The Raven (The Raven Four Series Book 2), Page 3

  “Fine.” I take a swing at his face.

  If it had been anyone else, I may have broken their jaw. But since Hunter is like a brother to me, I pull back at the last second and don’t hit him as hard as I could. Still, the punch has enough force that Hunter winces in pain.

  “Fuck, that hurt,” he gripes, cupping his jaw.

  I shake my head, opening and flexing my hand. “You’re lucky I pulled back at the last second or I might’ve broken your damn jaw.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing you like me then,” he jokes, lowering his hand, the skin around his jaw already red and swollen.

  “You’re gonna bruise,” I tell him, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  He lifts a shoulder. “Yeah? So? Wouldn’t be the first time. And besides, you feel better now, so …” He shrugs again.

  I shake my head, but he’s right. Something about hitting people who piss me off always makes me feel a tiny bit better. It’s fucked up, I know, but I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. My therapist believes that something from my past has made me this way. The problem is that I can’t remember everything about my past.

  “You know me too well,” I mutter, slumping down onto a nearby chair and massaging my temples with my fingertips.

  He sits down on the chair beside mine and leans back with his arms crossed. “You wanna talk about it now?”

  “Not really,” I grumble. But I know Hunter’s not just going to let this go. “It’s about Raven.”

  “Your raven or ours?” he asks with a tease of his brow.

  I glare at him. “If you’re gonna act like this, I’m not gonna talk to you.” I start to get up.

  He holds up his hand, indicating for me to sit back down. “Dude, chill. I’ll let up a bit, okay?”

  “Good.” I sit back down, letting out a quiet exhale. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what’s really bugging me. I just … I don’t know … I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I have no fucking idea why.”

  “Really?” He frowns but strangely doesn’t appear too surprised.

  “Why don’t you look that surprised?” I ask him suspiciously.

  He looks worried, which is weird for him. “Because … I swear it feels like I know her, too.”

  Hunter

  I woke up this morning with a major headache, and the strangest feeling I dreamt about something important last night. But I can’t remember what. That’s not too weird, though. I haven’t been able to remember my dreams for years now. I once told a therapist about this and he tried to come up with a reason why. But he never did give me a diagnosis and I stopped going to him after only a few sessions, mostly because he was trying to convince me that I used sex and drugs as a coping mechanism for the bad shit that has happened to me. And he was right. But he also tried to convince me that I needed to stop doing drugs and having sex and I never plan on doing that. Doing so means facing the fuckedupness that is my past and again, I never plan on doing that.

  Ever.

  In fact, I have a routine to make sure that that never happens. I get up in the morning and cut a few lines. Then I suck them up and let them numb that fuckedupness right out of me. It’s only a temporary solution, though, which is why at the end of the day I’ll hook up with someone. Only then will I feel in control over my life again. Only then will I feel free of my past. Only then will I feel free of her. My fucking stepmother who ruined me.

  Of course when Zay tells me he feels like he knows Raven, the little white lines purring inside me start to silence and worry pricks it’s way to the surface.

  Honestly, I thought I was just being crazy when I thought I felt like I knew Raven. It was only for a brief moment, just enough that I was able to shove the feeling aside. And the drugs helped me wipe out the lingering feelings.

  But hearing Zay say he feels like he knows her too … it has me wondering …

  “How could we possibly both feel like we know her?” I lean back and rake my fingers through my hair, tension working through my body.

  Fuck, I really wish I’d done a few more lines.

  Maybe I will before we leave…

  Yeah, I think I will. Then I’ll be nice and good for a while and I can go on pretending to be the happy, flirty guy everyone believes I am. Who everyone needs to believe I am.

  “I have no idea.” He cracks his knuckles and bounces his leg up and down, revealing he’s anxious.

  I eye him over, wondering if he’s keeping something from me. “You have no memories of her at all?”

