CHAPTER I
It was 5 AM when I got the wake-up call. The blade against my throat and the weight pinning me down to the mattress only a vivid reminder of why I always slept with my arm tugged in under the pillow. I waited a few beats, keeping my breath slow and my eyes closed. I practiced this a dozen times before. If you tried hard enough you could fool anyone. The second the blade pushed harder against my throat, indicating its sharp edge was just about to cut through skin, I pulled out the Magnum from beneath my head and shoved it up the guy's chest, precisely against his heart. Only then did my eyes open to behold my attacker.
"One minute can be more than fatal, Gabriel." The guy said and moved faster than I anticipated, sticking his knee hard against my crotch. The hiss leaving my lips was slower than the speed with which he disarmed me. I kicked at him with bare hands and finally managed to push him off. He shot me a look of disapprove tossing me the gun back as he left my room. "Breakfast is ready."
I gave out a soft sigh of annoyance and relief, before digging my face back in the pillow. I hated mornings. I shifted to my back and stretched my sore limbs, rubbing the fatigue out of my eyes, before glancing at the door and mentally counting just how many steps I had to take to reach it. Umpf, too far. I closed my eyes again and hoped I could steal a few more minutes of well needed sleep.
"Don't make me bust your ass out of that bed." The same voice called out of the kitchen. I ignored him, pulling the pillow over my face and covering my ears.
"Now." I glanced up over the pillow and fixed my eyes on the figure standing in the door frame.
"Bite me." I managed around a mouthful of cotton, my voice sounding muffled and sleepy.
One heartbeat after that my ass was on the floor, the mattress pressing heavily against my body as my head throbbed. I could see my brother's feet moving over to me in casual strides. He bent down and smiled. "Rise and shine."
I moved my hand up from beneath the mattress and gave him the finger. It was all I wanted to say. I pushed against the thing and finally managed to get to my feet. My brother just smirked, turned around and walked out again. I growled pissed off and dropped the mattress back on the bed. Scratching a spot on the back of my arm, I grabbed the gun and slipped my feet into my army boots, stomping into the kitchen dressed in nothing but my boxers. I always put my boots on. Just in case we had to make a run for it. It happened once that I had to chase around Boston barefoot and half naked. I didn't mind the naked part but what I did mind were my feet turning into raw flesh. There was a reason why people invented shoes. And I liked mine heavy and sturdy.
I placed the gun on the table, purposefully turning the muzzle toward my brother's back. He was making pancakes. The scent was all but overwhelming, making my mouth water. But he had to do better than pancakes after nearly castrating me at 5 o'clock in the morning. I sat down at the table, my gaze fixed on his nape.
"You up for our morning exercises?" he asked cheerfully without turning around.
I scowled and muttered my disapproval with a few nasty words. I was still in the process of waking up. For a guy like me, every morning was a challenge and every extra sleeping minutes meant less crankiness at breakfast. Unlike my brother, who was a petunia in bloom every goddamn morning, I was a late sleeper. I dropped my head in the crook of my arm and closed my eyes.
"I take that as a yes." He said and turned around, tossing a dish my way. It would've shattered against my scalp had I not caught it on time and placed it in front of me on the table. "You're up. Good." He went on unfazed. I doubted anything could faze him. He had this constant chillness to him.
I lifted my gaze and watched him push two pancakes on my plate, before circling the table and doing the same for himself. The scent of food so close to me was all it took to wake me up completely and grabbing a fork and some jam, I conquered the sweetness of them with big, hungry bites. It was rarely that he ever made pancakes, so I might as well enjoy them. Carpe Diem, right?
We ate in silence for a long while, before he spoke and had my eyes meet his.
"You're getting soft, Gabriel. I could've easily killed you. You took too long and you hesitated. Life only gives you one shot. And if you miss it, it's over." His face was as serious and calm as ever. There was no guessing he was displeased.
"I know that." I chewed down the last piece of pancake and put my dish aside. I had no excuse. He was right and I hated to admit it. I could've been dead, had it been anyone but my brother pointing that blade.
"You need to practice more." He concluded and I wrinkled my nose. "One extra hour of shooting practice and we'll take the long way around Central Park."
