Page 22 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 11

Nate

She jumps up from the table like a scared little mouse when Daveed and Mike barge into the room, both of their arms loaded with bags full of supplies. They barely acknowledge her existence, only casting a quick side glance in her direction before they drop the bags onto the table.

"Think this will do," Daveed announces, before he rips the zipper of one of the larger bags open.

The girl's eyes are glued on him when he reaches inside, producing a semi-automatic pistol and some extra magazines that he tosses on the table top right in front of her. Just what I ordered, an easy to conceal and quickly reloadable handgun, one for each of us.

The girl jerks back, her eyes widening in terror as her grip tightens around the mug of tea in her tiny hands.

Daveed notices her distress, but it's no reason for him to slow down or show any kind of consideration toward her. On the contrary, he regards her with a sinister smile as he retrieves another semi-automatic from the bag, placing it right in front of her nose.

"She afraid of guns or what?" he snarls, and Mike joins in with his vile laughter.

"Leave her alone," I growl. I get up from my chair and approach the table, placing myself between her and the guys while my eyes rest on the supplies they are depositing on the table. I ignore her terrified quivering for the time being and focus on the task at hand.

"Good job," I praise while weighing the pistol in my hands, watching as they produce more and more rounds, magazines, and even some silencers.

"What else you got? Food? Clothes?"

They both nod and Mike points toward the door.

"Still in the car," he says. "We have enough for four, five days, I'd say. Food, some drinks, clothes for her."

I can see the girl moving from the corner of my eyes, fiddling with the odd-fitting sweatpants I gave her to wear. I hope whatever clothes the guys brought will be a better fit than this unflattering get-up. She looks like a kid in those clothes.

"Let's hope we only need two days’ worth," I say. If the meeting with our boss goes well and we manage to convince him of our new plan with Onyx, then we'll be heading out to a different hiding place, one that is much nicer than this.

If not... then we'll be back here right away, trying to figure out how to save our asses as fast as possible.

"Well, that will depend on her," Daveed says, pointing a finger at the frightened girl. "You never shot a gun before?"

Her charcoal eyes travel up to me before she looks back at him, slowly shaking her head.

"I...I've never seen a gun before," she stutters.

"For fuck's sake!" Mike exclaims, raising his eyebrows at me.

"I don't like this." Daveed turns to me, his hands resting at his hips while he shakes his head. "How the fuck are we going to get her to an acceptable level within two days if we're starting with this, with nothing?"

Mike doesn't say a word, but I can tell by the look on his face that he agrees with Daveed. I can't blame him. I can't blame either of them. They have every right to doubt this, especially because the matter is not in their hands. This girl, Malia, is so far from being ready that it seems impossible to get her to play the part we need her to in time. She may look like Lailah, but she shares none of the qualities that made her so desirable.

I can't help the pained grimace spreading across my face as I face the ugly truth. And she only makes it worse by trembling when I step closer to her, my hand resting on her dainty shoulder when I turn back to the guys.

"And yet, she's our only chance. Let's not forget about that," I insist. "We can either give up right now and either be dead or on the run for the rest of our lives, or we can give it a few more days and try to make this work."

Daveed snorts. "Just look at her! She looks like fucking Bambi whose mother just got shot. Never seen a gun before in her life, probably a fucking virgin, too–"

"Hey!" I cut him off with a thundering shout. "I know you don't know how to be a gentleman around ladies, but at least try to imitate one once in a while, will ya’?"

A morbid glare is all I get from Daveed as a response. I'll fucking take it, if it means he leaves it be.

The girl's cheeks are glowing bright red as she slouches in the chair, her shoulders so tense and up to her ears that she looks even smaller than she already is. She's breathing heavily, her small chest heaving erratically. But just when I fear that she's about to hyperventilate or start crying again, she takes in a deep, long breath and raises her chin, defiance flickering in her raven gaze.

"I'm not a virgin," she insists, even though hot shame burns across her angry expression. "I don't know why it matters whether I am or not, or why it has anything to do with me being able to shoot a gun, but I am not a virgin."

She pauses before she looks up at me, her face softening before she concludes, "And I can learn. If you want me to learn how to shoot, I will."

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