17. Hellena

17

HELLENA

A laya’s voice echoes in my head, long after she’s gone, the words replaying over and over.

Of course, Gavin has a past.

“His ring… his ring…”

Don’t get me wrong, I trust Gavin. I don’t care that he had a past. Everyone does.

I was just under the impression that his past was dead and gone. Like my dad.

Who it turns out, his ex-late-wife killed. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

A prior body count for any one of my guys, I can handle, sexual or otherwise, in Gavin’s case. But this?

It’s different when you meet one of your lover’s exes, especially when they happen to be a returned-from-the-dead, mercenary team member, hit-person, and the assassin hired to kill your family who coincidentally decided to shoot you.

I have no idea how anyone is supposed to process it.

And I am kicking myself for not asking her why the hell she decided I was a viable target.

But the one thing it absolutely does is track with my zany luck and life. Less zany, more pure insanity.

One of these days, I’ll stop being surprised by surprises. Like a bad B-movie, just waiting for the twist.

Her admission that her predecessor and she eliminated other members of the Sinful has me hankering for another round of questioning, but I know it’s a bad idea. At least anytime soon.

My brain cannot take any more info-splosions.

Taking several deep breaths to clear my head, I wander around the small house, letting my eyes track over the sparse furniture, the lack of decor. It still looks lived in, cozy in a minimalist sort of way.

The fact that the person who lived here was my father…

A man I barely knew, and I clearly didn’t know anything real about him.

The only memories I have are vague. Trips to the park. Ice cream. Mom only ever painted him as a hero, but even her stories were carefully curated and only shared when Marco was far, far out of earshot.

Comparatively, the few stories Gavin has shared about their lives paint him in a specific way, too. A hero as well, but iconic. Larger than life. Scary.

Funny how Gavin resembles that statement so much himself, though he’d never admit it.

Reaching the wooden dinette at the back of the room, I flip one photo up, my breath catching as I see my mother, so much younger than ever I remember her, smiling. Damon is there too, laughing as he points at something off camera.

Another frame is empty, another smashed in the front, the picture so crumpled I can barely make it out. The last one gives me pause. For a second, I can’t interpret what I’m seeing.

It’s the three of us.

Mom. Dad. Me.

Standing in front of… this house.

The familiar feeling must be because I’ve been here before, but no visual memory surfaces, not even an echo. Then again, so many memories of my early years have blurred behind the veil of living through the Marco Vice years.

Then my fearful escape from my abusive fiancée.

Setting it back down, I can’t resist slipping the broken picture out of its frame. Despite the white creases and fading, the people are still faintly visible.

Gavin’s face pops out at me immediately, his younger face so much softer. My dad looks about the same, never seeming to age in any of his photos. Other men and a couple of women fill out the roster.

And there, next to Gavin, Alaya. Her face is less scarred, but she looks like a complete badass with a sniper rifle resting on her shoulder.

Her smug look makes me want to break the frame all over again.

It’s not jealousy.

I swear.

There's more to it than that.

But for now, I’ll add it to the pile of feelings to sort through later.

What’s itching in my brain now is the missing gap of years. The aging Damon, the one who left his crew and then his family to run a secret shadow organization from a house in the middle of nowhere.

How did you get here, Dad? Why did you do this?

The only other door in the house opens into a small hallway. Three more doors line the wall ahead of me. Odd arrangement.

One is a bedroom, the middle a bathroom. Standard, dingy like the rest of the house.

The final door is locked. Odd that Alaya didn’t break it down or open it. Unless…

A twinge of horror zips up my spine.

There are no signs of a struggle anywhere in the house, and Rachelle never said where he was buried. I never asked.

Could his body be…?

The thought makes me want to puke for some reason. It also gives me wicked mystery vibes.

A desiccated corpse, holding the secrets to my past, my future, sitting in his chair behind that door.

Shivers shoot through me, sending me back out into the brighter living room. It’s not enough.

Flapping my hands with nervous energy and frankly a shit ton of the heebie-jeebies, I bolt outside, gulping down cool air.

The pent up panic and tension of the encounter hits me then, nearly driving me to my knees.

Fuck this. And fuck Alaya for being so…

Badass. I hate how she looked.

How she carried herself.

Worst of all, I hate how intriguing she was, how easy she was to talk to. How quickly she sucked me into a witty, clever conversation.

I’m just pulling myself back together when I hear the roar of an engine, the crunch of tires on gravel barreling down the driveway.

I’m a split second from dashing for the nearest cover when I see a flash of the brown truck through the trees and huff a sigh of relief. A sigh that I suck right back in as I realize that it’s Gavin and probably Evan and Tell.

