“Not yet anyway.” Declares a deep, cultured timbre voice that washes over me like the best honey in the world. So addictive.
Gideon comes in through the door like he owns the place, and well, he does own it. His eyes immediately search me out, when he finds my gaze, he locks on and doesn’t look away. He looks like a dark knight in this moment, and slightly pissed off. There is nothing shiny about Gideon, everything about him is rough, dangerous and will cut you deep if you move any closer than you should.
He bears a tray with a pitcher of water and a glass. As well as a plate covered with a silver dome. I guess he brought food.
“I thought so.” Doctor Brown says as he chuckles lightly. But Gideon doesn’t spare a glance at him, he just stares at me like there is no tomorrow.
“I brought you food and more water.” Gideon pronounces, as he glares at me.
He is pissed but he still softly approaches me as he places the wooden tray which I discover has two legs, to act as a small table. Hmmm, breakfast in bed. Or in my case, dinner.
“Thank you.” I mumble. I can’t seem to be able to get enough of him myself. I feel like I’ve been starved of him which is ridiculous seeing as he was just here a few minutes ago.
“That better be some light food, Gideon. And no alcoholic drinks for now.” Doctor Brown says as he goes to the armoire to collect his medical bag that rests on top.
“No worries doc, she doesn’t drink.” Gideon states, his gaze never leaving mine.
I wonder how he knows that. But what a stupid question. After seeing his command/ security center or whatever the hell he calls it, somewhere in this building, what doesn’t he know. About anything.
Upon remembering that, all my anger and hurt from earlier comes back full force and I look away from him. I still don’t know what to do here.
“Thank you, Doctor Brown.” I say as I ignore Gideon’s questioning gaze.
“No problem my dear. You just make sure you eat light meals as often as you can from here on out. As your strength comes back, make sure you eat a big, balanced healthy breakfast, then go light during the rest of the day.” He says as he stands at the end of the bed, ready to leave.
“Of course.” I agree, no need to worry the nice doctor any further.
“Well, it’s 0127. I didn’t realize I would stay this late.” Doctor Brown glances at Gideon.
“Oh my, I didn’t know it was that late. You honestly didn’t have to come all this way, I’m fine.” I say, glaring at Gideon as I do so. The stubborn man, why did he have to call the good doctor?
“It was no trouble at all. I love doing what I do.” Doctor Brown smiles then makes his way to the door, after shaking hands with Gideon. Once at the door he turns back to look at me, the he winks and says, “Take care of her Gideon. She is a rare find.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Gideon replies, as he turns around to look at me. “Let me walk you out, Doc.” He offers.
The door is opened and I think Doctor Brown replies back but I don’t hear anything over the pounding of my heart. Gideon’s gaze is cold, icy and calculating. I wonder what’s going through his head.
“Eat your tomato soup and garlic bread.” he commands, seriously.
He looks at me one last time and then leaves. Softly closing the door in his wake.
And he never comes back.
Chapter 5
Gideon
“IS SHE ALRIGHT?" I immediately demand of the good doctor once the door closes behind us.
“Yes, she is fine but I’m concerned about her eating habits. She needs to eat as regularly as possible.” He solemnly says as we go down the stairs.
I have known this man for almost my entire life. Doctor Brown is not only the man who has my Grandfather in his medical care, but he also happens to be my Grandfather’s good friend. I trust him, to a certain extent.
“Cut the shit Doc. What’s really wrong with her?” I demand. No way is he going to leave this place without actually telling me what’s going on.
I can see that he cares for Chloe, I notice the slight worry in his eyes.
“Gideon.” He utters my name in a defeated sort of way. By now he should know that I never settle, and I always get what I want. “That young lady is under a lot of stress. She isn’t eating or hydrating as she should. It’s all those little potent ingredients that can wear anyone down.”
We come to a stop by the elevator doors and I spot Fred waiting to take the good Doctor home.
“Yes, she’s been working a lot lately.” I concede. How could I have missed all the signs of fatigue? She had all of them, they were glaringly obvious but I decided to be selfish. And don’t get me started on that damn bastard who is after her.
“You seem to care for her.” Doctor Brown’s gaze is inquisitive but oh so serious as if my response is important to him. “You are not using her right?” He inquires, going in for the kill that I knew was coming.
It makes me angry and slightly ashamed that he can ask me such a thing. But he has every right to. He knows me. Knows my history.
“No, Doc. I genuinely care about her. More than I think I should.” I admit as I look away. That girl messes with my mind and I can’t seem to be able to shake her.
He is quiet for a while, as if mulling over my admission. It feels like time stops. It irritates me the fact that I’m waiting to hear what he thinks. I damn well don’t need his or anyone’s approval. Especially when it comes to her.
“I can see that.” He finally admits. I turn to look at him and see he has a small smile gracing his face. Not sure what it means and it makes me slightly uncomfortable.
There is a lot I should be asking. I should ask him about the progress of my Grandfather and if he is anywhere close to recovering from the coma. I should be asking about any medical advice that he might have concerning Grandpa.
I know all of that, but that’s not what comes out of my mouth.
“I’ve got her.”
