The Cardinal Bird (1 of Cardinal Series)

Chapter 9

I walked down the stairs, feeling a slight sense of vertigo when they shifted out of time underneath me from the combined weight of the two men following, like trying to walk through a fun house when you're already nauseous. The rail was a wobbly, rusted thing that I eyed with distrust before deciding to lightly trail my hand along the wall instead. It helped the room stop spinning as it grounded me.

Not wanting to trip or fall, I kept my head down, watching my feet, until I felt the cool, dusty surface of the concrete floor beneath my bare feet. Only then did I feel secure enough to look up at the others.

Karl was a commanding presence as he divvied up where he wanted the others and what they should be doing.

I glimpsed the two new figures and, as a means to avoid looking again at the carnage, I studied them.  I had only heard their names and voices earlier, so I tried to figure out which one was Marc and which one would be Axel. 

 They were both smaller compared to the others I had been surrounded by so far, Karl being the only exception to that. If I had to estimate, I would say that the man with the light brown hair was the shortest one here. The other figure was maybe taller than Raven or about the same height, but his muscles weren't nearly as bulky as most of the men here, though they were impressive all the same.  All of the men were fit and probably double my weight or more.

I focused on the one with the lighter hair.   It was short and slightly brushed to the side. It was hard to tell his eye color from back here, but he had an easy-going face that looked like it could bring mischief at the drop of a hat.  His features were still very masculine, though somewhat less severe and sculpted compared to the others I had seen so far.  His broad shoulders were highlighted by the many equipment bags he had slung over them.  His biceps and triceps bulged as he used his arms to keep all of the straps from sliding down.

The other man was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His muscles were lean and present, making you take notice. His jaw was a work of art, square and sculpted and they framed pleasantly full lips. His almond shaped eyes were so dark they were almost black, and it felt like you could fall into them and get lost. He was dressed like everyone else with a dark shirt, utility jacket, cargo pants, and heavy duty boots.

I looked down at my own bare feet, pruned, pale, and dirty. That fact alone made me feel more naked than anything.

A throat cleared.

I looked up from my perusal of my feet, momentarily distracted from my longing for a pair of shoes.

The shorter of the two newcomers, Maybe Marc, was looking at me. "Who's that?" he asked of no one in particular, and I was somewhat surprised by how commanding it sounded considering I had already ranked him lower on the strength totem pole of people here.

The other one, Assumedly Axel, looked up and followed Maybe Marc's line of sight. I shivered, trying to burrow into the borrowed coat, taking comfort in the smell of the masculine musk along with hints of gun oil. It was a balm to my frayed nerves. It smelled strong, confident, and powerful.

A large hand softly found its way to the place between my shoulder blades. "This is Sang," Brandon said. He gave what he probably thought was a gentle push, but I nearly toppled over from it. His hand wrapped around my upper arm to help balance me.

"Is she Russian?" Maybe Marc asked, trying to get more information. His head was tilted slightly towards Brandon though his eyes stayed locked on me.

"She is standing right here," Brandon said.

Maybe Marc snorted. "That she is." Even though his eyes hadn't left my face, the fact that I knew he was now waiting on a response from me just made my breath hitch.