Echoes of gunshots pound through the earplugs that I was given upon arrival. I sit in the dim observation room, peering through the bulletproof window every few minutes to see how they are doing. Kick watches as Ki Hong, Thomas and Dylan try their hand at shooting the guns that he's brought for them to use. I'm not sure why they're special, but Kick made them, so everyone trusts that they are the best. The rest of the group stand behind them, watching as they aim at the targets.
Once the magazines are empty, and the guns are placed back to the table, Thomas, Ki Hong and Dylan turn back to Kick to look for instruction. I watch his mouth move soundlessly as he gestures and shows them certain stances. Once Kick got on board, he seemed determined to succeed, and assisted by giving several briefs on the chosen weaponry. As well as bringing some of his "best soldiers," who turned out to be two people that none of us ever would have expected. Yet, we brought them back to Tennessee with us, where we now practice shooting guns an hour away from Seal County.
Thomas wouldn't let me practice using the guns. He didn't want me near any danger at all, and he seemed to think that by not allowing me to carry a gun on the big day that it would keep me safer. I wasn't sure if I agreed or not, but I didn't want to start an argument with him in front of my brother. Especially since Hero already disapproved of Thomas, and seemed quite pleased with Thomas's request that I stay away from harm. I probably would have been embarrassed if Kaya wasn't shooting either. She would be in the security van, keeping an eye on things with Ki Hong. I was certain that Ki Hong was just shooting for fun, since he seemed to admire Kick so much.
Hero came with us, of course. He left Asket behind in Florida with her sisters. She wasn't due for two more weeks, so Hero's hope was that she wouldn't give birth until he made it home again. He was a little worried about how she would handle everything while he was away, but I know that Asket is tough. She'll be just fine.
Finally, I notice that they seem to be loading up the guns and tossing their own ear plugs in the garbage can. I pull my earplugs out too, and the group bottlenecks through the door. First out is Kaya, Hero and Will, followed by the two extra rebels that Kick brought, Pick and Berenjena. I stare at them as they stand in the corner, waiting for Kick to come out with Thomas, Ki Hong and Dylan. Like I mentioned, they weren't at all what anyone was expecting.
First of all they were both females. Not that I was against females at all, but when Kick told us that he would be bringing two of his "best soldiers" called Pick and Berenjena, I never would have imagined two females.
Pick was by far the more intimidating of the two. She was tall, with jaw-length brown hair, sage-green eyes and a muscular frame. Berenjena was shorter, only standing a couple inches taller than me, with long hair that looked like crow's feathers, hazel eyes that reminded me of warm macaroons, and a more wiry, flat-chested physique.
When I asked Kick if Pick and Berenjena were their real names, he simply answered me that everyone who worked for him had a fake name, in order to conceal their identities. He was the only one who knew their real names. I spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at them on the ride home, trying to figure out what I thought their names would be, but nothing seemed to fit them.
After a while, they finish putting the guns away and Kick leads out Thomas, Ki Hong and Dylan. Each one of them hold a gun case in their hands. Kick stops in front of the group and announces, "All right, now that you've all had a go with these guns, it's time for smaller group training. Thomas and Hero - I want you both with me. Kaya and Ki Hong, go with Pick to the studio. You two will be on security on the day of, so I expect if you get involved in any combat, it'll be hand-to-hand, and Pick is the best one to teach that to you. Stephanie, you go with them too. You need to learn a little hand to hand. Dylan and Will, I want you two with Berenjena. Work in the smaller shooting range. Everyone clear?"
We all nod.
"Great. Meet back here in an hour and a half." Kick nods and the groups begin to disperse.
I start to follow Berenjena, but Thomas grabs my arm, causing me to come to a halt. He mutters, "Just a minute." He looks to Kick and says, "I'm just going to talk to her for a minute. I'll meet you there in a bit."
Kick nods, turning to go back into the range, followed by Hero. I look at Thomas curiously as he waits for the others to leave the room. Once everyone has left, he looks at me, taking my hand in his, "How are you doing?"
I raise my eyebrows, "Fine. Why?"
He shakes his head, pulling me into a hug. He nuzzles his face into my neck and I hear him mutter, "It's just crazy. Everything that's happening. Everything that we'll be going through in two days. I just want to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine." I smile, pulling away a bit so that I can look into his eyes. The cocoa color that look almost exactly like they could be mugs of hot chocolate. They are the only things that betray his youthful features and show his age. His eyes that are so often serious and very rarely shine. His eyes that more often are filled anger than joy. His eyes that usually contain years of guilt, shame and pain are instead filled with a soft look of adoration. For me.
