Underground (New World Series Book 4)

by Janelle Stalder

  His tone and body language had her more alert.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  He shrugged, rubbing a hand over his shaved head. “I don't know. Bastian just told Pixie to get us all rounded up. He left here early this morning on some emergency. None of us know much.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and sighed. All she wanted to do was crawl back into that bed and stay there all day with Trent. Phoenix hated not getting things her way.

  “Okay, we'll be there in five minutes.”

  “No we won't!” Trent yelled from behind her.

  Pete raised both eyebrows as her face actually reddened.

  “We'll be there,” she assured him in a whisper.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Trent let out a groaned “why?”

  She couldn't help but laugh. She'd never seen Trent so reluctant to do the responsible thing - like actually get out of bed. He reminded her of a child not wanting to go to school.

  “Come on, hot shot,” she said, swatting his ass as she stood beside the bed. “They need us.”

  He lunged so fast, Phoenix barely had time to let out a yelp before she found herself under him.

  “I need you,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  She was already breathless as he kissed his way up her neck. Her hands stroked along his smooth skin, loving the feel of his strong body as it moved over her. His lips poised over hers, their breaths mingling

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Move it, you two!” Pete yelled.

  Trent dropped his head down, resting his forehead on her chest.

  “Christ, can't he leave a man in peace?”

  Phoenix chuckled, patting him on the back. “It appears no. Come on, let’s go see what they want and then we can come right back here. Just complain that you're not feeling well.”

  He sighed, pushing himself up and off her. “Fine. Let's make this quick.” He held out his hand, pulling her up easily with one tug.

  When she stood before him, he pulled her closer, slanting his mouth over hers in a deep, bone-melting kiss. When they pulled back his eyes were dark, making her shiver in his arms.

  “Quick,” he said darkly.

  Phoenix had never gotten dressed and out of a room so fast in her life. They walked into the office hand in hand, the last to arrive other than Bastian, from the look of it. Pixie met her gaze with a questioning look at their hands, before a corner of her mouth tipped up knowingly.

  “Hey,” Missy said, her smile wide as she walked up to them. Phoenix wanted to laugh at the pride in her eyes, as if she were a mother who had finally married off her wild child daughter. “How are you, Trent?”

  “Tired,” he said gruffly. Phoenix bit back a smile. The man was insatiable.

  “It's good to have you back,” Charlotte said sincerely as they went to take two empty seats. Just as Phoenix started to sit, Trent pulled on her arm, planting her snugly in his lap.

  “It'll take more than that to get rid of me,” he replied, acting as though it were perfectly normal for them to sit like this.

  Phoenix looked around at everyone's faces as they regarded them with interest. When she glanced at Trent, he seemed completely oblivious. With a mental shrug, she sat back against his chest, his arm wrapping around to keep her close.

  “What are you all staring at?” he barked. Okay, maybe he wasn't oblivious, she thought with a chuckle.

  “You two just seem...happy,” Pete said with a shrug. “It's nice.”

  Trent shift under her. “Yeah, well get used to it, because we're getting married.”

  Everyone seemed to explode at once. Bridgette and Vi were the first to reach her, pulling her into a big hug. Sam came around her back, wrapping her between all of them. When they finally released her, Missy stood there, waiting patiently as Missy did, her eyes glistening with happy tears.

  Phoenix rolled hers to stop her own tears forming at the sight of her sister's. “Stop,” she said with a shaky smile.

  Missy just smiled wider, opening her arms. Phoenix walked into them, hugging her sister back just as hard as she hugged her.

  “I'm happy you both pulled your head out of your asses,” she whispered in her ear.

  Phoenix sniffed and laughed. “Thanks.”

  Charlotte said a congrats from where she sat on the other side of the table. Phoenix could tell from her colouring that she wasn't feeling well. Then her dad came up and gave her a big kiss and hug.

  When everyone finally took their seats, the men slapping Trent on the back first, they finally refocused. Trent pulled her back on his lap, and she just wiggled back in, not wanting to be anywhere else.

  “So what is this all about?” Roman asked.

  Everyone turned to Pixie. She fidgeted under their attention.

  “I don't know,” she said with a shrug. “I was asleep when someone came to speak with Bastian. By the time I was actually awake, he was already halfway out the door.”

  “How long does he expect us to wait here?” Tyler said.

  “Not long.” They all turned at the sound of Bastian's voice as he walked in. Behind him were three other men she'd never seen before.

  One was an older gentleman, probably in his mid-forties. Highlights of silver decorated his temples against the black of his hair, and in the goatee covering the bottom half of his face. Eyes the colour of grass sat beneath thick eyebrows, taking them all in with a look of interest. His manner told her he was a hard man, just from the way he carried his stiff, squared shoulders.

  The other two men were younger, more in their early thirties. One was a nice looking guy, his blonde hair cut short to his head, his face clear of any facial hair. He seemed excited as he looked around.

