The Chaos Crew: Killer Heart (Chaos Crew #3) – Chapter 16

THE FUR RUG beneath me was thick enough to insulate my body from the hard floor, and lying pressed into Blaze’s body gave me all the warmth I needed to sleep through the night. When I did wake, it was to his fingers running down my back, back up it, around my shoulder, and then taking a similar path downward again. His touch brought shivers to my skin as I burrowed deeper into his natural heat.

The other men stirred around us. I didn’t open my eyes to see who had ended up where. In the aftermath of our intense collision last night, we’d all dozed off where we lay.

Blaze’s fingers crested my shoulder, tracing a smoothly curved line I knew cut across the skin there. When their motion paused, I opened my eyes to peer blearily at him.

He was studying the scar. “Where did you get this one?” he whispered.

I cleared the sleepiness from my throat before speaking, my voice still rough. “It was a torture attempt. The woman who momentarily restrained me managed to make that cut and break my pinky before I slipped my bindings.”

“You’ve been tortured?” Garrison asked from behind. I peeked over my shoulder and found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa with one leg extended and the other bent upright.

I wanted to laugh at the question. He’d seen the scars across my body, and he knew my history. It would have been more surprising if I hadn’t been tortured at some point.

“Once or twice,” I said with a shrug.

“Who did it?” Talon’s deep voice echoed across the room. The ferocity in his tone held a clear threat, maybe one that would have unnerved someone else. But I wasn’t that person. It warmed me to realize he’d have wanted to unleash that ferocity on my former tormenter.

“I don’t know, but she’s long dead now,” I reassured him.

Blaze dragged his finger across another scar at the base of my back, a smaller but jagged line. “This one?”

Pursing my lips, I sorted through my memories. “An accident. I jumped through a window and didn’t stick the landing. It was from the glass.”

I knew the one that he’d eventually ask about—the most prominent of all of them. But he surprised me as he gripped my right hand and opened it, revealing the thin mark that spread across each of my fingers in a straight line. He didn’t even need to ask as he ran his thumb across it and met my eyes in a silent question.

I didn’t want to delve into that scar. It was more difficult than explaining the ones I’d obtained from missions. The missions didn’t matter, and those people and places were a blip on my radar. Scars like the one across my hand—like the one beside my belly button—meant something different. They’d been given to me because of my failures and mistakes.

“Noelle,” I admitted, clenching my fist as I thought about her. I broke away from Blaze’s eye contact. “I wasn’t doing as well using my left side as she’d hoped, so she made sure that my left side had to be my strongest one for a while.”

“She did this to you?” Blaze asked, and I didn’t have to look up to know that he was giving an utterly horrified expression. “She broke your hand, on purpose?”

“I hardly remember it. I was so young,” I said, as if that made the situation better.

I wasn’t lying. I remembered only the crunch when she slammed the edge of a cutting board into my fingers with all the might she could muster, claiming that I’d one day thank her for being a stronger fighter. And it had made me a stronger fighter, after all. I’d never had a difficult time using my left side after the weeks when it’d been my only option.

I hadn’t realized how consuming the silence was in the room until Julius finally spoke. “And the one on your stomach?”

I hadn’t meant to upset them so early in the morning, but I could hear in Julius’s voice how angry the thought of Noelle hurting me made him. It wasn’t as if there was anything left to avenge now. She was gone, dead at their hands.

But of course, we still didn’t know who’d hired her to train me so viciously.

I sighed. “It was another training mishap.”

“I wouldn’t consider having your fingers intentionally broken as a child to be a training ‘mishap,’ but please, continue,” Garrison said, his usual snarky tone harshened by his own obvious anger—anger I knew wasn’t aimed at me but my former captors.

I rolled to my back, tilting my head until I could see all of them. Julius had sprawled across the sofa, and Talon sat half upright at the other end. Garrison was the only other of my men on the floor.

They all watched me intently. Waiting for the story I didn’t really want to tell.

I flattened my voice so it’d be as even as possible. “This one really was an accident. Noelle left me alone with a trainer who specialized in weapons, and he was teaching me the basics of the different styles of throwing knives. We got to the part of the lesson where I needed to learn to dodge the knives, and Noelle came barging into the room and distracted me. I didn’t dodge one.”

