CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER 2

Cat's camera was registering all the
details her eyes would surely miss, but she still feared the pictures wouldn't
be able to paint the whole story or the specific atmosphere which was simply
not possible to compare to anything else she had ever witnessed.

She regretted now taking the oldest camera
in her possession, instead of going for the one that could catch and register
even the smallest of details. But it was her talisman, and tonight's uneasiness
called for every bit of comfort she could find, accepting this indulgence on
her part.

Being a photographer often brought her to
places or landed her in situations an average person couldn't imagine or didn't
even think of. It was part of the job she loved since she was a little girl and
her father bought her the very first camera. It was something they had in
common, the passion that bonded them even stronger.

But then all the ties were severed in the
most brutal fashion possible, she thought, and had to lower her camera and close
her eyes for the briefest moment necessary to pull her cool and unaffected mask
back on.

She hated the fact that she needed to
remind herself that she came here to do a specific job. It was hardly the place
or the time for any kind of personal musings, especially of the bloody nature
her mind was always more than ready to seize on.

And it was blood again that brought her
focus back to here and now when the crowd around her seemed to undulate in
pleasure at the sight of it.

She could never understand people's
inclination to violence, or their need for ferocity. Would she be the same had
she not tasted it firsthand as a child? She wondered, raising her camera again.

Things on the ring seemed to be happening
continuously and pretty fast from the moment the two men found themselves in
the spotlight. She barely looked at the other fighter when he stepped onto the
platform.

He was more or less the same height, she
judged, dark haired as well and of athletic build. But that was where the
similarities between both men ended as fast as they started.

He lacked... purpose, Cat supposed.

He was physically equipped to face a
challenge, but he didn't seem to be focused enough, as if the will to fight was
yet to raise its head within him. His eyes, caught by her camera, looked
distant, and there wouldn't be anything wrong with the fact if they weren't
vacant at the same time.

The kind of vacant that screamed about
things done and seen yet still keeping him in their throes.

No, he was not the one having the lead
here.

It was the other man, the first one who had
stepped into the ring that was drawing gazes and her camera as well. Catalina
was convinced she was looking at the winner, and judging by the general
reaction of the people gathered around her, she was not the only one.

She heard them talking, taking bets,
arguing fervently about each fighter's chances. While the names didn't mean
anything to her, it didn't take long to connect all the dots and understand
that the one everyone was rooting for was called Xan. Anyone barely mentioned
the one named Dragon and she tried not to feel sorry for the guy. Same as she
tried not to think about the origin of their nicknames, but she retained this
tidbit of information in some part of her brain for later.

For now, she pushed it aside from the
forefront of her mind in order to give her undivided attention to the ever
growing level of excitement speeding throughout the crowd like wildfire.

The world seen through the lens of her
camera had its own rhythm, its own rules, different from the one physically
surrounding her. She was nothing but a translator trying to convert it as
faithfully as possible combining two worlds at the same time, which was equally
rewarding as it was frustrating.

But photography had taught her the meaning
of three p's;
patience,
persistence
and
precision
were the
keys to this kingdom.

Catalina's stomach roiled angrily at the
sight of blood, but it also made her realize that in her eagerness, she walked
close enough to the ring she could nearly feel the heat coming off the powerful
fighter's bodies.

Her camera seemed to have a mind of its
own, returning to the man time after time, seizing him in snapshots.

Only because of that she caught the exact
moment in which Xan's gaze landed squarely on her and his eyes narrowed.

She swallowed hard, stubbornly refusing to
lower her camera and move her attention elsewhere, trying not to give in to her
instinct demanding her to flee.

No matter how ephemeral this instant was,
it ended abruptly when his opponent used it to his advantage and attacked him
from the back.

Cat unwittingly held her breath but he
swiftly escaped the hold, tipping the scales in his favor. A moment later, it
was all over and nobody seemed to be surprised with the outcome of the fight.

She walked away, searching for another spot
that would allow her a different angle, letting people's agitation wash over
her own senses. It was close to impossible not to let the excitement of the
audience get to her. She was trying to distance herself from the event, but the
fever continuously rising all around her was a hard thing to ignore.

She could swear the temperature of the club
was systematically increasing by degrees just to reach a tipping point when the
fight ended.

She wondered at the amount of preparation
before the main occurrence could take place, no matter how brief it felt in the
end. But it was her first fight and in her inexperienced eyes everything seemed
exaggerated, even if went smoothly like well oiled machinery.

Practice, she thought.

It all required practice, and it was
something she could understand and relate to. It also required money; the
stakes reaching her ears were astronomical, causing her eyes to go wide. She
could only shake her head.

Catalina was convinced she was against it
all, not only because it was balancing on the thin line of outlawed, but mostly
due to the violence vibrating in the air.

Yet when music stopped and the fight
started, she forgot about her prejudice, judgment and assumptions. Luckily she
didn't neglect her camera, letting it work through the most intense minutes of
the whole event.

It was hard not to admire the way in which
both men moved, like in a well synchronized if dangerous dance. Her heart was
pounding wildly accompanying the cheering of the crowd and the chanting of the
champion's name, until it all blurred into an almost unrecognizable roar.

She smiled softly to herself, as if the
fact she appointed him for the winner was personally affecting her as well. It
wasn't, yet the quirked line of her lips refused to listen to the voice of
reason. She was bewildered by her own reaction, fighting it and trying to act
as a professional that she was.

It was one of the things she loved the most
about her job. It allowed her to get close to places and events she would have
never been a part of otherwise. She could own a sliver of other people's lives while
still keeping herself out of it all, remaining on the fringes the way she
preferred.

