Chapter 22 Indie
Indie
EYES ON YOU - Vanna Rainelle
Present day
I rake through my wardrobe, throwing on a pair of leggings and a quarter-zip hoodie.
My legs are trembling as I head over to my bed to shove my high-tops on, still dealing with the aftershock of my encounter with Saint. It’s so vastly different from our last.
His words just minutes ago still echo around the room.
Kill one of his team?
I’ve always known he had a darker side; there was no faking the way shadows lurked behind the depths of his eyes, weaved themself in the way he held himself.
Now it’s almost pitch black.
He knows something about Sumus, and apparently some other group of dangerous individuals.
I have a thumping headache.
Once I tie my laces, which takes at least two attempts, I walk towards the window, my gun catching my eye as it still rests on the pillow.
Grabbing it, I flick the safety on and tuck it into the back of my waistband. White light spills inside the house, catching my attention, and I peer outside whilst forcing down a swallow.
Two black SUVs are parked in our driveway, and there’s a third perched at the end.
Jesus Christ, if any of our neighbours look out the window, they’ll think we’re harbouring the fucking president.
A knock on my door sounds behind me, and I glance over to find Saint at the threshold. His arms are gripping the doorframe above him as he looks right at me.
I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit the sight of him is utterly devastating. Heat roars to life again as my gaze greedily takes him in.
I wet my lips, preparing to ask him how long he’s been standing there, but he beats me to it.
“The guys are coming in to pack up your shit. Take only the things you need. Whatever you leave behind isn’t making its way back to you.”
I frown. “Where are we going? And what exactly does that mean?”
His hands slide along the doorframe, gripping the sides as he leans into them, but he doesn’t step inside. “Somewhere no one can find either of you. Do as I say, Indie. Don’t fuck about.”
I cross my arms, popping my hip out as I look at him. “Do you lack fucking manners? A please wouldn’t go amiss, you know.”
Looking and listening to us both, you would never be able to tell six years were stolen from us.
That heartbreak rained down like the storm cloud that was above us the last time we exchanged words.
We were so madly and utterly obsessed with each other, to the point I would sometimes question if it was healthy.
It was a sickness I didn’t want the cure for.
I wanted to spend my dying days with him, until something evil poisoned us and corroded my mind for a long time.
Those feelings are still there for me, secured deep inside me with a padlock and fortress cast around them, for my own wellbeing.
But they’re rattling off their chains, doing everything they can to unleash themselves.
Loving someone’s shadow is a sure way to drive yourself to complete insanity, and I allowed myself a taste each and every day by watching that CCTV.
It would be foolish of me to act on them, especially when I have no idea how he feels.
That smirk flickers at the corner of his lips. “Hurry up.”
He pushes off the frame as his boots thump off the hardwood floor.
I flex my jaw; he seems utterly unruffled at our encounter. I’m ready to curse him out when I hear the faint rumble of his “please” filtering through the hallway.
My own triumphant smile threatens to come free, my heart twinging as his smile keeps skipping around in my memory.
Groaning, I rush around the room, grabbing two suitcases from under my bed and throwing them on top of the mattress. I pile clothes and underwear into one, basically loading over half my wardrobe in it. With still no idea where we’re going, or for how long, I can’t take chances.
A high-pitched melody singing through the room has my hand freezing midway from zipping the case, and I rush over to the dresser, grabbing my phone and putting it on speaker.
Here goes nothing.
“I’m almost home, got the stuff. You’ll need to help me haul it—”
“Gina, Saint’s here.”
Silence bleeds through the phone, and I glide my thumb back and forth against my lips, waiting for her to freak the fuck out.
“Would he happen to be responsible for the fleet of blacked-out cars leading up to our street?”
I mutter a curse under my breath. Someone’s going to call the cops on us.
This area is isolated; there’s definitely going to be someone twitching their curtains if they hear anything.
I’ll put my money on Billy.
“You would assume correctly.” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder, leaning down to finish zipping up the case, piling other important items into my other one.
A sigh crackles down the phone. “Fucking wonderful. I’ll see you in a second.”
Stuffing the phone in my pocket, I reach under the bed, dragging out my old memory box.
It’s packed with sentimental things from over the years.
Gig tickets, the friendship bracelet Regina, Jenna and I made when we were seven.
Polaroids from sleepovers spent at each other’s houses, to the photos of Saint and me.
My fingers trace over them as I stare at them scattered in the box.
There’s a photo of all five of us, the year Saint and Rex graduated high school and were heading off to university. Rex had a party at his house; it was when everyone found out he and Jenna had a ‘thing’.
Regina is on Rex’s back, his arm wrapped around Jenna’s chest as she’s flush with his front. His other is around Saint’s shoulders, with Saint grappling me in a headlock, his other hand behind Regina, fingers giving her bunny ears.
I’m laughing in it. We didn’t get together until a while after that.
Tears prickle the back of my eyes.
So naive. So carefree. So innocent.
Full of life, with no idea how cruel and dark the world could truly be.
I trace back to those memories as if I’m there in them, experiencing the conversations and the feelings at the time.
It feels so real with how vivid they are.
I’d give anything to live those days once over, even if it meant waking back up in the life I have now.
Peace was something I took for granted back then.
A commotion down the stairs pulls me from the nostalgia, and I grab the box, placing it in the suitcase and zipping it up. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Regina’s voice hits me first.
“Tell your big, muscle-inflated lackeys to be more fucking careful! I just spent ten thousand dollars and ran across five stores for that shit! I will take someone’s eye out if anyone drops a thing.” She points at Saint, who looks utterly bewildered at her.
He probably thinks he entered another dimension when he walked in our front door.
