With ragged breaths he leant against me, his heavy body holding us both up.
He pulled away, his eyes now a simmering flame. “I love you Jane Miller,” he whispered into my ear, and kissed my cheek gently.
“I love you too.” Before his lips captured mine. The kiss was gentle and tender, and completely devastating.
Björn picked me up and released himself from me. His eyes explored my nudity. His tongue flickered over his top lip and I could see the twitch of his cock.
“Let me make love to you Jane,” he crooned.
“Make love to me? I thought you just did?” my eyebrow rose.
“No. I fucked you because you are mine. Now let me make love to you.” He pulled his pants up, pulling up the zip not bothering with the belt and button as if they would just get in the way. With a swift move, he pulled me into his arms and lifted me like a bride on her wedding day. He carried me to my apartment, my clothes strewn along the path like fallen soldiers after a battle.
Björn pushed the door open and walked directly to my bedroom where he lay me on the soft mattress. The warmth and silkiness a stark contrast to the cold window.
He towered above the bed, watching my body, tracing each curve and dip with his eyes as he slowly peeled his clothes off.
“You can’t do this Jane, you don’t love him.” I pushed Gabriel’s voice away. I could see him, in the corner. He stood with a pained, broken expression.
Tomorrow I would write the final chapter of his book and set him free, but tonight Björn was going to make love to me.
He unbuttoned his shirt and it fell open revealing his broad chest, peppered with light hair, the corrugated flat of his abdomen and the ripples of muscles across his ribs. Björn’s body flexed and stretched as he undid his pants and let them fall by his feet. Allowing my eyes to travel the length of his strong, thick thighs.
He stepped to the end of the bed and his body folded over mine. My heart throbbed as he leaned down to kiss me, his mouth capturing me in a sweet delicate kiss. Then leaving mine, trailing soft kisses along my body. Revering every inch of me, with delicate fingers and silky languid kisses. His tongue flicked over my achingly swollen breasts, he moaned in appreciation as I arched my back for him, giving full access to all I had to offer. Lingering warmth seduced me as he kissed his way down, I squirmed beneath his tongue, sensitive and needy once more as he left a single scorching kiss between my legs.
When he climbed above me, his lips shone and I could taste myself on him. His eyes hooded, framed by the shock of sweaty thick hair. He smiled, a sweet happy smile and then he eased himself into me.
“Jane.” My name was lost in a groan.
With slow measured thrusts, he pushed himself deeper into me, his eyes focused on my face, his body burying itself into mine as if we were one, slamming into me, forcing pleasure from my lips, forcing quivers from my body, forcing heat to my core.
His thrusts sped up, his need growing as my hips answered his, pushing and grinding. My heart thrashed in my chest as I moaned my pleasure. Seized by a rush of sensation so intense, my body clung to his. A chain of spasms washed over me, as Björn grunted something unintelligible. I could feel the jerk of his body, as his hands squeezed my waist, pulling me, deeper,
lower,
grinding,
pulsing,
exhaling.
Collapsing.
Side by side we lay, two hearts breathing, entwined, strumming to a new beat. But there was a third heart in the room, and its beat was out of rhythm, its beat was angry and jealous radiating a green wave which ricocheted across the walls. I could feel his heartbeat just as much as I could feel mine and Björn’s. The beat was like a familiar tune, something I may have heard once before, and for a second, I thought of Josh and Barry and Leon.
They all loved me too.
They left me too.
Before I could drown in thoughts of the past, Björn gathered me into him, he lay a gentle kiss on my shoulder as he curled his body around mine.
“I love you Jane Miller.”
“I love you too,” I said my eyes landing on Gabriel.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. But sleep would have been better than waking up like this.
The room felt chilly. Not much had changed since I had fallen asleep in Bjorn's arms and yet it felt colder, darker, the night light dim against the harsh darkness that loomed outside.
I could feel the other body in the bed but it felt different, stiff, heavy. A cold shiver ran through me and for a second, I thought of terrified blue eyes, surprised, tortured, so very, very real.
I shot up. Or was I already sitting? The room spun around me. My hands felt sticky, my body wet. A cold shudder ran down my spine as I turned to Björn.
He was gurgling, panting, clutching his neck that spewed hot dark liquid.
“Jane,” his strangled breath called for me, his eyes wide with terror.
“Björn,” I screamed as I took the sight in.
His neck was slashed from ear to ear, the blood flowing from him in a dark, endless tidal wave, while he gurgled and splattered.
“Jane,” he called to me in whispers, blood trickled from his broken lip.
I grabbed the sheet bunching it around his gaping neck. His arms flailed around me.
“Stop, I’m trying to help you.” My voice was strangled, hot tears ran down my cheeks. Björn’s arms grasping at mine, weak as the colour drained from his face. “Hang on, don’t leave me,” I cried.
Björn’s breath became shallow, erratic, his body heaved as his lungs fought for air. He looked like a fish out of water, flailing, dying. His hand jerked, the blue fire of his eyes freezing over. With a final twitch, he was still. The blood oozed from his throat, the flood slowing to a steady stream.
