29. RAVEN

29

RAVEN

"You all right?" I ask quietly, assessing Maddy to make sure she isn't injured.

Her eyes are sparkly with hard determination in the streetlamp light. There's blood on her cheek, a smudge, or a droplet, not hers, maybe from the guy I stabbed first. Her chest is rising and falling fast. Her right hand grips a tiny knife. No, not a knife, it's a tactical pen, her fingers wrapped around it, her veins bulging with how hard she grips it.

Smart girl.

She must've done something else besides stabbing the guy with the tactical pen, because he's struggling for breath.

My eyes shift from him to the other two, back to the pen she's still gripping, up to her face.

She is breathing heavily, gazing at me.

It's this moment that binds us. Who would've known that out of everything we did together, this minute of violence would let us see who we truly are? I almost killed two guys, maybe did. She injured one. It's in her, too, this violence that came out so naturally. It's astonishing that she keeps it bottled inside her, under control, while many of us brandish it around like a badge of honor.

Maddy blinks, slowly drops her gaze to her hand, then to the man at her feet, then sinks to her knees next to one of the guys I hurt and pulls his bloodied hand away.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"He needs medical attention," she says softly, almost in a whisper, as she checks his wound.

She stands up and walks to another one.

I tense, ready to stab them if they make a move. "Let them be," I say.

She shakes her head. "They need medical help. They will make it if we call the paramedics now."

She lifts her calm eyes to me.

That's Maddy for you—she will help the guys who just tried to attack or kidnap her.

Wishful kindness, huh?

And somehow, what she is doing calms me, though I would've stabbed all three of them right here and now.

I pull out my phone and call the medical help first, then dial my security and call in several guys.

Then I call Marlow. "Maddy and I just got attacked. Get on this."

In two minutes, Ayana's emergency van pulls in, and paramedics examine the attackers. Maddy wraps her arms around her middle as she explains the men's injuries, like it's her responsibility.

All this time, my eyes don't leave her.

In five, I hear the approaching rumble of the sports bikes as Archer and Marlow arrive, then several security guys on ATVs.

This would be a good time to tell Archer what's happening. But first things first, I need to talk to Maddy. It's a deal. And we still have weeks of our sweet arrangement. Just a little longer , I tell myself.

I help Maddy to one of the ATVs and drive her to her house. Archer and Marlow follow. I watch her go up the stone steps to her bungalow, then turn to Archer.

"Do you know who?" Archer asks, lighting a cigarette. He just called his security guys and asked them to study all the active cameras to see if we can track where the guys came from.

"Port Mrei. I'm sure they are Butcher's."

Marlow leans against his bike with his hands in his pockets, seemingly gloomy. "Were they after you or her?"

I would really fucking love to answer his question, but I can't even mention the possibility of Tsariuk's involvement in this scenario.

"Hard to say," I say. "It's probably Butcher trying to intimidate us. Don't know. Maybe you can get the IT team to figure out where the guys came from."

Marlow scratches his head. "And what were you two doing together on the street?"

I stare Marlow straight in the eyes. "Walking."

Archer chuckles through his nose and squints at me as he takes a drag of his cigarette. He knows something is going on with her and me, and that's okay. Hopefully, that's the only suspicion he has.

"I want her to have bodyguards," I say, tensing at the possibility of questions that will arise.

"She should. So should you. And all of us," Marlow says grimly.

In a minute, I walk the path toward Maddy's house.

She is in the kitchen, making sandwiches on the kitchen island, and glances at me when I walk in and approach the kitchen island from the other side.

"You all right?" She seems okay, but you never know.

"I'm fine," she replies without care. She probably won't tell me if she isn't anyway.

"Scared?"

"No."

Huh.

"Maddy, look at me."

She raises her beautiful eyes at me, trying to look indifferent, but there's a glaze in her eyes, an indifference that's too suspicious and not quite forced.

"I'm sorry this happened."

She shrugs. "Not your fault."

I scratch my brow with my thumb, feeling like shit about this situation and not knowing how to get through to her and make sure she is okay.

Her eyes dart to my hand. "Wash your hands, please."

I notice there's blood on mine. I don't argue. I go to her bathroom and wash the blood from my hands and the droplets on my neck.

When I come back, she carries on with making sandwiches. Two plates.

"Hungry?" she asks.

I'm not, but before I can answer, she pushes a small plate with a sandwich toward me.

I don't remember the last time someone cooked for me besides Mac.

Angelica did. She cooked lasagna and wanted to play house. I hate lasagna. If one were to create a food metaphor for a murder scene, it would be that dish.

This is just a sandwich. Untimely, considering my shirt is soaked with someone's blood and we just survived an attack.

