Behind the Lens (Behind the Lives) (2 page)

“But
you can’t take their money, it’ll ruin them, and you don’t need it.”

Craven
smiled at her. “There’s no need to get worked up, because I have no intention
of taking it. I only allowed them to believe I would, but that’s because I need
to stall. They have to sell their home before they can pay me, and selling
property doesn’t happen overnight and especially not in
their
rundown
neighbourhood. And since they’ve agreed to work for me until it’s sold, I have
time for you to change their minds, which you will do through Dante. But if you
fail in doing that, then as a backup I need you to stay with them, Dante in
particular so we can continue to film him, because that boy has no idea how
much money he’s worth.”

“Why
don’t you just threaten them, like the last time Dante’s brother tried to quit?
Ash caved in quick after you kidnapped his child.”

“Threats
won’t work this time,” Craven said. “Ash has changed. He wasn’t the same person
when he came to see me today. Normally he’s controlled, but when I tried to
talk him out of quitting, he started ranting at me that if I didn’t take the
money he would shoot me. Shoot me! I’m the one who threatens, not a lowly drug
runner, but I’m a logical man, so I agreed to it, although he deserved a bullet
through his head for what he said.”

Kara
frowned, not understanding any of this. “Then why didn’t you? I’ve heard you’ve
killed people for less.”

“Haven’t
you been listening? The Ratas are worth more money to me alive than dead—or
more specifically Dante is, and I don’t think he would appreciate me ordering a
hit on his brother, because after today, he would know it was me. Normally, I
wouldn’t allow people to leave my employ, but in the Ratas’ case, I will make
an exception just as long as you make sure we can continue filming Dante, and
if you succeed, your debt will be wiped clean and your family will be safe.”

“I
still don’t think Dante will let me back into his life, but I will certainly
try.”

“Beautiful,”
Craven drawled, using the word as a name. “He
will
let you back in, it’s
just a matter of whether you can change from being a charity case to a lover.”

“What
do you mean by a charity case?”

“You’ll
find out soon enough.” Craven pressed a buzzer on his desk. “Please come to my
office, Saul,” he said into the intercom.

A
few seconds later, Craven’s right-hand man entered the room, an extremely
attractive Samoan packed with muscle. Saul’s impressive frame towered over
Kara, his dark face unhappy, the only expression she’d ever seen him have. One
of Craven’s henchmen stepped out from behind Saul, the leather-skinned sadist
who’d beaten her up for not paying on time.

Kara’s
terrified gaze flicked back to Craven. “Why is
he
here?”

Craven
opened a desk drawer. “Big Mack needs to do a bit of work on your face, and
once he’s finished you will go to the Ratas and tell them your fictional
husband beat you up,” he said, referring to Dante believing she was married.

Kara
pushed out of her chair. “You can’t do this to me!”

Craven
removed a knife from the drawer, which he held out for Mack to take. “And to
spice things up, if you fail completely in your task, Big Mack will carve your
face up like he did to Cindy, which means you’ll be working under tables
again.”

“I
will succeed, I’ll get Dante, I will,” Kara babbled.

“Good
girl. Now go get your makeup done without causing problems.” He smiled, the
expression a mixture of wickedness and amusement, then he redirected his gaze
to his right-hand man. “Saul, tell that new guard I want him full-time.”

Saul
nodded, then pushed Kara through the doorway, herding her down the passage and
outside, with the sadist following. Her heels sunk into the manicured lawn as
she was directed past the swimming pool and through a cluster of trees, which
hid a quaint stone cottage. Saul unlocked the door, then shoved her inside,
making Kara trip over her heels and crash to the hardwood floor. She let out a
yelp as her knees took most of the impact, but flung herself around before the
rest of the pain could register, knowing that she had little time to defend
herself. Mack pushed past Saul, the goon licking the knife Craven had given
him.

Kara
grabbed a stiletto and scrambled to her feet, kicking the other one off. “Stay
back or I’ll put this through your eye!”

Mack
pointed the knife at her, making Kara back up into the couch. “I don’t have any
intention of cutting your pretty face,” he said, “but you better put down that
stiletto or Saul will shoot it out of your hand.”

“No!
I still have bruises because of you! That’s enough to convince Dante!”

Mack
leered at her. “Then unzip your dress and lemme be the judge.”

“No!
You stay away from me!”

“You
don’t have to make this harder than it already is.”

“The
only thing that’s hard is your small dick, you sadist freak! You get off on
hurting people, but I won’t let you touch me again!”