  He shakes his head, his gaze dissecting me as carefully as mine is him. “But my mind’s shit when it comes to holding on to memories. Yours, however …” He cocks a brow at me.

  “I can’t remember her at all … I just have a feeling …” I trail off. “Or, well, there is one thing.”

  When I give a short pause, he grows impatient. “Just spit it out, brother,” he snaps, scratching at his forehead.

  He’s so worked up this morning that I’m kind of worried he might end up cutting himself apart.

  Jax and I are gonna have to keep a close eye on him.

  “I’m not sure what it means,” I start. “Or if it means anything. But, when Raven was standing on the bridge, surrounded by snow, looking so fucking gorgeous, I swear … Well, I swear I’ve seen that exact moment before. It wasn’t like I was remembering an old memory. It was almost like a photograph inside my head.” When he gives me a confused look, I shrug. “I know it sounds weird. That’s why I was so hesitant to tell you.”

  Zay restlessly taps his foot against the mats covering the floor. “You think we know her somehow?”

  I shake my head, telling myself there’s no way in hell we could both know her yet not remember why. “Doubtful. I mean, how could we know her yet neither of us can actually remember anything about her? More than likely, she probably just looks like someone we know.” But I feel like I’m lying when I say the words aloud.

  Why, though?

  Zay massages his knuckles, staring off into space for a moment. “She has a really unique look about her, though. I mean, that hair and those eyes … the violet tints in both … that’s kinda rare.”

  I’ve spent a lot of time photographing people to know he’s right. In fact, the first time I ever laid eyes on Raven, I wanted to photograph her. And not just because she’s gorgeous, but because she has such a unique look about her. And those haunted eyes of hers … Fuck, they’d make for an amazing, emotional photo.

  One of these days, I’m going to talk her into letting me photograph her.

  I shake my head. Shit, I’m already getting obsessed. I can’t let Jax know, or he’s going to set more rules.

  “What do you think we should do?” Zay asks, yanking me from my thoughts.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure if we should do anything yet. Not unless one of us actually can remember why the hell she looks familiar.”

  Zay’s brows knit. “You think we should tell Jax?”

  “Tell me what?” Jax appears in the doorway. As always, his expression is neutral.

  He’s a scary motherfucker. At least to people outside our group. Zay and I, though, know how to handle him. We also know that, despite the fact that he comes off as a psychopath most of the time, there’s more to Jax than most people know. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a crazy bastard. He tries really hard to be that way, though. Deep down, I know he feels things. He just buries them with alcohol, like I bury my past with drugs and sex, just like Zay buries his rage and loss of control issues with fighting and cutting.

  Yeah, we’re a really messed up circle, The Raven Three. And I have a feeling we’re about to become even more messed up when we officially become The Raven Four, because I don’t believe for a second that someone like Raven, who’s beautiful and wild but just as crazy and unstable as the rest of us, is somehow going to balance out all of our issues and make us a stable group. Besides, in our own way, we have stability. It just lies in drugs, alcohol, fighting, pain, and sex.
>
  “It’s nothing really,” I tell Jax with a shrug. “Zay and I were just talking about how there’s a familiarity to our Raven, but neither of us can actually remember meeting her, so it’s probably nothing.”

  He puts his thinking face on, which honestly isn’t that much different than all his other expressions. I just know him well enough that I can see the difference.

  He remains silent for a second before straightening from the doorway and entering the room. “We’ll look into it more.” He stops in the middle of the room. “Right now, we need to focus on getting her into our circle so we can start working our way into her mind and find out what she’s hiding in there.” He briefly hesitates, which is weird for him. “I also think it might be a good idea to have her move in with us.”

  Zay gapes at him. “You want her to move in with us? Are you fucking crazy?”

  “You know I am,” Jax replies with a shrug. “And while I’m not thrilled about the idea of having some crazy, broken girl living with us, I think it’s the best way to learn more about her. And not just for our bosses, but because we need her help with something.”

