Masked (11 page)

Great, she thought, now she was rationalizing. This, in her opinion, was the first step to using firearms and violence as a solution, and accepting it as a reasonable choice in a hostile scenario. Was this how it had happened to Charlotte, Bridgette wondered? Did she slowly desensitize herself to what was really right and wrong, until all the ‘wrongs’ became acceptable? It was a shaky path at best, and one Bridgette didn’t like walking.

Bridgette heard him move until he stood behind her. Then suddenly his arms appeared on either side of her, one of his large hands covering hers which held the gun.

“Come on,” he coaxed, taking the gun and forcing her to grip it properly beneath his hold. “Aim at your target and let’s see what this baby’s got.”

She snorted. “You sure you don’t want me to leave you two alone?” she asked, desperately buying time before she’d actually have to shoot the damn thing.

His voice came just beside her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine that she tried to hide. “I’m sure,” he said lowly.

Bridgette closed her eyes against the multitude of sensations his voice enticed when he spoke in that tone.
Focus
, she scolded herself. If she was going to do this, she had better be concentrating fully. Shaking it off didn’t help since her body rubbed up against his in the process. He was standing too close, clouding her mind like he always seemed to do.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice right back where it made her think impure thoughts. Her friend Michelle would have had a field day with all this if she could see how Bridgette was reacting to the man behind her. One of the things Michelle had always teased Bridgette about was her lack of desire for the male species.

It wasn’t that Bridgette hadn’t liked any men, because there had been a few she’d spent some time with. There was just never a spark there. It was like going through the motions for the sake of doing it, but never actually feeling any of it. She’d tried to explain this to Michelle once before, but it had gone completely over her head. She couldn’t understand why Bridgette couldn’t just find a man and settle down. Some girls dated men for the attention and companionship, but Bridgette wanted much more than that. She wanted someone who sent her blood boiling, and who felt the same way about her. That elusive spark people always spoke about. She wanted
that.

Well there was certainly
something
between her and Roman. The only problem was Roman thought she was her sister…it sort of put a damper on things. Roman wasn’t flirting with Bridgette, he was flirting with Charlotte. That reality snapped her out of her thoughts.

Roman curved his upper body around her back, raising the gun level with the target at the other end of the room. Then his warmth was gone. Bridgette took a deep breath, focusing on her target, rather than the man who seemed to be occupying every stray thought she had. It was becoming an unhealthy addiction she seriously needed to kick. Her hands shook slightly as she looked down the barrel of the gun, the target in sight. Despite the fact that she hated guns, part of her wanted to make a good shot. It was the overachiever in her, she supposed.

“You might want to take the safety off first,” Roman suggested with obvious amusement.

Bridgette looked at the gun, wondering what on earth was the safety, and how did one release it? Eventually Roman walked back behind her, his chest brushing up against her back as he reached around and clicked something on the gun. Bridgette was too busy breathing in the scent of him like a crazy person to pay attention to what he’d done. He stepped back again, giving her some much needed space.

Focusing again, Bridgette locked her eyes on the target and squeezed the trigger, squeezing her eyes shut as she did. The force of the shot ricochet down her arm and had her taking a step back. She opened her eyes to see how she’d done, but couldn’t see where the bullet had hit the target. Huh. Where did it go?

Roman came up beside her chuckling. “That was the worst shot I’ve ever seen,” he said.

Bridgette bristled indignantly. “It wasn’t that bad,” she argued.

“Next time,” he said, leaning in close, “try shooting with your eyes open. You might hit something that way.”

She sighed, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat. “Clearly I’m not cut out for this,” she said. “The darn thing nearly took my arm off.” Her muscles were still aching from the recoil of the shot.

Roman laughed again. “Let’s try again,” he said, stepping to the side so he was behind her once more. The feel of his arms coming around to encompass her was starting to become disturbingly familiar. He placed his hands over hers again, lining up the shot. This time he didn’t take them off as he steadied her hand, and flicked the safety off expertly with his thumb. “Ready?” he asked, his voice soft in her ear. She nodded. “Eyes open this time.”

