Don't Mess With Olivia
Sixteen-year-old Olivia drops down to one knee and waits in the shadows at the end of the street. She absorbs the darkness, soaks in every sound, every movement, sending out all her senses, searching every corner, every hole. They are out there; Olivia can feel it in her very bones, and she will find them. One by one, Olivia picks them out, mere shadows to ordinary eyes, but to her, they are something more. Boys, waiting in ambush, five of them. Five nasty imbeciles between her and her bedroom window. Her golden eyes narrow in annoyance – the little shits, when will they ever learn? It is just plain irritating that she can’t sneak out of her room and go for a midnight swim without having to look out for this lot. They have never caught her, and they never will. They are simply not good enough. She knows that they have singled her out for who she is and where she came from, that they are mean-spirited and shallow. As it is a matter of principle, she cannot afford to allow them to catch her. Olivia has decided that tonight, she is going to give them something to think about.
Taking a slingshot quietly out of her pocket, she fits it with a paintball. These are not ordinary missiles; she has had them custom-made. It is always handy to have a friend working in the armory. She stalks forward, slinking like an alley cat in the darkness, flowing with the shadows. Target number one is crouching against the tree ahead. He clearly does not expect her to approach from this direction and is hand-signaling target number two, who is lying under the hedging alongside the street. The corner of Olivia’s mouth twitches up into a half-smile; these guys are history. She needs to be fast and accurate if she plans on hitting all five of them in quick succession. They are slippery little bastards, likely to run away at the first sign of trouble. Sinking again onto one knee, she takes aim and unleashes chaos. The ball hits with a solid, satisfying thwack on the back of target one’s head. Immediately his head starts to glow a luminous green, and a horrid stink fills the air. Olivia is on her feet and speeding off before the missile even hits. Before anyone can draw breath, targets two, three, and four are glowing brightly and emitting a foul stench into the night air. There is a brief shocked silence before they start yelling and running down the street. Straight into the Night Patrol – oops!
Now, where is number five? He can’t be far; he will be trying to avoid the patrol who is rounding up his buddies. A hand touches her shoulder, she spins around in a blur of movement and instantly has a boy flat on his back with her knife pressed against his throat. Olivia looks down into coal-black eyes shining up at her with suppressed laughter. She raises a brow in question, trying to keep the humor from her face. You can’t let these guys get away with anything. Leaning forward, she puts her mouth against his ear.
“Jace,” she breathes, “what are you doing?”
She has him pinned to the ground, and he fights down the urge to pull her mouth to his, to kiss her, to taste her. She does still have the knife pressed to his throat after all.
He swallows hard. “Watching the fun,” he whispers, his mouth moving against her ear. “I know where he is hiding.”
In one fluid motion, she is on her feet. Deftly flipping her blade a few times in her fingers, she sheathes her knife. Taking his outstretched hand, she hauls him back to his feet, then signals for him to lead the way.
As it turns out, target number five has cleverly climbed up into a tree on the other end of the street and is looking in the wrong direction entirely (what is it with these guys?). He is determined to get the bitch; she thinks that she is so high and mighty, but she is nobody at all.
Olivia crouches down against the building opposite, with Jace hunkered down close behind her. He is not interested in the lout sitting in the tree who will soon see his ass, no doubt. Jace is focused instead on Olivia. He loves watching her; he loves everything she does. Jace watches as her muscles bunch up under that delicious, smooth golden skin. He can see the edges of her tattoo above the neckline of her vest and imagines the way those black wings play across her shoulders as she takes aim with the slingshot. He loves the total look of concentration on her face, the lift of the eyebrow, the twitching of the corner of her mouth, that half-smile just before she does something totally wicked. There is a brief zinging sound, followed almost immediately by a shout from the vicinity of the tree and an almighty crash. Acid green blooms large on the butt of target number five, and the waft of rotten eggs assaults their nostrils. Jace grabs Olivia from behind and pulls her up against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he murmurs into her neck: “Heads up, Liv, the cavalry has arrived.”
She doesn’t mind that Jace has his strong arms wrapped around her body; nope, she doesn’t mind one bit. She loves the feel of his hard, muscular chest pressed up against her back. She is glad he cannot see her face or read what is written as plain as day in her eyes.
Sure enough, the Night Patrol has rounded the corner with the other four luminous green targets in tow. All the fellows of the Night Patrol are wearing their buffs over the lower halves of their faces. They line the sorry lot up.
“Now then, what is going on here?”
“This is not our fault!” Luminous target number five steps up. “It is that silly Olivia bitch.”
“Yeah!” chimes in number three. “We need to teach her a lesson.”
The Night Patrol guys shuffle their feet, clear their throats, and glance at one another.
Jace is thoroughly enjoying himself; Olivia jabs him in the ribs with her elbow.
“Olivia. Jace’s Olivia?” asks the interrogator.
Slowly Olivia turns to look at Jace, her eyebrows raised in question, her golden eyes glowering at him.
He shrugs his shoulders and grins helplessly at her. Hoo boy, he is in such trouble now! The last thing she needs to hear is being called ‘Jace’s Olivia...’ by her friends in the patrol unit.
“Don’t you guys know by now?” The night patrol officer looks at the five boys incredulously. “Nobody messes with Olivia.”
