That Was Then (The Re-Do Series Book 1) (6 page)

K
endall

I share the big news with Charlie and Courtney that night. My friends are lounging in the colorful sofas with a platter of Oreos before them. Courtney always complains that she has to go on a “
fast food fast
” before she comes to my apartment.

All I have to offer is junk food. But don’t feel sorry for them! Both my cousin and my best friend brought platters of healthy ‘alternatives’ in an effort to persuade me to the healthy food side. Platters which they are currently ignoring in favor of my Oreos.

So ha!

“Tell us everything!” Charlie insists as she kicks up her feet and tucks them beneath her.

Courtney agrees.

“It was just… so casual. He asked me to dinner and I said yes.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t as cut and dry as that.” Courtney frowns.

I think of my ridiculously ill-fitting maid outfit and my unsuccessful snooping in Alistair’s room. There is a
lot
more to the story but if I tell Courtney and Charlie everything, they’ll just freak out on me.

I’ve already done my own wigging out, thank you very much.

“That’s basically it,” I insist.

Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Look at you!” Courtney pokes me in the stomach, “going on your first date in… how long has it been?”

“Three years.”

“Oh yeah,” Charlie runs a hand through her hair, “the last guy you were into was that idiot from the bank, right?”

“Hey, he was nice.” I try to defend my poor boyfriend choices.

“He was a jerk!” Charlie cries, “he was only concerned with his appearance.”

“I lost a bunch of weight when I was with him,” I try to help, but from the looks the girls shoot me, I know I’ve failed.

“You are perfectly healthy.” Charlie rages.

Courtney shoves me in the face with a tasseled pillow.

“Yeah! I mean, you could stand to eat a little better, but your metabolism is way higher than mine. I can’t even sniff a stick of chocolate without blowing up!”

“What are you
talking
about!” I shriek. “You are absolutely incapable of blowing up!”

And so we descend into a long, convoluted compliment competition. It goes on for a few minutes.

When we’ve exhausted every positive comment than can possibly be squeezed into one conversation, the girls and I lean back.

“This guy,” Charlie begins, “what do you know about him? Like
really
know about him?”

“His name, his room number, and…” I rattle off the top of my head.

“Not that,” Charlie interrupts. “I mean, what do you
know
. We get impressions about people from the moment we meet them. Things about their character and personality that seep through if you’re looking. What do you know so far?”

I close my eyes and think of our first meeting.

“He’s kind of brusque,” I admit, “a little cocky.”

I recall the way he slammed the kitchen door in my face and then leaned over me with concern. “But when you get beyond the surface, he’s caring.” I touch the bandage at my neck. “He’s kind and respectful.”

“That’s nice,” Courtney sighs, “I wish I could find a cute guy like that.”

We laugh, but Charlie pursues the topic.

“Seriously though, keep your eyes open. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my dad, it’s that guys are really good at showing girls their screensavers. Marriage and hard times are the only things that shake the mouse and reveal their true character. Make sure you do your homework on who Alistair really is.”

“I will,” I assure her. “Uncle Henry taught me a little something-something too, you know.”

Charlie smiles and rubs her hands together like a villain from an old film. 

“I hope so. Because if this guy turns out to be a sicko, he won’t know what hit him.”

I laugh heartily.

“I’ll keep that in mind, cuz.”

Charlie winks. “You better.”

The girls leave a few hours later. We’ve all got work tomorrow. Plus, Charlie will be MIA most of the weekend because
Dust and Ashes
is making a quick stop in Belize before their world tour continues.

I prepare for bed and find that my mind is
still
revolving around Alistair Howard. Even though some of my questions have been answered, there are quite a few more rattling around in my brain.

Like why he randomly travels with wicked-looking daggers?

Why did he check into the hotel under a false name?

Why did he pay with cash?

I recall Serachi’s warning. The grumpy chef called Alistair ‘dangerous’. I’m starting to believe that he may very well be.

I like this guy.