I took a deep breath, thinking back to the look of horror on the weapons trainer’s face. “They were practice knives, not fully sharpened ones, so it didn’t go too far into me, but it lodged itself far enough that I needed stitches. And then I pulled the stitches twice during training in the following weeks, so that’s why the scar is still so big.”

What I didn’t want to say was that I wasn’t totally sure any more that it’d been an accident after all. Noelle had liked to surprise me to test my reflexes and instincts. Maybe she’d distracted me on purpose to see how well I’d dodge then. A ten-year-old kid in the middle of having knives thrown at her.

Blaze moved me closer to him and tightened his grip, slipping his other hand between us and stroking the place where the scar marred my skin.

“Do you remember where all of your scars are from?” Julius asked.

I shook my head. “Not all of them. Just the bigger ones. The small scars like this”—I pointed to a tiny scar on the side of my cheek and turned my head so they could all see. From where the other three sat near the sofa, I doubted they could even make out the pale mark—“I have no clue where it came from. I have tons like that.”

“I can’t remember where most of mine came from either,” Garrison said.

Blaze took a deep breath, drinking in the scent of my skin, and I had the urge to kiss his bare chest. “I don’t think I know where a single one of my scars came from,” he admitted.

“What scars?” Garrison teased. “The ones that you get when you clean out your computer?”

Blaze narrowed his eyes and pushed himself up on an elbow, loosening his grip on me as he scowled at Garrison. “I guess I do remember one. You know, the scar I got when I was shot protecting your ass.”

Garrison laughed. “Been there, done that, brother.”

Julius spoke up. “I think Talon’s the only one of us who hasn’t been shot at least once,” he said, gesturing to his ear with its ravaged lobe. I hadn’t realized the injury was from a bullet, but it made sense.

“I think getting blown up is close enough.” Talon rubbed at the flare-shaped scar on his thigh—barely exposed beneath his boxers. Looking at it, I guessed it’d been shrapnel from a mine or some other land explosive during his military days. He was lucky he still had his leg.

I cut in before their usual competitive natures could take the conversation on too far of a detour. “Scars don’t matter.” I sat up and looked over myself. With my nakedness fully on display, all four of them shut up. “What matters now is that we don’t add to what we’ve already got and that we stop dwelling on the past.”

I needed to take my own advice, especially when it was my internal scars that seemed to drive me forward these days. Although dwelling on my past was really all that I could do when my “past” wasn’t completely history yet and seemed to be defining so much of my present.

I glanced at the clock on the rock wall and sat up straighter with a start. It was later than I’d realized. “I’m supposed to meet my dad for brunch at eleven,” I said, scrambling to my feet. If I didn’t get a move on diving into the shower, I’d either have to show up smelling of sex, nude, or late. I wasn’t too keen on any of those options.

“Go do what you need to do,” Blaze said with a small smile.

I stopped at the edge of the room just for a second, looking back at all of them as they enjoyed the view of me walking away. It didn’t bother me, partly because their mostly naked bodies stirred up plenty of the same lust that I saw in their eyes in me… and partly because I saw just as much admiration and affection there as anything more carnal.

“You know, you’re just as much my family as he is,” I said firmly. “We’ve fought together and bled together—you’ve looked out for me even when you barely knew who I was… You mean a lot to me. I want a relationship with my birth family, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up what I have with any of you.”

Julius gave me one of his measured but genuine smiles. “I’m sure we’re all glad to hear that. The crew sticks together. Now go get your brunch.”

I took the shortest shower in human history, threw on my clothes, and summoned an Uber to make the trip into the city proper. I made it to the café at eleven on the dot and found Damien Malik waiting just outside the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the large patio. He greeted me with a smile and a wave toward the gate.

“It’s too nice a day to waste it sitting inside,” he said as the hostess guided us to one of the patio tables. With the sun beaming down on us and cheerful music tinkling through the café’s open door, I was inclined to agree with him.

“I’m not going to argue with fresh air,” I said, taking my seat.

A waitress appeared with a flash of a smile. “Can I start you off with any drinks?”

