Once she exited the bedroom, her eyes began to seek out the only familiar face she knew.
And there he was.
Noir was standing in what appeared to be a tiny dining room tucked in a small pocket of the kitchen behind the table reading today’s newspaper. His scar looked full, as though it had gotten an infection sometime in the past and had healed poorly. Instinctively, her hand crawled up to cover her own scar, over the material of Noir’s shirt. It was then that he spotted her. While he still held the newspaper up, his eyes focused only on hers. She didn’t know how long he looked at her, but something inside of her felt somewhat flattered at his obvious attention. Nobody had ever looked at her the way he looked at her in her entire life.
“Well, uh, good morning, sunshine,” he cooed, folding the paper shut and placing it on the table. “How was your sleep?”
“Deep,” she murmured.
It was still somewhat difficult for her to wrap her mind around something as simple as conversing with a known murderer, so she tried not to speak too much. She walked over to the dining table, a bit hesitant, but confident nonetheless. Up close, she could see Noir was now fully decked out in his uniform, save for the fedora.
“And yours?” she asked as an afterthought, taking a seat across from his standing form.
Noir looked at her once again before leaning toward her, his palms placed firmly on the side of the table. “Quite well, my dear,” he told her. “Thank you.”
Keirah felt her throat swallow on its own accord and she nodded a couple of times. Her eyes traveled to the paper Noir just discarded. The headline on the front page of the Onyx Times read Onyx’s New Rosebud? She furrowed her brow at the picture that accompanied it; a tall man with more muscle than a football player was standing there, with jet-black eyes, a sadistic smile, and a mask over his face. Keirah nibbled her bottom lip without realizing it.
“I, ah, well, I see you’ve noticed Onyx’s new visitor,” Noir said. When Keirah looked up at him, she could see his hazel eyes hardening and wondered if he knew this man personally. “He seems to want to, well, take over the town, really. People fear him because ummm … because of his size, because of his height. Fear is invoked immediately. But what the people of this city don’t understand is he does not have the heart of a hum … true criminal. He wants the usual garb-ah. Revenge. Money. Women. Fame.”
“Do you know him?” Keirah asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Noir said, straightening up. His eyes flashed with obvious annoyance and something darker that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “We used to, well, work together. But you know the um cliché, I’m sure. Greed got between us. I hum … intimidated victims. But he, well, he just went off the deep end-ah. When I heard about Onyx, I jump-ed at the chance. So we broke up. Not on friendly terms. And now it would seem he’s here. In my town. My turf.”
“So what are you going to do?” she asked him. She wouldn’t deny the worry that pushed her brow down. Even though Noir might have more intelligence than this man the Onyx media dubbed simply as Kane, Kane was much stronger and she didn’t want him to get hurt.
Noir smiled, seemingly delighted by her response. “Worried, princess?” he asked, and then flicked his wrist dismissively. “No need to be worried. But to answer your hum … question, I am going to rob a bank.” He paused and then leaned forward, capturing her eyes with his. “Would you … well, would you like to come?”
Keirah kept telling herself that she only agreed to accompany him to his bank robbery to keep an eye on him. She hated to admit that she actually cared about his well-being, but it was better than staying here and hoping he would turn up all right all while denying that she really didn’t care about him. She also didn’t want to think about her family, not when it sent stabbing guilt in her stomach. However, she wouldn’t go as far to say that she actually reveled in the fact that his hazel eyes lit up and his lips curled into a knowing smile when she gave consent to accompanying him. It would seem he was utterly delighted and showed his excitement by grabbing her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers while simultaneously coiling his other arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. Then he began to dance with her to the music only in his head, and dipped her at the end.
“Well-ah, this was hum … unexpected, but quite enticing,” he said, pulling her back up. Instead of releasing her, he wrapped his other arm around her as well, pulling her as tightly as he could against him. His eyes sought out hers and she found herself becoming used to such blatant stares to the point where she began to return them. His hands moved from her waist to her shoulders, cupping them gently as his thumbs stretched out and caressed the graceful curve of her collarbone. “We just ah, well, we need to figure everything out.”
Twenty minutes later, Keirah was in a miniskirt, a tight, black, long-sleeved shirt, and black high heels she didn’t think she could actually maneuver in. When Noir handed her a red wig, she had to fight the question that begged to be asked: “Where the hell did you get all these random articles of clothing?” Judging from yesterday’s company, she figured they belonged to random guests and just prayed they had been thoroughly washed.
When she emerged from the bathroom, a long, low whistle followed her. Keirah turned so she faced the living room and arched a brow as she noticed Noir leaning against the arm of the couch, his hands resting in his pockets and his fedora on his head. “Don’t you look dapper?” he asked, pushing up from his position and sauntering over to her. His eyes studied her unabashedly, taking in every curve and the flesh of her legs the miniskirt revealed. He placed his hands on their usual place—her hips—as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “You look verrry alluring, princess.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and then, surprising herself, she leaned into his hug. Her forehead touched his sturdy shoulder and her arms lifted until they locked around his neck. It shocked her how natural the act came to her, how natural it felt to hold him in her arms, but after knowing this man, there was little that could surprise her concerning him and her reactions to him. She actually felt herself relax and allowed a tiny feeling of security of being in his arms to fill a portion of her heart. “So what am I going to be doing?”