  “With what?” Zay and I ask at the same time, both of us looking totally confused.

  But we never get help from anyone but each other, so this is really strange.

  He wavers for a second. “With getting dirt on Porter Aversonly.”

  Porter Aversonly is a nephew of one of our bosses’ rivals. He’s also in the same grade as us. The bosses gave us an order about a month ago to make friends with him so we can find out more about what the Aversonlys have been up to, since they’ve been really quiet over the last handful of months. And a mafia family being quiet is never a good thing.

  The problem is, Porter is an asshole and making friends with him has been complicated since rival families don’t really associate with each other. Still, we’ve been trying. It’s why I joined the basketball team—because Porter is on it and we thought maybe I could try to make friends with him. I hate playing, although I’m good at it, but it’s gotten me nowhere closer to becoming friends with Porter the douchebag.

  Zay’s brows furrow. “How the hell is Raven supposed to help us with that?”

  “Because she’s good-looking enough, and Porter likes good-looking,” Jax says in a bored tone, as if we’re talking about the weather. “Plus, Raven isn’t technically part of any family so he won’t be breaking any rules by getting close to her.”

  “She’s good-looking enough,” I mimic Jax’s tone and roll my eyes. “She’s fucking gorgeous and you know it.”

  He stares at me without blinking, which might unnerve a lot of people, but I relax back in the chair.

  Finally Jax takes a seat in an empty chair. “Fine, she’s gorgeous, but that only proves my point more. And we’ve been trying to get in with Porter for over a month. This way will be quicker and get us closer to our freedom, which is what we all want more than anything, right?” There’s a challenge in his eyes as he looks at me, daring me to tell him I’ve changed my plans about wanting to get the hell out of this town and away from this family mafia drama.

  While I love challenging Jax, I won’t with this. I’ve wanted my freedom since the day my father brought Diane into my life. Maybe even before then, but that’s when it really was set in stone. Because that crazy bitch… She made me realize that being in my family, in this town, in this lifestyle I was forced into, meant that I’d have to become a cruel motherfucker who doesn’t care about anything or I’d end up being buried in the ground. And unfortunately, I’ve always been the kind of guy who can’t completely shut off his emotions.

  “Yeah, it’s what we want,” I agree with a heavy sigh. “But it feels kinda wrong using Raven like this. Plus, Porter’s a prick and likes women who are easy. And Raven’s not easy. I don’t think she’s even very experienced.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think she is either,” Zay mutters, wiping his hand across his forehead.

  I cast him an amused look. “You two should get along fantastically then.”

  He glowers at me. “Yeah right. She drives me too damn crazy.”

  “I think you might like that, though,” I mock, eliciting another dirty look from him.

  “Stop getting off track,” Jax warns. “I need to make sure we’re all on the same page about this. The last thing I need is one of you feeling guilty and backing out.”

  “Why would we feel guilty?” Zay grumbles. “If she’s gonna be part of our circle, she’s gonna have to get used to doing stuff like this.”

  “Yeah, but we’re kind of using her,” I state the obvious, guilt pressing against my chest. “Plus, we’re digging up dirt on her for the bosses…” I frown. “If she really was part of our circle, we’d be breaking a ton of rules.”

  “She’s not part of our circle yet,” Jax stresses. “And if we want to get the hell out of this life, both of these things need to be done. Technically, we don’t have to use her to get to Porter, but we’ve been trying to get to him for a while and this is our best option. As for digging up dirt on her, that’s non-negotiable. The bosses asked for it; therefore, we do it.” He leans back and crosses his arms, his eyes looking a little bit blood shot as he stares us down hard. “So, what’s it going to be? Her or us?”

  “Are those really the only two options?” I mumble with a frown.

  “Unless you have a better idea, yes,” Jax replies without an ounce of remorse in his expression.

