Dangerously Damaged: A Contemporary Dark Bully Romance (The Shadowed Souls Series Book 3)

by Abigail Cole

  “Where’d you get your license, dickwad?! You nearly ran me off the ledge!” Wyatt’s voice catches my attention, ceasing my movements. That motherfucker! I remember now, the way he fought and goaded me, pinned me down just before everything went black. I’d like to see him beat me in a fair fight, although it seems like Wyatt prefers cowardly ways out, rather than get his ass handed to him by a girl.

  “I need to take a piss,” a rough voice replies, slamming what I imagine is a meaty fist onto the trunk and making me flinch. “And she’s awake, which makes her your problem now.” If I ever saw Wyatt’s face again, it would be too soon. However, I know I will be able to overpower and escape him since he felt the need to drug me, so I brace myself for a fight at the sound of the trunk’s lock being released. The lid lifts quickly, the orange glow of a streetlamp burning my retinas. Three shadows loom over me, my hand tightening around the concealed can in my sweater.

  “Where’s the other one?” Wyatt says slowly, his voice laced with dread. My eyes adjust enough to tell he’s standing in the middle, the huge frames either side of him large enough to stunt double for Dwayne Johnson.

  “What do you mean? You gave us this one, we thought you had the blonde.” My mind reels with their words. Does this mean Avery is safe? Wyatt’s bunched shoulders sag on a horrified gasp, cursing under his breath.

  “You expected me to capture both of them?! What the fuck were you three doing if not trying to find Avery?”

  “Your boys kept us busy enough, that bald one was a savage.” The brute on Wyatt’s left running a hand over his head and signing dramatically, his shaded eyes fixed on me. “The boss isn’t going to be happy about this, he wants both. You’d better go back and fetch the other.” Wyatt flies into a rage, his fists clenched and square jaw tight as the three of them argue about who should drive back to the safe house. I bite my lip, praying Avery has got as far away from California possible in the last few hours. judging by the fact it’s still night and Wyatt’s still in the cargo trousers he fought me in. Wyatt begins to walk away, the two thugs turning to suggest a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide for them and I see my opportunity.

  Boosting myself up on weak legs, an assault of pins and needles spiking through me, I leap from the trunk and hit the ground on my knees heavily. Clutching my limp sweater in my fist, I force myself up and start to run without being able to properly see what’s in front of me. My blurred vision clears up enough to notice the ground disappearing up ahead, my sneakers skidding to a halt before I tip over the edge of a steep cliff. Double shit.

  My stomach rolls and plummets as if I were already falling, a smoker’s choked laugh sounds further along the ridge. The biggest of the thugs is smirking at me, his fat dick hanging limply through his fly as he continues to pee whilst holding my eyesight. The potent smell of his urine suddenly fills my nostrils, making me gag. Jesus fuck, what does that guy eat?! Scuffling behind has me whirling around, Brutie and Brutelina grinning because they have me cornered. I glance over my shoulder, the drop not seeming as awful as the alternative, but I’m not done fighting yet.

  Feeling for the cap through the material in my hand, I wait for the pair to take one more menacing step closer before lifting the lifeless sleeve and unleashing streams of white foam directly into their eyes. My heel almost slips on the rocky ledge as they make a grab for me, quickly darting to the side to avoid being thrown backwards by their sightless staggers. Spraying all the while, they fall to the ground like two sacks of shit and thrash around bellowing. A psychotic smile graces my lips, as I use the side of my sneaker to kick small stones and dust over them. The nozzle spurts a few last pathetic puffs of foam, the contents emptying faster than I’ve have liked.

  Wyatt steps towards me cockily on the edge of my vision, his shoulders peeled back and long strides confident. Without looking his way, I spin the sleeve around me like a lasso and release an unexpected laugh as it connects with his head and knocks him back onto his ass. Not giving him time to recover, I run towards the beaming headlights of his sedan. The engine is still humming, my escape in reaching distance. Curling my fingers around the door handle, Wyatt collides with my side and slams me onto the rocky ground. All the air whooshes out of my lungs, crippling pain in my diaphragm keeping me immobile on the ground, even after Wyatt has stood up.

