Page 8 of Midnight Shadows

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Guilt ate at Midnight. She had never wanted her sister to know about Idella's hidden life, but that secret had been cracked years ago. What Bugs didn't know was that Midnight had killed people for Idella, and she'd done it recently. Midnight was going to keep that secret, even if it was the perfect way to scare Bugs away from this.

It wasn’t as if Junebug was unaware of the darker side of humanity. Lord knows, they both had seen and experienced it, but since moving here, Midnight had done everything she could to protect her sister from harsh realities. Telling Junebug that she had killed a couple of bad guys while acting as a bodyguard for Idella wasn’t something she wanted to brag about.

Junebug gave her another crooked smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m being careful." With that reassurance, the matter was settled in Bug's mind, so she continued with her usual information overload. "Did you know that there's a civil war going on in Simdan now? Apparently their long-lost king came back from the dead! Raja Hadi. I’ve done some work with him, actually, but he normally uses a different name. He works a lot with Idella. They’re some kind of bad-ass spies or something, like superheroes except they take jobs from the government. I’m glad you came back when you did.”

“Yeah, it was blowing up—literally—the night we left. Thanks for all your help," she added, "I’m not sure we all would have gotten out without you.”

“No problem. I like being able to help. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference in the world—like you do.” Junebug looked down at her plate with a smile that was slightly wistful.

Midnight studied her sister’s face for a moment before she stacked their empty plates, setting them aside, and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Junebug had no idea just how much of a difference she made. Yes, she stayed hidden here where it was safe, but her reach extended far and wide, making it possible for Midnight, Idella, and countless others to help keep the world from imploding.

“Okay, what have you found out about thesefascinatingtwins?” Midnight asked sardonically.

Junebug looked up and laughed with delight, her body in motion again. With the relish of a magician performing a magic trick, she gave a rambling recitation of things a nosy hacker could find out.

Midnight snorted. “Where’d you get all of these tasty tidbits?”

Junebug’s nose wiggled. “His credit card receipts. I swear we could have lived until we were both old cat ladies on what he has spent so far.”

“You’re allergic to cats.”

Junebug rolled her eyes, slid off her stool, and carried the dirty dishes to the sink. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like them.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. Midnight tapped her finger on the counter before rising to her feet.

“Don’t you want to know more about Junayd?”

“No, I think that was enough," she said with amusement. "I feel like I've been stalking him by proxy.”

She grimaced.

“You know you love me!” Bugs called after her.

Midnight laughed and entered the bathroom they were upgrading. Junebug had finished the floor and wall tile last week and Midnight was adding a shower. She had removed the old claw-foot tub, which would become a decorative piece. It would be interesting to see what her sister created from it.

Midnight loved their hidden home. The space was an unorthodox piece of forgotten history. She and Junebug had discovered the vault within the Brooklyn Bridge over three years ago and claimed it as their own. They had planned on surprising their mother with it, but Rainbow had died before they were finished.

The vault was part of a series constructed by Washington Roebling and his father in the 1870s to help pay for the cost of building the Brooklyn bridge. The caverns below the granite entrances were dark and consistently cool. Ideal places to house even the most delicate vintage Bordeaux, Burgundy, or Champagne.

The painted walls and rudimentary bathroom suggested this vault had also been used as a speakeasy during Prohibition. The entrance was cunningly hidden behind a set of brick fascia swiveling doors. The first door could be pulled open by a heavy wrought iron ring. If you stood in front of the wall and pulled the iron ring, the wall swiveled in a circle. There was a double-layer of protection, because it led to a second, very narrow walled-in section that opened a second concealed door into their home.

Once inside the cavernous vault, the room was over a thousand square feet from front to back. Water, electric, and sewer were tied into pipes running under the Brooklyn bridge. Over the years, she and Junebug had made the place their own. They were both pretty good at building what they needed.

The counter in the kitchen was crafted from the original speakeasy bar. It was now covered with a beautiful mosaic tile countertop that Junebug had painstakingly laid. Midnight did the major construction stuff like electrical, plumbing, and carpentry while Junebug handled the creative endeavors. The mosaic floor of the vault could have competed with any of the great masters from the ancient Roman and Greek eras. Most importantly, though, this home had free rent and free utilities—as long as they didn’t get discovered.

He’s looking for you.Junebug’s words flowed quietly through her mind.

Midnight's breath caught in her throat, her heart thrumming with the danger and excitement those words could bring. She pushed it down, focusing on installing the tracking for the shower door. Turning and reaching for the drill, she caught sight of her face in the mirror leaning against the wall. She frowned as she remembered Junayd's taste in women.

With a sigh, she briefly touched the scar that traveled across half her face. Her dark hair was piled up in a messy ponytail, and her brown eyes looked back from the mirror with a haunted, vulnerable look. She would never be beautiful, or tall.

“I’ll never have fake boobs, either,” she muttered with a shake of her head.Why would Junayd Saif-Ad-Din want to find me?

A particular memory hit her and she slowly sat back on her heels.

“What rules do you follow, Junayd?”

“Those of the desert, raqisat alqamar.”


Tags: S.E. Smith Romance