Regina changed, too.
Whilst her and Jenna were always more outspoken than I was, she’s certainly a little more spicier now with her word choice.
Saint smiles at her, shaking his head. “Nice to see you too, Gina.” He laughs when she rolls her eyes.
My chest constricts at the sound; it’s like hearing your favourite song after years of forgetting about it—the lyrics never truly forgotten.
The humour vanishes when she starts again.
“I hope you were on some…secret fucking CIA mission to save the world to excuse your absence.” Her eyes narrow on him, waiting for an explanation, but he flicks his gaze over to me.
Regina follows it, noticing me.
“Are you okay?” She walks towards me, and I give her a half smile.
“I’m fine, I’ve just packed my things. You should do the same.”
She watches me for a second before nodding, running her hand up my arm as she heads for the stairs behind me. Saint must have filled her in whilst I was still upstairs.
The two of us stare at each other, and it feels like when I was a teenager all over again.
Knowing him so well but not truly knowing what he was like.
We learned everything about each other back then, but now we have another undiscovered chapter between us.
He opens his mouth to say something, but a figure in my periphery catches my attention, and I jolt back when I recognise the dark hair and tattoos.
“Rex?” I gawk at him walk to stand beside Saint, showing him something on his phone.
His gaze travels to me, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.
“Well, well, well. Nice to see you, Indigo. Heard you’ve gotten yourself into some Dexter-type shit.”
I can’t even help it; I bark out a laugh.
Tears well up in my eyes again. Despite the looming, unknown threat that clouds around us, this is a moment I never thought I’d see again, and it’s bittersweet.
She should be here to complete us.
Rex had gone travelling a couple months after our graduation. Jenna stayed back, saying it was creeping into ‘official’ territory.
I never saw him again after that.
The coating along my throat constricts; each of us had our lives changed by one thoughtless, innocent decision.
If I had gone with Saint that night, if us girls had stuck to our original plan.
If Jenna had gone travelling with him.
Our group wouldn’t have irreversibly fractured.
I haven’t even noticed that any of the people with Saint have gone up the stairs until my pink suitcases go rolling past me, followed by a pissed-off looking Regina.
She walks over to the door, arms folded as she monitors the handling of our belongings, following the last guy out. But then more come in, one of them with a toolbox.
“What is he doing?” I ask, and my body jerks when Saint stands directly behind me.
“We need to make this look real,” he says, motioning his hand to usher me out the house.
We walk towards the jeep parked on the sidewalk, the bitter night air seeping through the material of my clothes.
He leans against the car door, pulling a cigarette from the packet to light it, smoke snaking around him as he blows it into the air.
The smell of minty tobacco spirals around me, whipping around and making me lightheaded, along with nudging the padlock on my box of feelings.
I wet my lips, forcing down a swallow, before I tear my eyes away from him.
“You’re going to set it on fire, aren’t you?” I ask.
The underlying message was clear in his words: he needs us to disappear from whoever might be looking for us.
A wicked look inks over his face, the smoke creating a haze around him.
He looks like Satan’s favourite soldier as it rises from the fires of hell beneath us.
“No, we’re going to blow it.”
“You’re what?” I shriek, my ears twinging at how loud my voice carries down the sombre street.
He shrugs, all nonchalant.
“The house is in fake names. I assumed you’d be prepared to make a moonlight flit someday.” He takes another drag from the cigarette.
I mean, he isn’t wrong.
The only thing that has Regina and I’s real name is our official company and the apartment nearby it.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme? There are other homes around here; you could kill innocent people.”
Our street is well spaced out, but the image he’s putting in my head resembles a nuclear bomb type of impact.
The amber bulb flicks down into a drain beneath his feet, and I’m thankful, seeing as there’s a demolition being constructed behind me.
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Indie. The guys will make it look like a gas leak.” He glances at the watch on his wrist. “Should blow in about an hour.”
Watching Saint and the way he speaks so impassively to such a violent act, it pulls me in a trance, piques my interest again on just what he’s been doing since we’ve been apart.
But before I can even ask, voices sound behind me.
Rex comes out of the house, Regina chatting away beside him.
“What about darts? Have you at least gotten any better at that?” She smirks, and the interaction warms my ice heart as they walk side by side.
Like no time has passed at all.
“I practise on people’s faces when I’m bored. Aim’s pretty sweet.”
She snaps her head to me, eyes wide in horror. I guess he’s gone down the same path as Saint; we all have, come to think about it.
“You’re with me.” Saint juts his head in my direction, walking around the front of the car. I mirror him around the back, meeting him as he holds the passenger-side door open.
Well, this is it.
Huffing, I slide into the seat, and when he closes the door, my eyes flutter shut.
God dammit.
His scent.
It’s everywhere.
Those recognisable, intoxicating notes rushing directly through my veins, injecting me with delirium.
His aftershave and the smell of menthol-laced tobacco mixes from the leather of his seats, catapulting me back to simpler times.
Another screw loosens on the box.
I drop my head back against the headrest, and when I glance over to the side, I let out an aggravated groan. Billy is standing at his front window, arms folded, as his whole room is shining brightly against the dark street.
I blow out a breath. The damage is done. Maybe Regina’s earlier stories to him might add to his aloofness on what’s happening here.
Maybe he’ll think we’re being escorted to a private event.
The driver’s door opens, and Saint slides in. The space suddenly feels entirely too small between us, and when he turns the ignition on, I hit the button to crack the window.
The cool air brushes across my face when I angle my head to look at him, and I realise my cheeks are flushed.
It should be a criminal offence for a man to look that good at driving.
Literally the most mundane task, and I’m sitting here, fighting to remember my deep breathing exercises.