The Body Painter (Master of Trickery Book 1) Page 12

  No people to enlist. All alone.

  In front of me sat a dinged-up black van. A large scratch marred the glossy paint while a dent on the driver’s door hinted the owner didn’t care it wasn’t pristine.

  Justin drove a sedan, I was pretty sure, so who—

  The clang of metal whipped my head around as the pedestrian door swung open then crashed shut, spitting a man from Gil’s warehouse.

  I froze.

  It definitely wasn’t Justin.

  The man scowled at his knuckles, smearing a line of blood glistening on them. His scowl snaked into a smirk then a nasty chuckle. The blood vanished as he wiped the back of his hand on his jeans.

  Not his blood.

  My heart rate skyrocketed. Was this the man who’d hurt Gil last time? The reason for his cut lip and sore arm? And if so, why was he here and walking without injury? Gil wasn’t exactly someone you could pick on and not earn a severe beating in return.

  The man looked up as I inhaled sharply.

  His face might’ve been considered handsome if he didn’t have such a heartless sneer in his grey gaze. In his early fifties, his thin lips and square jaw weren’t off-putting, but the brown, untended to hair hanging over his collar was. Just a mess of grease.

  “Who the hell are you?” He watched me closely as if he’d stumbled onto something interesting.

  Chills broke out over my arms. Chills that had nothing to do with the Birmingham weather and everything to do with the cold-hearted specimen in front of me.

  My chin tilted regally. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  The guy chuckled. “You’re in the middle of no-man’s land, sweetheart. I’d just answer my question like a good girl.” He grinned like a snake, stepping closer. “You lost? All alone?”

  I ignored the way my kneecaps jumped, my legs tingling to run. “I’m not lost. I know my way around.”

  “Do you just?” He licked his lips, that damn smirk grating on my nerves. “Know your way around other things too, I bet.”

  I didn’t stoop to his level to answer that.

  I’d wasted enough time on this cretin. Moving toward Gil’s warehouse, I paused as the guy muttered, “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He laughed coldly. “Not unless you like seeing blood.”

  My insides turned to lead. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing that wasn’t deserved.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  The longer I stood there, the louder my instincts became. They didn’t just dapple me in worry, they hijacked my nervous system.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Something wasn’t safe.

  Gil.

  Skirting past him, I held my head high, estimating twenty steps before I could tumble into Gil’s warehouse and be free.

  But I’d made a mistake.

  I should never have gotten so close.

  He let me walk past, then a hand clamped over my shoulder from behind. All five fingers dug into my flesh with punishment that should never be used, especially on a complete stranger. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

  I spun in his hold, whipping my arm up and breaking his hold on me. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  My speed shocked him; his fingernails left hot tracks on my flesh. Our eyes locked, hunter to victim. I glowered back with far more ferocity than I felt.

  His face shadowed with rage before clearing with a slightly manic laugh. “You know...I like fighters. Always turn out to be the most fun.”

  I wanted to stand my ground, but I couldn’t override adrenaline. Stumbling back, my handbag bashed against my side. “Just go away. Leave us alone.”

  “Us?” His eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze shooting from me to Gil’s warehouse. “You two together?” Hazy sunlight highlighted his cheek, showing a silver scar running from his eye to the corner of his mouth. “Has that naughty boy been hiding you from me?”

  I didn’t know what he meant.

  I didn’t care.

  Fumbling in my handbag, I searched for my cell phone. “Leave now or I’m calling the police.”

  He shook his head, still wrapped up in the idea that Gil had someone to stand beside him, that he wasn’t so alone. Slowly, an evil conclusion soaked into his grey gaze. “He knows what’s his is mine.” Looking me up and down, he snapped, “Get in the van.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get in the fucking van. Now.”

  “No way.” I found my phone, ripping it out with quaking limbs. My thumb trembled as I unlocked the screen and tried to dial the emergency number.