  The third was the most lethal looking of the three. Phoenix wondered if the guy ever smiled. Dark hair was cut short on the sides, longer on top. Eyes almost black seemed to take stock of them, like a hawk circling prey. Tattoos decorated his hands from what she could see. She guessed they went right up those arms that were covered by his sleeves. His nose was slightly crooked as if it had been broken once. He looked dangerous.

  “I'd like to introduce you to Colonel Jacobs,” Bastian said, gesturing to the older man. “Captain Ryan,” he continued, pointing at the blonde, who waved at them all. He reminded Phoenix of a dog with his tail wagging, eager to please.

  “And the Russian,” Bastian said, pointing at the scary guy.

  “The Russian? That's your name?” Vi asked.

  “It is for you,” he replied in an accented voice.

  Oh, Phoenix was going to have a ball bugging this one. Trent squeezed her side, making her look at him.

  “Behave, brat,” he said in a low voice.

  She winked at him. “No promises.”

  “And where did you all come from?” asked Pete.

  “They just arrived, from the United States,” Bastian said. Everyone sat up straighter in surprise. “Our help has arrived.”

  “Only three of you?” Trent asked, looking disappointed.

  “More are coming,” the Colonel answered. “We've been sent ahead to assess the situation.”

  Suddenly her body, mind, heart - everything felt lighter. They had help coming. They had a chance! Things were finally going to change.

  It really was going to be a New World, one where Ludwig Tennebris and Douglas Hatcher were taken down and the people were free of oppression. They would finally be able to live normal lives.

  Phoenix looked down at Trent, her heart swelling. She had hope for the future, and now love. Things were finally looking up. It wasn't just going to be a new world, it was going to be a better one.

  THE END

  WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN PIXIE AND BASTIAN?

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  Brush Strokes

  A Novel

  Prelude

  An artist cannot fail; it is a success to be one. – Charles Horton Cooley

  It’s funny how life can take an unexpected turn. It seems like no matter how carefully we plan things, or envision where our lives will go, something can happen to turn it all on its side. Love can do that. Love can make people do things that are completely out of character and push them to limits they didn’t even know were possible. They say all you need is love, but how true is that?

  When you love a person so much that being with them feels like you can breathe easier, when just their nearness is the oxygen inflating your lungs, is that the kind of love where it’s all you need? Where hunger is something insignificant compared to the need and appetite you feel for only that one person?

  Or does love make fools of us all? Is it simply infatuation and lust clouding our sense of judgement? Or is that just what cynical people think?

  ***

  Colt knelt beside me, his lips moving over and over again, my name falling from them. I couldn’t hear him, my ears now ringing so loudly I was afraid I might have gone deaf. I watched as Colt’s body jerked violently, falling beside me. His lips still moved, caressing my name as though it were the only prayer he knew. We lay beside each other, our blood pooling around us, and I couldn’t help but think we looked like some modern version of Bonny and Clyde. I reached out my hand and found his, gripping it.

  It’s funny how life takes an unexpected turn.

  One

  Life imitates art far more than art imitates life – Oscar Wilde

  Olivia

  The blank canvas glared at me mockingly. Go ahead, it taunted. Paint something. I blew a piece of my bangs out of my eyes and sat back, the unused paintbrush dangling in my hands. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been home for a week now and hadn’t been able to paint one thing. It was unheard of!

  “You’re such an asshole, Olivia Banks.” I looked up to see my best friend, Ella, standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, mouth turned down in a frown. Her clear blue eyes narrowed as I met her gaze.

  “Well hello to you too,” I said with an easy smile.

  She sputtered, walking further into my room. “Don’t you ‘well hello to you too’ me! I just saw your mother down at Bulk Barn and she had to tell me that you’re home. And guess what?”

  I knew what, but I played along. “What?”

  “Seems you’ve been home for a whole freakin’ week! What the hell, Olive?”

  I turned back to my yet-to-be-even-started painting and decided that it was useless. There was no way I’d get anything done with Ella here, not that I was getting far before she arrived. Placing the brush on the easel, I looked back at her, guilt sitting heavily in my stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered. She rolled her eyes, throwing herself down on the edge of my bed. “Look,” I started, “it really hasn’t been a whole week. I got home Saturday, and I’ve just been so busy unpacking and getting settled that I haven’t had time to call anyone.”

  “It’s Saturday, Olive,” Ella replied in a bland voice. “So, yeah, it has been a whole week. And that excuse you just gave me? Complete bullshit. You’ve been gone now for two years, and when you finally come home you can’t take five minutes out of your ‘busy’ schedule to call your best friend?”

  Okay. So she was mad. I got it. I’d be mad too if the situation was reversed. The truth was, I hadn’t been home for so long I was worried that things would be too different between us. Sure, we spoke on the phone off and on, and we’d send each other emails and cards for our birthdays and what not, but after being away for so long one would assume things would be a bit…I don’t know…awkward.

  I’d been away at the best art school in the country for my sophomore and junior years. I felt – out of touch with things back home. And it was a small town, so being away for two years pretty much made you a leper in everyone’s books. I had no idea what was going on with most of the people I had grown up with. Well, except Ella. Damn. I really should have called her. Now I felt like an ass.

