The Arrangement 22 (The Arrangement 22)

“She dies.” Sean’s voice is cold and resolute. “We find her after this, and end it.”

Mel nods, says nothing. An icy calm overtakes the room, as we all stand there, none of us ready to do this. Mel finally says, “I need to shower and change. Hopefully, this is the last time we ever have to stand in front of Black for anything.”

CHAPTER 12

Mel walks over to a rack in the back of the storage room draped with a plastic garment bag. She unzips the side and flicks through a few dresses before selecting something simple. It’s a black cocktail dress with a low neckline, spaghetti straps, and a tulip skirt that falls mid-thigh on Mel. On me, it’d hang to my knees.

Mel tips her head to the side indicating I should pick something out. “Go on. I know you don’t have a stash anywhere.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“Sure.” Her tone is dark, intense, “Make sure you can run in whatever you pick out. I want to strap a knife to you, too.” She flicks her gaze at Sean, and he nods. Mel wasn’t asking. It’s as if she suspects things won’t go as planned, and, of the lot of us, I’m the weakest link. Henry can buy his way out of trouble. Mel’s a street fighter. Sean is Sean. Marty is a black ops agent. Gabe’s a cop. I’ve got no real defensive skills, and the center of my chest aches because I wouldn’t be standing here with these people if I did. If I could hold my own, I’d be a different person.

Mel’s gone without another word. We can’t even hear her footfalls as she wanders down the hall. That woman is part cat. I rush after her, calling out, “Mel wait.”

I rush out of the storage room and find her at the end of the hall, waiting. “What?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” I jog up next to her and sigh. “With the knife—what’s the best way to use it to take someone down?”

“Avery, if you pull that knife then you strike to kill. There’s no other option. You can’t use it as a threat or you’ll end up with a bullet in your head.”

I swallow hard and feel my gut twist. Wringing my hands, I look her in the eye and shake off the pinpricks of fear crawling up my back. I throw my hands down to my sides, refusing to be afraid. “I don’t intend for it to be a threat. I need to know. What do I do?”

Mel’s tiger-eyes sweep over me as if deciding something. She holds out her brush in her right hand, pretending it’s a knife. “You want to hold it like this. There will be more force in your blows. You can’t hold back a damned thing. If the blade hits bone—it’s around the entire ribcage—then you lose. It’s that simple. Use your body, not just your arm.” She shows me a few ways to fend someone off. “But when the shit hits the fan, and you have seconds to live, you aim for the weak spots, striking them hard and fast.” She points to a few spots on my legs where the knife would do the most damage, then demonstrates how to avoid the spray of blood if I kill someone. “You may have more than one attacker, and if you get hot blood in your eyes, you’re dead. Get it?” Her words sound clipped, like the conversation itself is painful.

I nod. “Mel, I’m—”

She steps in my face, and I back into the wall with a thud. “If you apologize, I’m going to bitchslap you. Fault and blame don't matter. It’s a war, and you’re the prize. If they live, you don’t. There’s not a fucking thing to be sorry about.”

Mel steps back and glances to the side. After a moment of silence, she opens her mouth like she wants to say more, but thinks better of it. Mel shuts her mouth and stalks off down the dark hall, disappearing from sight.

CHAPTER 13

I grab a dress, perfume, makeup, and anything else I need to get ready for tonight. I'll either succeed or die in the outfit I choose for this evening. I want to feel powerful, so I take out the dress that speaks to me. It’s a clingy white sheath reaching just below my knee. The fabric stretches so I can move. The front neckline gently swoops and flows over my shoulders into a deep V, extending past the small of my back. Twin straps keep the loose cloth securely in place.

After I tug it on, shimmying through the snug hips, I turn and jump. Sean is standing in the doorway to the girl’s shower, his eyes dark. The intense look on his face makes my skin prickle. He doesn’t move. He remains in the threshold, frozen.

“Sean?” I say his name softly and pad barefoot toward him, stopping a step short of touching him.

The muscles in his neck and jaw are tense despite his casual stance. If I didn’t know better, I'd think he was afraid. Sean tips his head to the side, leaning it against the doorjamb. “I could hide you.”