“No! Björn!” I called for him, my hands still clenched around his neck trying to stem the endless flow that poured through my fingers and pooled onto the bed.
What the fuck just happened?
Teary eyed, I searched the room. It was then that I saw him. He was standing shirtless next to the bed a crazed satisfied look across his face. The knife dangled from his right hand, his torso and chin bathed in blood, his arm stained in red.
“Gabriel? What. Did. You. Do?” a glacial pang of pain like the stab of an icy dagger pierced my heart.
“Jane.” He turned to me, his teeth gleaming in the soft light, his eyes softening. “I’ve taken care of it. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re safe now Janey.”
“Gabriel, what did you do?”
“I saved you.”
My heart turned numb, black filled the edges of my vision as anger and fear flared inside me.
I leapt across the bed; my blood-stained hands heavy with the smell of metal. I reached for my notebook and a pen and tore the book open.
My shivering hand began to scribble, words forming in squiggly unrecognisable writing, stained in blood as it stuck to the paper. My breath came in ragged, shallow gasps.
“What are you doing Jane?” his voice no longer warm and soothing.
“What I should have done a long time ago.” My own voice quivered under tears.
“Put the pen down!” His voice was menacing as he prowled toward me, the knife back in his hand, where I needed it to be.
Gabriel clutched the knife in his blood-stained hands. A single tear marring his beautiful face. A world without her is no world at all.
“Jane, stop it now! You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Collapsing to the floor, Gabriel turned the knife to his chest clutching it with two hands, the sharp edge hovering above his heart. Or where his heart used to be. The space now felt like an empty cavity.
He fought the knife as he crawled toward me, the knife to his heart, he managed to fall by my feet.
“Jane-”
He grabbed my leg and pulled. I fell to the floor the pen rolling from my hands. I
kicked at his hand and crawled for the pen, my fingers brushing the edge.
Gabriel clawed my ankle pulling me toward him. With an agonising stretch, I reached for the pen.
Gabriel rolled me over, his weight pinning me to the floor. We panted. My chest heavy with sadness and effort. Even as he sat above me, I could appreciate his beauty. His flawless face twisted in agony, searing my soul.
“Jane, don’t do this.” The cords of his neck stretched taut.
My hand moved of its own accord, the words constricting my chest.
With a final brutal shove, Gabriel plunged the knife into his chest where it sank through skin and soft flesh, ripping through muscle, meniscus and tissue so that he could pierce the only part of him that ached.
Gabriel screamed in agony, clutching his chest, he struggled for breath. The searing pain in my heart spread like wildfire, Gabriel’s shrieks, suddenly my own, as the knife protruded from my chest. I gripped the wooden knife handle lodged firmly into my body. I could taste metal in my mouth as howling screams drowned the room. I could feel the warmth of blood as it oozed gently from my wound.
Gabriel lay on the floor beside me, guttural chokes brought up bloodied spittle that leaked from his mouth.
He reached his hand to me and held it.
The world went black.
2006
The first thing I felt was cold followed by intense white pain. The room was unfamiliar and shadows lurked around the bed, murmur of conversation drifted in broken chords around me. My mouth felt dry, like I had been licking cotton balls.
I coughed trying to swallow and my stomach turned. Nausea washed over me and I tried to pull my hand to my mouth. It was then I realised it was restrained. It did not feel cold like I would imagine handcuffs to be, but rather a cushioned restraint the ran the length of my wrist.
What the fuck was going on?
The shadows jerked at my movements. Blotted bodies becoming clearer around the edges as two men peered at me. One, dark and neat with hardened brown eyes, and the other, wild and pale with spectacled pale blue eyes.
“You’re awake.” The pale blue eyes smiled through glass, and the rest of the man came into focus. Silver hair in unruly strands framed his creased face.
“Where am I?” My voice scratched through my acrid throat.
“ICU,” the man said as casually as ever.
“Where is Björn?”
The two men exchanged a look, the darker of the two, remaining stoic. “There was nothing we could do for him.”
My heart squeezed and I flailed, the pain unbearable.
“Looks like the drugs are wearing off, I’ll get one of the nurses to come in and help you with that.”
“Wait…” it was a whisper, my lips parted mutely as the two figures disappeared.
The day blurred into nurses and jelly in cups and whispered conversation. The one constant was the figure that lurked by my bed, dark and silent he stood, like a sentinel. But I was yet to determine if he was there to protect me or protect everyone else from me.
The following day the flood gates opened. A flood of information that drowned me even as I tried to fight my way to the surface of it.
The surgeon, who eventually introduced himself as Doctor Clifford. He kept saying how lucky I was to be alive and that if it wasn’t for his brilliant handy work, I would have been dead. I was a miracle. A miracle that the blade missed my heart by a mere two millimetres.
A hair's breadth.
Dr Clifford spoke more about himself and his accomplishments during my surgery, than he did about my injury.
I felt numb.
I wished my heart had been pierced through. I wished for death. I remembered the vacant look in Björn’s eyes as he scratched at my hand. I swore I was trying to help him. I recalled Gabriel’s agonised screams as I shoved the blade into his heart, my heart?