Well, I think he’s hot. So, I’m incredibly attracted to this guy. But I’m not so desperate for male attention that I’m going in blind. Valentine’s Day has a way of infecting people, infusing them with this crazy desire to be a half of a couple.

That has never been me.

I might be miserably single around this time of year, but I’m not so dissatisfied that I want to walk into a dangerous situation. The way I did this evening when I snuck into a private room.

That’s
never happening again.

Determined to learn more about Alistair, and this time for less creepy-stalker-related reasons, I boot up my laptop. While I’m waiting for the machine to load, I set my kettle on the stove and prepare a cup of tea.

While the water warms, I plug in my password and log onto Google. I type Alistair’s real name into the search engine and am nearly overwhelmed by news articles.

TRAGIC DEATH OF COUPLE IN COUNTRYSIDE

FIRE BURNS TWO, LEAVES TODDLER AN ORPHAN

I quickly slam the laptop closed. Shame creeps up my back and secures its perch on my shoulder as I realize what those words mean. Poor Alistair. I wish I hadn’t prodded into his personal life.

Someone’s tragic past isn’t any of my business. I admit I might have not been so sensitive had it been some random person that I didn’t know.

But this is different. If Alistair wants to tell me the details of his parent’s death, then it should come from him.

I manage to shove the computer away before my curiosity overpowers my decency. The tea is a welcome distraction as the brief revelation parades through my mind.

What a terrible way to lose your family.

No wonder Alistair moved around a lot. I could only imagine how hard it must have been for him to go through life without his parents.

Growing up the child of a divorced couple was hard, I’m not gonna lie. Like all the other kids who have to watch their families break apart, I struggled with insecurities. Was it my fault? Could I have held my family together?

In the end, my parents did their best to reassure me of their love. It was not my fault (although it took me years to realize it). I didn’t have to carry that weight.

Through it all, I had two parents who cared deeply about me. And when my mom remarried, I had three. My mom and dad weren’t together but at least they were alive. I kind of wish I wasn’t so whiny about the separation now.

I toss the mug into the drainer to wash later and pad to my bedroom. Laying down in the darkness, all I can think about is a young boy without his parents.

I clear my throat and shoot a request up to the Big Guy. I’m not a religious person, but I pray most nights if I’m not too tired. I think Alistair deserves a little shout out tonight.

“Keep him safe,” I whisper before my eyes fall shut and I tumble into sweet sleep.

A
listair

When it comes to women, I usually steer clear. I learned quite early on in life that people can leave suddenly. Death is the only certainty. It is better to be prepared for it, than to believe it is somehow out of reach.

It was why I accepted the missions and exterminated the targets. It was why, for a time, I saw nothing wrong with my decisions. I was meeting a need, supplying my skills, and making good money along the way.

Two years ago, I was a trigger-happy, killing machine. I jumped at a chance to go on missions and broke away from the Brotherhood to fulfill my insatiable need to kill. I felt privileged to roam on my own.

All I had to do was throw a knife, shoot a gun, drain poison into a drink. I was Death’s messenger and I felt no remorse for my actions. Only the strong will survive in this world. I was determined to be the strongest.

Until I realized that I was not. I realized that I had become, in truth, the weakest version of myself. The assassin’s league was all I had known, all that made sense to me. Yet it was a shallow existence filled with paranoia and mistrust.

It was then that I gave it all up, escaped to the recesses of the world to try and forget. I had suddenly found my conscience and the weight of each of my kills kept me from peace.

I was destined to die by the very sword that I had lived by, and yet the burden of what I had done was draining the life out of me.

I am a coward. I accept this, understand that in the eyes of everyone but Damien, Tatum and the Caribbean Brotherhood, I am a disgrace to the league.

Shadow may be anyone, but if he succeeds in his plot of vengeance, he acts for assassins everywhere, for the families of those I’ve slain, for the side of justice.

We live by the sword. We die by the sword. No matter how deeply we regret all the fathers, brothers, and sons we have taken.

These are the thoughts circling in my mind as I prepare for my outing with Kendall. They are sobering reflections. I have serious doubts even as I climb into my rental car. Kendall is a settling down kind of woman. She deserves someone who can be that man for her.

