.
Like the fact that the man reading the paper seems to be staring at the page. Nothing about him says he’s actually reading the paper, especially when it’s upside down. The man at the counter isn’t leaning casually against the counter to suggest he’s having small talk with the librarian.
He’s standing completely still. His eyes are down, and the librarian isn’t talking to him at all. She’s going through something on her desk.
My bullshit meter starts to shoot up. Something is off. I open my eyes.
“Hey, I think—” He pokes my side. “Oww.”
I turn to look at him over my right shoulder and he gives a shake of his head before he touches his ear. I think he’s trying to tell me they’re listening to us. What the hell? Who are these people and how did they find us?
He nods toward the computer screen. I turn back to it, that damn circle is still spinning. Either this computer is slow, or the file is huge.
Walker leans into me, his lips so close to my ear, his warm breath causes my scalp to tingle. My toes curl in my sneakers. What is going on with my body?
His arm tightens around my middle and he tugs me into his chest like we’re lovers. That knot in his pants pushing right up against my butt again. Those little flutters start back up.
“When I tell you to,” he whispers so low, I have to strain to hear him. “You grab the flash drive and walk out the front door. Don’t stop for anything.”
Soon as he finishes giving me instructions, the computer screen goes black and then a Raven appears on the screen. Its red beady eyes seem to stare back at me mockingly.
“Why is there a Raven on the computer?” I ask no one in particular.
“Shit, Lucien,” Walker swears before grabbing the flash drive out of the computer.
In that moment, the Raven opens his mouth and caws before flying away on the screen. A skull appears on the computer before a blaring alarm comes out of the speakers on the desktop. At first, it seems to startle everyone until other computers start making the same sound, causing people to stir.
“What’s going on?” someone behind us asks.
“What happened to my computer?” another person calls out.
It would seem Walker and I have spread a virus to the entire library. Even the librarian at the counter looks puzzled as she tries to stop the screeching noise coming from her desktop.
“Time to go,” Walker says, standing to his feet, pushing me up with him. He stuffs the flash drive in my hand. “Remember, walk straight out the front door and don’t stop for anyone. Go down about two blocks. Cross the street and wait for me in the alley behind the donut shop.”
He’s giving off a lot of instructions very rapidly. My brain is too fuddled to keep up.
He starts to lead me out of the room when people begin to point fingers and call out to us. When we walk out of the computer area, he turns and walks away from me. I lift my head high and continue forward toward the exit.
I try to remember what he said and keep walking, not stopping. I keep my head straight when both the men I spotted early turn to look at me. I’m almost at the door when one of the men places a finger to his ear and speaks low.
Fuck, they’re cops. I can tell by the yellow wristbands around their wrist. New York plainclothes Ds wear those as ID bracelets. Am I supposed to run from the cops?
I’m not very good at this spy shit. I’ve never been to jail before, and I don’t think at my age I need to add that to my to-do list. I hold my breath as I keep walking, in case I’ll need to sprint out of here.
I don’t exhale until I break through the revolving doors of the library. The moment I do, I look over my shoulder and notice two men are watching me.
They aren’t the men from inside the library. These guys are different. Even the way they carry themselves is different.
I turn in the opposite direction of them and walk, hoping to get to the alley where Walker told me to be. Why the hell would he want us to separate? If I’ve learned nothing else in my many years of watching horror movies, I know that you’re never supposed to split up.
I look over my shoulder and realize that the two men are still following. I pick up my pace, it can still be considered walking, but it’s more like the way old folks speed walk at the park. I glance over my shoulder and notice that they too have started to old folks jog.
One of them suspiciously has his hands inside his thin coat. That’s my cue to turn this speed walk into a sprint. My sneakers hit the pavement as fast as I can get them to go.
I try to recall Walker’s directions, but with the way my heart is racing and adrenaline is rushing through my veins, I can’t think straight. All I remember is something about an alley. I find one that looks dark enough and I slip down it.
