Chapter 3
3
RAVEN
The one with the tough love.
I wasn’t given an opportunity to hug anyone—not that I wanted it.
I just wanted to go back to the house, lie in my childhood bed and hide under the covers and pretend it was all just a horrible nightmare.
When the service was over I held my head high and walked toward the back of the church.
Ace was waiting.
All I knew was that he was the replacement.
Of course my dad would give me the coldest and most calculating De Lange of them all.
He came back years ago for college and immediately fell into line with my family all over again, protecting my dad, and now protecting me even though he was only twenty-seven to my twenty-one.
He’d risen in the ranks so fast that he’d become a made man before graduating, and I’d been an immature high school girl used to getting everything I wanted.
And I’d always wanted him—I’d told him as much.
Apparently he couldn’t get over the fact that he practically grew up with me and still saw me as an annoying kid.
I couldn’t even think about that day.
I should have remembered that Ace was the epitome of self-control and that I’d been a hot headed idiot thinking I could be the one to break it.
I mean how many times had I tried to get him to crack as a child?
I’m pretty sure I was the reason he had a nervous tick in his eye for a solid year, but how was I supposed to know the chicken would lay eggs in his bed!
The plan was to scare him not have him jump into it and crunch them!
I heard rumors that to this day chickens still made him tear up.
One time, Ivan called him chicken killer and he pulled out his knife.
I shook the thought away and cringed as my brain strolled down memory lane.
I was sad, focusing on anything but Louis was distracting from the severe pain.
I’d gotten a bit drunk off the graduation wine my parents had served and approached him, started stripping thinking he’d be all in only to have him turn around and start muttering.
“What? Nervous?” I taunted.
Was I slurring my words?
Nah.” He followed the denial with a heavy annoyed sigh and checked his watch.
“How long are you going to be embarrassing yourself like this? I’m hungry.”
I flinched and reached for him only to have him jerk away.
“That depends on you.”
“I’m celibate,” he’d deadpanned.
Why did he sound so bored?
“And I’m taken so whatever you plan on doing, it won’t work. Maybe you should return to your party and sober up. Might I suggest drinking water next time? Or some chocolate milk?” His green eyes didn’t flash.
They were controlled, focused on me like nothing about me tempted him in any way.
I may as well have been a houseplant he was inspecting.
I shuddered at the memory, and fresh anger returned right after my physical response.
He didn’t have to be so cruel about it.
I think that’s what started my hate.
I was young and immature obviously drunk and I had a crush; he could have at least turned me down nicely rather than offering chocolate milk.
Something shifted in my brain that day.
He hadn’t as much as blinked, simply grabbed my clothes, handed them back to me, then went straight to my dad and tattled.
I shoved the memory away and stopped in front of him.
I lifted my head. May as well get the torture over with.
I was too sad to fight him.
“Let’s go.”
Long black eyelashes blinked slowly over light hazel eyes.
“After you.”
He didn’t touch me—he never touched people, but you felt him regardless, like the heat from his body couldn’t help but pulse from his fingertips even though he was inches from the small of your back.
An involuntary chill ran through my body as I pushed open the doors of the church and made my way to the waiting limo—one of at least ten parked out front the rest were in the back.
I stopped in front of it expecting him to open the door.
When nothing happened I turned around.
He put on a pair of aviators and crooked his finger at me, then pointed.
“I drove and they’ll expect you to be in a limo.”
"So?”
He didn’t answer, he simply walked to a waiting black Mercedes and hopped in on his side.
Did he open my door? No.
Did he ask if I was okay? Negative.
Did he offer at least a small smile or condolence? Nada.
I jerked open my own door, sat against the cool black leather and buckled my seatbelt, not that it mattered. My life wasn’t worth much—not without him here. I was living for someone else.
Something bigger than me.
The only thing I had left of him.
Unwanted tears filled my eyes; I was so damn tired of crying. Everyone thought I was just devastated over my bodyguards loss, my boyfriend, my everything.
They had no idea I had another secret.
Ace was already in the passenger seat, settled like this was just another boring day and we weren’t just leaving a funeral. I don’t know what I expected, maybe some sort of condolences, remorse? Something, anything.
Emotion.
I felt weak enough to need some sort of emotion in that moment, even just a long sigh from his general direction would have been mildly helpful.
I clenched my jaw to keep a sob from escaping as he pulled away from the curb. Silence swelled between us like a choking smoke, making it hard for me to take deep breaths.
"Say something,” I finally blurted.