“I
say Saul’s tool begs to differ...” He stepped aside, causing Kara to inhale
sharply at the sight of Saul’s gun pointed at her, “...and if you give us too
much trouble—”

“I
won’t, just put that thing away,” she said, dropping the stiletto.

Mack’s
leer widened. “Now drop the dress.”

“Mack,”
Saul said, in a warning tone, “do what you’re paid for and not what you have to
pay for.”

“Cock-blocking
bastard,” Mack grumbled, pocketing the knife.

“Look,”
Kara said, unzipping her dress enough to display her ribs, now willing to do
anything to prove that he didn’t need to hurt her, “I’ve got enough bruises,
you can just let me go to Dante like this.”

“They’ve
faded,” Mack said, his eyes running down her body, then back up to her face, a
self-satisfied smirk replacing his leer. “Plus, you’ve got no bruises on your
face.”

A
jagged breath left Kara’s lips, knowing he was going to attack her no matter
what, and that she couldn’t do a thing about it, Saul’s gun stopping her from
defending herself. But instead of screaming and yelling at him, like she wanted
to, she lifted her chin, determined to take the punches the same way her sister
and father took the bullets: Standing strong and proud. Mack shook his head,
clearly amused, then before she could flinch, his fist barrelled into her
cheek, knocking her onto the couch. Stunned, she lay over it, the pain not
fully registering, although she could feel it like a heartbeat throbbing beneath
her skin. Mack grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head around, making her
cry out. Another punch slammed into her face, this one splitting her lip, then
he raised his fist again.

“That’s
enough, Mack!” Saul hollered.

Mack
dropped Kara to the floor. His eyes glazed over as he climbed onto her, his
pupils dilated as if he was high. Kara covered her face, expecting more punches
to rain down on her. Mack batted her hands away, then grabbed her by the ears
and yanked her head back, banging it against the floor. “Why aren’t you crying,
bitch?” he said, glaring down at her like she’d affronted him. “I hit you
hard.”

Although
it hurt every pore in her face, she smiled up at him, feeling her lip split
more. “Because I am grateful to you.”

“Why?”
he asked, looking confused.

“For
getting me Dante back.” She spat in his face, his next punch taking away her
consciousness—but not her dreams.

2

Dante

Ash had been standing outside
the psyche unit, talking on his damn phone for the past twenty minutes, no
doubt using it as an excuse so he didn’t have to visit their cousin Hunter. But
they had to, because tomorrow they were planning on telling the twins they were
adopted and that Hunter was their real father.

“Get
off the phone?” Dante snapped. “You can talk to Tiana when we get home.”

Ash
gave Dante a dirty look, then said bye to Tiana. Hanging up, his gaze moved to
the psyche unit, the lights inside the small building breaking through the
darkness surrounding them. “Looks like visiting hours are over, but we can come
back another day.”

“Like
hell,” Dante said. “You’re backing out on telling Hunter about the twins,
aren’t cha?”

“No
I’m not, and it’s not my fault—Tiana called me.”

“Bullshit,
you
phoned her. I saw you hit those keys.”

Ash
pulled a face, then looked over at the door again, his tortured expression
making Dante feel like crap for snapping at him. The past week had been a
hellish nightmare for Ash after their stepfather had kidnapped and held him for
two days; chaining him to a bed and making him think he was never going to
escape.

“You’re
right, I’m not sure I can tell Hunter,” Ash finally said, referring to the man
he loved like a father.

“Then
we can’t tell the twins they’re adopted.”

“But
we have to, they needa know.”

“Which
means Hunter
needs
to be warned, cos what happens if one of the twins
decides to visit him, angry that he pretended he wuzn’t their father?”

“I
... I just don’t want him gettin’ upset,” Ash said, pushing back his messy
black hair, revealing the bruise on his forehead, a reminder of how he’d tried
to kill himself during his captivity. “I made a promise to him that I wouldn’t
tell the twins, now I’m breaking it.”

“I
promised him too,” Dante said, “but since no one believes the shit that comes
outta my mouth, I might as well be the one to spill the beans, so go wait in
the car.”

Ash
exhaled. “No, this is my responsibility, plus it wuz my idea.”

“Maybe,
but it’s both of our responsibilities; so if you’re not backing out, we’ll do
it together.”

Ash
looked over at the psyche unit again. “But it’s past visiting hours.”

“The
receptionist is sweet on me; she’ll let us in.”

Ash
sighed. “You ain’t gonna make this easy on me, are ya?”

“I
already gave you an out, not my fault your conscience won’t let ya take it, and
anyway, you should be more like me and tell your conscience to suck eggs.”

