“You wanted to see me,” she said as she took a seat in a chair he was gesturing to. He turned down the music as he nodded.
“Firearms freak you out?” He asked softly. “With your life-style, I’m actually a little surprised.”
“No, I just don’t like them.” She stretched her legs out. Sometimes she wished they weren’t so long. They felt like they got in the way on occasion.
“I don’t care if you don’t like them.” Vincent narrowed his eyes on her. “In the kitchen yesterday-”
“What happened in the kitchen had nothing to do with the idea of learning to use firearms,” Sawyer told him with chilly voice.
“Well, since the guns don’t cause the… reaction, then you are still going to learn about them. I don’t care if you never carry one,” he told her, holding a hand up when she opened her mouth. “I’ll never make you carry one, and I’ll never test your proficiency. But you will learn, Sawyer. One day, getting someone else’s gun could be the only thing between you and the grave. Everyone here knows that, including you.”
“And who’s teaching me?” She asked bitterly. “Who’s going to drag me out there and force a gun in my hands?”
“I am,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”
She curled a lip in disgust as she followed him. He had a solid point, but fuck, she didn’t like this. Even the idea that she may one day need a gun made her angry.
“With my magic-”
“But you don’t have your magic,” he turned and snapped at her once they were out of the house. “You can be angry about this. Fine. You can have a death wish. Fine. But I’ll see you trained so you don’t get my team killed while you are here. We’ve got more important shit to worry about.”
“More important than the imminent threat of death? That’s impressive,” she growled. “You think I have a death wish?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Vincent glared at her. “And you know it. I’m going to catch that son-of-a-bitch if it’s the last thing I do. You can help me willingly, or you can help the hard way. The choice is yours, but you are helping.”
“Why do you fucking want to catch him so bad?” She shook her head. “Remember the last IMPO team that got close? They’re all dead. You think I’m going to get your team killed? Have you lost your fucking mind? I’m the only one smart enough to realize that the best way to deal with him is to stay the fuck out of his way.”
“My team is vastly more prepared for the task than the last team.” His jaw was rigid like the rest of his posture. “And I know more about Axel than anyone on this planet.”
She snorted and kept shaking her head, stomping past him. No, he didn’t. He had no idea what Axel was capable of past the stories.
“You live in a delusion,” she said, stopping to wave her arm around at him.
“If you have all of this figured out, then please, enlighten me,” Vincent hissed, looking her over. “You are probably the most arrogant person I’ve met in my life, and that includes Axel.”
“You’ve met him?” Sawyer felt like cold water hit her.
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate for her.
“Me too,” she whispered, not giving him anymore either.
“I think you and I have more in common than you might be willing to believe,” he sighed. “He’s an awful human being. I just want him behind bars.”
“He is,” she bit her bottom lip, her tongue feeling the scar, reminding her.
“Help me,” Vincent pressed, stepping closer to her. She eyed him warily and sighed before looking off into the woods. “I’ll make you a deal. Help me catch him and I’ll never pry into whatever you’re hiding. Let us protect you, and I’ll let you walk away when this all over.”
He was seriously obsessed with this. From building this team, to tracking her down and taking her into custody. Three days in, and she could see it from a mile away. She didn’t know what drove him to this, but damn, some part of her wanted to believe it was possible again. He exuded confidence that he had it all figured out and knew exactly how to hit Axel where it hurt. If he was this driven, she wanted to think he actually had a chance, to be a little optimistic that they might not all be dead at the end of it.
She was always a bit of an optimist, but every time she indulged it, people got hurt. Did she risk indulging the hope again? She wanted to, she really did. And then that tiny fire grew brighter in her and whispered that this could be it. This could be the revenge on Axel that she had wanted for years, but never had the power to grasp.
“Are you going to listen to me?” he asked when she was a few feet away, and she sighed, throwing her hands up. She had to make a decision on this, and she needed to make it now. Her life shifted again, and Sawyer resigned herself to a brutal death.
“Sure, Vincent, I’ll listen to you,” she turned back to him as she spoke, “but don’t expect me to die for you.”
“I don’t,” he whispered. “I don’t expect anyone to die for me.”
“Then let’s train,” she muttered. He started walking again, taking her to a building deep in the woods, nearly a fifteen-minute walk from the house. “What is this?”
“You’ll see,” he said quietly, punching in a code to open the door and letting a finger print reader verify him. He swung the door open and ushered her in ahead of him.
She was more stunned by the sight than she had been by the gym. Weapons were everywhere.
“Quinn makes sure hikers and people who live on the neighboring properties don’t stumble upon it,” Vincent told her as he closed the door. “Full indoor shooting range and then an entire area for Elijah’s work. Elijah! You in here?”
“Back here!” Elijah’s voice came from the far corner of the main room. Sawyer looked towards it and found Elijah in a leather apron, goggles, and with gloves that went to his elbows. He held tongs with a red-hot piece of metal on the end.
“He crafts our weapons,” Vincent informed her as she stared at the cowboy who went back to work as soon as he laid eyes on them. “We still follow the Old Ways as well.”