The declaration comes out of nowhere. But once the words are uttered, they feel right and I will own them. Chloe is mine. In every sense of the word. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Doc looks up at me, he is a few heads shorter than me. His wise, sharp eyes pierce me when I say that, as if challenging me. I know what he is searching for. Accountability. Earnestness. Whatever the hell it is though, I don’t care. He can search all he wants, but I would be damned if he were to warn me to stay away from her.
Not her.
We stare at each other, as if sizing each other up, studying each other. I can’t believe he still has to do that at this stage in our lives. He should know that by now, I’m a different person than I was at least ten years ago. But I guess the situation is different somehow. She is different.
This moment reminds me of the way my Grandfather would sometimes look at me. And I just look back. Eventually, he nods his head showing his acceptance.
Honestly. I don’t need it, but it saves us both a lot of time when he finally gives in.
As if he stood a chance to begin with.
One thing my Grandfather taught me was never to apologize for anything that I want. Because of that, I’m not in the habit of denying myself of anything I want. I certainly don’t make excuses about my desires and wants. I try by all means to simplify my life.
Why complicate the inevitable? And that’s exactly what she is, she is an inevitable experience. It’s just a matter of time for her to admit the truth to herself.
“Thank you for coming, Doctor. Fred will take you home.” I inform as we shake hands one last time and I gesture towards Fred who calls the elevator.
“Of course. Goodnight.” He turns and steps into the open elevator with Fred in tow.
As soon as the elevator doors are shut, I turn and make my way to the staircase, with every intention of going back to her.
She scared the living hell out of me when she fainted. It was so unexpected and out of the blue. Lucky enough I was already close to her when she started
to move a bit wobbly and all wrong. Otherwise we might have bigger problems on our hands if she fell and hit her head on the hard, ceramic tiled floor.
“Oh, you are here. You have to see this.” Comes an ominous voice. I turn to look at Max, with a retort already on my tongue. But as I fully look at him, I notice the rigid expression on his face and I know.
The night isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“THIS BETTER BE GOOD.” I demand, my patience wearing thin. Actually, I’m way past that point now.
To think it was only this afternoon when I decided to go visit my Grandfather. Then there was the issue of Chloe missing, then the surprise visit from the FBI. I don’t know how to categorize this day. No doubt Chloe fainting is right up there with the worst of my days. If she ever does that again, I will make sure she doesn’t sit for two weeks.
Max knows that I have something, or rather someone else, on my mind. Now is not the time to crack jokes or waste my time, I’m beyond humanity now, and I find now that I hate being kept away from her.
“I’m sorry but you need to hear this before you go back to her.” Max’s voice is low and solemn, not a single humorous note in sight making my body tense even further. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open slowly.
It’s these out of the blue situations that I hate. Last minute and ill-prepared for. I have never liked surprises even as a boy. Of all the things that have changed in my life, that little fact hasn’t. I hate being taken by surprise and tonight, hasn’t been my best night. Apart from the times I shared with Chloe, not that it’s anyone’s business.
“Well then, on with it.” I demand. My temper is short as it is. Add that to the fact that Max is never this serious and sinister looking, it’s safe to say that I’m not exactly looking forward to whatever else this night has left to reveal.
“As you might have noticed, Tom stayed at Chloe’s apartment. He has an invaluable skill of sticking to the shadows and collecting information.” Max starts as we stride with purpose to the back of the command center.
“Yes. Did he get anything?” I enquire.
“He did, yes. And you’ll be pissed off about this one.” Max warns.
I expect us to stop in the back room that we were in before Chloe fainted, but Max goes to the cleverly hidden secret door and calls the security pad.
My blood starts freezing, I feel a chill creep up my bones.
That door.
We never really use it unless we absolutely need to. We haven’t for a while now but as Max punches in a code and the door opens, I know that whatever is down there is really going to set me off.
Max steps in, after a beat I follow. Each time I step through this door, I shred every moral compass that I possess. I shred all humanity and turn into the machine my Grandfather sharpened and groomed. This is the side of me that I don’t want her to know about. Hell, I don’t want her to know a lot about me, or my life.
She will just be repulsed.
“Peter has already started.” Max informs me as we go down the narrow stairs.
Peter Stanhope. One of my best men. Ex MI6’s finest. Not exactly a talker, but when it comes to the art of exerting pain on the human body, he is well versed. It’s almost like he was born with the craft, a gift, in his DNA. The knowledge that he is at work on whatever findings that Tom found tells me one thing, Tom captured one of the men that were after Chloe.
“How many?” I question silently, walking slowly as the grunts and howls of a human being in pain reach my ears. It smells like blood, urine, sweat and all sorts of pleading and sorry desperation in here and I know it’s because work has already been initiated.
“Just one. Ordered to stay and wait for her return.” Max answers.
We don’t speak her name in here. Her name is sacred and I’ll do my best to separate her from any of this. Max knows me well enough to be cautious about that.
There is a single, dim light source that guides the way. This place is cold, rough and hard. There is no heating in here. It almost looks like a dungeon, like a prison of some kind. I made sure it was designed with roughness in mind. It reminds me of what my Grandmother used to say, it’s not the outside exterior of a house that matters, but the inside.