“You
don’t have a conscience,” Ash said, cracking a smile for the first time in a
while.

“Nah,
I’m just a sensitive soul who knows how to hide my feelings well, which is why
I write romance stories in my spare time. You should read my last one; it’s a
fanfic of
Debbie Does Dallas
. I’m calling it
Freya Fucks Frankfurt
.
Do ya think anyone will know it’s plagiarised?”

Ash
laughed. “Thanks, bro.”

“For
what?”

“For
making me laugh, didn’t think that wuz possible after this week.” Ash indicated
with his head to the psyche unit. “Let’s get this over and done with before I
change my mind.”

“Better
sprint then, cos you’re worse than a woman.” Dante moved behind Ash and gave
him a shove.

Ash
backed up quickly, stepping on Dante’s toes and making him yelp, then headed
through the sliding door sniggering.

“You
bastard, I’ll get ya back for that,” Dante said, following him into the
air-conditioned foyer and past a security guard. The cream-coloured room was dotted
with pretty prints of New Zealand landscapes, made up of varying tones of blues
and greens. On their left, a different receptionist from the one he’d expected
to see was sitting behind the desk, the girl barely out of her teens. She
looked up as they stopped in front of her counter, a noticeable jerk vibrating
through her body. Dante knew what she was thinking, that their leathers and
tattoos equated to them being gang-members, although she was wrong, but telling
her that they were drug dealers instead wouldn’t exactly alleviate her fears.

What
looked like a practiced smile formed across her face, only her eyes betraying
her worry as they flicked to the security guard, who was watching them from the
doorway.

“How
may I help you?” she said, focusing on Ash.

Ash
stepped back, an invitation for Dante to take over. Although he had no interest
in her, Dante leaned on the counter and put on an award-winning smile, knowing
he had to work his charms since he didn’t know this chick. “We’re here to see
Hunter Rata, ma’am.”

She
touched her hair, the dark curls the only thing pretty about her, the rest of
her features plain and forgettable. “What are your names?” she asked.

“I’m
Dante Rata and tall, dark and glum is my bro Ash. So, can we see our cuz?”

“Do
you have an appointment?” she asked, continuing to play with her hair.

“No,
we don’t normally need one,” Dante replied, wishing the other receptionist had
been on.

“It’s
after hours.”

“I
know.” He leaned forward. “But the other receptionist always gives us passes.”

She
stared at Dante for a moment, then craned her head to look at Ash, who Dante
hoped wasn’t glaring at her, his brother’s patience usually short, but then
again Ash might be doing it on purpose, so he could have a valid excuse for not
seeing Hunter.

Dante
reached out and touched the receptionist’s cheek, directing her gaze back to
him. “Don’t pay any attention to him, gorgeous, he’s just trying to psyche you
out so you’ll send us away. He doesn’t wanna be here, but I do, and I’ll be
really
grateful if you can help me out.”

She
touched her cheek with a giggle. “I’ll just call the Charge Nurse to see if she
can let you in.” She picked up the phone.

Straightening,
Dante looked over at the security guard, who was glaring at him, the guy’s dark
features either Samoan or Tongan. Wondering what the prick’s problem was, Dante
waggled his tongue at him, getting a whack across the back of the head from
Ash, and a “Stoppit.”

“What
cha do that for?” Dante grumbled, rubbing where Ash had hit him.

“Cos
I can’t take you anywhere without you embarrassing me, you’re worse than a
kid.”

Dante
poked his tongue at Ash, eliciting a grin from his brother, then refocused on
the receptionist, who was smiling wide at him, her expression amused.

“The
Charge Nurse said that it would be alright,” she told him, looking proud of
herself. “She’ll be with you in a few minutes. You can take a seat over there.”
She indicated to a blue vinyl couch behind a small table stacked with
magazines.

“Thank
you,” Dante said, turning to sit down.

“Oh,
Dante...”

He
turned back. “Yeah?”

“Here,”
she said, quickly scribbling her name and number on a piece of paper. She held
it out for him to take, a blush colouring her face. “If you’re free sometime,
call me.”

“I’ve
got a girlfriend.”

Her
face fell. “Oh.” Then a smile reformed. “For when you don’t have one then.”

“’Kay.”
He took the paper and glanced at the name. “Donna, I’ll be happy to.”

Her
smile widened. “That’ll be great.”

He
nodded then followed Ash to the couch.

“Why
ja do that for?” Ash said, plonking himself down on the cushions.

“Do
what?”

“Take
that chick’s number; I thought you were head over heels in love with Beth.”