“The Old Ways are the best,” she told him.
Even with magic and modern technology, many Magi still practiced the Old Ways. Combat with real swords, daggers, hammers, axes, and the like. There were rules of combat that were strictly followed, and even she respected them most of the time. Well, she tried. Kind of.
“You practice?” Vincent frowned at her and she shrugged. Not truly, not for a few years, but she liked the ring fighting for the same reason. The ring had rules that were followed, no matter the circumstances.
“I learned them about seven years ago,” she mumbled, looking away from the massive wall of weapons and the racks of gear that surrounded Elijah’s area. “When do I get to do that?”
“After firearms.” He led her away and she sighed, a little wistfully. How long had it been since she practiced with her own blades? Three years? Four? She only kept those throwing knives in case of emergency, but damn, she suddenly wanted to see her twelve-inch daggers, or her kukri. Maybe even her stilettos.
She watched him pull out several firearms, and she felt her upper lip curl in distaste. .44 Magnum, 9x19mm Walther P99, M&P9 Shield from Smith and Wesson. There were several others after those.
“You okay?” Vincent looked at her with concern. “You seem a little pale.”
“Really? I just don’t like using firearms,” she waved him off. She had been serious when she told Zander that not even she could outrun a bullet. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Would you tell me if it were anything else?” He set out magazines and ammunition.
“Probably not,” she gave him a smirk, her hand over the scar that was the exit wound. She had been shot in the back, and the bullet had left after passing through her liver. Charlie had saved her life, he truly had.
“Figured,” he sighed.
“Oh, good. You have an indoor range, but we’re going outside into the heat. How nice.” She followed him out after a few m
ore minutes. They had covered a shooting area with a couple partitions to give shooters their own space. Vincent put her in the middle lane and picked the first gun for her to use. The Glock 17, simple, a bit weak, but reliable depending on whom one talked to.
“You know how to do this?” Vincent stood at her back and she nodded.
“I’ve done it before, but it’s been years.” She hadn’t shot a gun since she was fifteen. She and Zander had been playing around with one like idiots. An older friend of Zander’s had let them borrow it and shoot a few rounds off. She didn’t hate them then, but she was a different person now.
“I’ll walk you through it.” His arms came around her, and he walked her through loading. She had to resist the urge to just lean back into him. His chin sat above her right shoulder, and he spoke softly in her ear. He smelled like the city, and his voice was professional and disconnected from the physical closeness. She couldn’t ignore it nearly as well. She didn’t like this guy, but he was attractive and intense. Her body wasn’t agreeing with her mind. Her body liked him more than a little.
“Take it and I’ll make sure you’re holding it properly,” he mumbled. She did and realized something quickly. Holding a gun wasn’t much different when you were missing a finger. His hands adjusted hers to the perfect spots, though she had been fairly close. “Aim and take a shot.”
His hands stayed on hers as she took aim. After she fired it, she grinned at her decent aim. She’d hit the guy on the paper in the second ring on his chest.
“Now, do it again,” Vincent chuckled in her ear, staying right where he was.
She did, emptying the clip. He set her up with a different gun, something with more kick to it, and she didn’t do as well. The recoil had screwed up her aim.
By the end, she was used to him right there behind her, his chest on her back. He was only a few inches taller than her, and he never raised his voice in her ear.
“We’re done for today.” He turned the safety on for the handgun she was holding and took it from her. Once he had it out of her hands, he put it on the table and turned her around by her hips. “Go back to the building, Elijah is waiting on you. We’ll work indoors on Wednesday.”
She nodded mutely, but couldn’t get around him. He was also still holding her hips. They weren’t touching anywhere else, but she could feel the space vibrate between them.
“You’re in the way,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He shook his head like he didn’t realize what he was doing until that moment. He released her hips and stepped out of the way. She walked away quickly, leaving him packing up everything.
The entire thing had been weird. She didn’t like the feeling curling in her chest, the one that said maybe Vincent wasn’t so bad. She had a weak spot for wanting to help the lost causes, and this was definitely one of them.
She found Elijah waiting for her in the building. He was pulling out several blades of different sizes. He looked up at her, a level of concentration on his face that she hadn’t expected, and then he pulled out several more blades, frowning.
“I like daggers or short swords, even though I’m strong enough to use bigger,” she told him, and he sighed.
“I should have known,” he grunted, putting half of what he had away. “Experienced with handheld weaponry?”
“Very, though I might be out of practice,” she said as she walked closer. “No jokes?”
“I don’t joke about weapons.” He smiled at her. “No, these beauties deserve respect and care. Plus, joking is normally relaxing, and being relaxed will lead to injuries.”
“Of course.” She nodded and looked at the large wall. He had a little of everything. His collection had every style and region from daggers to long swords. Pikes, halberds, nets, and a couple whips tipped with sharp blades. “You make all these or buy some?”
“I would say about a third, I made.” He looked up with her. “The rest I bought, except for three. Those I got on the job and are my most prized possessions.”