But I take a seat on the bar stool by the counter and eat the sandwich. Maddy does the same across from me, standing up. Our eyes meet as we chew as if on reflex.

A drop of blood is still on her cheek from where she probably touched herself after nicking the guy. Her hair is a bit messy, and she looks… Fuck, she looks beautiful.

"I'm assigning guards to you," I tell her.

She doesn't argue as she continues taking small bites of her sandwich, her gaze slowly roaming the counter.

She said she was fine, but I can tell it's either a delayed shock or some sort of PTSD as she tries to process what happened.

I stay silent. Right now is definitely the wrong time to be sassy or throw around innuendos. What I do want is to pull her into my chest and cradle her. The impulse is so strong and unexpected that I pick up my phone and start going through the phone directory, pushing that impulse down and trying to remember what I'm supposed to do right now.

I don't often rationalize my decisions, except when they are based on an instinct that proved right before.

I've known Skiba for a year. I chose my men wisely, and I want to know they have similar values. A moral compass, at least. A week ago, I would've trusted him with my life and assigned him to be Maddy's bodyguard. After the incident on the beach, considering it was about a girl, I hesitate.

Yet that Ali guy—who is a complete stranger—something about him draws me in, either his faith or dedication, I'm not sure. I got one of my guys to deliver the package to him at work—his medication. My guard returned with a "thank you" from, quote, "that weirdo. What's your deal with him?"

I hope Ali doesn't think it's some sort of a deal, but I want him on my team. I call the HR office. "I need the contact info for one of the guards."

And when they send me Ali's number, I dial.

"ID 23567," he answers with the usual in-network guard protocol.

"This is Raven," I say, wondering if I'm in over my head. After all, I don't know this guy well. Moreover, this is a personal assignment that will require more diligence than spending boring hours at the towers or security gates. "I want you to be the personal guard for Maddy Wise. If you'd rather not, it's not a problem, and you will stay where you are."

I won't blame him if he finds an excuse to refuse. I have other options, though not sure how trustworthy?—

"Yes," he says right away.

My chest falls on a relieved exhale. "You start right away. I'll see you at Bungalow 14 as soon as the Center calls you with the confirmation."

I hang up, then call the Center and tell them that Ali is now on my team.

Maddy doesn't say a word. Doesn't even look at me.

Don't get me wrong, I still can't fucking relax being so close to her, in one room, with no one else around. I want to stay. Want to talk or touch or just sit in silence until I know she feels okay.

Her phone rings, and she picks up, "Hey."

I can't hear what the man on the other side says, but I do recognize Bo's low, deep voice.

"I'll call you in a little bit, okay?" she says.

Well, I guess she has better options to talk things out than me.

There's a knock at the door. Maddy's eyes dart to the door, but I get up and open it to see Ali.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks indifferent. People who seem indifferent often learned the best ways to hide what they are thinking and feeling, and usually, the reason for it is not a good one.

I nod for him to come in, studying his work uniform and duty belt.

"You'll need something smaller," I say, nodding at the AK-47 slung across his back. "More inconspicuous."

He nods, doesn't look around or move, his calm eyes on me. Guards have an assortment of weapons that they keep even off-duty. We have too many guards on this island and even more weapons.

"This is Maddy," I introduce her. "This is Ali. He will be one of your guards. The other one is Nilanski." I turn my attention to Ali. "You and he will coordinate the shifts. You do not leave the shift unless the other guard is with you. Report all that to the Center. You are to follow her everywhere and stay outside the buildings. Anything suspicious, you call me. Any problems, you do the same. Anything happens to her—I'll take your head off and your family's. In that exact order."

He slowly blinks in confirmation.

Silence grows around us. I can see in my peripheral that Maddy is watching us. She might not like this new arrangement, but there's no way around it. I don't want anything to happen to her. And I don't want to fucking leave right now, but she probably needs some privacy and to report back to that Bob fucking Marley who she's supposed to call back.

"When did your regular shift start?" I ask Ali, who is standing like a soldier waiting for orders.

"Three hours ago. I'm in for the night shift."

I nod. "Good. You're on, then. I'll get Nilanski to call you."

He nods, too. "I'll be outside."

I wish Maddy and I could unwind and fuck each other's brains out because I'm in the mood to get her naked. But tonight is not the best time. I'm struggling with what to say to her, and she doesn't say much either. She is chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier," I finally say, not used to apologizing.

She raises her pretty eyes at me. "You know it's not your fault. If anything, it's mine. Probably is. It was… Unexpected. The attack and the outcome."

"The outcome?"

She studies me thoughtfully. "I guess that was a flashback to what it was like back in the day."