  He launched forward, reaching for it.

  I held it out of his reach, only for it to tumble to the gravel thanks to my slippery fear.

  “Stay away from me.” I back-peddled out of his reach.

  “Get in the van, sweetheart. Your pathetic body painter doesn’t want visitors right now.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I know him better than you think.” His voice held the melodic rasp of an older person who should be wiser and kinder than most. If it wasn’t for the malicious stare and dirty hair, he could’ve been the sweet neighbour or family friend.

  My eyes flickered to his van, then back to his gaze. For a second, I wondered if this was a sick joke. Surely, this couldn’t be real.

  It was daylight.

  It was England.

  But the lack of humour and deadly seriousness of his intention made ice tumble down my spine. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave and I won’t press charges.”

  He nodded as if I’d made a valid point. He laughed as if my point was utterly ridiculous. “See, that’s where we have differences of opinion.” His attention shot to the warehouse behind me, then slithered over my body. “If you’re his, he knows better. You’re coming with me. I won’t ask again.”

  “Don’t come near me.”

  He ignored my warning, prowling closer, assessing my escape routes.

  I literally only had one option.

  Run.

  Run as fast as I could to Gil’s and bang on his door and hope to God whatever this man had done to him left him conscious and in some capacity to help.

  The long length of warehouses with its aura of downtrodden-ness and alleyways wouldn’t save me at all.

  Run!

  Despite my injuries and surgeries, I was still strong. Strong and swift from all the years of dancing and discipline at not giving in.

  I wasn’t afraid of hurting someone if they hurt me. I’d never been a wilting flower. I was vicious if enemies tried to hurt me and mine.

  But I also knew when to fight and when to flee.

  I ran.

  Gravel scattered beneath my heels as I turned and bolted.

  My handbag swung against my side. I left my phone abandoned.

  I pushed as much energy and speed into my legs as possible and chewed up distance. “Gil!”

  Footsteps raced after me.

  Slithering arms wrapped around me from behind, locking tight.

  “Let go of me!”

  His breath gushed harsh in my ear as he dragged me backward, despite my struggling. His hands were claws, his embrace a shackle, his strength far greater than mine.

  “No!” I squirmed and stomped on his foot. “Gil!” My screech echoed off the warehouses, bouncing back to me unanswered.

  His grunt was loud as he clutched me closer, kicking my legs out from under me and hauling me backward. His palm fumbled over my mouth, trying to silence me.

  I raised my head to the sky, and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help!”

  “Quiet,” he hissed in my ear, dragging me another foot.

  I fought and scrabbled, scratching and clawing, but despite his age and slim build, his wiry strength bit into me like painful barbwire.

  Gil’s warehouse grew farther away as the van’s shadow came closer.

  If he got me into that van, it was all over.

  My handbag swu
ng uselessly down my arm, bumping heavily with resume folders, keys, and a large aluminium water bottle.

  Throw it.

  The command came from basic survival. I had no weapon. No hope. I had one chance.

  Eyeing up the roller door, I caught my bag strap as it tumbled from my shoulder.

  I didn’t aim for my attacker.

  I aimed for Gil’s warehouse.

  He tried to stop me—his arm whacked against mine and he kicked at my legs again.

  But it was too late.

  I let the bag loose. It sailed forward.

  My heart plummeted as the bag arched and fell toward earth—without touching the door. Its spilled contents went flying, cartwheeling everywhere, the heavy water bottle was my saving grace.

  It crashed against the door.

  The loud twang as it bounced off the metal echoed around us.

  Hope flared.

  Triumph heated.

  But my attacker merely pulled me harder. “You’ll pay for that.”

  Sucking in a breath, I twisted sharply in his arms. He narrowed his eyes as our noses almost brushed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Bracing myself for pain, I arched back and whacked his head with mine.

  Agony blinded me with a mushroom cloud of torment. Red haze claimed every sense.

