Page 9 of Three
Good. We understand each other.
I get inside the van but cannot resist looking at him one last time. The alley is poorly lit, but his eyes are still like a punch in the gut. They are solely focused on me. Giving me such a thrill.
It’s one of those things in life that can turn into a wild addiction.
“I have the background on the grizzly man,” Serena lets me know, but I’m too immersed in his stare to give her a reply.
Gabe starts the van, and whatever spell those black pools cast on me is broken. I salute my bear and don’t look in the rearview mirror as we drive away.
Although, I feel his dark gaze on me long after he’s disappeared from my sight.
two
RAMIEL
The base.
This is where the magic happens. Where our family side business takes place—mostly the bloody part.
But also, the research. Sari has his Dr. Frankenstein lab here, next to my Matrix corner. Then there’s a nice lounge with a big kitchen and a TV area, where right now Uri is taking a nap on one of the large sofas. Uri is here so much you’d think he hates his house, which is damn impossible since it’s on Lake fucking Michigan. But Sari is here and Uri tends to be very protective of him.
Sari is the gentlest and sweetest of us seven, and we bros do shield him from time to time. But Uri’s sociopathic, guard dog tendencies skirt the smothering limit. Lately, it has made Sari huff and kick him out of the lab a couple of times—which is entertaining to see, like a kitty pawing at a Great Dane. If he only knew how closely Uri keeps an eye on him… What would he do? I was certain before, but now? After seeing Sari stand up to him? Not so much.
I’m staring at thefew errant pine needles gathered in small piles in the back garden outside the floor-to-ceiling window when Sari’s voice reaches me.
“I got all the DNA I need from the donor. Here.” His long, delicate fingers are holding an ice pack. His light blue eyes are filled with worry, but a small, understanding smile tilts his lips. His black hair is tied in a long braid falling down his delicate shoulder. “It will reduce the puffiness.”
Not the ache. From the way he phrased the sentence, I can infer that he knows I’m numb again and therefore not even going to feel the coldness on my skin.
“Thanks.” I grab the ice pack, being careful not to touch his fingers, and press it under my eye.
“Do you remember if you were hurt anywhere else?” His words remind me why it is dangerous for me to fight. Because the pain turns numb after the fight is over, and I can’t know how serious my wounds are, not without a medical check.
I shake my head and the sudden grim thoughts away. “I’m fine.”
“You got blood on your gloves,” Sari lets me know.
“It’s not mine.” Damn it! I should have taken them off before fighting, but I’d been so taken by my grizzly that now I have to get rid of them.Never keep evidence that can link you to a place or a donor.I should add it to Linda’s code, the one our foster mother gave us when we started our family side business. And since Michael and Ollie, Rague’s husband, added their input to it…I guess I can too.
“Two against one should be child’s play for you. Were you too bloodthirsty and got socked in the face?” Linda stops in front of me with a proud smirk on her face. Her tiny persona and perfectly styled blond hair suggest a normal-ish, sweet sixty-year-old person, but her mischievouseyes and predatory saunter tell another, be-crazy-careful story. She’s aretiredsecret agent—she still takes the odd contracts on the side—and worked for a bunch of different agencies back in the day. She taught us almost all she knows about torturing and killing. While Meg took care of our mental development, trying to work through our traumas.
They both did their best in raising us, and as parents should, gave us the right skills and some extra ones to fend for ourselves.
“Something like that. And there were three,” I feel the need to clarify.
“Gabe said you left a witness.”
I wish snitches really could get stitches.
“Were they hurt?” Sari hurriedly asks.
“No.Hewas very capable of taking care of himself.” I can still see all that delicious muscular vigor in action.
“Background check?” Linda likes to check in with us even though we’ve been doing this for years now. I guess that when you’re usually at the wheel, it is hard to sit in the passenger seat.
I’ll focus on learning about my bearafterI savor my time with August. “Serena has it ready. I’ll give it a look as soon as I take care of my donor.”
He’s waiting for me in the FUNS room, which stands for Fucked Up Nasty Shitheads room—a name I coined myself. I even ordered a plaque, it should arrive in a couple of days.