I think she was trying to explain human beings by using architecture as a reference, but this time, I choose to view her words in a literal sense. This room almost feels like it is a prison of some sort. Only it’s not a prison, I’m not into keeping people here. But I am into questioning the bastards that try to cross me in one way or another.
As we reach the bottom of the stairs, I notice a man stripped down to his briefs, tied to a metal chair with rust on it. His face is swollen and covered in bloody bruises and dirt, making it hard to identify the man’s age. There is an acrid smell of fear and piss in the air. Revolting but also making the sinister side of me rear its ugly head.
There is a bright fluorescent light directly in his face, there is deep gash over his right eye so he can’t use that one but he uses his other eye to glare angrily around the room. The room is dim. I know he can’t see me nor can he see anyone else for that matter, but he does look defiant and a whole lot angry.
“Told Peter not do a number on him just yet. Thought you might want a bit of time with him.” Max says as he gestures towards the subject at hand.
“Good.” I affirm as I remove my suit jacket.
The little flashback that I had earlier today while visiting my Grandfather comes back briefly, reminding me about The Mighty Man of Valor. Tonight, just like Gideon in the Holy Book, I’m going to avenge and raise hell.
I have no need to have the way I dress speak for me in here. This is not a movie where the captured guy notices who is boss, when an old man with a belly steps into the room with his hands in his expensive suit pants. No.
At this very moment, I have no objections to being hands on. My blood has been turning, the need to avenge screaming at me. Wanting and needing some form of release.
I step right in front of the light and begin. I stand there for a bit, studying him as he squints his eyes, craning his neck upwards, trying to see who it is. I just stand there and let him stare all he wants. I don’t care, all I know is this; whoever he works for, crossed the wrong one.
There is no mercy for the wicked.
“Who. . . who are you?” The man says, struggling to form a coherent sentence. I know Peter roughed him up some.
“What’s his name?” I ask my men in the room, deciding to ignore the man before me.
“Bryce, born in Columbia but moved to live in Chicago at a young age. Him and his father work for an underbelly organization there.” Tom answers from somewhere in the room.
“Like I said to your men, you don’t know what you have just interrupted! They are not men to be trifled with and you just messed with their plans! You are a dead man walking.” Bryce spits at me, his gaze filled with hatred.
“Who is it that you say cannot be ‘trifled with’?” I ask.
He remains silent, glaring at me.
“We haven’t gotten anything from him past that.” Tom informs, making me smile. If Peter has roughed him up to this point and he hasn’t given up information yet, then this means he is one of the key persons for whoever he works for and has been trained to withstand some pain and torture. What he doesn’t know is, pain comes in levels, and I excel at the highest level of all things in my life. Including exerting pain on a human.
“I never ask the same thing twice, Bryce.” I tell him softly as I walk towards the table that has an array of torture objects laid out. I like knives and blades. I pick a dull, short knife as my chosen instrument to get me going. Sometimes, it’s the dull things in life that give the best results.
I walk over back to him slowly, twirling the blade with my fingertips, making sure that he sees me coming.
“I don’t know anything man, I swear!” Bryce cries out as he notices Tom and Peter step up behind him to hold him down.
“Then
you have no use for me.” I inform him as I step closer, in order for me to start carving his flesh, my anger finally finding the outlet it has been desperately seeking all day and night.
I start with his shoulders, plunging the knife deep into the flesh and bone there. Bryce howls and screams in agony but I know damn well that any sounds made in here cannot be heard from outside. One has to be in the room to hear anything. I take the knife out and repeat the process, but in a different spot this time.
The man starts struggling, twisting every which way and cursing my name to hell and back.
“You see, Bryce. I dislike ill-mannered men who go after another man’s possessions and worse still, a man’s girl. I especially hate liars as well. Are you lying to me?” I question, circling him.
“Go to hell!” He screams, making me smile. I plunge the knife into his other shoulder, this time, pressing the end of the blade into the flesh and twisting it as I bring it back up. And I know it hurts like hell, a kind of pain that will not go away. I know he won’t be able to use his hands for a long, long time.
I gesture to Tom and Peter to readjust Bryce and step back. I watch as they untie him and then proceed to string him up by his wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling. I have time today.
When they are done, I walk over to him, seeing pain clouding his vision as his hurt and torn shoulder is being pulled by the painful position he is in currently.
“And to hell we shall go. You first though.”
Then I get to work, with my bare hands this time. I use him like a damn sack to vent all my frustration. I completely zone out, punching him with speed and power behind each fist. I’m not aware of which part of his body I’m aiming for, nor am I cognizant of Bryce’s cries, pleas or howls of pain. I just keep going, thinking of nothing, seeing no one but her.
I see her in my mind’s eye on the day I first laid eyes on her, her soft body crashing into mine, evoking all sorts of chaos and violent need within me. I see her, standing in the middle of my living room, her shoulders tense, looking uncertain yet still determined to see where this ‘partnership’ between us will go. I see her, in her small apartment, with all the hurt and pain in her eyes, looking up at me with disappointment.
A Billion Broken Pieces (Incongruity Series Book 2) Page 5