“Good question!” he exclaimed and smacked his lips together. “It’s, uh … well, it’s quite easy, my dear, because all you have to do is go into the bank and hum … pretend you’re making a deposit. Keep an eye on things and such.” His eyes hardened as his grip on her waist tightened. “And make sure you leave when you’re supposed to, my love. Do not make yourself, uh, a liability because, well, because that would be bad.”
Keirah walked into Onyx First National Bank at approximately ten thirty on Saturday morning. The bank was larger than most, with a high ceiling and polished floor. There was a long row of tellers, all busy, their windows open rather than protected by a thick coat of bulletproof glass. She headed over to the line in the middle of the building, taking a spot behind a tall balding man dressed in a suit. She made sure to keep her eyes straight ahead of her so she wouldn’t bring unwanted attention to herself. Without realizing it, she placed her hands on her hips and began to tap her foot. Her mind drifted to Andie and her heart clenched with guilt. Andie was probably sick with worry about her safety and here Keirah was, robbing a bank with her captor.
A few minutes later, only one customer in line moved. A whistle sounded behind her and she jumped. Glancing over her shoulder, she expected Noir’s familiar hazel eyes staring back at her. Instead, icy blue eyes belonging to a guy a few years older than she was locked with hers and a shiver ran down her spine. This was most definitely not Noir and she quickly turned back around.
“Ah, come on, doll face,” he said with a distinct Zone accent. “Don’t be so cold.”
Keirah remained silent, unsure and awkward in these types of situations. She figured if she reacted in some way, it would only add fuel to the fire.
“Ah, toots, now the silent treatment?” He stepped clo
ser to her so he could ask the question over her shoulder. “Now, shucks, I don’t deserve that.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and she tensed.
“Please don’t touch me,” she told him under breath.
“So now you talk, eh?” He smirked, tightening his hold on her.
Before Keirah could respond, a shot was fired and the man behind her dropped. She squealed, caught so off-guard that she nearly tripped over herself. Her fingers steepled around her mouth and she didn’t even notice the bangs of the red wig anymore. She didn’t want to look. The man had been alive just seconds before and now he was dead in his own blood, his crumpled form just a few inches from her. She heard one of Noir’s henchmen ordering all the bank’s inhabitants to sit on the floor while another began tying their wrists together with cord. Keirah had no idea how she got into a sitting position nor did she notice a man tie her wrists together. She only reconnected with reality when she looked up at Noir. He, too, was in disguise—a postman—hiding his identity while he robbed the bank. They made eye contact for a brief moment and she could easily read anger showcased in his golden irises.
“Now,” one of the men said as soon as a large mail cart was nearly filled to the top with bags of money, bonds, and other valuables, “to make sure none of you will do something stupid, we’re going to need hostages.”
Noir walked over to Keirah and grabbed her so she stumbled up and into him. Around her, the other robbers were doing the same. He turned her around so her back pressed against his chest and he placed the barrel of his gun on the column of her throat, the same column he kissed not twelve hours ago. Slowly, he began to back up. Before heading to the mail carts, he shot his two henchmen, narrowly missing their captives, while keeping a strong hold on Keirah. The pair walked over to the mail cart, and after putting his gun in the front waistband of his pants, placed both his hands around her so they gripped the cart while keeping her trapped between his arms. With that, he walked out of the bank like he was any other postman.
Once they were outside, Noir released Keirah so she could slip into an alley and she struggled to change into jeans with her hands still bound. To ensure her identity was secret, she threw the red wig in a nearby dumpster and pulled her dark hair up into a baseball cap before emerging from the alley and onto the street. She called a cab easily. She had the driver drop her off a couple of blocks from the border of the Zone and walked to the apartment. She knew she wouldn’t be harmed in the slightest. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours, but everyone seemed to know she was under Noir’s watch.
Keirah should have realized he would arrive before she did, but she was surprised to see him so relaxed. He smiled when he saw her, still wearing the blue postman’s uniform, and got up from his position on the couch.
“I see he tied your knots looser than he usually does,” Noir said. When he reached her, he took her hands in his, bringing them up to inspect her wrists. He slowly untied the cord and, seeing an indentation on her left wrist by the cord, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. Keirah felt the lulling pain lessen. Maybe it was because she now had something to focus on. It didn’t matter. She had gotten away with being Noir’s accomplice. She hadn’t run away even though she had the opportunity to do so. She was the only survivor.
Keirah looked at him and blinked. “You trust me,” she stated in a soft voice.
Noir stared at her for a long moment. Instead of answering, he pulled her close to him and removed the baseball cap from her hair. He watched as her long dark hair tumbled down her back. Using his fingertips, he gently pushed aside errant curls before placing a kiss on her temple.