So far, nobody made an issue of her
presence or her camera for that matter, and she was grateful for the
opportunity and anonymity the crowd allowed her.

She stopped to change the memory card in
her Canon and replace it with a new one, congratulating herself on the job well
done. She pocketed the replaced card and contemplated leaving the place when
someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

Her head whipped to the side and she
pivoted on her feet just to face the man of whom she was taking pictures
throughout the whole event as if her life depended on it. She was happy for the
darkness of the interior that allowed her to hide a sudden flush spreading all
over her cheeks.

He was tall alright, Cat thought.

Up close and personal he seemed even taller
than from the distance separating them before. He was crowding her with his
frame, making her feel threatened on some fundamental level until she had to
fight with herself and not to take a step back the way her body clearly wanted.

Yet again the Bennetts’ pride prevailed,
not allowing her to back down.

His hair was dark and a bit damp, as if he
freshly stepped out of the shower. It was obvious he hadn’t had time to take
one yet, so it had to be sweat. Cat had to admit he wore the look of general
dishevelment well. His eyes were piercingly green and it was a detail her
camera had translated perfectly, she thought.

The face her Canon had found intriguing
before was becoming even more arresting now as he scowled, although the grimace
didn’t bode well for her.

Her fingers were itching and begging for
the tool of her trade so she could capture the sudden change. Her knuckles
clenched on the leather belt of her camera, but she managed to resist the urge.

Barely.

Catalina swallowed hard, looking up at him,
not particularly enjoying having his utter focus on herself, but she schooled
her face into a polite, cool mask her grandmother would greatly approve of, and
she offered him a meaningless smile.

A smile that wobbled a bit under his gaze,
which turned pitiless in the blink of an eye, just to fade away completely
after he hurled a harshly voiced question her way.
"Are you lost, Doll?"

***

After Xan had caught the sight of the
mysterious and potentially dangerous woman, his eyes didn't veer off her once.
He kept observing her while she was moving through the crowd freely and nobody
seemed to be paying her any attention.

Surprisingly enough, nobody was worried or
astonished about her snapping pictures, as if the possibility of seeing their
faces printed out somewhere didn't worry them in the least.

Well, it worried
him
.

He followed her, which wasn't easy
considering all those strangers who wanted to congratulate him personally and
offer some advice for future reference. People were stopping him wherever he
went, wanting to gain his attention, just like when he was walking toward the
fight. The difference was that now they were more determined and he had even
less patience than before.

Was he happy after the win?

He wasn't sure he knew the meaning of the
word 'happy' in the first place.
Happiness
was not something he was
after. First, he wanted money and fame in whatever form or shape it could come
to him.

But it was years before when he was this
hungry and desperate boy who was trying to outrun himself.

Today... today he was someone else, yet too
much of this boy was still a part of him. He was hungry, but not in the literal
sense like in the past. His appetites were not sophisticated, but were definitely
veering toward refined even though he remained the same at his very core.

Desperation was bred into him and while he
was not the hopeless child anymore without a roof above his head, he was cursed
to walk hand in hand with disaffection.

Happiness
was not in cards for him, but he
was
satisfied
at times and any kind of win was placing him under the
spell of this state.

Yet this time it was all tinged with too
many other emotions as well.

He
wasn't
satisfied with the easy
way the fight went and then ended.

He
wasn't
satisfied with kicking
somebody who was already down.

Finally, he
wasn't
satisfied with
spotting the woman and the fact she seemed to be focusing her camera more on
him than anything or anyone else.

No, he was far from feeling anything close
to the state of contentment.

His gaze landed on her one more time,
effortlessly picking her out of the crowd even though she was not tall and her
dark clothes were merging perfectly into the obscure interior of the club.

Her dark shirt was primly buttoned up
without the slightest glimpse of a cleavage.

A glimpse? There was not even a sliver of
hope it might happen, he thought.

Her leather jacket encased her too
perfectly to be anything else than tailored made and he could bet there was a
discreet label of an expensive designer somewhere on it.

What was a woman like that doing in an afterhours
club?
"It better be good." He muttered to himself.

Xan was surprised to discover she was
shorter than he had originally thought her to be. Probably the audacity with
which she was moving around snapping pictures seemed to make her look taller.

She was slightly built and delicate in a
way that seemed out of the realm of this underground world. Her hair was blonde
and long, but he was unable to estimate the exact length because it was pulled
into a ponytail, giving her the air of a teenager rather than a grown woman.

No matter from which angle he was looking
at her presence in here tonight, it still didn't add up, didn’t make sense.

Nothing about her did and it annoyed him
even more since he was not able to place her under any kind of category of
people familiar to him. He felt better knowing who he was dealing with, what
people were all about and where they were coming from.

How else could he know what to expect of
them?

When he tapped her lightly on the shoulder
and she swiveled on her heel to face him, his brow furrowed further. Her
features were classically beautiful; her almond shaped blue eyes were wide open
and way too guileless for his peace of mind. She seemed classy and untouchable,
which for some reason only managed to piss him off further.

He noticed her hand clenching nervously
around the belt of her camera and it was a betraying gesture not fitting to the
cool, well practiced smile she sent his way.

Perhaps someone else would hesitate while
facing a delicate and so out of place creature as her, but it was him who
stumbled upon her and now he wanted answers to his questions.

He couldn't forget she nearly cost him the
win, which only reinforced the brusqueness of his question.
"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded when she didn't answer his
initial question right away.

After all, patience was not one of Xan's
virtues if he had any to begin with.