Which meant I'd be running for three hours straight. I'd kick his ass for this if it weren't for the fact that I knew he was doing this for my good. I granted him one look of exasperation before retreating to the bathroom to take a shower.
The water was lukewarm against my skin, washing away last night's memories as I allowed them to flash past my eyes in a long stream toward forgetfulness. I preferred to shove all the bad memories in a drawer in the back of my mind and lock them away. That way, I could pretend they never happened. Last night hasn't been one of my best.
I was working down at the club, mixing up music, getting ready for the rush hour as Robert stepped in and grabbed my arm. His face was bright with a smile when I pulled off my ear buds and regarded him with a curious expression.
"It's here!" he exclaimed excited and tossed his arms in the air. I merely arched a brow.
"What's here?"
"The new demo!" he looked like a kid on Christmas Eve. Worse even. "The Thousand Foot Krutch new Album! We're the first club to ever lay hands on it."
At the mention of their name my expression changed and I grinned wide and stupid. My favorite band. Oh this was turning out to be the best day ever. I hurried after him, down the stairs past the dance floor and into his office. Robert practically owned the place. Sure, it wasn't his club, per say, but his job was to make sure everything was going perfectly. I was the music master. The DJ. I made the sound happen and I loved it. He pulled out an unopened CD box and presented it to me with a solemn face, as if he was handing me his grandma's jewels.
I reached out to touch it and only got my hand slapped away.
"Damn, what'd you do that for?"
My eyes narrowed on him as I absently rubbed my knuckles.
"You can't just…"
There was a soft knock on the door and we both turned to look at the pale face slipping through the crack. She swallowed and hesitated a little before opening the door wider.
"Excuse me.. I-…um…I was looking for…" She fumbled with a small card in her fingers and mumbled. "Robert P-Perris?"
Robert stared at her for a second, dumbstruck before stepping forward with a plastered smile.
"This is he." He said politely and reached out his hand. The girl quickly stepped in and grabbed his hand, her bag slipping off her shoulder at the fuss. She smiled and turned to arrange her bag, eyes fixed on the ground, her pale cheeks rosy with emotion. I found myself staring at her and shook myself to clear my head.
"I…I was told…" she went on, looking up at Robert. "I was told to find you, if I wanted a job here. You see…" she hesitated and blushed more. "I'm a singer."
"A singer?" Robert's brows went up and he smiled. "What's your name?"
She looked at me for a fraction of a second, her dark brown eyes meeting mine and I felt my world stop. My heart gave a lost beat and my breath caught in my throat as I felt my skin tingle. I stared at her, just as she stared at me for it seemed she was going through the exact same thing as I was. It all felt so right. So familiar and natural. As if this was supposed to happen. As if this was meant to be.
"Miss?" Robert's voice felt distant and insubstantial compared to the vivid presence of her eyes in my head. It was as if this one girl held the key to all the secrets in my world. And she was standing just a few feet away from me. If I reached out…I could touch her pale skin and see the reason why this all happened. Why and how? I blinked but it didn't seem to help much as her face looked haunting and too real to suppress with just one thought. She was too real to grasp and I just couldn't stop myself from staring.
"What the hell man?" hissed Robert as he slapped a hard palm against my nape, similar to how my brother used to do it, only with less distaste. I swore and glared at him, the annoying pain clearing my head when nothing else did. I was grateful. I guess that's what you could call a hard squeeze on the shoulder. Robert flinched while I looked back at the girl as she blinked and managed to mumble her name, her eyes oddly fixed on me.
"Sonia Kosyak." She hesitated before adding. "I'm Russian."
It wasn't until she said her name that I noticed her accent. Faint but certainly there. For a foreigner her English was flawless. She showed no difficulty with it and I found myself wondering how long she's been in America.
"Miss Kosyak" Robert nodded and settled his eyes on me for a second, arching a brow. "This is Gabriel Reed. He's the DJ. If there's anyone here accustomed to music, it's him. I'm certain he'll be more than happy to show you around and interview you."
I shot Robert a look and he just smiled at her, pretending as if I wasn't even there. Typical. I shifted my eyes on her and nodded my head, as I moved past her, holding the door open.