And they are one thousand percent going to be PISSED.

Not to mention the little detail of ‘what the actual fuck am I going to tell them?’

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss, backing onto the stoop to wait for them to pull up. All three doors open almost before the car skids to a stop, three guns in three sets of hands, three sets of eyes boring holes through me.

“Hellena, freeze!” Gavin barks, gently but firmly shoving me against the wall and out of his way as he kicks the door back open and storms into the house followed by Tell, Evan backing up to the step, scanning the surrounding forest and keeping his barrel up.

“She’s not here!” My voice cracks as I try to shout after them.

Gavin’s back out front in a flash, looking me over. “Are you…?”

“Fine. I’m fine. I don’t think the door’s going to make it.” He follows my eyes over to the splintered pieces of the front door, the leftovers clinging to the hinges.

“Um. Whoops.” He stares at me awkwardly for a few seconds.

Tell’s voice breaks the silence.

“Hey! It’s little Hell! And her dad,” Tell hollers from inside, drawing all of us to join him.

Gavin is still amped, Evan seething but quiet as we step into the dim confines of the small house.

Both of them keep giving me glaring looks, worried looks, like I might suddenly tell them I’m dying any second. Guilt trip, much?

“I promise, I really am fine. And I would apologize if I thought it would do any good. I was hoping to make it back before you woke up and then?—”

“Then what?” Evan snips. “Not let us know you snuck out?”

“No! I was going to say that I would have filled you in. I didn’t even know if I would find anything, so I didn’t want all of you to do… this!”

“We could have come with you, Hellena, for backup.”

“The message specifically said to come alone.” I palm my face as I say it.

How utterly stupid and naive it sounds.

“You mean this message?” Tell smiles ruefully, slipping the note out of his pocket.

“Um. Yes?” I am so confused.

“I found it outside on the driveway. You dropped it.”

“And thank goodness you did,” Gavin growls, his tone and words clashing horribly.

“Not cool, Hella.” Tell’s usual smile is gone.

“I know. It seems like a risk, but what else have we found? I had to take a chance that they knew something about my father and the Sinful. Besides, the shooter had every chance to kill me the other day when I was hiking and didn’t. Why would she leave me that message when she could have just taken me out before you guys could come back to the house?”

Again, I kick myself internally. My logic might make sense, but I’m only digging my hole deeper.

“So our safe house is compromised! Shit!” Evan curses under his breath.

“Even if you hadn't dropped the address to this place, you realize you stole my car, which I have a trace on,” Tell adds, just to rub it in that they could track me. “This is why we worry. You see how easy it is for someone to lure you out or trick you into danger?”

“And do you see how this situation worked out just fine and I am capable of taking care of myself?” I snap back, my ire suddenly flaring through the roof.

All three of them give me that look, disparaging.

Macho. Protective. Bullshit.

Tell is the first to cave, looking away and rubbing his neck. I let my glare track all the way across, lingering on each of them. “You have to trust me at some point, you know?”

“We do…” Gavin starts.

“No. We don’t,” Evan snips, and my eyes widen. I’m about to explode into a rant when he cuts me off, continuing. “We haven’t trusted you, and we should. You’re right. This never would have happened if you felt like you could come to us with it.”

Gavin looks pensive, nodding after thinking about it for a minute.

“I won’t do this again, I promise. But we need to work on some things. I am not going to stay locked in that, or any, house forever.” I inhale, sucking a deep, long breath before gusting it out and finding my Zen again.

Thank you, Guru Tell.

“Now. Are you all going to drag me back to safety, or are you going to help me look for clues?”

Gavin looks around, his eyes settling on the picture frames. “Is this…?”

“My dad’s hideout. Yep.”

“Why would the shooter ask you to come here?”

“She… had questions. I wouldn’t worry about her attacking us again, at least for a while.” Trying to navigate what I actually know and what I am speculating is a tricky game.

“Hellena, she tried to kill you.”

“No. She didn’t,” Gavin posits, looking at me for clues, some sign of reaction.

“No. She’s just a hired killer. It sounded like maybe she had a debt to settle with the Sinful. I was just a vindictive outburst. Rachelle, on the other hand…” I regret the fib as soon as I say it, but I want to talk to Gavin first, alone. It’s only fair.

Tell perks up. “Who hired her to kill Rachelle?”

“She didn’t know.”

“I doubt that. We almost always knew who we were working for back in the day.” Gavin is holding the picture of the crew, dropping it to pick up the photo of my parents and me. “You’ve been here before.”