She means Russia? Her father? Whatever lifestyle she had back then?

I nod. "This is not what you want to hear, but I liked seeing the real you."

It's the truth. A guy who worked for me once said, "It's not what weapon you own but what you do with it when you face an enemy that shows what sort of person you are."

Maddy arches her brow in surprise. She definitely didn't expect that. "Do you?"

"I'd like to see more of you, what you used to be like. Probably not a good thing." I look away, smiling, and open the door.

"It's a deal, Raven."

I halt, my hand on the door handle, as I look over my shoulder at her.

She locks her eyes with mine. "Tomorrow night? The real me?"

I don't know what this means, but I'm in. She never offered herself before, and I hope that's what she is doing.

And I love hearing her say my name, though it's changed lately. It used to sound challenging. Now it sounds cautious. Does something scare her? I tried to weed the streets out of me for the last ten years. Reading, studying, watching myself, my language, controlling my emotions. They say you can't take the streets out of you if you grew up there. Wrong. You can do anything if you want change.

Outside, Ali walks the perimeter of the brightly lit porch, studying the trees.

"Mind if I turn off the auto-light?" he asks.

"You should."

I am walking away when I hear his, "Thank you."

I don't turn around. I know what he means. And I don't need to pat myself on the shoulder for getting him his meds. Everything is a deal, right?

I get home and take a shower, standing for the longest time under the hot water as my mind replays the attack from earlier. Those were guys from town. And nothing happens in town without Butcher's orders. I wish I could dust the motherfucker, but then it would be murder. Does one murder justify saving many?

Most of all, I keep seeing Maddy's face, that smudge of blood on her cheek, her fingers viciously curled around the tactical pen, her eyes full of determination as they lock with mine.

There was danger in them, and somehow, it resonated with my heart. I can't erase that image from my mind. I dry myself off with the towel as those images jump around in my head. The attack. Maddy with bloodied hands. That ruthlessness in her eyes. Her checking their pulses. The blood smudge on her cheek. Her calm voice.

My body is on edge, and before I can stop myself, I drop the towel to the floor and wrap my hand around my erection. It takes me less than a minute to get off on those images, the sick fuck that I am, and then I have to take a shower again.

I check my phone in the living room.

Andrew Skiba: Dropped another box of supplies at the port. The previous ones were gone.

That's the second time we dropped the food at the caves next to the far-end fence at the port. As per my request, they installed a camera there. I go to the feed on my phone. It's dark. The cave is empty. I rewind the footage until it gets light outside, seven o'clock to be exact, and pause when I see action—three little kids crouching from behind the chain fence among the rocks and snatching the box with the speed of lightning. The box gets stuck, under the fence, too big to go through the tiny slit between the fence and the ground, so the little dudes unpack it and within a minute, slide everything underneath, then flatten the box and do the same.

I smile to myself. I will show it to Sonny tomorrow. That will make him happy. At some point, when we have a better grip on Port Mrei again, we should do something about homeless kids there.

Archer calls. I expect him to go into a detailed discussion of why, how, and what the attack meant, or at least to tell me Alex Ortiz's take on this. But all he asks is, "Why her?"

I wait for a moment to think about the answer. If Marlow doesn't know about my previous interactions with Maddy, Archer is definitely getting a whiff of something going on. I'm wondering if he's suspecting some connection to Tsariuk.

He speaks before I answer. "Remember what you told me about women?"

I do.

"Women are the unnecessary evil. And that's too much credit," he quotes my words from only months ago.

I don't know why I said what I said except that I never cared much for any woman.

"You said they make things complicated," I retort. And I have to agree with that one.

"I think you were wrong, Raven, and you are starting to figure it out," he says. And just like that, the conversation is over.

Ain't that the truth? Maddy is the opposite of evil and is becoming a necessity that I'm trying to figure out how to fight off.

And as much as I need to get my grip on yet another complication, Maddy-slash-Milena, I don't even hesitate when I pick up the phone and dial her number.

She picks up after only two rings. "Hello." Her voice is soft.

"Feeling better?" I ask, wondering if she took a shower already, imagining water trickling over her naked body, wishing I was there with her.

"I feel just as I felt before—fine," she says calmly, though I don't believe her.

I don't know what to say, how to make sure she knows I'm not calling fishing for another night together, but I am genuinely worried about her.

"Wanna talk?" I ask, hoping it's a therapy for her.

"About what?" she asks, but there's no hostility in her voice.

"Tell me something about yourself, Maddy," I repeat my words from days ago.

This time, she laughs a little. "What would you like to know, Raven?"

And this time, I know she wants to talk.