  “She’s a wild one. Maybe you can’t handle her,” Stinky Peete walks over with his fly still undone. I gasp for air and flinch involuntarily beneath them, completely helpless on a deserted road with four raving lunatics. Triple Shit.

  “Nah, I’ve changed my mind. She’s all mine.” Wyatt bends down, lifting me easily against his chest and dumping me into the passenger seat. I jerk back into action, lunging for the keys in the ignition with the intent to throw them over the cliff’s edge, but my movements are too sluggish. Wyatt catches me, climbing into the small space to pin me into the seat with an iron-tight grip on my upper arms. Using his body to hold me in place, he reaches over into the back seat to retrieve something while my face is smushed against his solid chest.

  Returning his hand to my left shoulder and sitting back to straddle me once again, he strokes a path downwards, tickling my inner arm in a move that disturbs me more that if he’d tried to sever it. A glint of metal in the streetlight flashes as his hand closes around my wrist, swiftly locking a handcuff into place. Wyatt then leans to close the other cuff around the steering wheel. I struggle and buck beneath him, the metal cutting into my flesh as I fight to slip my hand through the gap.

  Hopping up and slamming the car door shut, Wyatt rounds to the driver’s side and commands for the others to head back for Avery before getting in. The three of them are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the car, two sets of puffy eyes glaring at me as they all oddly nod in compliance. Apparently, Wyatt’s official order actually means something to the group. Hanging my head in defeat, I hope to hell Avery is running as far away as she can right now.

  Yanking on the cuff’s chain to test its strength, Wyatt bends over to grin right in my face, his shadowed eyes regard me coldly. “All mine,” he whispers, looking to my lips and hovering close as if he might kiss me. I remain completely still, not playing in his game. Chuckling, he begins to pull back and I can’t resist anymore. Rearing my head back, I pull back as much salvia as I can muster onto my tongue and spit right into his smug face. A high-pitched cackle erupts from my lips, his revolted features glistening. Shouting in disgust, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt to wipe his face roughly. My eyes ashamedly fall to the hard outlines of his abs long enough not to notice his oncoming elbow seconds before the lights go out.

  Avery

  The sun is cresting over a mountain far in the distance as we roll into town, birds swirling overhead in hunt for their breakfast. The orange glow reflects on the hood of the similar coloured Nissan, my heavy eyelids open wide as anticipation sinks in. I glance down every alleyway along the long stretch of road, paranoid one of those gorilla goons will be lurking in wait for another chance to grab me. Each shop is dark inside, closed signs hanging in the doorways and not a single person to be seen.

  “There,” I lunge forward and point out a pale-yellow building with a doctor’s surgery logo printed in the window. Dax turns into the alleyway alongside the building, parking around the back as I turn to check on Huxley. He’s slept the entire journey with what I hope is from sleep deprivation and not a concussion, although he did rouse every time I gave him a rough shake. A part of me wanted to climb back there and curl up on his chest like a cat but I have too much on my mind to rest. I watched a mafia thug stuff my sister into the trunk of a car and drive off through the camera feed, I refuse to take comfort from anyone while she’s trapped and alone.

  We remain in the car for a long time, the tension between myself and Dax thick enough to choke on. We’ve barely said a word to each other unless it’s been completely necessary. Occasionally, he turns towards me and opens his mouth as if needing to say something, but decides against i
t, slumping back in his seat and folding his arms with a huff. Although I have a feeling what he wants to say, and I don’t want to hear it. A million apologies wouldn’t be enough to forgive him and he knows it. The orange and pink sky gives way to a blue one with not a cloud in sight as more cars begin to drive past at the opposite end of the alley.

  A man in a pristine lab coat appears, shuffling towards us with a doughnut stuffed into his mouth, holding a steaming travel mug and checking his watch every ten seconds. His thinning white hair gives way to a bald patch on top and thin glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. He’s on the plump side, his coat buttons straining around his middle and short legs moving as fast as they can. Not noticing the fancy car facing him, he fumbles with his keys before finding the right one and pushing it into the rear door lock.

