☢

I was waiting outside on my porch swing the next night for Bomber to show up and take me to see his bother. It was a cloudy summer evening, grey heavy rain clouds hung over the setting sun like smokey omen. At breakfast my mother had made a comment about how the Heavens were bound to open up later but they'd held out all day. I couldn't help but think that it was a bad sign. The air was sticky and humid and my tank top was already sticking to my back despite the shower I'd taken less than an hour ago. I wiped my sweaty palms my on yellow Nike shorts for the third time since I'd stepped outside. 

My heart was pounding in my chest. I'd gotten somewhat  used to conversing with Bomber, as fucked up as that sounded even in my own head. His navy eyes and teasing comments were irritating but disarming and sometimes I was able to push the reason I knew him back somewhere deep and dark in my mind and ignore it. At least, I could ignore it for a little while. 

Lethal was different though. I didn't know him beyond his darkness. He was the one who had looked me in the eye that night Randy was shot. He was the face that I pictured in the dark corner of my room when I woke in a cold sweat, feeling like I couldn't breathe with the coppery bitter taste of blood on my tongue. I felt his dark phantom gaze linger like the humidity of the impending summer storm while I took showers at 3 am to try and rid myself of the crimson spots that I felt on skin. 

In complete honesty, the thought of seeing him again, in the flesh, it terrified me. I tried to assure myself that Bomber would be there, and then I worried again because I shouldn't feel safe with Bomber either. I didn't feel safe with him, not always. 

The sound of a car pulling on the street pulled my from my anxious thoughts. I didn't feel anymore relaxed when a dark, tinted car finally pulled up at the end of my driveway. It looked monstrous and menacing next to my little Mini Cooper. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to try and gather myself. When I opened them a women was coming towards me. 

She was intimidating. That was my first though as I saw her. In looks, but also in the presence she exuded. She had deep, glowing dark skin. Her hair was a wine red, braided and up in a messy bun up on the top of her head. It looked as if she'd just thrown it up there to get it out of the way for sex, or to kick some ass, I couldn't tell which it was but either way I envied her. I wasn't doing either of those anytime soon. 

"Annie Oakley?" she asked and as if she couldn't get anymore intimidating, she had an accent. It sounded French.

"Ainsley, actually." I corrected too quietly for her to hear.

I had held my own against the six-foot-four Vinny, and two formidable assassins, guns pressed against my spine and knives at my throat. Yet this woman made my voice squeaky as she was nothing short of a goddess. A goddess of darkness and war, or lust and chaos, but a goddess none the less. 

"Pardon?" she said that one word in a way that made me wonder wether I was correcting her or she was correcting me.

"It's Ainsley, not Annie." My voice was a little louder and I was sure she heard me the second time, but she didn't respond.

The woman pursed her plush lips, "I'm here to pick you up."

"Sorry, I think there is some mistake. I'm waiting for someone else."

"There is no mistake." 

When I made no move or any kind of response she narrowed her eyes, "Boss sent me, he obviously had something better to do. As do I so if you don't mind," she gestured to the sleek black vehicle behind her. The windows were tinted. I swallowed hard and tried to bottle up the panic boiling over deep in my stomach. 

"I'm- he never mentioned that anyone else would be picking me up." 

She raised an eyebrow at me, "And he tells you everything does he? I told you, Bomber has better things to do. His day does not revolve around little girls. Now get in the car willingly or I'll have to make you and trust me hun, I'd have no qualms with that. In fact I'd love a reason to mark up that pretty face." 

Nervousness churned in my gut. What if it wasn't Bomber who sent her? But I hadn't told her who I was waiting for and she mentioned Bomber's name. Still, it didn't seem like I had much of a choice. I had no doubt her toned, athletic build could combat any move my noodle-slim frame could come up with. Not to mention she was probably trained to take down grown men if she worked for Bomber and Lethal. 

Slowly I stood up from the porch swing I had been perched on, it swayed a little and bumped into the soft flesh at the back of my knees. I swallowed the lump in throat and made my way down the steps. The woman jerked her head in the direction of the vehicle that was still vibrating at the end of the black tarmac. Down the street I heard the shriek of some little kids in the neighborhood playing on their bikes, but there was no one else around as witness. No one would know where I was. I didn't even know where I was going. 

I glanced up one last time, as the woman opened the back door for me. The sky was getting darker, whether from the impending night or storm I couldn't tell. Either way, the street lights were bound to come on soon. I slipped into the car and the door slammed in my face. The heat of the black leather seats hit the back of my thighs that immediately began to cling to my sticky flesh. 

The brief silence ate at me until the lithe figure entered through the driver's side door. 

"What's your name?" I asked looking at her through the review mirror. She was stiff in the from  seat and definitely seemed irritated she'd been tasked with picking me up, her grip on the steering wheel tight.

Believe me I'd rather it wasn't you either, I thought to myself.

I received no reply as she reached across the seat into the passenger side glove box and pulled out a dark sash. She tossed it at me and it hit my chest before it slithered into my lap, "Put this on."

I had no doubt she felt that this was beneath her, that I was beneath her. I didn't often feel intimidated by other women, I was fairly confident in my own skin or at least I fake it till I make.

"I-I, what do you mean?" I asked, not wanting to pick up the sash. I knew what it was, at least I had an idea. It was a blind fold and I hated that I wasn't expecting it. 

Her jaw clenched, "Cover your eyes and tie it tight. Don't make me do it for you."

Silence hung around us as my trembling hands reached it. It took me a while to secure the blindfold and I felt the tension rising with each passing moment and I felt relief as I finally got the knot right. 