My father ordered a coffee, but I figured I’d better forgo caffeine, since my nerves were already a bit jittery in his presence with the Hunter’s insinuations and Anthea’s unknown soil analysis hanging over my head. “Lemonade for me,” I said, since I deserved at least a little sugar.

Damien leaned back in his chair, seeming more relaxed than usual. “It’s good that you enjoy getting out and about,” he said. “Keeps the mind sharp and the body healthy. And it’s nice just being out in the sun for its own sake.” He chuckled. “Not everything has to be for a purpose, of course.”

“Always nice when the enjoyable things are good for you too,” I replied with half-hearted amusement.

He tilted his head. “You know, you might enjoy the heat even more if you made use of our swimming pool. Your mother has mentioned that you always leave when most of the activity moves to the pool. We’d love to have you around even more, of course, now that you’re getting settled in. There’s no reason you shouldn’t become a full member of the Malik family.”

I curled my scarred fingers toward my palm, thinking of all the other scars I wouldn’t be able to hide in a bathing suit. The Chaos Crew had viewed them with the curiosity of men who’d been through similar trials. Their only horror had been at the brutality I’d endured as a child. The Maliks would be horrified by everything about my marked-up skin. I didn’t want to have to tell that many more lies.

As I groped for an appropriate answer, I glanced around the open patio. The patrons looked as well off as my father. Pearl necklaces and expensive suits abounded. The only person who stood out from the wealthy crowd was a kid in a T-shirt and jeans who couldn’t have been older than fourteen, leaning against the restaurant’s siding like he was waiting for someone.

“Chlorine really irritates my skin,” I told Damien as I turned back to him. “And I burn too easily to enjoy just tanning.” Two small lies to prevent a whole lot of bigger ones. “But if no one minds me hanging around by the side of the pool in regular clothes, I can stay later more often.”

The waitress returned with our drinks, and my father sipped his thoughtfully. “I think that would be nice. The more you’re around, the easier it’ll be for you to find your place in the family legacy.”

That word again—legacy. He talked about it as if that were the end goal of all these visits, as if there were something more I’d discover about the family once I’d gotten to know them even better. A prickle ran down my spine, the Hunter’s insinuations rising up from my memory.

But surely Damien Malik wouldn’t talk openly about any kind of legacy that he’d get investigated for.

As I gave some noncommittal answer that I barely paid attention to, the teen by the restaurant adjusted his position, sidling closer to the gate. The furtiveness of his movements put me on the alert. He was doing an okay job of being subtle, but I was trained to recognize when someone had a trick up their sleeve. What was he doing?

I got my answer a moment later when he brushed his hand across the back of a nearby woman’s chair—and let his fingers snag on the strap of her purse.

Damien had swiveled in his chair at the same moment to check the board of specials. The kid was being sneaky, but not sneaky enough—he obviously wasn’t any hardened criminal. As he jerked the purse off the chair, my father leapt to his feet with a shout.

The young teen looked terrified as my father rushed him and grabbed his arm in a death grip. My pulse stuttered even though I didn’t exactly approve of making off with people’s purses. It was just—he really was just a kid—and the whitening of his face with the tremor that passed through his body showed how ashamed he was at getting caught.

Something had driven him to this point, and I didn’t think it was simply callous greed.

“Call the police,” Malik shouted out, and turned to the victim of the theft, handing her the purse he’d pried from the boy’s fingers. “He almost made off with this.”

Someone at a nearby table gasped, and a few others pulled out their phones as if the petty theft required multiple reports. As if this kid really needed to be arrested. He was trembling now, looking seconds from wetting his pants.

I couldn’t just sit there. My heart thumping, I pushed myself to my feet and marched over. Damien dragged the boy toward the gate to wait for the police, and as I reached him, I realized his grip on the boy’s wrist was even tighter than I’d assumed. He twisted his fingers, and the boy winced in pain. His fingers had balled into a fist.

“What else have you stolen, you little creep?” my father said under his breath in the harshest tone I’d ever heard him use. He jerked his hand down to pry the boy’s fingers open, but there was nothing there. With a sharp exhalation, Damien twisted his grip again—and the crack of breaking bone made me flinch.