"Well, let's keep you that way then." He says quietly. "How much self-defense do you know?"
I shrug, "I know some. Hero taught me how to throw and block punches in high school. Plus, he taught me how to use a gun once he joined the FBI. Told me that it was important to know if I ever got kidnapped. Of course, at the time I thought it was silly and that I would never get kidnapped, but life is full of surprises." I grin.
"All right, that's a start." He stands up straighter, smirking, "Let's try your hand at throwing a few punches then."
I laugh, "What, you want me to punch you?"
"Sort of." He shrugs, holding his palms up, "I want you to hit my palms."
"Dude, I don't know how to tell you this," I say, amused, "But even hitting your palms in going to hurt. You'd do better to let me hit your stomach."
"I'm not worried about getting hurt. I'm worried about you getting hurt." He says pointedly, "Beside, this is good practice for aiming your punches. C'mon, Steph."
I give him a mildly condescending look, which makes him laugh, and get into a fighting stance. He grins, "Doll face looks like a warrior. Got your feet firmly planted and everything. Now, hit my palms as hard as you can."
I take a couple of deep breaths, clenching my fists before I take my first jab at Thomas's hands. I hear the words of my brother in my head; Don't hit too hard or you'll split your knuckles.
"Good one." Thomas says approvingly, "You know not to tuck your thumb into your fingers, right?"
"Of course," I mumble, preparing for my next punch, "I don't want to break my thumb, do I?"
I place several more punches in Thomas's palm. After a few good hits, he mumbles, "All right, now I want you to try and hit me."
I raise my eyebrows, my voice rising an octave, "What?"
"You won't hit me." Thomas chuckles, "I've been in my fair share of fist fights. I want you to try to hit me."
My mouth drops open slightly and I look at him teasingly, "Maybe I will hit you, since you're so cocky about it."
"Come and get me then." He waves me forward smirking.
The two of use circle around one another, as if we're each others prey. I know that Thomas is only defending and that I've got to make the first hit, so I attempt to subtly edge closer without him noticing. Of course, Thomas does notice and edges away. I can't help but try to hide the grin that's plastered on my face. Finally, I take a swing, which he blocks easily with his arm.
He tilts his head, playfully, "Too slow, Bennet."
I take another swipe and he dodges. I aim for the left, he sidesteps to the right. My mind reeling, I fake another swipe to the right before swinging on the left, punching him in the arm. In his hurry to get away he steps to the right, and I take the opportunity to stick my foot out, tripping him. He goes clumsily toppling to the floor, with a strangled cry.
I grin, looking down at him, "You lose, Sangster."
He looks up at me, groaning; but I can see the amusement in his features. His eyes skim over me and I see a flicker of mischief in his eyes. I try to get away, but it's too late. He mutters, "Not yet," and grabs my legs, pulling me down to the ground with him. I fall to my knees, right beside Thomas.
He laughs and I chuckle with him, smacking his arm, "You dirty cheater."
"Fist fights are rarely fair." Thomas shrugs, looking completely guiltless.
"Jerk." I mumble, as he wraps an arm around me.
"Beautiful." He mutters back, nuzzling his nose against my cheek and trailing soft kisses along my jaw.
I hum softly, glancing over at him. His hair is slightly tousled from our sparring. I remember the first day we met, his hair looked similar. Like he just didn't care what it looked like. His expression was annoyed and his jaw was clenched. He hadn't hated me, but he certainly didn't like me either.
I stare at him, thinking of all this, whispering, "You're so different."
He stares at me, "I'm so different?"
"From when we first met." I say.
"Well, that's a good thing, right?"
"Yeah." I say, reflecting, "but...lot twenty-seven was important to you. Why?"
His expression quickly changes from casual to guarded, "Let's not talk about this, Stephanie."
"Thomas, why can't you talk to me about this?" I frown, "You've told me everything else. "
"It's not that I can't talk to you about it, I just don't want to talk to you about it." Thomas snaps, annoyed.
My eyes widen in shock and he immediately looks at me in regret. In an instant my expression has changed to a scowl and I stand, intending to storm away. Thomas scrambles to his feet after me, "Wait, Steph, that's not what I meant. In general I just don't --"
"Don't bother, Thomas." I grumble, starting for the door.