Bridgette braced herself, but the kickback wasn’t as bad with Roman’s muscled torso bracing her. She watched as a tiny hole appeared in the target at the other end of the room. It wasn’t in the middle, but at least it was close! Of course, she couldn’t accomplish the same thing on her own, but still, she was slightly pleased. She turned her head, smiling even though he couldn’t see it.

“I did it,” she said proudly.

When he turned to look at her, their faces were so close their noses almost touched. “You sure did,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious as he stared into hers. Slowly, Bridgette’s smile slipped away as tension built between them. Neither said a word, just looked at each other, Roman’s arms still wrapped around her.

“What is it about you lately?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“What do you mean?” she replied, matching his tone.

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, but you’re different somehow. I can’t explain it. It’s your eyes, I think.”

“What about them?”

“They’re just – different. They sparkle with so much energy and life…it’s captivating.”

Bridgette floundered for a response, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. What could she say to that? Thankfully she was saved from a reply as the door to the range slammed open, the sound echoing.

“There you are,” a female voice said, her heels clicking loudly on the floor as she made her way over to them.

Roman hadn’t looked away, his face still searching for an answer he wasn’t about to get. Bridgette wanted to see who had entered, but was enthralled by the man standing so close to her. By all outward appearances, Roman Adamson was a hard, controlled man. But as Bridgette stared deeply into his eyes, she could see there was so much more to him, hidden beneath the image he’d created for the rest of the world. There was longing and passion, things she wasn’t sure she could handle. Especially not when she was only there to do a job for her father, and then leave. A job she
really
didn’t want to do, but had no choice if she was going to save her sister.

He finally released her, just as the footsteps stopped right behind them.

“Eve,” he said, a small smile on his face, “what a surprise.” He dropped his arms and took a step back. Bridgette looked forward, trying her best to get her breathing under control before she had to face this newcomer.

“A good one, I hope,” she said, her voice laced with flirtation. Bridgette didn’t like her already and she hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of the woman.

“Of course,” Roman said. Bridgette stiffened. Was this woman Roman’s lover?

“And this must be the infamous Weapon X,” Eve said. “Or Ludwig’s precious Dinah, as Sal always likes to say.”

Bridgette turned, instantly regretting it. The woman, Eve, was stunning. Beside her, Bridgette looked plain and drab. Her hair was cut in a stylish bob, the front reaching longer than the back, just beneath her collarbone. It was a deep gold that looked beautiful next to her tanned skin. How was anyone tanned in New Berlin? Eyes that looked violet were accented artfully with make-up, her lips painted a deep red. This woman was clearly no lower.

She was smiling at Bridgette, but Bridgette found it impossible to smile back. It was another rare moment where she was actually thankful she had to wear a mask. Otherwise this lady would see how distraught she felt at the realization that
this
was the type of woman Roman was probably used to. He wasn’t going to want some dancer from the ghettos. Words escaped her amongst her inner turmoil, so Bridgette simply inclined her head to the woman in greeting. She glanced at Roman to see him watching her curiously.

“Eve’s Sal’s personal assistant,” Roman explained.

She laughed a deep throaty laugh that Bridgette was sure gave men all sorts of ideas. “Personal assistant is what we’re calling it now?” She waved him off as Roman opened his mouth to rebut. “It’s fine. Call it whatever you want. He thought it would be best if I came ahead of him, just to check things out. The way things have been going in other places,” she said with a pointed look in his direction, “he didn’t want to take any chances. His flight plan has been kept so under wraps,
I’m
not even sure when he’s set to arrive.”

Sal must be the weapons dealer, Bridgette realized. Did this mean he would be arriving earlier than she thought? A fine sweat broke out along her spine. The plan her father had put in motion might happen sooner than she was mentally prepared for.

“When did you arrive?” Roman asked conversationally.