  Deep down, I wonder if he feels guilty. Usually, he doesn’t. If Raven was just a normal girl, he wouldn’t. But Raven isn’t a normal girl. She’s broken, just like all of us, which makes it so much worse when I hear Zay say, “Fine, I choose us.”

  They both look at me, waiting for me to choose, and while I hate myself for it, I know there’s really only one choice. Because, in the end, I’ll always choose Zay and Jax over anything.

  I let out a sigh. “Fine, I choose us, too.”

  Then I get up and wander to my room to do a few more lines before we have to leave. Before we have to go start breaking the girl that fell into our lives yesterday. Because it’s the only way I’m going to be able to handle it.

  Raven

  The first time I realized my uncle Ben was a total nutjob was about a week after I moved in with him and my aunt. He had mostly ignored me up until then, although my aunt and cousin were pretty verbal about how much they loathed the new edition to their “perfect” family.

  Before I moved in with them, I’d met my aunt, uncle, and cousin a whopping two times. Once was at my dad’s parents’ funeral after they died in a car crash. My uncle and my dad were the only children they had, which left them only having each other. According to my dad, though, he never got along with my uncle. He never embellished on the specifics, but I figured he wasn’t a fan of my dad being a thief and a conman, since my uncle was—and is—a cop.

  The second time my uncle made a presence in my life was a couple of weeks before my parents were killed. He just showed up at our house, something my mom was really upset about. I can’t remember much about what happened while he was there, but my memory has always been pretty shitty. I can always remember having gaps in my memories; tiny holes that I could never fill.

  I once asked my mom about it when I was younger and couldn’t remember how I got home after school.

  She felt my forehead for a fever then looked at me worriedly. “You don’t feel warm, but maybe we should take you to a doctor just in case.”

  I shook my head. “No, I hate doctors.”

  She crouched down in front of me. “Now, Raven, remember what we talked about. Doctors help us. There’s no reason to fear them.”

  I knew she was probably right. My mom usually was. But every time I even thought about going to see a man or woman wearing one of those creepy white coats, I felt like I was going to throw up—

  “Raven! Are you up yet?” My aunt pounds on my shut bedroom door, startling me.

  I’ve been awake since before the sun came
up, ever since I woke up from that second dream of when I was young and met Zay. I haven’t gotten up yet, though, partly because I’ve been overanalyzing the dreams and partly because my side hurts like a bitch.

  “Raven!” my aunt shouts again. “Wake up! You’re taking the damn bus today, and it gets here in twenty minutes.”

  I grit my teeth but manage to say in an even tone, “Why can’t I just ride with you when you drive Dixie May to school?”

  “Dixie May’s car arrived last night, so she’s driving herself to school and doesn’t need your moody, sullen, depressing presence ruining her chances of making friends here,” she says snidely. “We all agree that it’s time for you to start taking the bus.”

  I slowly sit up and lower my feet to the floor. “Now, Auntie, I’m sure Dixie May’s bitchy, slutty stupidity will make up for me cramping her style. In fact, I predict she’ll have a minion of idiots following her around like mindless sheep by the end of the day.” I stand up, wincing from the pain and tightness in my side.

  “How dare you talk about my daughter like that?” She wiggles the doorknob and curses. “Open this door right now, Raven, or I swear to God—”

  I throw open the door. “You’ll what?”

  She’s standing on the other side, breathing furiously. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s wearing a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt, her usual morning look.

  She takes a frustrated breath, her lips parting, her nostrils flaring. “You little shit—”

  “Honey, remember what we talked about.” My uncle appears in the hallway, dressed in his uniform, buttoning the top button of his shirt.

  “Right.” Her lips twist into a malicious grin as she looks at me. “The bus gets here in twenty minutes. If you miss it, you can walk.” She tosses me a smirk then spins around and walks toward my uncle. When she reaches him, she places a kiss on his cheek, but he doesn’t even so much as glance at her, his eyes fixed on me like a hawk.

  Well, this is new. Usually, my uncle only acknowledges my presence when he’s punishing me.