I am the farthest thing from that man.

And yet, I don’t press the brakes. I don’t turn the car around. Because I am as selfish as I am cowardly. I am drawn to Kendall Villanueva by a force not even I can understand. Staying away from her would be too self-less and I am not that good of a man.

The highway is relatively traffic-free as I drive down the lanes of the brightly lit city. I asked Kendall to choose the restaurant, since I’m not too familiar with the established eateries in the city. Assassins stay low. Flaunting our presence in well-known restaurants is not our style.

Kendall decided on
Paparrazi’s
. I’ve passed the establishment many times so I park before the box-shaped, ivy covered building in record time. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I exit the car and shrug the flaps of my blazer properly unto my shoulder.

I paired the blue jacket with a white polo and black jeans. Earlier in my hotel room, I grabbed a bunch of clothes that seemed to match and threw them on. I nursed second thoughts about my appearance several times before I walked out of the suite.

If Damien could see me now, he would nag me to no end and it would not be unmerited.

I’ve cut mercenaries down with a sharp dagger and a flick of my wrists. Driven warriors to their knees with the accuracy of my shot. Dragged mob bosses to the grave with a bow and an arrow. I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain without breaking a sweat. But coming up against Kendall Villanueva has me flapping my jacket to breeze out my armpits.

I press the fob and listen to the chirp that ensues.

“Alright, I got this,” I whisper.

As soon as I enter
Paparrazi’s
, I’m overwhelmed by the noise. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow which can account for the general chaos of the dining room. Uncomfortable with a room this populated, I back away and nearly stumble upon a beautiful woman in a red dress.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

I glance into her eyes and feel my heart beat quickening within my chest.

“Kendall?”

“Hi,” she smiles, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “I’m sorry I’m late. My car needed to be coaxed before she could start.”

I nod mutely.

I’ve only had a handful of meetings with the beautiful Belizean. Every single time, Kendall had her hair up and wore a minimal amount of makeup. Tonight, this is not the case.

Kendal’s curly hair is spilling over her shoulders in tight brown ringlets. The curls are so mesmerizing that my hand itches to touch. She’s wearing something that darkens her eyes and draws attention to the cheerful color of her irises.

Her plump lips are ringed in a soft pink shade. Though the makeup is light and subtle, the dress demands attention. Thin straps lead to a snug bodice and a flowing skirt that stops at the knees. The heels she wears are sexy as all get out.

I’m speechless.

“Are you okay?”

She places a delicate hand on my arm. My eyes trace the point where her fingers make contact with the blazer. I need to swallow. I need to breathe. Breathing is important.

“I’m fine.” I clear my throat and stuff my hands into my packets.

Kendall glances about the busy room. “I didn’t expect the place to be this full, but then I haven’t been out in a while.”

She gazes down self-consciously.

“Right.”

When will I be capable of more than one-word answers?

Pull it together, man
.

“Do you want to stay? It’s not very romant-”

The rest of her explanation is cut off when a boisterous couple sashays into the restaurant. The lovers are arguing loudly. They rudely knock into Kendall’s shoulder as they stalk toward the hostess.

Kendall totters on her heels and falls against my chest. I quickly wrap my arms around her waist to keep her from falling on her beautiful face. She smells like flowers. I want to dip my nose to her neck and inhale deeply.

But I haven’t been so long departed from the norms of polite society to do so.

I smile when our eyes meet.

“What were you saying about romance?”

She laughs and the sound makes my day.

“Come on. Let’s see if we can squeeze into a corner. I know it’s not very private but the food is so worth it.”

I am content to follow after her when she grabs my hand and leads me forward. This confident, sexy woman can pull me anywhere she wants and I will follow without complaint.

I’ve never been in love. The idea of becoming vulnerable to another human being was always rather ludicrous to me. Matters of the heart only complicate life. Why expose yourself in the one place that can always be protected?

But tonight, pulling the chair out for Kendall and seating myself beside her, I finally understand why men go to war for love.