“Not that I remember.”

“Is someone going to fill us in on who this mystery woman is?” Tell chimes, flipping cabinets and drawers open with fast, jerky movements. “What? There could be rats in the drawers. I don’t wanna get startled.”

All three of us stare at him for a second before I burst out laughing. Gavin follows, and even Evan shakes with a chuckle.

The tension in the room drops about thirty degrees. We have all been way too on edge.

“So. This woman said she knew info about your father.” Evan eyes Gavin as he says it, giving him room to speak up, but also offering him the out if he doesn’t want to share.

I’m curious whether he will.

“She didn't tell me much in that regard that we didn’t already know. Just confirmation that he was with the Sinful. And that she was the one who killed him.”

“What?” Gavin looks like he might puke.

“I am still processing that myself. And wishing I had asked so many more questions. But she told me about this place for a reason. There has to be something here, or at least I think she thought so.”

Evan’s stalking through the house, looking at the walls and the furniture. “You know, technically, this place is yours now, Hellena.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“So do I have permission to tear this place down and find what we're looking for?” A smirk pulls at his lips.

“Go to town.” The sooner we find the secret stash, the sooner we can get the fuck out of this depressing, horrible place.

Because that’s all this is. A hollow, empty place.

“Not that I care, but you don’t need to wreck the place. At least not before we get the locked door in the back open. That’s bound to have something useful. Then we can burn it down. The only thing I really want is this.” I slip the photo of me as a child out of the frame, tucking it into my pocket.

It's not really a happy memory.

But it's a memory of my past, of my family. The family I never really got to have.

As I set the frame down, something clatters to the floor, rolling across to a stop right at Gavin’s feet. He bends down, scooping up the metallic item. His eyes narrow as he opens his hand.

“What is that?” Tell tries to catch a glimpse over Gavin’s shoulder.

“It’s…” He passes it to me, a strange look on his face.

“A ring?” The band is simple, plain. But it’s made of blood-reddish gold. It’s a color I’ve only seen once before. “My mother had a bracelet exactly like this.”

“I remember that. He gave it to her before we left for Kandahar.” He glances down at the photo of Cynthia and Damon, shaking his head. “They were happy, you know?”

“No. I don’t know.” I don’t feel bitter. Not really. But I hate who my mother became trying to provide for me.

I glanced at the picture again, frowning. Vaguely, I notice Tell and Evan slip into the back hallway, continuing their search.

“Were you ever married, Gavin?”

“Yeah, I was.” His demeanor is cold. Tight and tense.

“What happened to her?” I shouldn't test him like this. Not that I’m trying to catch him in a lie or anything.

“She died. At least I thought she did.”

I want to say it, to bring it up and air it. But I also want to give him the chance to work through it in his own time. So for the moment, I run my fingers down his arm, pulling him close and kissing him.

“I think you need to see this…” Tell interrupts us before I can say anything.

In the hallway, Evan and Tell stand outside the last door, staring into a dark room. I squeeze between them, letting my eyes adjust.

“The door was a real trick to unlock. Heavy-duty shit. Fortunately, lockpicking is kind of my thing.”

I almost feel the eye roll from Evan. “You’re not the only one who can pick locks, you know?”

Gavin joins us, pressing up against my back. “Yeah, I can pick one too.”

They all kind of look at each other, clearly proud of themselves.

“Cool, cool. So we all have big dicks, right?” I blurt out, feeling overlooked and irritated. The response is almost hurt, like I just rained on their party.

Sigh.

“You can all pick locks. It’s very impressive and I am proud of all of you. Now can we please see what’s in this locked room now, please?”

Tell snorts as he pushes the door open farther, revealing a stark, completely empty room.

“What the hell?” I murmur, flabbergasted at the lack of… anything.

Evan places one hand on my shoulder, shining his flashlight into the room. “Hang on. Let me check for traps…”

Easing into the space, he runs his hands along the walls.

“What’s the difference? There’s nothing here.” I almost growl, frustrated and disappointed. “Stupid fucking waste of time.”

I am about to storm out when I catch an odd shadow in Evan’s flashlight beam.

“What is that?” I ask, stepping into the room and tugging his arm back. We all squat down as one, eyeing the groove in the cement.

The etched hole is about half an inch deep, circular.

Like a ring might fit perfectly into it.

“Gavin, hand me?—”

He’s already reaching out, passing me the oddly colored ring from the living room.

CLICK .

The panel slides back, appearing out of seamless concrete.

And inside the enclosure, nestled in a deep red cloth…

A leather-bound book with the initials ‘ DM ’ on the cover.