“Not long ago,” she answered, tugging on the cream pencil skirt she wore, even though it looked perfect already. Bridgette doubted this woman ever looked anything but. “I spoke with Ludwig briefly, but I was eager to find you.”

Bridgette was going to be sick, it was official. She turned and placed the gun down and pulled out the earplugs that had only slightly muffled the sound of the gun. “I’ll leave you two to…”Bridgette trailed off awkwardly.

“You’re welcome to join us for dinner,” Eve said. Bridgette doubted she was sincere, and quite frankly, she had no desire to sit by and watch them flirt with each other all night.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m just going to head back to my room,” Bridgette said, stepping around her.

“Are you sure?” Roman asked.

Bridgette didn’t bother to look at him. She just waved her hand over her head and nodded, saying, “yup. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she headed out, blinking back tears that shouldn’t be there. She didn’t even understand why she was crying to begin with. She hurried along, trying her best to get control of her wayward emotions and keep herself from thinking about exactly what those two would be doing for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER NINE

“I never want to do that again in my life,” Seamus said, rolling his neck from side to side.

“I’m pretty sure there will be at least one more time where you’ll need to do that,” Garrett pointed out.

Seamus shook his head. “Nope. Now that I know what it feels like, promise me you’ll just throw me in the ocean or something.”

Charlotte laughed at them, but to be honest, she couldn’t agree with Seamus more. Her limbs felt stiff from being confined in such a restricted space for so long, but more than that she was simply disturbed by the entire thing. Small spaces had never really bothered her, but being stuck in one for such an extended period of time had started to get to her. She waited outside the truck as Matt, the boy who had come up with this brilliant idea, continued to free the rest of them from the remaining coffins.

The western ghetto had the largest cemetery left in New Berlin. Luckily, Matt’s father was the one who manufactured the coffins over in the eastern ghetto, and shipped them to his Uncle in the western ghetto who ran the funeral home. It had been their best chance of getting from one side of the city to the next. Ludwig had created the separate ghettos in order to have better control of the population. He thought keeping the people in groups made it easier for him to oversee what they were doing. He had always told her that if the population were to live as one big unit, there would likely to be issues with uprisings. Charlotte laughed at that memory, thinking his plan didn’t seem to be going as well as he wanted. No matter what, people would rebel against a government that kept them in a constant state of repression.

Tyler and some of the other men were already unloading the empty coffins so they could get to those who were on the bottom shelves. They’d each been given small oxygen tanks, which were now being hidden in the basement of the funeral home. Charlotte had no idea where they had gotten them, but she got the impression that this ingenious plan Matt had come up with wasn’t being put into action for the first time.

She watched as he opened Pete’s coffin. He stepped out, his face much paler than usual. Charlotte fought the smile on her lips as he approached the back of the truck.

“It’s not funny,” he said, pointing a finger at her. She lost her struggle, her smile stretching across her face at his obvious discomfort. Sometimes men could be such babies, she thought. Pete’s eyes narrowed as he hopped out of the truck, his movements not stopping until he had her backed against the side of the building, his body crowding hers. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, his face level with hers.

“Possibly,” she answered, biting her lower lip.

“I don’t like it when people laugh at me,” he said darkly, his eyes riveted on her mouth.

“Tough,” she said, the laughter she’d been suppressing bubbling out of her.

“Would you two stop flirting please, we need to get a move on,” Trent called out. Pete didn’t bother to turn and look at him, his eyes still glued to her.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows playfully. “Excuse me, you’re in my way,” she said, placing her hands on his hips.

He looked down to where she held him, and his own brows raised when he looked up at her through his lashes. “You going to man-handle me now?”

She snorted. “You should be so lucky.”

“McKay! Let’s go!” Trent yelled impatiently.

Pete’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky we have things to do, otherwise I’d show you why you shouldn’t be laughing at me.”

“Oh yeah?” She laughed. “Those are some big words, my love. What makes you think I wouldn’t laugh?”