The sound of his blinker clicked three times before he finally whispered in a low voice, “Sorry for your loss.”
That was it.
Like a line from a grief pamphlet or something.
What else should I have expected from a killer on my dad’s payroll?
Flowers?
A teddy bear?
A hug?
I should be used to the coldness, but my dad had always been warm—my family was a lot of things, but we were family, loving, loyal, tight.
It was one of the reasons I wanted to go home.
I knew I’d be surrounded with love not chilled by Ace’s silence.
Eyes stinging, I stared down at my folded hands.
My skin was turning white from clutching them so tight in my lap.
“Thats it, then?”
Ace cleared his throat as the car rolled to a stop at the light.
He swiped across his phone.
“We’re staying in the East Wing townhomes—two floor, corner master King. Best vantage point. Your morning classes start at 7:30, 9:15, and 11. I arranged for early drop-offs and private entry routes. You’ll have the day to spend with family and then we’ll need to go back to normal, you never know who’s watching.”
“Does it matter?" I snorted. “He’s dead.”
"And you’re alive.” Ace finally turned to me; his dark hair kissed the nape of his neck, curling at the top of his shoulders.
“I intend to keep you that way. We have no idea why someone was after you of all people.”
“Because I’m not important?”
"Did I say that?" He said calmly.
“We’re still looking into it, but the point is, until we know why you’re a target. You’re stuck with me and with that dorm. Ten death threats have been reported against the families in the past week. Your safety, regardless of how you feel at the moment, is my only focus.”
I shrugged.
“We get threats all the time.”
“One was written in glitter pen; I still flagged it,” he felt the need to say.
“You’ll have the day to mourn, and then we’re back at class. I think you’ll find the townhome on campus a lot less crowded than the dorms. Besides, it’s your senior year.”
I didn’t want him reminding me it was my senior year because I’d made plans for after.
Next week I had a doctor’s appointment that I’d be going to alone, and now I had to figure out a way to get Ace to wait outside or keep my secret—at least for now.
It had to have been the longest stoplight known to mankind.
Ace reached across the console and opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a black contraption.
“Taser, military grade, don’t get cute with it. It’s a weapon as you know. You’ll have a lot of eyes on you on campus and we have a strict no gun policy ever since your sister thought it would be funny to hunt down all of the geese.”
I shrugged and took the heavy taser into my hand.
“We had a serious geese problem.” I pointed out.
“And the dogs they set loose were exhausted from chasing them away.”
“It’s illegal to hunt within city limits.”
I snorted.
“Are you really lecturing me on the legality of things? What’s your kill count at this point?”
"One more than my biological age, then again adding might be difficult for you.”
“So eighty-eight? Interesting.”
“Cute.” He nodded to the taser. “Put it away, use it if only necessary, point it at me and we’ll have even bigger problems than your inability to stop crying and sleeping with your own bodyguard.”
I flinched. “It wasn’t just sex, you asshole.”
"It wasn’t just business either, was it?
” He pulled into traffic again.
“Put the taser away. I won’t tell you twice.”
"Sure, I’ll just shove it in my panties.”
"Shove it up your ass for all I care, just put it away and try to focus on the next few hours before we go back to campus.
We all have jobs to do, don’t make mine any more difficult than it already is.
”
Tears burned the back of my eyes.
“Real nice bedside manner, Ace.”
"I’m not your friend.” He said it so quickly and with such finality that the last shred of dignity I had in my body simply disintegrated the minute he ended the sentence. It’s not like I was expecting more but to have him say it out loud, to hear it did something to me.
I had my sister.
I had my cousins.
My parents adored me—I loved them right back.
But what do you do when you have a secret you can’t share? What do you do when you’re still mourning and trying to come up with a game plan while also trying to keep it all together?
My birthday was officially tomorrow.
We’d planned on celebrating.
And I’d planned on telling him I was pregnant.
He would have been overjoyed—I think. I mean it wasn’t part of the plan but I’d always wanted a family and while he’d never said the same, why else would he risk his job and actual life to be with me if that wasn’t the direction we were headed in?
Now I’d be forced to paste a smile on my face tomorrow when everyone around me walked on eggshells and celebrated my life less than twenty four hours after mourning his death.
Great.
I didn’t talk the rest of the way to the road that would eventually lead to our compound. We weren’t far outside the city, but you’d think we were hours away. On thirty acres up on a hill surrounded by beautiful fences built beneath the ground along with enough cameras to gain the attention of NASA—the Alfero house was the stuff of legends.