27
The weekend went by without another vision for Reese, something she was secretly grateful for. Monday morning came and, knowing she’d be training with Ollo after soccer practice, she threw on a simple white baby tee and sky blue boot-cut jeans. Her hair was placed in a stylish ponytail, a few strands of hair framing her face. Her mother let her drive to school that morning in order to help prepare for her driver’s test over winter break.
“I’ll be home around eight,” Reese said as she got out of the car. “Piper and I are going to hang out.”
“Oh good, darling,” her mother said. “You need more shopping after the weekend this city has had. Be careful, though. I’ll see you later.”
When Reese got to class, Andie looked nothing short of frazzled. She shot Carey a questioning look as she took a seat, but the blonde pixie shrugged her shoulders. It seemed that Andie had been waiting for Reese because she started talking about her weekend: Keirah was kidnapped at Jack Phillip’s party, her mother blamed Andie so she kicked her out until further notice, and none other than Jack took her in.
“And now,” Andie finished, her fingers gripping her short strawberry locks, “all anyone can talk about is this bank robbery on Saturday and the fact that there might be another criminal terrorizing the streets of Onyx. I don’t even think the majority of Onyx knows Noir took Keirah again.”
“How are you even at school right now?” Carey asked.
“If I stayed at the manor, I’d go crazy with thinking and analyzing and worrying,” she replied.
“Be careful with your hair, Andie,” Reese said. “You’ll get the locks greasy and pull out more strands than normal.” She paused, surprised that Andie actually listened to her without giving one of her patented retorts. “Do we know who robbed the bank?”
Andie paused, and judging by the way her pale green eyes narrowed, Reese knew what she was thinking. “I don’t know,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “But I’m going to find out.”
Reese took her time changing, promising Piper she would meet her on the field in a few minutes. She hated to admit it, but she was nervous knowing she would see Gabe.
He’s the devil’s son.
How was she supposed to act around him? Was she supposed to be afraid? Even now, knowing who he was, she couldn’t conjure up any fear for him. He was still the jerk who thought he could get into her pants simply by batting his eyelashes. Maybe that was why she wasn’t afraid of him. She had to make the conscious choice to give herself—and subsequently her power—to him, and she knew that would never happen. Ever. He couldn’t hurt her. If anything, now that she knew who she was, what she was capable of, and why he wanted her, she felt as though she had more power over him than he had over her. It was that thought that gave her the push she needed to emerge from the locker room.
He was waiting for her.
She wasn’t surprised.
“What do you want?” she asked as the two began to make their way down the slope to the field. From the corner of her eye, she noticed how tall he really was.
“You know what I want,” he replied, his voice low.
Reese rolled her eyes. “That’s never going to happen, Gabe,” she told him, “especially now that I know what it means to me, to you, and to this world.”
Without warning, Gabe grabbed Reese’s upper arm and tugged her so she faced him. His grip was firm but gentle, and when her grey eyes clashed with his blue ones, she was surprised to see an inkling of vulnerability in them. It was the only thing that stopped her from going off on him.
“I did love you,” he said, dropping his voice so it was nothing more than a whisper.
For a moment, Reese almost believed him. Almost.
“You didn’t love me,” she said, yanking her arm out of his grasp. “You don’t even know me. You loved a different girl with a different soul who happened to have the same power I do. Power, Gabe. You love power, not me.”
Something flashed in his eyes like the tip of an iceberg, but she couldn’t figure out what was underneath, what it meant. He didn’t argue, however, so she headed to the field, leaving him behind.
“So if you don’t need a ride home,” Piper said as the two headed to the student parking lot, “where are you going?”
Before Reese could answer, Henry appeared seemingly from nowhere to stand in front of the pair. He was dr
essed in his usual black outfit—today’s tie was a silky lavender—and Converses, his hands behind his back as he looked between the two. Reese watched Henry closely, trying to take a cue from him on how to answer because she knew he had heard Piper’s question. Her heart stopped when she noticed the way he was looking at Piper and she had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping. Those dark eyes softened and there was a glint of … was that longing?
Piper didn’t even notice. Her brown eyes were on Reese, waiting for her answer.
“Henry actually offered to teach me how to drive a stick,” she replied, forcing her eyes away from Henry to look at her friend. “My dad wants to make sure I know how to drive both ways, just in case I have to drive his car.”
“Offered?” Piper asked, her tone disbelieving. “Are you going to be okay?”
Reese knew what she was really asking: Was Henry forcing her to do something she wasn’t comfortable with, and if so, did she need her to come with?
“I’ll be fine,” Reese said, making sure her smile was genuine. “Henry was way super sweet about it.”
Piper didn’t believe her but she kept quiet. Instead, she nodded her head and said, “Call me after so we can go over the plays we went over today.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said once she was gone. He made sure to avoid looking at Reese as the two headed over to his Rolls Royce, parked in the vice principal’s space. “And so is she. I take it you didn’t go over any plays at practice?”
“So are you,” Reese said, ignoring his question. “It’s her, isn’t it? Piper?” She didn’t have to elaborate on what she meant by the question. Piper was his unrequited, the girl he gave up Heaven for.
The Dark Paradise Trilogy Box Set Page 21