However, Thomas steps in front of me, blocking my exit. He tries to grab my hands, but I pull away, "Stephanie, come on. Please, that's not what I meant. I just don't like talking about that part of my life."
"Thomas, there are a lot of things you don't like talking about. You've told me about them though, and that is what is bothering me. You don't want to tell me about this girl, Rosalin. Why not? Are you still hung up on her or something?"
"No!" Thomas says quickly, "No. I am not hung up on Rosalin."
"Then what happened?" I ask quietly.
Thomas sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Her name was Rosalin. Rosalin Alvarez." He chews on his lip, "I met her in a bar about a year after I started law school. I was totally wasted, but the only thing I could think was that she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen."
He continues, "She was from Brazil, yet she had this pale skin. It was smooth and pale, like cream. Her eyes were the color of spruce and she had this dark hair, real soft. It would come halfway down her back in these waves that I liked. I just thought she looked like such a woman."
"She was like nicotine, that girl. But, she didn't commit to anyone, and I knew that. Somehow I kept coming back to her. It would be three in the morning and I would call and she would pick up. Every time." He says, and I can see the memories clouding his mind. "Before I knew it, I couldn't let her go."
"Except I was nothing to her." His gaze meets mine, "I knew that too. She just kept me around because she liked the attention. She thrived on it. Yet, I never did anything about it. When she told me she was moving across the country to accept an opportunity that Anon offered her--"
"She was a member of Clear Hearts?" I interrupt, shocked.
"Yes." Thomas nods, "She's the reason I got involved with Anon and his company. She introduced us."
I glance away, trying to take it in. I look at Thomas, muttering, "Sorry. Continue."
"When she got an opportunity to leave, I wasn't surprised that she accepted it. I told her I loved her that day. She laughed right in my face."
I stare at Thomas, captivated.
"I remember every second of that day," Thomas mutters softly, "Everything I said to her bounced off her. Nothing mattered."
"The day she left I was gutted. I wanted to yell and scream at her for leading me on, but instead I watched her leave your-" He stops, looking away quickly.
"What? My what?"
"Your lot." Thomas sighs, "She used to live on your lot."
Everything seems to click, "That's why you hated me. Because I moved onto her lot."
"Yeah." Thomas swallows. "It was vacant for so long, I just got used to no one ever staying there again. That would just always be Roaslin's spot. But, then Slate gave you that lot and you moved there. The day we met and I told you to keep the noise down, I just came to see that it was true. And you opened the door, short and young, with your light brown hair and your blue eyes, totally opposite of Rosalin, and I just...it felt like you were wiping the slate clean. It was as if Rosalin had never been there."
"I'm sorry about that, by the way."Thomas adds, "I was a douche bag about it."
"It's all right." I nod.
Thomas sighs.
"Have you spoken to her since she moved?"
"She gave me her new number." Thomas sighs. "I called her two days after she left, but when I did, a guy answered. I asked who he was. He said he was her boyfriend. She had been gone for two days, Stephanie. Forty-eight hours and she already had a boyfriend." He says in a small voice, "She never once let me be her boyfriend."
I want to comfort him. To tell him things will be all right. But I know what he's telling me is in the past. He probably doesn't need to be told that. He already knows it. I reach for his hand, and he accepts it, holding it tightly.
"You don't still love her?" I ask.
"No. Rosalin wasn't real." He says quietly. "I love you. You are real."
His eyes meet mine. I pull him into a hug, mumbling, "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry that I got mad at you."
"No, it's my fault." Thomas says, "I should have told you a long time ago."
I sigh, lifting my head to stare at him, "Everything is kind of jacked up, isn't it?"
He nods, "It sure is."
Standing on tip-toes I press my lips against his. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He roughly molds his lips against mine, slipping his tongue quickly against mine, making me sigh into his mouth. My hands go to his hair, twirling my fingers through it delicately. A low growl emits from Thomas. He presses me up against the wall, grabbing one of my legs and lifting it. I gasp as he moves down to my collarbone, trailing warm kisses along it. I have to stifle a moan, knowing that we can't let the others hear us.
But, I didn't want him to stop. I want him to kiss me until I forgot about everything that is wrong in my life. So I let him.
And when he leads us over to the table, placing me upon it, with his hands edging farther and farther up my shirt, I don't stop him. I don't stop him when he urges me to perch myself upon the table. And I certainly didn't stop him when his hands fiddle when the button on my pants and he kneels down on the floor.