Desecrated Beauty (Twisted Fairy Tales #1) (2 page)

“Ri…” He nodded, glancing around and pretending to check and see if anyone was watching them.

Things were awkward for the next few minutes as they stood there in silence, waiting for the others to come back. Quill considered telling him he didn’t have to stay, that they’d see themselves off without him. But then someone needed to seal the grate behind them in case the tunnel was discovered by the city agents.

The guys chatted bullshit about whatever new girls had been brought in while Quill and Orion led the way outside, their eyes sweeping the sky on the lookout for any helicopters or scouting planes.

Most places were accessible by the underground tunnels, but for safety’s sake any tunnels leading into the city were well away from where they lived and unattached to any tunnel system they used. The only building that was above ground was headquarters. Striker had decided it was necessary to maintain one front building so the government knew they couldn’t just tell them what to do and expect them to lay down and take it.

It was Striker’s way of saying “Fuck You” to his dad. They all had their way.

“Alright everyone in.” Orion undid the last of the bolts on the grate and hauled it up. He’d redo two of them once they were out of sight and in an hour’s time - as agreed - he’d be back to undo it. Unless there was someone there who didn’t belong.

Quill slipped in first, the spongy smell of dust and lingering waste hitting her nostrils. She pulled her jacket lip up around her nose, zipping it tight in place as she crawled forward feeling the top of the tunnel brush her back every so often. It was about a fifteen-minute crawl. There were worse places to be stuck in for fifteen minutes - this much she knew - but time still passed like cold molasses as she crawled toward their destination.

Thankfully the boys behind her had fallen silent.

When she reached the grate on the other side, she slipped her knife from its holster and peered out from between the bars. When she was certain the coast was clear, she slipped her hand out and found the screw head with the tip of her knife. It was loosened from all the other times she’d gone through so it only took a few twists to free it and she caught the grate as it fell forward on her forearm.

Crawling out awkwardly she managed to lay the grate down before standing up and waiting for the others to follow. They all had their separate tasks now. They arrived as a team, but their personal specialties led them to be separated from this point forward. In an hour’s time if everyone wasn’t there, the last man through did up the grate again and it was every man for himself.

Once they were all out she bent down and set the grate back in place without screwing it back on and nodded to the boys as they all slipped away and disappeared. Tracking down the people that were taken was the first order of business so she moved in the opposite direction of Tate and went in search of a door or anywhere that might lead her to the captives.

Since the hostile takeover, only those who had been deemed pure enough were allowed to live in the city. Instead of banishing the impure they had murdered them all in the Blood Baths. Everyone remembered it, it had only been 7 years ago. Most people had seen their parents or siblings murdered in them. The kids had survived because they were deemed pure, innocents. The ones that did survive fell into one of the two different fates. They either escaped the city, living on the fringes in what the government called the Desecrated or they were raised in boot camps that were created by the government. They turned them into perfect little worker bees to be used for whatever job they were assigned to at the end of their training.

Her pure, asshole, of a father had ensured she was put into the military school with the intention of turning her into a war machine for the government. But she’d pissed him off when she ran away two years ago, going to the fringes to live with the rebels.

Since then all that specialized training was backfiring on them as she used it to help the rebels get around the central stations of the city.

Like tonight.

She pulled her knife out again and peeled off the front casing of the security pin pad, fiddling with the wires until the light flashed green and the door clicked open. She almost felt like skipping as she slipped through the door into the building. It was fairly quiet for a place that had just picked up a truckload of Desecrated. But she knew better than to let her guard down.

Moving silently through the shadows, Quill checked every door and interrogation room she found, but they were empty. In fact, if not for the security entrance still being activated she would’ve thought this place was abandoned.

Turning herself back around she moved toward the door she’d come through, a frown burrowing deep into her forehead. This certainly was a hitch to her flawless plan. Where else would they have taken The Desecrated?

She slipped out of the door again and slid her knife back in place. This time she took the time to tuck it into her jeans and unzipped her jacket, sliding it off.

Adjusting the leather corset underneath her she tugged her V-neck down lower so the corset pressed her boobs up higher before pulling the jacket back on and hiding the bullet-proof vest again. She pulled her hair out of the bun and mused it, letting her wavy hair fall around her shoulders.

She knew two years was enough time for people to have forgotten her face. It was enough time for the life she lived now to harden her once soft features. The lack of sunshine she got living underground and coming out at night left her far paler than was normal.