"Just follow me."
Her dark eyes uneasy, she bit her lip and made her way through the door, hair flipping off her shoulders as it bounced enchantingly against her nape and upper back. I blinked and pulled the door shut after us, joining her next to the dance floor. She refused to look at me and I wasn't sure whether that made me frustrated or just relieved. We walked along side each other as I vaguely gestured around, talking nonsense about the club and how things ought to work. Stopping from time to time to introduce her to a random guy fixing a bulb or cleaning a table, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. To be honest, I didn't give a fuck about Robert's tour or her being a singer. Because if there was something I was certain off is that she encapsulated so much more than just a nice voice. What I wanted to know is who she was. Why she made such an impact on me. And why for God's sake she refused to…
"I've never seen anything like this…" she murmured and glanced up at me, her pale fingers brushing over the keys and buttons on my control board. Somehow along the tour we reached my part of the club. To be more specific, we reached the room I spend most of my time in. It was my sanctuary. I could think, I could listen and I could talk in here without anyone interfering and now she was touching all of my stuff…And yet, I couldn't make myself feel hurt or pissed or annoyed…I just wished her digits could somehow imprint on it so that I could have a real and vivid reminder of her.
I parted my lips to answer but found myself speechless when she sat down in my chair and looked up at the screens and digital monitors and amplifiers above her head. Brown eyes widening intrigued and mesmerized were too much for me to take and I swallowed somehow bothered by my odd behavior.
"It says here…"I pointed at the pages she handed to me sometime along our walk. Her CV. "You're 20." I looked up at her and allowed myself to take her in once more. The oval face and rosy stained cheeks, the dark brown eyes gazing back at me as her brows arched slightly, none of that indicated she was that old. No. She looked barely 18. I waited for her reply, as I lowered the papers in my hand.
"I…I look young for my age." She mumbled, but it was a lie you could spot from a mile so I merely furrowed my brows.
She bit her lip and looked away, her cheeks coloring deeper. I suspected as much. She wasn't the first we had apply for a job who wanted to fool us into thinking she or he is older. You had to be at least 20 to be able to legally take on a night job. Laws. Yeah, they sucked but you were bound to follow them. I wasn't a fan of that but my boss desperately wanted to keep his business rolling high.
"How old are you?" I asked and handed her the obviously fake paperwork back. "Really?"
She sighed and started folding the stuff into a perfect square, standing up from my desk and pushing the papers under her arm. She hovered a while, her hand hanging absently above her bag before she finally looked up.
"18."
I frowned although I was expecting something close to this. She had to wait three years until anyone would employ her around here. But there was something about her that had me putting my own neck out. I was gambling my own job and I knew Paul wouldn't be too pleased to hear about this. But he was my brother…he'd understand. Eventually. What worried me were my boss and Robert. I took a breath and looked at her, finding myself once again at a loss of words.
"I should go" she said when I couldn't formulate an answer. She started for the door and before I could think my hand wrapped around her arm and stopped her.
"Law…" I took another shallow breath and released her arm, straightening. "Law forbids me…us" I quickly corrected "…to hire you on a night job."
"Yes. I am aware of that." She said crossing her arms, the shy little girl suddenly gone. I was now staring at a full grown woman, who's had her talent refused one too many times to regard this matter with patience and understanding. She looked sick and tired of it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go try another place."
"However…" I held her gaze, my bottom lip twitching as I bit the inside of it. This was big. What I was offering now, was serious and if she screwed this up…I was gonna go right down with her. But something inside me didn't give a shit about any of that. "I'm not fond of laws."
She hesitated and her brow arched up for a second before she rearranged her composure and crossed her arms waiting for me to go on.
"Neither is Robert." Alright, that was a lie. "We could offer you a job here. I don't guarantee it's going to be as a singer but…maybe bartending?"
I watched her chew at her bottom lip for a second, considering my offer before a slight nod had her hair bounce off her shoulders for just a beat.
"Thank you." She smiled and her whole manner relaxed as I thought I saw relief pass her eyes. But I couldn't say for sure, because next thing I knew she blinked it away and let herself out the door.