  “I really am sorry,” I said, getting up to sit down beside her. “You have every right to be mad at me. I’m a terrible friend. I guess I was just afraid to see people again.”

  She turned to look at me with her big eyes all round and puppy-dog-like. It was like a physical punch to my gut. I was used to that look, it had gotten us out of trouble countless times in the past, especially if it was one of our dads who was giving us crap. I don’t think any man with a beating heart could look at her sad face and not give in to her every whim. It was a talent really. I wish I had it.

  “Even me?” she said with a small pout. I shrugged, speechless. “I’ve been waiting for forever to have you back, Olive. I’m so damn happy you’re here I want to crawl out onto your roof and scream it to the whole neighbourhood.”

  “Please don’t do that,” I said quickly.

  “Fine. The point is, we’re best friends, no matter how long we’ve been apart. You shouldn’t be scared or worried to see me. We’re BFF’s. That second ‘F’ stands for FOREVER, Olive. Forever. Got it?”

  I laughed, hooking my arm around her neck and giving her a tight squeeze. How could I have ever thought it would be weird between us? It’s Ella. We’d been twin souls since she moved here in grade four and we both showed up the first day of school wearing the same purple dress with white polka dots. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.

  Ella rested her head on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Ollie. Things were so lame without you here.”

  “Aw, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

  She sat up, cocking one eyebrow. Another one of her talents that I lacked. Damn my untalented eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying here without you. You’re the only thing that keeps me sane half the time.”

  “Then I’m not doing a very good job,” I teased.

  “Ha ha. Seriously. I can’t wait for the first day of senior year when I get to walk into that school with you by my side again. I’ll finally be able to have real conversations with someone, instead of what sales are going on at the mall, and what colour of nail polish is in season. I swear to God, Olive, I’ve pictured killing Reagan so many different ways in my head, I’m afraid for her safety.”

  “I’d actually love to hear some of those,” I said with a laugh. When Ella first told me she had become friends with the most popular girl in our school, Reagan Kennedy (no she’s not related, although she’d like people to think she is) I almost threw up. It had left a sour taste in my stomach and I ended up having one of my panic attacks that night when I went to bed. I was so scared Ella would turn into another one of Reagan’s robots that she wouldn’t be the same Ella I had grown up with. But thankfully the armour we built over the years of wit and intelligence stood against the mind-numbing stupidity that emanated from her and that whole group of girls.

  I still didn’t like that she had been friends with them for the past two years. I couldn’t help but wonder how that would change things when we went back after summer break, but it was nice to see Ella didn’t think it would be a problem. I knew for sure I wasn’t going to be accepted into that group. Reagan had made it very clear how she felt about me freshman year. I was the strange art girl. Anything outside of the mall and People Magazine was strange and foreign to her.

  I got up and started recapping the paints before they dried out. My eye caught movement outside of my window and I turned my head to see what it was. Damn. Now that I was looking, I couldn’t seem to force myself to look away.

  “Hey!” Ella’s voice snapped at me. I almost pulled my neck from whipping my head around so fast. My cheeks flamed like I’d just been caught doing something horrible. I didn’t think ogling my neighbour qualified as ‘horrible’ per se. At least, I hoped it didn’t, because I’d been doing it since he moved in to the house next to mine when I was ten.

 
; “Did you hear me?”

  “Uh, no. What did you say?”

  Her lips pursed like they always did when she was unimpressed. “What are you looking at out there that you’re completely ignoring me?” She stomped over (literally) to my window and I had the strongest urge to pull the curtains shut and tell her ‘nothing’ like a completely obvious nut. Instead I just froze and waited for her reaction. The smile I knew was coming spread across her face.

  “Colt Morgan, huh? Still got the hots for him?” She grinned at me, wiggling her eyebrows. I decided then that I hated her eyebrows. Maybe I could shave them when we had a sleepover…nah. Then she’d look like that girl from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and that was just creepy.

  “Shut up,” I said, turning to finish the task I had originally set out to do. My paints were like my babies. I always took care of them, which meant making sure they never dried out.

  “I bet he looks different than from what you remember,” she continued, like she couldn’t tell I really didn’t want to talk about it. For eight years of my life I’ve had the biggest crush on a guy I’ve never done more than nod my head at. Not one word. Not one smile or wave, or any form of communication other than a nod. I was so lame. He probably thought I was such a freak, which meant that even if I wanted to, there was no way I could speak to him now. Nope. My life would be spent watching him from a distance as I became an old, lonely lady with ten cats.

  Crap. I hated cats.

  Against my will, I walked back over to stand beside her and looked out the window. He was still out there, leaning beneath the hood of his 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle that his father had bought him when he was thirteen. Who the hell buys a thirteen year old kid a classic car? Seriously! His father also ended up walking out on his mother the following day so clearly he wasn’t the best parental role model. I remembered watching him when his father got home with it. The roaring sound of the engine had caught my attention while I sat in my window, painting the cherry blossoms on the Stephenson’s lawn across the street. I still remembered the look on his face too. It had been – priceless.