  Dax throws his door open and flies from his seat so quickly, even I flinch as he rounds the car. Stepping a foot inside the surgery, the doctor wheels around as Dax calls out to him, making him spill his coffee onto his jacket and curse in fright. Sensing this situation will need a female touch, I step from the vehicle and approach the pair.

  “Excuse me, we are so sorry to bombard you like this,” I put on my sweetest voice and hold my hands up as I advance. “My friend was attacked last night and we’re not from around here, we didn’t know where else to take him.” I point over to the back seat of the Nissan, Huxley sits upright and holds his head on cue. After another glance at his silver watch he nods and gestures for us to come inside quickly.

  “Sit him down here,” he asks as we help Huxley inside. He’s almost walking on his own, but Dax and I have one of his arms around each of our shoulders as we edge him towards the medical bed. Electric blue leather is visible beneath a sheet of paper that crinkles when Huxley drops onto it, his shoulders slumped and hair falling over his half-mast eyes. After washing his hands and donning a pair of latex gloves, the doctor returns with a kind smile.

  “I’ve got ten minutes before the surgery opens.” He tells us while inspecting Huxley’s face, although his tone isn’t pushy. “My assistant is on holiday, so I have to man the phones and attend to patients. Bit of a one-man show at the moment,” he muses in a light tone before he grips Huxley’s nose and twists it back into place with surprising force. Huxley roars and hisses, torn between holding the newly set break and keeping his hands well away. After a few moments, he quietens down but his posture is still tense, anticipating another attack any moment. I shift forward to hold his hand, rubbing circles across the back with my thumb and earning myself a lopsided smile.

  “That seems like the most I can do,” the doctor says after inspecting all around Huxley’s head. Pulling his gloves off and tossing them into the trash can in the corner, he retrieves a packet of painkillers and places them into Huxley’s free hand. “If any other issues arise, feel free to pop back or try the emergency room.” My ears prick up, knowing that’s exactly where we should be heading next, but Dax beats me too it.

  “Out of interest, where would the closest hospital be?” He asks coyly from the opposite side of the room. He’s pulled his Afro back and fixed it with a hair tie., a blonde cloud hanging to the back of his head. He doesn’t wear his hair back often; his square jaw is more prominent now. His icy blue gaze is firmly set on the doctor, clearly avoiding mine as I look at him properly for the first time all night. Leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, Dax’s tanned biceps push against his firm chest. Those arms that held me so gently in the throes of passion, cradled me safely as I gave him more of myself than I intended, and held me down while I fought and screamed to save Meg.

  Dragging my eyes away, I focus on easing Huxley from the table as the doctor gives Dax directions to the hospital. It’s another two-hour drive from here, my stomach growls on cue as I think of getting back into the car for that long. Huxley eases himself from the table and links his fingers with mine, holding my hand tightly. As much as I want to, I can’t bring myself to pull away, I thank the doctor for his time and exit through the back door.

  I want to feel isolated; I want to be alone and suffer the same way I can feel in my being that Meg is. But at the same time, I know the Shadowed Souls won’t let me do that. They will sense my pain, take it upon themselves to console me no matter how much I push them away like the chivalrous bastards they are. And until I’m fully fed and have managed to get some sleep, I don’t have the energy to resist them.

  Dax moves around us to pop the trunk, shifting through Huxley’s bag to grab him a clean set of clothes. He accepts them without a word, remaining quiet like he’s been since waking and starts to strip. Discarding his bloodied t-shirt on top of the Nissan, Huxley bends to pull down his jeans and shorts without a care in the world. I quickly spin to step in the way of a gaping woman and her dachshund, frozen to the spot by the sight of Huxley’s body at the end of the alleyway. Giving her a scowl, she visibly shakes herself and moves along, leaving me to peek over my shoulder. Huxley’s not as toned as when I’d first met him due to not eating properly, but for some reason his ass is still a perfectly edible peach. I must be damn hungry because my mouth starts to water and I swallow thickly, dragging my eyes away as he steps into some tracksuit pants.

  A black hoodie in placed into my hands, Dax’s arm retracting before I can shove it back at him. Pulling the material over my head, I inhale his uniquely spicy scent and growl as my libido suddenly rouses from her sleep. Traitor. Forcefully shoving my head through the hole, I fix my hair and push the sleeves up to my elbows roughly. “I have my own hoodies, you know,” I grumble and start to walk away.