Dante
breathed out at the mention of his girlfriend—and Ash’s ex. “I
am
in
love with her, but it would’ve been rude not to take the chick’s number, and
it’s not like I’m gonna call it,” he said, placing the note in his pocket.

“And
why were you annoying that guard?” Ash added.

“The
prick wuz giving me the evils.” Dante looked over at the guard, who was still
burning holes through his head. He blew him a kiss, making the guy’s eyes go
wide.

Ash
punched Dante’s arm. “Stoppit, before you get us thrown out.”

Dante
grabbed his arm, now getting pissed off. “Stop bloody whacking me; and it’s not
like you care if we get chucked out.”

“I’ve
changed my mind.”

“
Again
,
you’re worse than a woman.”

“I’m
not the one hitting on a bloke.”

“I
don’t hit on dudes, and it’s his fault for perving at me.”

“You
think everyone pervs at you.”

“That’s
cos they do, and you’re just jealous, cos I’m gorgeous and you’re not,” Dante
sniggered.

“We
look the same.”

“Nope,
you look like an axe murderer while I look like everyone’s wet dream.”

Ash
shook his head, but still smiled.

“Two
smiles in one day, whoo-hoo, I’ve broken the world record,” Dante said happily,
then looked up as the guard headed their way. “What do ya want, perv?”

The
guard stopped in front of him. He was a big bloke in his early twenties with a
closely shaved head and a cleft pallet. “You’re Dante Rata.”

“Yeah,
what’s it to ya?”

“It’s
a sin what you do.”

“Blow
me,” Dante said, wondering whether the guy knew they were drug dealers.

“Man-whore.”

Dante
jumped to his feet. “What the fuck didja just call me?”

“A
whore.”

Ash
grabbed Dante from behind before Dante could launch himself at the guard.
“Don’t,” Ash snapped. “Not here, not now.”

The
guard lifted his chin. “You will burn in hell for what you do.”

“How
would you know what I do, you self-righteous prick?” Dante growled, aching to
rip the guard apart. “I don’t even know you.”

“But
I know you, and how you have sex with everything in sight.”

Dante’s
lip curled. “I wouldn’t fuck your arsehole, so piss off.”

The
guy’s eyes flashed with anger. “You will pay for your debauchery,” he said,
then headed back to the door, his glare returning to Dante as he settled next
to it.

Dante
glared back, wishing he could shoot real daggers.

“Sit
down, bro,” Ash said, still holding onto him.

“That
fucker deserves to be bashed for saying that shit to me.”

“You
still can’t attack him here.”

Here.
Yeah, he’d bash the ugly cunt somewhere
else, because the sonofabitch was going down—and not on his dick. Dante settled
back on the couch. “I’m sick of people calling me a whore.”

“Which
is why I’m surprised you forgave Beth for causing it.”

Dante
looked down at the floor, still bothered over finding out that Beth had texted
a naked picture of him to half the neighbourhood before they’d gotten together,
all because she’d been jealous when he’d slept with someone else. He frowned.
“People still called me names before that, just not as much.”

“That
comes with the territory of fucking everything in sight.”

“I
only do females.”

“Sorry,
I’ll rephrase that: everything with a pussy.”

“Pretty
pussies, and I haven’t been fucking around since me and Beth got together.”

“Which
hasn’t even been a week,” Ash said, his gaze moving to the door on his right as
it slid open.

A
forty-something nurse headed for them with a smile. She was dressed in
cream-coloured clothing that hung off her stick-thin frame. “Hello, Ash and
Dante, it’s good to see you again. Sorry for the hold up, the receptionist is
new. Please come through,” she said, handing over passes with straps on, which
they hooked around their necks.

Dante
flicked the security guard the finger, then followed Ash and the nurse through
some sliding doors that led into a lounge, where people were watching TV,
playing card games or chatting.

The
nurse stopped behind a couch. “Hunter,” she said, to a man who was watching a
telly programme.

Hunter
glanced over his shoulder, then jumped to his feet with a look of delight. He
shot around the couch and grabbed Ash into a bear-hug, saying, “Hello, son.”
Dante stared at Hunter, shocked at how much weight his cousin had lost since
he’d last visited, which had only been a few weeks ago. Minus his trademark
beard and a good ten kilos, Hunter now looked like an older version of Ash and
Dante’s younger brother Sledge, just without the muscles.

Ash
patted Hunter’s back, the tension in his body betraying his apprehension.
Hunter pulled backed, his smile dropping as his eyes landed on Ash’s forehead.
He brushed Ash’s fringe aside, examining the bruise like Ash was a small kid
and not a man who’d just turned twenty-six.