Dead or Alive_Part One Page 13

  “Why did you dismiss her? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked after a fleeting moment, and that lip of hers trembled, guilt etched on her face in many different shades.

  “Because I thought she was just trying to get in my head, and I-I knew if I fell too deep into a vulnerable state, she’d take advantage of my w-weakness. If there’s any hope for me to s-stay on this path, I have to b-be strong.”

  Words failed me at her admission. There wasn’t anything I could say when I knew nothing about how greatly this voice could affect her. I had a general idea, obviously, but I’d never know the true austerity, and I had no inclination to find out. Then again, I might not have to, seeing as my chances at a life after Eden were nonexistent.

  “God, this is so bad,” Eden went on at my silence, prompting me secure my hold on her all the more.

  “Bad doesn’t even cover it.”

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, falling onto my back.

  Eden curled herself into my side and laid her head on my chest, winding an arm around my middle. “Think we have a chance at getting past airport security?”

  I chuckled ambiguously, only half-noticing she wasn’t bawling anymore. “Not looking like us, we won’t.”

  Time proceeded to stand in a lull. Soundless, save for the TV, still on the news, all I could think was the calm before the storm. I ran the tips of my fingers up and down her back, trying my damnedest not to dwell on what was going to happen within the next several hours. ’Cause hours is all I could have, right? The Scarsis had to be here, and that news segment was them cluing us in.

  “Baby, that’s it,” Eden said suddenly, lifting her head from my chest. She literally looked like a lightbulb had gone off inside her head, not a trace of fear lingering about.

  “What?” I asked curiously.

  “We’ll change our appearances!”

  Oh, Angel…

  God, did I want to think this was the best idea ever, but let’s face it… I don’t think I even need to say it.

  “Angel, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much I can do to change the way I look, except shave my head and get rid of the scruff.”

  “It’ll be enough, though! I can cut my hair, dye it—”

  “You can’t dye it,” I blurted out, bringing a hand up to run my fingers through the ends.

  “Why not?” She sounded deflated, arching a brow in question.

  “Your passport,” I said, and she flashed me a dubious look.

  “So I’ll buy a blonde wig.”

  “And then what, Angel? We slightly alter our appearances, and then what?” I pressed, because I didn’t want her getting her hopes up.

  “And then we’ll enjoy one more week before going home,” she murmured, like it was the easiest thing ever.

  How were we even having this conversation? How could she possibly be optimistic about anything? Was she not just crying minutes ago, scared out of her right mind?

  “The likelihood of me enjoying anything past today is a slim to none scenario. I hate to say it like that, baby, but it’s true. This is it, we’re done,” I reminded her and still, she didn’t relent, climbing on top of me with a devious smirk playing on one corner of her mouth. Holding up a finger, she tapped the tip of my nose and leaned in close enough that her sweet scent wound its way around my senses.

  “No, we’re not done. Give me one week, just one. We don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. Let’s just give it a few days to let the initial hype die down, and then we’ll go from there. If it’s still heated, we’ll go home, on our terms.”

  “Not really our terms if you think about it,” I countered.

  “I know, but it’s better than being dragged there,” she threw back.

  She has a point.

  “Fine. One week. One. We’ll check out of here in the morning and find somewhere quiet.”

  “Agreed.” She smiled, regarding me with something I recognized to be hope. “We can do this, X. It’s just you and me, remember? And if we do go down, we’ll go down in motherfucking flames.”

  I’ll just cut my hair. No biggie, right?

  Wrong. So fucking wrong.

  I’d never had short hair, ever. Shortest I’d gone was one summer in middle school, when Gio dared me to chop it off to my shoulders. Technically, I failed because I wouldn’t let him cut it any shorter than my shoulder blades, but even that length wouldn’t work now. I had no choice but to cut it shorter, and the vain, presumptuous part of me was having a full-on hissy fit.

  It was a necessary evil, though.

  Daddy and the boys wanted to play dirty? So was I.

  Raking a comb through for any snags, I took one last look at my long hair, the tips tickling my waist, and sectioned it off before I chickened out and made Xander do it. And that couldn’t end well because, well, because what the hell did he know about cutting a woman’s hair? All I needed was for him to snip one piece too short and I’d end up with a pixie hair-cut. No thank you, that’s much too short for me.

  Not that I knew anything about cutting hair either, but I least I kinda, sorta knew what I was doing, thanks to YouTube. Although, now that I say that, I realize how full of shit I am because I swear I watched the same tutorial countless times prior to even touching the scissors, and the second I brought them up to that first piece of hair, I almost had a heart attack. I shouldn’t have been worrying about the way it looked as much as changing my look to avoid being noticed, but again, that vain little voice in my head wouldn’t allow anything short of perfection. Or as close to perfection as humanly possible, which I almost screwed up when I did the unthinkable and shut my eyes as I went for that first snip.

  Thankfully, it turned out well, boosting my confidence enough to get through the rest of the haircut without any mishaps. I cut it all the way up to my collarbones in a long bob style with some playful side swept bangs. Took about forty-five minutes from start to finish, and when I set the scissors down on the sink, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

  And the transformation was only getting started.