I lost both the men I loved on the same night and somehow, I was responsible for murdering them both. I would stand trial for one, while the world would never know about the other.
When the doctor had gone, assuring me I would make a swift and sound recovery, two policemen walked in in his stead. They filed into the room and proceeded to read me my rights explaining I was under arrest for the murder of Björn Hellström.
As they spoke, I felt my body flooding with adrenalin, my veins burning with liquid ice as my pounding heart forced it around my body. I wanted to run, to flee, but of course I wouldn’t, if my restrains couldn’t hold me down my injury would. They were talking about lawyers and rights to speak or not and I felt my body erupt in cold sweat, my fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. They asked me if I understood, and I wanted to answer except that I couldn’t breathe. Fear clenched my lungs and squeezed, I was choking on the very thing that was keeping me alive.
“Just take a deep breath Jane.” His voice carried through the beeping and shouting, through rough hands shaking me and a shrill voice screaming in indignation like a nun telling off a naughty child.
“You’re here? I killed you.”
“No Jane, now breathe.” Gabriel smiled at me, filling me with warmth, love, relief.
It was the nurse that spoke next, “Are you alright darling?”
I nodded at her kind eyes and soft features.
“You two need to leave.” She straightened up and faced the officers.
“We need to finish this arrest.”
“Well she needs to rest.” Her foot was tapping on the floor as they stood eyes glued to one another like gunslingers.
“She needs to confirm that she understands and we can leave.” The taller of the two men stood firm.
The nurse turned back to me. The lines on her weather-beaten face smoothed as she bent down and brushed my hair from my face. “Did you understand what they said darling?”
I nodded. Or I’m pretty sure I did, as she straightened out and glared at the men. “There you go then, she understands.”
They grumbled a response and shuffled out of the room but not before reminding me of the guard that would be stationed outside my room until further notice.
The days that followed were a blur. Clarice organised a hotshot lawyer. Helen Ying. She was bigger than her small stature in all aspects of the law. Her commanding presence and tight pressed lips got everyone's attention. Her immaculate business suits clung to her body like the corporate skin it was, and it reeked of success and incited fear where necessary.
She gave me the gag order.
“Talk to no one, say nothing. You have now been arrested, but due to your health you will remain here until you are deemed well enough to be booked and go to a cell.” Her eyes glazed over as she spoke as if the speech was coming from somewhere deep inside, some place so familiar she didn’t have to be present in the room while she explained procedures. I’m fairly sure that after five minutes my face mirrored hers. Once she was done with the basics as she called them, she produced her phone and explained that she would be recording our conversation and that we needed to get down to business.
That first conversation was the hardest of all. We had to talk about Björn. She wanted to know what happened. I tried to explain, I tried to be truthful. She nodded and took down notes and mentioned something about a psych evaluation.
The hospital bed became my best friend for months. The four walls and the occasional nurse were great company. Three warm meals a day, medicine, TV and the occasional visit from Helen.
During her fifth visit, Helen said the police were considering adding more charges against me. She didn't elaborate. I desperately tried to pry the information from her, but she was a sealed vault. I could have strangled her, Gabriel offered to, I swatted away the joke and waited.
It was not long after that that Helen dropped in unexpectedly. My bad situation was about to get worse.
She sat like a china doll, polished and erect in the chair that she pulled closer to my bed. “The police are officially adding two murder chargers to your case,” she sa
id it as if she was discussing her sandwich options at the lunch counter.
I grabbed her hand. I could feel the heat drain from my body replaced by a cold searing panic. What other murder charges?
Helen snatched her hand away and gave me a look that ensured I understood touching her was off limits. I flinched back and pulled my knees into my chest, gathering strength to ask the questions I didn't really want the answer to.
“Who?” My voice was scratched and weak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Who do they think I killed?”
She gave me a long look. Gauging me, testing me, wondering if she could trust me. I realised right then, she thought I was guilty, just like everyone else, guilty and a liar. And whatever new charges these were, I was fucked.
She pulled out some papers from her briefcase and continued in her monotonous tone. “You are being charged with the murder of Leon Edwards and Barry Thompson Junior.”
If it wasn’t for the shock wave that rushed through my body, I may have found a moment to laugh at Barry. Junior. He would have hated that. I could have tormented him with it forever.
“What are you talking about?” I found my voice pushing it through chattering teeth.
“Leon Edward’s death was not an accident. With new evidence, it seems they now have enough to tie you in with his untimely death.”
“Leon?” she looked at me as if I was a stupid kid, and she was the exasperated teacher that would now have to explain it all again - but slowly. “But they said Marco did it.”
“The investigation took a turn.”
The hot tear that rolled along my cheek burned in the cold room. “But I loved him, I would never hurt him.”
I could see her pursed lips pull tighter against her mouth, her eyes twitched at the corners, forced to remain in place. Her silent thoughts spewed all over my bed.
I loved Björn too.
I sucked in a snotty snivel and tried to keep my world from falling apart completely. “And Barry? What could they possibly think I did to Barry? He just disappeared.”
Guarding Gabriel Page 17