  He stumbled back, still holding me. I stumbled with him, deaf and struggling from the pressure I’d struck him with.

  I tried to slam my knee between his legs.

  I was too woozy and missed the vitals.

  A noise sounded behind me.

  A noise from a wild animal provoked from its den.

  Something bowled into both of us. A loud growl ripped through the blood pounding in my ears as Gil launched himself at the man, tackling me in the process.

  We all tumbled to painful gravel, legs knotted, lungs empty of air, arms and hands grabbing anything they could.

  A pair of strong arms ripped me from the attacker, tossing me to the side as the fight increased in violence.

  Rolling to my knees, sucking in hungry breaths, I gasped as Gil managed to get the guy flat on his back in a matter of seconds. With an angry huff, he pinned his shoulders to the floor as easily as if the guy had been a mere pest and not a threat to my life.

  He’d always been strong.

  But this—the way his nostrils flared, and his teeth clenched with aggression—he was a demigod with unlimited power. He could kill him with a single squeeze.

  My head pounded as my fists curled, wanting to hit the guy myself. Why wasn’t Gil hurting him? Why was his temper so controlled?

  The longest moment ticked by before Gil suddenly punched the gravel by the stranger’s head, then leapt to his feet.

  What the hell? He’s letting him go?

  Gil shook out his hand with a grimace, his anger hot and volatile, yet he didn’t deliver his wrath on the guy who deserved it.

  I scrambled to my feet, shaking away the rest of the stars. “Gil...wh-what are you doing?”

  He held up his hand, silencing me with a snarl. “Shut up, Olin. Just shut up. This doesn’t concern you.”

  The rage that’d been directed at the attempted kidnapper found a new target. I trembled with fire and ice. “What did you just say? This doesn’t concern me?” I threw my hands up, blood trickling from my palms from grappling on gravel. “He just tried to kidnap me!”

  The guy smirked, slowly climbing to his feet. He snickered under his breath as he kept his gaze on Gil’s. “You didn’t tell me you were with someone, Gilbert.”

  Gil squeezed his eyes for a second, his jaw working as if he chewed tough meat. “I’m not. She’s nobody. A mere inconvenience.”

  I wanted to curl around the explosion he caused in my chest.

  “She said to leave us alone.” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Us implies together.”

  “There is no us.” Gil’s hot, livid gaze found mine. “She’s just a model who won’t obey a simple instruction to stay the fuck away from me.”

  I stumbled backward.

  What?

  “You know I don’t put up with liars,” the guy muttered. “And I think you’re lying.”

  Gil’s hands curled by his sides, turning snowy white he clenched so hard. “There is no us. I promise you.”

  What the hell is going on?

  “I also don’t put up with arseholes who don’t keep their side of the bargain.” The guy cracked his knuckles. “You know that, don’t you, Gilbert.”

  Gil chewed some more, his throat working as he swallowed back words that strangled him. His eyes flashed with soul-deep hatred, but he looked at the ground, his head bowing in submission. “I know.”

  What is this?

  “Do you?” The guy rubbed his chin. “I’m not so sure you do.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. You’ve ensured I know explicitly.”

  “Prove it.” The guy raised his chin with challenge.

  Gil turned on me, fury dripping from his trembling body and agony glowing on his face. “Leave, Olin. I told you I wasn’t interested. I paid you for your time. What more do you fucking want from me, huh?”

  “Leave? You want me to leave?” I shook my head, pointing at my belongings strewn on the ground. “I’m not leaving you, Gil. I’ll grab my phone. We’ll call the police and have this bastard arrested.”

  “There is no we!” Gil snarled like a wolf.

  I flinched, backing up as his rage became a physical slap.

  “Go. I’m done with this.” Ripping his gaze from mine, he turned his attention to the guy. Gil was twice the man this wannabe kidnapper would ever be. His arms were double the size; his waist chiselled from granite compared.