“Care to share?” She smiled at him. She loved weaponry like this and wanted to see what he considered the best of this immense selection.
“Sure,” he grinned at her. He walked away and unlocked a safe he had set up near his work table. She followed but respected his space. She was a known thief and she didn’t want him to think she was going to steal his stuff. He pulled out one katana, one kukri, and one simple black twelve-inch dagger.
“The longsword,” he began, “belonged to everyone’s least favorite serial killer, Logan Harris. The IMPO didn’t know what to do with it, and since we were the team that caught him, I took it for my own collection.”
She swallowed and nodded. Logan Harris was served the death penalty last year. He had been the murdered of nearly ten Magi children and their mothers. He never killed the father, and he never told anyone why, even on his last day. He had magnetic manipulation, his only power, which helped him strike true with every swing. That sword was probably the one he used to cut up their bodies.
She was with the team that had caught him. That was impressive. They had stopping him from killing a five-year-old girl and her mother.
“The katana was in the property of Layla Doe,” he pointed to it next, and she looked it over. She could still feel the rage of the Magi who used it regularly. “The one who-”
“Yeah, I know about Layla Doe,” Sawyer whispered, cutting him off from finishing. Layla Doe’s crimes didn’t need repeating. She laid her eyes on the last dagger, and cold ran through her veins. No matter where she went, she was realizing, the world had a reminder for her, waiting to pounce.
“And that dagger is the only weapon on the planet that had been tied to Shadow,” he picked it up and testing its weight on a finger, letting it balance precariously. “Suited her, really. All black steel, black pommel and hilt. Even black leather wrapping the hilt. Not a trace of her magic on it though. It’s obvious she cleansed her weapons regularly, and there’s no craftsman’s mark on it so tracing it back to its maker is impossible.”
“How did you get it?” She asked softly, watching her blade as he set it back down. She lost several them over the years when she was active, but none had ever been linked to her like he so confidently just did. That must have been the only one she lost on an assassination, though, since the others were just misplaced around the world. Nearly half of her collection was still in Axel’s possession, for example.
“The Paris murder,” he told her pleasantly. “We were training with a team in Germany when it happened. We were offered the chance to look over the scene, and I found the blade. It didn’t amount to anything, and once we were given free rein on the Axel investigation, the IMPO placed it in my care, knowing I liked to keep my hands on these types of things.”
“A little morbid, isn’t it?” She raised an eyebrow at him, forcing herself to look away from the dagger. “You know what these weapons have done.”
“Not to me,” he waved a hand at all the weapons around them. “Everything here is meant to kill, to end a life, in war or self-defense, it doesn’t matter. These weapons were just used by people who were very good at what they did. They were used for their purpose, even if those purposes were with evil intention.”
“Can’t fault you there.” She sighed as he put the treasures of his collection away.
“Ready to get started?” He pointed to the selection he had out. “Pick one or two. I want to see what you can do. We won’t be sparring until Zander can shield us and I’m confident you won’t slice your own fingers off.”
She took two shorts swords and twirled them in her hands. They felt good. She didn’t want to take a dagger, which she was much more proficient with, because she felt too exposed. Seeing her own weapon like that, in the hands of Elijah, had freaked her out.
It was a solid training session. Elijah knew the fighting style of every weapon he crafted, as if he was born with the knowledge. She had problems with her form, so he stopped her and corrected her. She was use
d to dirty fights: quick, fast, and going for the kill or incapacitation. This was different. He wanted her to really nail the technique, so she could avoid mistakes with and without her magic. With her abilities, technique normally got thrown out the window, but without them, it was necessary.
They were sweating and panting at the end of the session, and he grinned at her as he patted her back roughly.
“We’ll make a real fighter out of you, yet,” he laughed as he put away the weapons.
“Look here, cowboy, I am a real fighter.” She shoved him away playfully. “You’ve seen me in the ring.” She tossed her arms out, cocky and having a good time. He took a playful swing at her, and they were off.
For his six-foot, five-inch, massive build, he was fast. She spent the entire session getting used to his speed, but dodging his quick strikes was still difficult. They were pulling their punches, but when he nailed her in the ribs, she knew it would bruise. She got him once in the gut right after, hooking his head with one of her arms.
In the end, they were just shoving at each other like fools. It was easy to hang out with the cowboy. He was easy-going, and, once they were training, the pickup lines and compliments ended for something more relaxed and friendly. It was also easy to let her guard down and talk to him. She should have noticed that in the bar. His smile was infectious.
“Alright, you got skills, don’t hurt me,” he laughed hysterically. “Damn, woman. I never thought it would be hot to get the shit kicked out of me.”
“Men are gluttons for punishment, hot stuff,” she was laughing as well, and he grabbed her, pulling her closer while she was distracted. She found herself against his chest and her internal body temperature sky-rocketed.
“You think I’m hot, huh?” He asked playfully.
“You and every other guy here,” she rolled her eyes, pulling away from him. “You’re nothing special with all the competition around.”
A Life Of Shadows Page 17