The only thing that might make her stick out was her hair. She’d dyed her hair a few months ago with stolen hair bleach, but it had now faded at the roots leaving it a half blonde, half mousy brown combination that looked unkempt. No one who lived in the city had so much as a hair out of place.

Part of being pure meant that they were supposed to perfect in every way imaginable from their hair to their features to their personality. She’d never actually figured out who had set the standard for what a pure was or wasn’t, but she just knew that once the kids her age reached adulthood they would be assessed for pureness. Or whatever it was they truly assessed you on.

Quill was convinced it was a popularity contest. That’s why she would’ve made it through despite her surly personality. Her father would’ve assured she’d made it through. Her little sister, as guilty as she felt about leaving her behind, would’ve made it through too. Even though she was far less useful in skills than Quill would’ve been.

She started walking away from the station, glancing, when she could, at her reflection in the windows she went by. She was sure she looked alright, she wouldn’t stick out that much. Besides - it wasn’t like she was trying to pass as a general’s wife or daughter. She just needed to look like a soldier that would do for where she wanted to go.

It was slimy to Quill, being able to fall into the old habits of her previous life so easily. She wanted to be able to say she’d left it all behind her, but then she knew, deep down, she hadn’t. The training and the lessons were as ingrained in her body and mind as a tattoo and that’s why she didn’t have any sort of reservations about walking straight into the bar.

The bar was exactly how she remembered it. Just as bustling and full to the brim as ever. She shouldered between big bulky bodies that blocked the way, guiding herself from memory to the bar. At its edge the bartender nodded at her in a silent greeting before she leaned more over the worn wood to shout her order.

“Whiskey, twist of lemon.” He nodded again and set to work. It was strange being able to order without hassle, unlike all the other times she had snuck in here with fake id with older boys in her combat training. She turned and let her eyes circle the full length of the room, taking everything in.

If there was something you needed to know, this was the place to come to find your answers. Booze loosened the lips of even the sturdiest man, so finding secrets in this place was like spotting a cloud in the sky. She just needed to find out which lips would do the spilling tonight.

“Whiskey, lemon. Ten fifty.”

She blinked at him, shocked by the absurd price for the watered down piss he’d passed her. When his hand slapped the top of the bar, making her jump with a start she realized he was serious.

“This shit better blow my panties off,” she muttered as she dropped the money on the bar.

The guy to her left chuckled, “if it doesn’t, I’m happy to give it a go.”

She turned to give him a placidly cool look, almost daring him to make another snide comment. He smirked at her, meeting her challenge. She grabbed her drink before leaning in toward him, “the only thing getting blown around here if you come near me will be your face being blown off.” She smiled as sweetly and charmingly as she could before stepping away from the bar and weaving her way through the crowd.

Despite her very real threat, she could still feel his eyes burning into her back. Her fingers tightened around the highball in her hand as she moved toward the pool table, ringed by a group of guys who looked only a few years older than her. Not that age mattered right now, but she would be able to sweet talk her way into getting information out of them a little easier than some world-weary and weathered old man.

“Mind if I join boys?” She flashed them a grin, setting her drink on the side of the table before holding out her hand for a cue with a flutter of her eyelids. They sized her up before exchanging a silence question before someone stretched out a cue toward her from across the table. She smiled in a warm and dangerous way as her fingers curled around the end.

The trouble with all the training she’d ascertained from the combat school was she had also doubled its effectiveness by mastering her womanly wiles. She knew how to wrap a man around her finger quicker than you could say “who me?” and never failed to use that to her advantage in the field.

It was mostly leveraged on the fact that men these days tended to underestimate her ability to smile at them and cut their dick off at the same time. But they didn’t know that was almost an innate skill for her.

One of the guys began to move around arranging the balls in the triangle before they all turned to look at her. A couple jostled their buddies and whispered something under their breath. No doubt they were making bets on how long she would last or how miserably she would lose. It was all the better for Quill, the more they decided she wasn’t a threat, the more information she might get out of them.

“Wanna break?” She bit her lip, just enough to look naive and smiled again.

“Could one of you show me how?”

“You have played this before, haven’t you sugar?” Mr. Dark and Handsome from across the table cocked an eyebrow at her. She shrugged, not bothering to answer the question but letting them imagine the answer they desired. That was all it took, the first one to lean forward toward her was a shaggy-haired blonde who grinned like the devil himself.