"Cellar." I heard her say as I felt the car pull forward and away from the curb. 

For a moment I was confused, but then I realized she must tab telling me her name. Well, assumed that wasn't her real name, much like Bomber's name wasn't truly Bomber. However, I didn't make the mistake of asking this time though. I doubted I'd walk away from her with my throat still in tact this time. 

☢

The first thing I noticed upon entering the shabby looking house was that it was the same place I was taken the first time boys took me. The second thing I noticed was that it didn't smell as bad. In fact, it smelt like artificial strawberries. Underneath the sweet smell was the heavy, musky scent from before, but it wasn't nearly as bad. 

Cellar led me to the left and we entered the familiar living-kitchen area that I was held in. There was the radiator I was cuffed and a new stain on the floor to add to the myriad of others from where I threw up. 

Suddenly a wave of relief hit me as my eyes settled on a familiar person. I hated that just the sight of him eased my anxiety, even if it was slightly. He was sitting in a fold out chair that was set up next to the nasty floral couch and watching some sport game on the T.V. He was dressed casually, dirty blonde hair tussled as though he'd let it air dry after a shower and never bothered to style it. It was such an average activity, such an unthreatening pose, that I was almost disarmed by him completely. I almost forgot why I was so nervous to be here in the first place. 

Then I noticed the pocket knife, if you could even call it that it was so large, he kept flicking open and closed absentmindedly. For some reason I just knew it was the blade he'd held at my throat that night. 

"This is what kept you from picking me up?" I asked as I entered the room, Bomber's gaze shifted to me instantly and he grinned, stretching the scar on his face. 

He paused his flicking of the knife and it remained open, glinting off the light from the T.V. "Ah sugar, as sweet as ever."

"You're literally in pajamas." I snapped and he frowned indignantly and looked down as his t-shirt and grey sweatpants. 

"It's called being comfy. Not everyone has a stick up there ass all the time, am I right Cells?" He asked Cellar as she walked into the room. She glared at him, but didn't reply and I couldn't help but stifle a smile at her compete dismissal of him. He didn't seem bothered by it though, if anything he enjoyed it. 

She definitely didn't seem like the type to enjoy Bomber's jovial attitude. I could see her being more of a Lethal than a Bomber.  

I watched her as she walked over to the counter and leaned against the wall next to it. A stance that should have been relaxing still looked stiff and tense on her frame and I felt unnerved as I felt her black eyes settle on me and remain fixed. I cleared my throat slightly and looked down at the floor. I knew it was a submissive move, but sometimes it was best people thought you were submissive and I felt like this was a situation where I should be. If there was anything i had learnt from my experiences so far it was that you had to pick your battles. The reality was I was not in charge here. My life and that of my family's hung in the balance. When I glanced up again it was to find Bomber standing only two feet away from me and I let out a started yelp. 

"What is wrong with you!" I growled and couldn't stop myself from instinctively reaching out to shove him away, my hands palming his chest for a brief moment. He swayed a little for my benefit and then smirked. 

"What do you think of the smell?"

"Smell?" I asked, confused. 

"I got that glaze air freshener we talked about."

Surprise lit up my face and he chuckled, "You don't have to say thank you. I know you already are." Suddenly his face changed, "Ready to meet the Big Bad Wolf, Little Red?" 

I gulped at the formidable tone of his voice. Right now? Didn't I get a moment to gather my thoughts, gather my wits?

"I-I-" 

Bomber nodded towards the entrance way, one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other still wielding the knife, "Through that doorway, and down the hall. Last door on your right." 

"You- you're not coming with me?" I hated the way my voice wavered slightly, but I had assumed that Bomber would be there when talked to Lethal. He seemed to be just as in charge of things as his brother was or at least that was how he had portrayed himself. 

His face was serious as asked me, "Do you want me to?" 

No. Yes. Maybe. 

"Because you shouldn't." he said and I froze at the darkness that had swallowed the teasing glint in his eyes, he slowly started forward and I stumbled back until I hit the wall, "I'm not any better than the man behind that door, darling." 

"I just thought-"

"I know what you thought, and I'm telling you- No, I'm reminding you not to trust me. Not to trust anyone." 

I could feel the eyes of Cellar watching on, but I couldn't look away from Bomber. I was so close I could feel his cool minty breath, could count the freckles on his cheeks or the lashes on his lids. I was so close I was sure that the thumping of the bloody muscle in my chest must of sounded like the beat of hunting drum. 

"I don't trust you." I choked out. 

He eyes me, studied me. 

I screamed as his hand came up and slammed against the wall right next to head so quickly that some strands of hair fluttered against my cheek. My eyes pinched closed and tremors racked my body as struggled to hold back tears. 

"Good girl." he whispered right against my cheek. 

This- this was the Bomber I'd be scared of that night. this was the Bomber who killed people. Why did I keep trying to forget that?

A slight stinging on my ear dragged me out of the darkest corner in my mind and when I reopened my eyes Bomber had taken a step back. He was glaring at me, both hands empty and fisted at his side, a warning in his eyes and I looked to my right. 

The knife was embedded deep into the plaster of the wall, cutting through the wall paper and grim like butter. I hadn't realized I'd reached for my stinging ear until my hand pulled away. I glanced down. 

It was blood. 

He'd caught the tip of my ear with the knife. 

Chaos swarmed my veins. 

"Follow me." 

☢

A/N- Not me updating instead of studying for finals... I guess we found out what motives me! 

What did we think of this chapter lovelies? 

Bomber was a little scary, eh? He doesn't want us to forget who he is!