I stared at the door dumbstruck. Was I screwed? Let us count the ways. I released a sharp breath and ran my hand over my forehead, pinching the base of my nose between two fingers, trying to clear my mind. I started for the door, knowing I had to tell Robert about the shit I just managed to put us both into, when pain struck my head like a burning rocket. Staggering, I hooked my arm around the back of the chair and forced my feet to remain firmly locked to the ground, as agony waved its red flag through my head. I groaned in pain and drooped to my knees, my fingers slipping as I tried to grip for the support the chair provided. My chest heaved and next thing I knew I was looking down at the remnants of today's dinner, all thickly covered in white foamed bile as I wrinkled my nose, trying to catch my breath. I rolled to my back, dizzy and sick as I tried to keep my eyes on the ceiling and count myself into function. One - God! I shifted and retched, throat straining to spill my insides out.
When Robert rushed through the door and nearly slipped over the freshly decorated floor, I was almost grateful for a little bad luck coming toward someone else's way. He caught himself at the last minute though, fingers snagging at the door knob right as his body made a threatening forward motion. He grunted before the friend in him kicked in and he noticed I was enjoying the view from below.
"What the-…"He took one big step over the sick next to me and swearing kneed down at my head, not sure whether to touch, turn or kill me for ruining his floor. I couldn't care less which he chose. I simply twisted and emptied more of my late night pizza on the floor.
"Do you need a doctor?" he asked after wrinkling his nose and looking away as I did my thing.
Chest heaving I rolled back to face the ceiling and tried to ignore the taste of bile filling my mouth. That pizza came back at me big time. Maybe I should start listening to Paul's damn lectures about late dinners. Apparently it didn't taste as good on the way out as it did on the way in. Yes, I know I've made the biggest discovery since some Neanderthal discovered the tire.
"I already called an ambulance." He went on, daring once again to make eye contact.
I didn't think I had anything left to puke so I dared sit up, in spite of my spinning head. I rubbed my temples and looked at him, cocking a brow, not sure if I was quite ready to open my mouth yet.
"Some guy had a heart attack downstairs. We called him in to check on the electric cords. He turned a wrong switch and that was it. The guy's dead as a doornail." There was a grim sadness to his voice, but it wasn't too evident. What I noticed was the damn-I-didn't-need-this-shit that echoed through his words like a background melody. Faint yet resilient. He was a business-only kind of guy. Something like death only meant bad publicity to the club and a low paycheck to him.
I was surprised at the news. Hell, I felt bad for the guy. It was a stupid death. They usually were. But I didn't let it bother me for too long. Unlike many, I faced death when I was a kid. It wasn't something to brag about. It wasn't something I had wished for. But life never does care what you wish for. It hands you the shit and tells you to deal with it. And if you can't…well, then there's always death to count on. Quite the reliable son of a bitch, huh? I pushed to my feet, accepting Robert's helping hand as I reeled.
"You should see a doctor" Robert commented but he didn't push me on it. It wasn't because he trusted I was going to be alright. It only meant doctors were expensive so if you're not on the verge of dying, it's not practical to waste money on them. Wait till he heard about Sonia. He'd be covering me in kisses. I mentally snorted at the thought.
"I'm fine." I managed through clenched teeth. That damn headache was stubbornly persistent.
"Good." Cause I can't handle another pain in my ass right now. Of course he didn't say that. Not out-loud.
I ignored him and stepped out of his hand, standing on my own two feet as he eyed me suspiciously.
"What do you think you're doing?" he reached out to steady me again but I waved him away and walked out the door and down the stairs. I thought about checking on the poor dead bastard but reconsidered once I saw the commotion building up around him. So I took a swift turn and headed for the bathroom instead.
I probably should've gone with the crowd, like a good old sheep. The second I touched the doorknob, the nausea returned and I felt my hand slip. Oh no you don't. I tightened my grip on the metal crook and planted my feet in the ground, fighting to stay upright. It was then that I heard the sobs. Muffled and faint but I knew I wasn't mistaken. They came from the girl's bathroom and I shifted my grip on the handle of that door, twisting it and trying to push it open. But there was something blocking it.
"Hey! Is everything alright?" I could feel bile rise up in my throat again, but I grunted and drove it back where it belonged. "Open the door."