  With the two so close, it was laughable to think Gil couldn’t kill his opponent with a single, well-placed punch.

  But every threat and warning vanished from Gil’s body. It no longer hummed with power. It hunched in humbleness.

  The way he stood with such suffocation and submission brought tears to my eyes.

  With a broad smile, spreading blood over white teeth, the kidnapper pulled back his arm, then slammed his fist with every ounce of strength into Gil’s belly.

  Gil groaned, but he didn’t go to his knees. He didn’t wrap arms around himself. He merely stood there and accepted the torture.

  I couldn’t stop myself.

  Dashing in front of Gil, I pushed the guy away. “Don’t touch him! Just go. Leave!” I glanced at his van, quickly memorising the number plate. The second he was gone, I’d call the police. He’d be tracked down and imprisoned so no one else had to deal with his level of crazy.

  Gil tossed me to the side, forcibly removing my protection. “For fuck’s sake, Olin.” His eyes flashed, reminding me all over again of the nastiness he was capable of. “I told you to go! Don’t make me hurt you.”

  You already did.

  His face shadowed with agonising things.

  The love he hid.

  The hate he nursed.

  I was lost.

  Utterly, totally lost.

  “Whatever is going on, Gil...walk away. Don’t stand there while he punishes you. At the very least, fight back!”

  His voice cracked with things I couldn’t understand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know enough to understand this isn’t right.”

  Shoving me away—just like he had when we were younger—he bared his teeth. “Go.”

  His face was blank, pure ice.

  No sign of salvation. No beg for help.

  I spread my hands helplessly. “Gil...come with me.”

  He shook his head and, pushing me resolutely to the side, bared himself to the kidnapper.

  With a savage smile, the man pounced on Gil as if they had a standing arrangement. Gil grunted as another blow landed.

  I shouted, “Stop it!”

  Neither man listened to me.

  I tried to protect Gil, but I wasn’t quick enough as another punch landed on
his jaw. He didn’t retaliate. Didn’t flinch. He stood stoic and broken even as fresh blood trickled from his cheekbone. He kept his head high as the man spun and kicked him in the stomach.

  This time, he did fall.

  “Stop it!”

  Slamming to one knee, he looked like a knight waiting for a sword to complete the sentence. But even on the ground before his attacker, he was undefeatable. He might not retaliate with violence, but his entire demeanour shouted invincible.

  Why is he doing this?

  Tears once again burned my eyes as the guy bent down and grabbed a fistful of Gil’s unruly hair. “You have three days.” He spoke with anger, spraying spit over Gil’s face.

  He flinched but didn’t try to get free. “Three days.” He nodded as if he’d struck a bargain written by the devil.

  The guy let him go, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t fuck up, Gilbert. You know what happens if you do.”

  Gil shut his eyes as if the consequences were too much to bear. “I know.”

  The guy sniffed as if annoyed at Gil’s obedience, swung another punch into his temple, and laughed as Gil crashed to the ground, unconscious.

  Chapter Eleven

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  I RAN.

  The second the guy stepped away, I bolted to Gil’s unconscious form and fell to his side. “Don’t you dare come near us again,” I hissed, cradling Gil’s head on my lap, my knees on fire from skidding on gravel, my heart a drum in every extremity.

  The guy shook out his sore knuckles from punching the one person I’d do anything for. “There’s that dangerous word again.” He grinned. “Us.”

  “Fuck off,” I spat.

  I didn’t care that he might try to kidnap me again. I didn’t stop to think about my safety. All I cared about was helping the boy I’d always helped. Patching up his wounds and repairing his injuries. The boy who’d always helped me in return.

  This was a role I was used to.

  This was a man I would defend until the end.

  “I’d be careful if I were you, sweetheart.” The guy backed toward his vehicle. “Those associated with Gilbert always have a habit of getting hurt.” Blowing me a kiss and looking at Gil with a sneer, he chuckled. “I’ll be seeing ya.”