Built completely out of concrete and steel, the only reason it felt like a home was because my mom was a genius at decorating and making us all feel at home. I think it was her gift, while my dad was both equally ruthless and sarcastic—mom was warm and peaceful—she was his anchor when things got stormy and he was the storm when anyone tried attacking.
They made it work.
I could only hope to have something like their love. I thought I did—would.
Now I had remnants of blood still stained on my soul and only one reminder of him inside my body.
Ace pulled the car up to the black iron rod gate. Cameras would digitally search his face, his car, the plates, and decide whether or not to let him in or bomb his ass.
He exhaled and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re clearly upset.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact, no-shit way that I almost laughed. “Would it help if you hit me before we got inside?”
Silence for a beat.
I frowned. Was he serious right now?
Before I could respond he added. “You can yell if you want,” he said, checking his phone and glancing at the cameras on either side of the gate. “ETA to the front of the house is around seven minutes. Should we pull over, or do you think you can manage your nervous breakdown while I drive? I’ll go the asinine speed limit your dad has in place for the driveway.” The gates opened. We were greeted immediately with signs that said children at play, fifteen miles an hour. Dad put one every twenty feet. “Think he has enough reminders?”
I still had no words.
“I don’t bruise easily.” Ace added.
Something snaps inside me, maybe it’s his callous attitude or the extremely calm sound of his voice, but I absolutely lose it and throw a punch to his arm. I hit him over and over again while he drives slowly down the road. When I lost track of how many times I’d hit him, I pulled back. “Are you kidding me right now?” My chest heaves. “Louis is dead! Dead!” Hot tears slid down my cheeks in rapid succession. “And you’re just sitting there like nothing happened! You’re heartless with zero regard for human life! You’re a monster manifesting as a human being. You have no heart. If you did, you wouldn’t make me walk in there, you’d take me around the back and let me sneak into my room not parade me in front of the bosses, if you had a heart you’d at the very least ask if I was okay, you’d hold my hand, or I don’t know you’d?—”
“But you’re not okay,” he interrupted me. “So why would I ask the absolute obvious and make you tell me how we both already know you feel? That’s just a waste of energy on your part and on mine. Your sadness is turning into anger and anger must be felt, hit me all you want. Besides, you need to eat, and the fastest way to burn calories is exercise.”
My mouth dropped open.
He kept talking as our car inched toward the ginormous building. “Your volume is quite good; you always were good at yelling. At the very least, it helps relieve the stress you’re feeling by thirty percent, lowering your cortisol levels by twenty-five percent if you’re lucky.”
“You’re an asshole!” I shrieked.
“No, an asshole would suggest you crawl into the back an hour after burying your boyfriend and suggest sex since it significantly lowers stress levels, sometimes by forty-two percent, though results vary on your partner in each scenario.”
I had no words.
None.
So I stared at him and imagined wrapping my hands around his throat. This guy? He was supposed to keep me safe when he was already a danger to my sanity?
Forget sadness. I had murder on my mind.
My dad had clearly lost it.
I’d talk to him after I changed.
This would never work.
It couldn’t.
I could never exist in a world where Ace had control over anything—including the direction of our conversations.
"I hate you,” I whispered once he parked in front of the circular water fountain.
He rolled up the sleeves to his black shirt revealing a black and blue tattoo on his right forearm.
It was a saint.
He never told anyone which one.
I told myself I didn’t care but I’d always been curious why someone who killed with the hands attached to those arms would sully the memory of a Catholic saint by permanently inking its figure onto his skin.
I took a deep breath.
“So I guess the back door’s out?”
He shot me a glance.
It wasn’t full of pity or any sort of emotion that I could decipher.
“You take the back door once, you’ll always be hiding in the shadows. One choice justifies the next choice until you’re constantly cloaked in darkness and afraid of the light. Better to feel the burn of the sun than the isolation of the night, don’t you think?”
"I’m not thinking. I’m feeling. And I’m devastated,” I whispered. “So excuse me for begging the universe for a favor.”
He snorted out a laugh and opened his door. “That was your first mistake.”
“What?” I snapped.
He poked his head back in. “Assuming the universe would give a favor when it owes you nothing. Get out. You have exactly five seconds before I remove you myself.”
"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.
”
He shrugged. “Five. Four. Three?—”
“Fine!” I jumped out of the car and slammed my door.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, I’m having my dad fire you as soon as I can.”
He smirked and walked right up to me then leaned in until his breath was hot on my neck, speaking in a low voice. “Enjoy your wait.”