“I’d be happy to show you how to shoot.”

She nodded, “I’d be ever so obliged.” She laid on her Southern accent thick as batter. He grinned more, looking like he’d just guaranteed a one-way ticket into her pants. He came around her and slid his hand along her arm until it rested on top of her own while the other fell to her hip, shifting her stance.

He talked her through how to line up a shot and take it, how to hold her fingers and how to hold her body. Every instruction spoke in whispers of the sexual promise he had for her, but she carried on with the naive routine, letting him finish his teaching.

“Gee, you’re so smart.” She grinned and straightened up, leaning against her cue so she could jut her hips toward him, letting him read her body language the way she wanted him to.

“They tell me that.” Several of his companions seemed to disagree, vocally, behind her, but she just smiled at him.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find someone to take over as my hairdresser. I mean, they don’t need to be as smart as you. But they need to be willing, and open to learning… My last one failed her purity test.” She scrunched up her nose. “I mean, look at the state of my hair. It’s no wonder.”

A couple of the boys laughed, buying into it. She leaned in closer toward Blondie, letting her chest puff out enough to draw his eye as he spoke slowly to start.

“Don’t know about hairdressers… But we just caught a bunch of-”

“Rocket.” Someone hissed sharply, making him focus as he smiled at her like he just remembered she was there.

“Ah, nothing important. Don’t you worry about it.” He ruffled her hair like she was a child and it took every ounce of self-control Quill had not to grab his hand and break his wrist. She smiled goofily at him before turning back to the table and taking a shot. She deliberately let the cue slip on the ball, skipping it over the table and whacking another guy standing around.

“Whoopsie.” She giggled like an airhead, hoping to play up the fake-blonde-bimbo thing so they felt more comfortable divulging whatever secret they were holding onto. Her gut told her they knew exactly where the truck and its passengers were.

Blondie laughed with her, coming up behind her while someone else readjusted the ball.

“Like this,” he whispered in her ear, the faint smell of his beer wafting around her cheek and up her nose. She felt it twitch in disdain, resisting the urge to curl it.

“Ohh…” she said with another silly grin before stepping back and letting the next person take their shot. She leaned against the table, watching Blondie watch her before she straightened up and moved toward him. She bumped her hip against his.

“So, do you have any good ideas for my hairdresser situation?”

He looked down at her, briefly glancing up at his companions before their eyes met once more, “well, between you and me… We caught some Desecrated earlier today and they’re processing them now before they head to the auction house.”

Her surprise was genuine; this was something new, something she hadn’t heard about before. She’d left the city before reaching the age of virtue. If there were secrets, she hadn’t learned yet because of her age at the time it meant her Intel was limited and this mission was botched from the start.

“The auction house,” she said carefully, trying not to sound too ignorant in case that wasn’t as uncommon as it felt to her.

“Mmm, yeah. I mean, it’s just for show right? Most people hash out deals before the bodies even hit the stage-” He kept talking, but it was his body language she was interested in. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where an older gentleman with dark black hair, flecked with gray on the sides, sat with another gentleman dressed in the same familiar Lieutenant uniform. Around the table with them were several other men, all varying ages. The two Lieutenants seemed to be the ones leading the conversations though.

“Your best bet is probably just to find a patron.” He flashed a leering grin at her, almost like he was trying to suggest himself. She felt herself shiver slightly as she turned back to the table with a dull expression. Patrons. The man’s way of controlling a woman.

“Honey, you couldn’t afford me,” she said, bending down and proceeding to pocket every single one of her balls followed by the black ball. She leaned the cue against the table before picking up her whiskey and finishing it off.

“Thanks for the game boys.” She tipped an imaginary hat at them before sauntering back through the crowd, letting the ripples of their anger at being duped follow in her wake.

From the information Blondie had given her, starting with those two lieutenants would be her best bet for finding the passengers. But she was quickly running out of time before Tate and the others headed back to camp.

She moved through the crowd, following the Lieutenants with her eyes to ensure they didn’t go anywhere as she crossed to them. Nearly there, she stepped through two bodies and almost collided right into someone’s chest. She stumbled back, her face screwing up into a glower.

“Excuse me,” she said sharply, turning herself to try and go past him, but he only stepped back in her way.