  There was still one huge detail left to be sorted, something I’d never, ever done before in my entire life; dye my hair. I’d always been blonde. But an hour later, I wasn’t. My new look was a done deal. I’d showered in a speedy fashion and quickly blown out my hair without looking in the mirror once. And I’d have taken a flat iron to it too, if I wasn’t so anxious to finally catch a glimpse of myself.

  On three—okay, more like ten—I spun around and slowly dragged my eyes up to the mirror. My reflection was startling, so much so that I gasped, a hand shooting over my mouth. It was only then I realized what a terrible choice I’d made in going this color.

  In going this dark…

  I looked like her but with blue eyes rather than those obsidian orbs. All I was missing was her black claws and tattered dress. I could all but hear her manic laughter resounding somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of my mind, an amused smirk curving her lips. I’m sure this was somehow her subconscious doing. No way was it some sick coincidence.

  Xander, I need Xander, I thought hastily, throwing open the bathroom door with a quickness I’m sure he hadn’t been expecting. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I willed my dark passenger out of my thoughts and shoved her back where she belonged. Now was not the time for her bullshit mind games.

  “Angel?” Xander asked, in what sounded like slight alarm.

  “Are you ready?” I asked back, beyond nervous for his reaction.

  What if he hated it?

  “Born ready, baby. Let me see,” he said, calmer this time, a hint of beguilement bubbling beneath the surface of his tone.

  It’s now or never… One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I stepped out into the bedroom and almost immediately heard his sharp intake of breath. I couldn’t look, afraid I’d find a repelled expression staring back at me. Three seconds ticked by
, then five, then maybe ten—why the hell was he so quiet?

  “Open your eyes, Angel—let me see you,” he cooed, and once again, I slowly and quite reluctantly lifted my gaze to where he sat on the bed, mentally cringing along the way.

  “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful but clearly, I stand corrected right now. Holy fuck, Angel...” He trailed off, rising to his feet.

  “You like it?” I stood stock-still, watching him pad toward me.

  “I fucking love it,” he growled, scooping me up in his arms. “And let me just say to ease your mind, you do look different. So different, but in a good way. This could actually work.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely. If I saw you walking down the street, I wouldn’t recognize you at all.”

  Good, this was good. Unrecognizable is what we wanted. Also, bonus points he wasn’t shying away from me, right?

  “So now I guess we just have to make sure you’re indistinguishable too,” I quipped, pulling him toward me by his stubble-dusted chin. Can’t lie, I was gonna miss his scruff.

  “As indistinguishable as I can get, yes,’” he agreed, holding me steady, his hands at my face, and as his lips brushed mine, I prayed with every last piece of me that our little plan would work as badly as I wanted it to. I wasn’t ready to go home yet.

  There was one reason, and only one reason, why we ended up staying in London; Camden Lock. With six different markets all adjoined near the Hampstead Road Lock of the Reagent’s Canal, you could find anything from crafts, to home goods, to clothing, even fast food. The prices were unbeatable and well, it was also one of the most popular visitor attractions in London, meaning there was sure to be a crowd. A crowd we’d likely blend with seamlessly while shopping for a hair piece; what, with our new disguises and all. Not even Alessio’s keen eye would be able to scope us out amongst all the tourists and residents. Besides, with the missing persons stunt they pulled a few days back, I highly doubted they’d presume us to be out and about in public anytime soon.

  This turned the table in our favor.

  We were one step ahead again.

  Now, all I needed was that damn wig, and then Xander and I could move on somewhere else. Or perhaps we could just go back to Bimini and spend another month in our little hideaway? We were sure as hell safe there, and I’m almost positive the timeshare was available until Spring Break. Any which way, that would all have to wait because without my faux blonde locks, we weren’t going much of anywhere, considering I now barely resembled the photo on my I.D.’s. Yes, women dyed their hair all the time, but I wasn’t willing to risk airport security turning us away and then possibly catching on to what was right under their noses. That could be an additional nightmare to the tornado that’d already knocked us on our asses, and we certainly didn’t need that. My family was bad enough.

  So here we are, our hands laced together as we followed groups of people into the Camden Market fairly early on a chilly Sunday afternoon. Xander sported a black cap on his head, low over his eyes, a black hoodie topping it all to shield his face from view. His ‘new look’ wasn’t nearly as drastic as mine, something we’d known would be the case from the start. He’d gone with a buzz cut and shaved all his scruff, so there was some difference, but mostly he looked the same, just younger—hence the hat to keep lingering eyes away. As for me? I didn’t really need to hide but I threw on a huge pair of sunglasses over my bare face anyway, just to be extra cautious. Thankfully, the sun fully cooperated with me, shining bright rays over the market from the cloudless, blue sky above.

  “This is an in and out ordeal, Angel. I don’t wanna be here too long,” Xander commented as I dragged him through the Stables Market.