There was no answer. The sobs stopped.
Sporting a growing headache I propped my shoulder into the wooden door and shoved. The thing creaked furiously and I managed to open it enough to take a peek inside, but it snapped back in my face, causing me to step back with a hiss. Either there was something genuinely heavy behind that door or this little sobbing lady could probably take me and my brother in a fair fight, by all the muscle she put into that door.
"Miss?" I tried again, although my words came out hoarse. I rubbed a finger to the base of my nose, hoping that the friction will chase away the pain. "I mean you no harm. Just open the door."
There was the sound of a slip and then a thud. I swore and tried the door again. It gave way easily and I stepped in. And what I found on the other side of that door wasn't quite what I had expected. She was petite alright, but by the looks of it she had been the one keeping the door blocked. Raven dark curls stuck to her skin, sparkling in the sickening neon light. She was sprawled on the ground, fighting what seemed like a seizure, her eyes rolling back as her entire form shook with painful waves. And you didn't have to be a doctor to know she was in pain, the tightening of her face and the soft whimpers rolling past her lips were clue enough. I dropped at her side, feeling helpless and oddly discouraged by the sight. I wondered if this was how I had looked like when Robert had run into my office moments ago. I held her hair back as she turned and retched, her spine giving out a soft tremble as I laid a light hand to it. Bile covered the ugly green tiles on the floor, but it didn't bother me. For all I cared, they looked better now. What concerned me was the dark haired Russian girl in my arms. And she was Russian. I knew that same as I knew her English was as flawless as any Americans.
"You'll be alright, Sonia." I whispered. I used her first name. Manners weren't in my life's schedule and I doubted she could hear or understand anything at the moment. I knew I hadn't when I was on the ground, retching for dear life.
Her fingers curled around the arm I snaked around her waist, trying to keep her upright, while my other hand was busy fighting to keep her lose strands from tumbling over her face. She was paler than I remembered and her eyes when she blinked up at me, seemed glassy and tired.
What the hell happened to us? I found myself asking, seeking for an answer none of us knew. But there was this deep twisted feeling in my gut that told me the two of us had been through the exact same agonizing experience. But why? There was nothing we both ate or drank or did that could explain any of this. Hell, I just met her a few hours ago. There were no connecting dots between us. Nothing.
I picked her up carefully cradling her in my arms and walked out of the bathroom. Expensive or not, she needed a doctor. I strode toward the commotion and past the crowd, elbowing brutally whoever happened to be in my way until I found a woman in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging loosely over her chest. Her brow furrowed at the sight of me, before deepening in a genuine frown once her eyes lowered on the form hanging limp in my arms.
"Help her." I said in a voice less polite than she probably deserved. The woman wrinkled her nose in displeasure but didn't comment on my harsh approach. She gestured for two other whitecoats to bring in one of those folding medical beds and I laid Sonia on it, hovering for a second with my arms still beneath her body. A fleeting thought passed my mind as I slowly pulled my arms free. Was this right? Just hand her to the doctors. What if…I shook my head and stepped back to meet a pair of annoyed dark green eyes the color of poison ivy as the doc grabbed hold of the end of the bed and rolled it into the ambulance next to the dead guy zipped into a plastic bag. A shiver crossed my spine and I took a step forward, considering taking Sonia back into my arms and running as fast as I possibly could. But the motion was too slow, the thought too faint and the doors closed my sight with a firm, fatalistic sound.
I repressed a pang of guilt and looked away, turning on my heels to head back for the bathroom and retrieve her bag. The bag she dropped when all this shit happened. I crossed the vomit coloring the green tiles and snatched the bag hanging on a hook next to the sink. As I moved my eyes caught in the mirror and I paused, staring at my reflection. My skin was sickly pale, just as hers had been. And my face bared grave lines of fatigue, dark circles deepening the hollows beneath my eyes. They looked more like a bad make-up than anything and I peeled my lips back in a tired grimace of distaste before turning away and stepping out to find Robert politely thanking the doctors for helping out. I scoffed. None of what he was saying was sincere. He would bust their asses just to get his money back if he could, but it was amusing to see him struggle to keep that smile on his lips. Greedy bastard.