The boy yelped, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“Garbage like you deserves what you get,” Damien hissed. He turned and noticed my presence for the first time. His face reformed into its usual professional mask—he mustn’t have thought anyone was close enough to notice.

“First he tries to rob people, then he thinks he can run off without facing the proper punishment,” he said, as if the boy had been making a run for it. “He twisted his hand while I was pulling him back. No one to blame but himself. The police will sort it out.”

That wasn’t what had happened at all, but I had no idea how to challenge the ‘facts’ he laid out so easily. How would he look at me if I sided with the kid? Everyone around us was nodding in agreement, accepting his explanation.

If he’d been anyone else, I’d have torn him a new one right there and then. But this incident only proved that I really didn’t know the man I was dealing with. And getting into a public altercation with a man with as much political clout as my father blind felt like a very bad idea. What if this was just the tip of an ominous iceberg?

The police roared up with blaring sirens. Malik handed over the kid, getting the woman to tell the story of her nearly stolen purse.

“He broke my finger,” the boy said with a sob, cradling his hand to his chest. “He broke my fucking finger.”

Malik rolled his eyes, giving the boy a small shove toward the officer who rested a large hand across his shoulder. “He was trying to get away, and it was all I could do to stop him. I didn’t mean to break it, of course.”

He sounded so convincing. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed that he’d fractured the boy’s bones with malicious intent. How could he lie so blatantly without an ounce of hesitation in his tone?

The officer looked between them. “I can take it from here, Representative Malik. Your community is indebted to you once again.”

The brilliant smile my father gave the officer sickened me. I stepped backward and moved swiftly to my seat. They exchanged a few pleasantries and a handshake as the other officer loaded up the kid in his car.

My father came back over, his mood darker than it had been at the start of our brunch. He looked at me with a grimace, and I wondered if he’d apologize for his actions and admit that he’d been out of line after all.

“I’m sorry that you had to be here for this,” he said, dropping into his chair. “If you hadn’t realized it before, the crime rates in this neighborhood are rising just like they are everywhere. It’s tragic, but that’s why it’s essential that we crack down on the criminals whenever they pop up. That boy deserves everything that will come to him.”

Did that include the cast and recovery for his injury?

I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I took a sip of my lemonade and listened as Damien continued his rant about crime, not even considering that lying to the police and breaking a boy’s finger was a heinous crime within itself. Did he think he was excluded from the law?

As long as he broke it punishing criminals, it seemed like yes.

As he simmered down and our food arrived, my stomach knotted. It was all I could do to choke down a decent amount of the meal. The truth of the situation was staring me in the face so hard I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I was a criminal—one far worse than that kid. There wasn’t a chance in a million years that he’d ever accept the true me or the men I considered family too. He wouldn’t want to believe it, but when he did, he’d be sending me off to the electric chair. Maybe offering to throw the switch himself.

I’d known that, deep down. I’d been afraid of how he’d see the truth all along. But I’d let myself be lulled into complacency by how welcoming they’d been in general. I’d never had to face just how intense my father’s dedication to his policies was until right now.

While the waitress cleared our plates, promising to bring the bill quickly, I debated simply walking away from this brunch and this whole situation. Never speaking to Damien Malik or the rest of my birth family again. All the enjoyment I’d gotten out of having a family around me had soured with this unavoidable revelation.

What did I need them for if they couldn’t handle who I really was? I didn’t want to have to listen to any more of their rants or watch how they treated anyone they judged as unworthy of compassion.

I’d been foolish to think I could ever have a real relationship with this man at all, given his policies.

The urge to cut my losses and run wound through my limbs as Damien paid the check. It would be so easy. So freeing to put all the stress and pressure of trying to be Rachel Malik behind me. I could almost taste the relief.

But… I still needed answers.

As much as I wanted to leave and never look back, Malik and his investigators were in the best position to find the answers I needed about who had kidnapped me and why. Continuing to act like family with these people might be like playing with fire, but I wasn’t done here yet for my own ends.

If my father found out the truth about me and my past before I learned what I needed to, he’d turn on me without hesitation. They all would. I knew that without a doubt. But it was a risk I’d just have to take.