  I heard him, really, I did, but I was hardly paying attention, too enthralled with the storybook setting around me to snap out of my tourist mindset. I was like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide as my head snapped back and forth every few feet. Most of the shops were set in these large, brick archways within the historic railway viaducts, and there was just so much to see and gawk at, I didn’t know where to start first.

  “I hate to tell you, baby, but we’re not going to be in and out,” I finally answered, slipping a peek in his direction as I shifted my sunglasses onto my head. “With the amount of clothing stalls they have just in this vicinity, we’ll have to keep our eyes peeled and really search for one that might have some hair accessories. We may end up walking out of here empty-handed.”

  Xander rolled his eyes but he knew it was the truth. Plus, he was shopping with a woman. When the hell did a woman ever just go in and out of anywhere?

  Needless to say, we did not walk in and out. One hour turned into two at a moment’s notice, and it wasn’t lost on me that we weren’t constantly peeking over our shoulders every five seconds. We’d done an extensive amount of window shopping, I guess you could say—household goods, secondhand items, 20th-century antiques, ethnically-influenced pieces. In between all that, we ate too; nothing but junk food, I should add. The funnel cake I devoured by myself was insanely delicious, and coming from me, that’s saying a lot. Hello, Coney Island. We also took some pictures, enjoyed a few good laughs while people-watching, and simply wandered from yard to yard without any care. The anxiety that’d been crippling us both since hearing that newscast had lifted significantly, and although Xander had initially wanted this to be quick trip, we were actually having a good time. I hadn’t found what we’d come here looking for, but I wasn’t torn up over it, not when I’d gotten to see Xander’s dazzling smile more than a handful of times, a smile I last saw when we first arrived in London almost two weeks ago.

  “I think we’ve walked this entire place and I have yet to see one wig,” Xander mumbled around a mouthful of double chocolatey chip ice cream.

  Don’t ask me how the man was eating ice cream in this weather. Two huge scoops on a waffle cone, no less. It was at least fifty degrees and the thin black sweater I’d put on this morning was doing nothing to keep the chill off. Typically, I loved the cold, but we’d missed the brunt of it being in the Caribbean for so long. Now, my body was practically screaming, “What the fuck is this shit?”

  Yeah, we’re definitely going back to Bimini…

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find something, even if it’s not here,” I said, merrily twirling around on the tips of my boots as we waded back into the middle yard.

  Xander pulled me into him with that playful grin in place, strong arm caught around my waist. He grazed icy-cold lips against mine, purposely smearing decadent ice cream all over them. Giggling, I pecked his mouth because I just couldn’t resist after he’d gotten me dirty, and went on to make a show of licking my lips.

  “Mmm, chocolatey.”

  “Very,” he agreed, dark eyes slowly trailing the length of my body. “And I’m positive it’d taste better off you.”

  As tempting as that sounded, I barked out a laugh, tossing my head back and all. “Not happening in these temps! My nipples will freeze right off.”

  “And I know the perfect way to warm them back up,” he growled, nearly dropping his half-eaten waffle cone onto the ground.

  “You’re absolutely insati—”

  Bang!

  The boisterous pop abruptly cut me off mid-sentence, practically frightening me out of my own skin. I wasn’t the only one, though. Xander did too, and almost everyone around us stopped mid-stride to glance around for the source. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that sounded like—

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  From this moment on out, everything—and I mean, everything—happened in slow motion. Two people, not ten feet away, collapsed right before my very eyes, their arms wailing as they fell back, puddles of blood instantly flooding around them from chest wounds. Gunshots continued then, each bang louder than the last, prompting horrified screams of realization to follow. In the blink of an eye, Camden Lock had gone from a cheerful Sunday outing to complete a
nd utter mayhem. People of all ages were running in various directions, either looking for cover from the raining assault or hoping to clear an exit and make it out of the market.

  But me, I couldn’t move.

  Fear had swiftly bloomed deep in my belly, rooting me dead in place until Xander yanked on my arm and hauled me down the middle yard to a cluster of tables. The terrified owner of a Sari stall offered us refuge behind her overthrown stand she was using as a shield. Xander thanked her with a silent nod and swallowed my entire frame in his arms, his chin pressed to the top of my head, keeping us ducked down. Even in the safety of his embrace, I struggled to breathe. My chest heaved, and every single shot fired vibrated through me, like that night at LeRoux’s.

  What the fuck is going on? How is this even happening right now?

  The U.K. had a strict “no gun” law. Mass shootings were unheard of, and definitely the last thing I would’ve ever expected to be caught in the crosshairs of while we were here. Whoever was behind this obviously wasn’t from around here if they had access to any sort of firearm…

  The lightbulb went off like a blaring siren, rippling a teeth-clenching pain through my head.

  Oh my God.

  My breath hitched in heart-stopping recognition and immediately Xander’s arms tightened around me.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, as in tune with me as ever.

  “Unfortunately,” I barely managed over another horde of hellish screams erupting around us.

  This wasn’t just anyone or any random shooter. This was Alessio’s doing—I could feel it in my bones. People were dropping like flies, and I knew once this was all said and done, the body count would be devastating. That’s when she popped unbidden in my mind, reminding me of her imparting words from my last nightmare.