I turn and walk back to the counter where I have my hairbrush, blow-dryer, and makeup spread out. I lift the brush and pull it through my wet hair. “I don’t want to live like that, Sean, jumping at every sound. As it is, I barely sleep.”

His voice is deep, gentle. “This will change you, Avery. If you make it to the other side, the woman looking back at you in the mirror will no longer exist.”

“It’s a necessary risk.” I say the words, but they ring hollow. Sean’s right, but I can’t accept it. I don’t even want to think about it.

“You only say that because you have no idea what it’s like to live on the other side.”

Turning on my heel I squint at him, annoyed. “Yes, I do. I've already murdered someone. Remember? Maybe it was nothing to you, but it still makes me sick.”

He steps toward me, his firm body towering over mine. “That’s what I mean. You killed him with a gun, and you feel this way. Imagine if you kill with your hands. That sensation never goes away. It’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

I turn back to the mirror, and pull the brush through another section of hair, detangling it as I go. “It’s a necessary risk.”

Anger flashes in his eyes. “That’s bullshit.”

Something inside me snaps and I round on him, pointing the brush at his face as I spew out sharp words. “Bullshit? Bullshit! You know what’s bullshit? Leaving a person you care about trapped in the hands of two sociopaths!”

Sean flinches as if slapped. “My mother? You’re mad about that?”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m disgusted. I can’t fathom leaving my parents behind for any reason ever—even to save you. And if I was ever pushed to make such a sickening decision, I sure as hell would have been more torn up about it!”

He’s in my face, hissing, “You think it doesn’t bother me? You think that decision didn’t rip me apart?”

“No, you barely looked at her!”

Sean’s eyes soften. His voice becomes tempered, even. “She’s alive, Avery. It shocked the hell out of me. Then again, it doesn’t. Do you know why I was able to walk away?”

“You shouldn’t have left her there.” I try to turn away, but he grabs my arm tightly and yanks me in front of him.

Growling, he locks his eyes on mine, his body ready to fight, “I left her there because it's entirely possible all this shit fell this way because of her—that she’s one of them.”

My jaw drops as I gape at him, unable to speak.

Sean tugs my arm, snapping, “Don’t give me that look.”

My lips quickly curve into a sneer. “Sean, how could you say that?”

“How could you miss it? She’s a snake and always has been. Human nature isn’t that complicated, Avery. My mother will do what she’s always done—watch out for herself. She doesn’t give a

flying fuck about you, me, or anyone but herself. That’s a truth I accepted a long time ago. It’s something you don’t seem to understand, and I’m not going to let you find out the hard way that my mother is a sadistic bitch.”

I try to pull my arm away and stomp on his toes, but Sean holds my wrist tighter. I wind up and pitch my hairbrush at him, but he deflects it, letting the thing clatter to the tiled floor. The yellow lights above pulse slowly like a generator kicked on. Sean pushes me back to the cold tile wall and pins me in place. His gaze is hungry, desperate.

“Tell me you trust me. With everything, not just sex.” He leans his body into mine, crushing me. He’s so warm, so tense. His scent fills my lungs as I try to twist away and shove him off, but I’m trapped. His sapphire gaze won’t leave my face even though I attempt looking somewhere else. When I don’t reply, he lifts his arm and presses his forearm across my chest and then slides it up to the base of my neck.

He watches me, knowing I hate the sensation of being trapped. Sweat forms on my brow, and it’s getting harder to breathe under his weight. “Avery, say it. I need to know either way.”

I close my eyes and turn my face away from him. He releases me, and I spring, full charge, rushing at him, pushing him back into the sink so that he trips backward. I grab the hot curling iron and hold it over his face, pinning him with his back arched backward until his shoulders touch the counter.

“It’s not nice to make people tell you things they want to keep private.” I feel crazy. Where is this coming from? What the hell am I doing? It’s like my emotional compass exploded and ruined my ability to think.

Sean’s shock flutters away after a moment. When he looks away from the hot rod just above his eyelash and glances at me, barely breathing. “When other people depend on you, facts make a difference. If I knew how tonight would play out, I wouldn’t press you, but I don’t know a goddamn thing. Unless you’re going to burn me, I suggest you put that down right now.”