“I saw how you play pool…”

“Listen,” she said, looking up at him finally and stopping short for a moment. He was gorgeous. Easily the best looking guy she’d ever seen in all the guys she’d ever seen - and she’d been around a lot of guys. His jaw was chiseled so sharply under smooth alabaster skin, full rosy lips that seemed to pucker naturally and his eyes were so deep she felt like she was falling to the bottom of an ocean. His hair was brown, maybe even black it was so dark, and hung longer in the front than some guys felt comfortable wearing it, but it suited him so much.

He seemed to wait, patiently listening for whatever she was going to attempt to tell him but her brain had completely stalled and she’d forgotten where the clutch was.

“Listen?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow to silently ask her to continue.

“Yeah. Listen…” She wasn’t nearly as cold and to the point as she had been before. “I’m here on business…” The words were sticky on her tongue and it took way too much effort to get them out. Slow to start but once they started to come back she shook herself from her reverie. This was ridiculous why was she fawning over this stranger?

“I’m here on business and whatever lame pick up line you were going to attempt on me I’m not interested. So you need to fuck off because I’m busy.”

“Well, that’s rude,” he said with bemusement as she peered around him, noting that the Lieutenants were getting up and getting ready to leave.

“Maybe but it’s also presumptuous of you to come over here and make some cringe-worthy statement about how I’m so good with balls and I’m welcome to play with yours.”

“And who said I was going to let you anywhere near my balls? Do I look like I have a death wish?” Her eyes finally flicked back to him, somewhat taken aback that he wasn’t coming on to her. That was arrogant of her and she felt foolish for thinking it immediately but then one look in those eyes and she didn’t care.

“No…” she said dreamily, another frown forming in the middle of her forehead. “I have to go…” she protested weakly.

“Mmm, I’m sure you do.”

“I do,” she insisted, tearing her eyes painfully away from him. The Lieutenants were getting away. “Now get the hell out of my way.” She tried to shoulder him out of the way, but it was like slamming her shoulder into a rock. Her body ached from the force she exerted and the minimal reward she’d gotten. She glanced up at him once more, imagining for a moment the state of his body underneath those clothes for him to be so hard.

Hard. Her eyes flicked down before she shook her head.

“Quill,” she said under her breath as if she needed someone to chastise her. He cocked another eyebrow at her before she attempted another escape, slipping around a different body - much easier to move this time - and followed the soldiers out the door. They led her to the parking lot and toward their truck - her truck. She recognized the paint job immediately, it was one of Blast’s shoddy jobs. They definitely knew where the passengers were.

The trouble was, how was she going to keep up with a truck on foot? The city itself was a sprawling mass of skeletal remains of buildings long abandoned. Only those deemed useful and virtuous had survived the blood baths and remained in use. The others were pits where The Desecrated scavenged for supplies when they snuck into the city. So it would be easy to lose them.

She watched them climb in and start the engine. She slipped along a small car and paused for a second, glancing down at it. She could hot wire it, but the chances of her making it backfire were a lot higher than it would be getting it to turn on. She shook her head decided to chance it on foot. At least it was reliable.

They pulled out of the parking lot and she paused to make sure no light pollution would give her away before she started sprinting after them. She had long given up hope that she’d make it back to the meeting point in time. She would just have to sneak back to camp on her own later. Orion would be pissed and worried, but it’d be okay. And she’d have to endure a verbal lashing from Striker but what else was new?

Keeping up with the truck was the biggest issue. There was no speed limit when your plates belonged to the government. She was out of breath when she decided she should’ve just hotwired the car, or attempted to. They turned up ahead and she briefly lost sight of them. A surge of panic hit her chest, compelling her forward as her fingers scraped the corner of the building she braced herself on as she turned quickly. Her feet flew out from under her as she pressed them harder, pushing off the pavement as though she were willing it to make her fly.

The truck pulled up to a building not far ahead and she almost cried in relief if she could actually catch her breath to do so. Slowing down she slinked back into the darkness so they didn’t see her, pausing when she was close enough to catch her breath. Each deep gasp of air stung her lungs, making her wheeze and splutter. She needed to focus more on cardio than combat maybe.

Ducking into the nearest alley as they came around the back of the truck, she leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes, waiting for the pain in her chest to subside. She knew better than to overexert her heart, but as her father would remind her: pain was just weakness leaving the body.