Page 21 of Pretty Monsters

"Yeah, in case anyone loses a key, or if there's an emergencies."

"Are those emergencies usually only in the apartments of single women?" Lucien asks, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Sin.

It appears the manager does not possess the ability to sense a threat when it is standing in front of him. The mannerisms of both Sin and Lucien switch to mirrors of each other. Both men seem coiled tight and ready to pounce on their unsuspecting prey.

He shrugs. "You know how women are. There's always an emergency."

"Do you live on the property?" Sin asks.

Shaking his head, making his fleshy cheeks wiggle with the movement, he replies. "Nah, there's three properties run by my employer. I live in one on the other side of town."

"You will never stop by here unannounced, and we will change the locks. You will not have a key until we move out." Lucien peels an extra hundred off the limited funds we have, and extends it to him.

The lust in his eyes converts to greed, but he still registers no awareness how much danger they present to him. His big, meaty hand reaches for the cash and he nods. With a sigh, he gives me one last look, and leaves the keys on the counter.

He exits the room, leaving a lingering odor of sweat and processed meat.

"We need to go to the store. Can Raven and I drop you off at the bar?" Sin asks.

Lucien nods and hands the truck keys to Sin.

* * *

Sin turnsinto the parking lot of Fallen Angels, pulling as close to the door as possible. There are a few cars parked, from old beaters to luxury sedans. An obscene neon sign of a naked woman with wings sits on top of the building. Turns out the bar is actually a strip club.

A tatted up boulder of a man stands guard outside the door. When Lucien approaches he assesses him with a shrewdness I've only seen in the eyes of Lucien and Sin. Not that I've seen a lot of men. Perhaps most of them view the world through eyes of a predator.

"Close your mouth, princess. A job is a job."

My eyes snap to Sin. His jaw is clenched and his fingers squeeze the wheel like he's trying to strangle it. It reminds me of my brother's comment the previous day.You don't need to learn about life at the hands of a killer.

My entire life I've felt alone, and to be honest, I resented my brother for being the one they kept while I was sent away. In the few short days I spent under my father's roof I started to see I knew less about my family than I'd imagined.

Despite the warning, I can't bring myself to fear Sin. Yes, he's clearly lethal. Oddly, that particular quality makes me feel safe. The only part of me I feel threatened by him is my heart. I feel myself needing to reach out to him, but he will probably disappear in a haze of smoke.

He shifts the truck into gear and peels out of the lot. "Let's go pick up whatever girly shit you need from the store."

"I'd hardly call cleaning supplies 'girly shit'."

The corner of his mouth quirks up, but he forces his expression back to the blank mask he usually wears.

He's become more withdrawn as the miles increased between us and Devil's Crossing. I've been biting my tongue, knowing even if he or Lucien could answer the questions I have, they likely wouldn't. No one ever feels the need to let me know what direction my life is headed. Whether they know it or not, there's a countdown on the time I'm willing to go along with their plan. Eighteen years is long enough to wait to live.

Using his phone for directions, we find a Target several miles from the rundown neighborhood we will be calling home for the foreseeable future. He taps his thumb on the steering wheel after he's parked in a far corner of the lot.

"Couldn't find a closer spot?" The lot is about half full, and yet he pulls into a desolate spot in the far corner of the lot.

"I don't want the truck to appear on security cameras. If we are discovered, I'd like to be able to use it at least until we can find another one. The last thing we need is to drive a stolen vehicle and risk getting pulled over."

I'm not going to argue with him. It's clear he has more skills at evasion than I do. My mouth turns down when my mind drifts to what other skills he possesses that I don't. After all, he's twenty-one and hasn't spent his entire life in virtual storage.

"If I ask you to wait in the truck, would you?" he asks.

I stare directly into his dark eyes. They're unreadable, a brown so dark they are nearly black. "That depends. Do you have any idea what household items we need to get that pit of an apartment to be something we can actually live in."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Fine, but you do as I say."

"Sounds like every day of my life."

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