I slipped in the silence of my office and dropped the bag on the table, running a tired hand over my face and closing my eyes for a second.
Apparently that second turned into more than that as a hand on my shoulder shook me back to reality. I narrowed my eyes and groaned as I tried to make out the owner of the hand.
"Come on, Gabe. It's been a long night. Go home." Robert. And he sounded weary. "Get some sleep."
I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes and methodically rubbed away the sleep before looking up at him. There was light coming from behind him. Probably the lights on the hallway. I couldn't make out his face.
"Go home." He repeated and tossed me the keys of the office before turning around and leaving me alone with the blinking lights of my monitors and buttons. I clutched the keys and stretched my sore limbs before standing up. I waited a few beats to make sure I could walk without bumping into anything and grabbing my jacket, turned off the lights, stepped out of the room and clicked the lock into place with a light turn of the key.
I didn't bother to say goodbye as I strolled outside, not feeling in the mood to drive the old Camaro back home. I wasn't sure I was legally allowed to do that after what I've just been through, but I sure as hell wasn't going to play with my luck any longer. Being stopped by a random cop just because my face looked suspiciously fucked up, wasn't something I was up for right now. I slipped my jacket on and dug my hands in its pockets as I put the club behind me and headed home. It was a long walk, but the night was young and the 9mm semi-automatic neatly concealed beneath my leather jacket had my worries lessen to a minimum. I may not be as skilled in handling a combat knife like my brother was, but I could put a bullet in your heart without blinking. Everybody had its hobbies. Mine were guns. The bigger the better. And if I couldn't get my hands on one to equal my growing ego, I always found a bomb to sooth the sting of disappointment. Guns were a hobby. Bombs? Those had a chapter of their own in my life. Shoot a bullet you got a few dead guys, some ugly injuries and a little blood. Throw a bomb and you got a massacre and the 4th of July parade all in one. See where I'm at? The last was more entertaining. And I was all about the entertainment.
But as Paul would argue, you can't blow up an entire city when some idiotic mugger decides to pull one on you. He was right. But I could find quite some arguments against his theory. They never held but you couldn't blame me for trying. I was nothing if not annoyingly persistent in walking on his buttons. He had few to walk on when it came to me, but I knew them like the back of my palm and boy, did I love to push them hard. I let my fingers slide in behind my jacket and brush over the cold surface of the gun just to reassure myself. I kept my eyes open and my mind sharp on my surroundings. It wasn't often that someone managed to surprise me but I didn't cut myself any slack for that. When you play the game of life and death, you tend to build up some habits. Survival 101.
I crossed an empty street in a jog. The light was red but there was no car to be seen anywhere. I allowed a quick glance to the road as I kept up the pace, tired and still straining against a headache that refused to back down, I was all but eager to get home, get some Tylenol and sleep the whole events of this night off. I wasn't asking much.
The house we lived in was a wreck. Four walls and a roof would sum the whole concept of its structure up. Red bricks, dusty and ugly as they fought against the weather season after season for what seemed like centuries. The roof leaked and was ready to collapse, my brother had been fighting to keep the thing up for as long as possible, but we both knew it would give way sooner or later. Hopefully in a time of day when neither of us was home. I wasn't thrilled by the idea of living here. Hell, I hated it more every day. But we couldn't afford anything else and no man was stupid enough to buy the thing. My jaw set as I saw the light flicker in the window. He was up. Oh this had got to be good.
Reluctantly I entered the house and pulled the lock in place – as if anyone would actually think about robbing this hell hole. There was a shift on the couch and for just a brief second I dared hope he was asleep. Of course, hope turned around and bit me right in the ass.
"You're home early." He said replacing the book on the table in front of him before standing up silently, his back still turned toward me. I didn't fool myself into believing he hadn't seen me outside the house. You didn't need a bright light or a fucking Einstein intelligence to tell something had happened.
"I got bored at work." I snorted and moved past him to search for the red and white bottle of bliss. Tylenol. Mankind's greatest and most practical painkiller.
"You look like an elephant just shit on your face." He remarked mildly and I turned my head to the side to glance at him over my shoulder, fighting a scowl.