The smell of trash and piss is overpowering. I come to a halt at the end of the alley. A large metal fence is in front of me, sealing me from my freedom.
The fact that I’m not an Olympic pole jumper or a parkour champion leads me to believe I’m not getting over this fucking fence. I turn to head back out the dead-end alley, hoping I’m able to dodge the assholes following me, but as soon as I turn, both men are heading toward me.
“Fuck,” I mumble to myself. “Look, fellas, I don’t know what you want.”
Before the words are fully out of my mouth, both men have guns drawn on me. Does anybody still fight the good old fashion way these days? I back away from their approach as I scan the area, looking for anything I can use as a weapon.
This would be the perfect time for Walker to show up in all his tall, sexy glory. However, as the men draw nearer, he doesn’t. Time to dust off these ass-whooping skills. Admittedly, it’s been a while. The guy with the crooked nose and beady eyes sticks his gun back into his coat and grabs my arm.
I ball my fist and strike him in the face. His head rocks back, but my hand screams in pain. It feels like I broke something.
Crooked nose pushes me to the ground as he grabs at his face. While I’m down there I have the perfect shot at his crotch. I slam the heel of my shoe upwards as hard as I can.
The pain in his nose is forgotten as he cups his balls with both hands, dropping to his knees. I jump to my feet ready to take on the other guy, but he waves a gun in my face, reminding me that I’m no match for a bullet.
“Crazy bitch,” crooked nose barks out. He stands to his feet and takes a menacing step toward me. I put all my weight on my back foot ready for him to try to fight me. “I should put a fucking bullet in your skull.” He pulls his gun out and aims it at my head. I flinch away from him.
“Relax, you’ll get your chance. We need her to lure in that Church freak,” the taller guy says, grabbing my arm and yanking me into his chest. “Now hurry up before that fucking weirdo gets here. You know you can’t let that creep get the drop on you.”
Crooked nose laughs. “Yeah, those motherfuckers are like roaches, they’re hard as shit to kill.”
I quietly go with them as they drag me back toward the mouth of the alley. A plan is forming in my head. If I can get close enough to crooked nose, I can grab his gun.
Suddenly, a blur moves to my right. A
gargled scream escapes crooked nose. The other guy and I turn around.
Crooked nose is lying on the ground with something that looks like a harpoon sticking out of his chest. A man in a black duster stands over him. The taller bad guy fires a shot toward the man in the duster.
Like something straight out of a ninja movie, the duster guy drops to the ground and rolls to the left. He then jumps to his feet, leaps on top of the filthy trash can right beside him and jumps in the air toward us. All of this is done in the span of seconds.
Duster guy aims another one of those harpoons toward the tall man holding me. He spears the man right in the neck, spraying blood everywhere. A few droplets even spray my shirt. Then duster guy lands in a crouched position like some psycho manga character.
The guy beside me drops to the ground at my feet. My stomach rolls and I’m tempted to vomit all down my recently ruined T-shirt. I’ve seen blood before, even stepped over some dead bodies to shower this morning, but something about the blood and the smell of the piss in this alley has me dry heaving.
The psycho stands to his feet, fluffing the tail of his duster out behind him like a cape blowing in the wind. His shaggy brown hair is unkempt on top of his head as if he just woke up. The front hangs down in his eyes.
Have you ever seen one of those thriller movies, and with one look you can tell who the killer is? This is definitely one of those times. I take a cautious step back.
“Why is she retreating?” he says in a deep guttural voice.
“I don’t know.” This time his voice comes out nasally.
“Maybe she is not pleased with our killings,” he says with a British accent this time. The man before me holds this entire conversation with himself.
What the fuck?
“Did we not please you, Porsha? Would you like me to chop him into smaller pieces?” he says with the British accent, pointing to crooked nose, lying behind him.
I’m too damn confused to even speak. What the fuck is going on?