  The guys fall in behind me in silence, leaving the car hidden and strolling from the alley as casually as we can. Heads turn our way, the locals immediately noticing us as outsiders when we pass by, strolling for a café on the corner. My eyes flick between faces and vehicles, cataloguing everyone suspiciously to check we aren’t being followed. A dark sedan appears further along the road, heading this way. I dive behind Dax, using his body to shield me from view as I peek through the gap in his arm. The vehicle passes without slowing, my heart is lodged in my throat and my mind is running away with panicked thoughts. Dax moves suddenly, leaving me exposed and walking into a small clothing store without glancing back.

  Continuing without him, I link my arm through Huxley’s and attempt to stroll down the sidewalk like an ordinary couple in search of breakfast. Well, ordinary if Huxley’s job were to act as a human punching bag and I was a schizophrenic, scared of my own shadow but ready to squeeze the life out of my former stepbrother. How did my life become this fucked? The scent of warm pancakes and sweet honey sail to me on the breeze, dragging me onwards by my senses.

  Reaching for the café’s glass door, I luckily see Dax’s reflection walk up behind me or I would have screamed as his hand slips beneath my hair. I want to wriggle away from the light brush of his fingers on my nape and run a thousand miles in the other direction, but the dangerous curiosity in me wants to see where he’s going with this. He twists the golden strands in his hand, giving his full attention into coiling them onto the back of my head before placing a black cap over the top. The edge hangs low over my eyes, disguising me even from myself. His arm reaches over my shoulder to grip the handle for me, the familiar warmth causing my body to automatically lean into his before I give myself a mental slap. I grunt in thanks and walk into the sweet-smelling shop before I do something stupid like forgive him.

  Selecting a booth hiding in the back corner, far away from the windows, I slump down and order three coffees from a passing waitress. Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I can’t hold in a groan. My head is swimming with panic and fleeting thoughts, floating away before I can fully grasp what it was. I don’t know where to start searching for Meg, and I don’t have my cell to try to contact Nixon, even if I thought he might answer. The only thing I can do at the moment is sort myself out and get to the hospital to check on Axel. I pray Axel pulls through; nothing will be the same without his am
ber eyes and kind-hearted nature in the world.

  The sound of a throat being cleared has me lifting my head to see a waitress placing our coffees down and flicking open a notepad to take our order. Her tightly curled blonde hair bobs with each movement of her head, her eyes torn between the two guys opposite me. Ignoring the fact I’m so tired, I feel physically sick, I pluck the menu from its wooden stand and point at the first item on the menu – ‘The Big Boy Breakfast’. Dax and Huxley order the same without paying her much attention, although it doesn’t stop the fluttering of eyelashes and cleavage squeeze she aims in their direction before slinking off.

  No words are exchanged between the three of us, nothing needing to be said. We’ve all got someone we care deeply about with their life on the line, a part of our family in need and equally – we are all completely helpless. Huxley’s foot hooks mine beneath the table, secretively soothing me as I glance into his chocolate eyes. I was worried about the affects this latest attack would have on him, considering he was still pulling through the previous one but by the look he’s giving me, I can see he’s going to be okay. The resolve in his expression, the determination in his gaze are from the man I knew before and lord knows, the one I need right now.

  Our breakfasts arrive, huge plates heaped with everything fried and a side plate stacked with toast. Garrett would be in heaven; I think to myself and suddenly lose my appetite as tears begin to swim in my eyes. Pulling the cap lower so all I can see is my plate, I start to force food into my mouth and swallow it past the lump stuck in my throat. Come on Avery, you need your strength. You need to buck the fuck up and save your family.

  Surprisingly, I manage to eat well over half and by the time I push my cap back up, Huxley has also made a sizeable dent in his. I offer him a genuine smirk, a wordless argument passing between us to push through together so we can be in best form for the others. Dax is slumped back against the aged red leather, inspecting his nails over his empty plate. I don’t want to notice the stress lines beneath his eyes or the tic in his tensed jaw, telling myself he doesn’t deserve to feel the same strain as us. Huxley got the shit beaten out of him for fuck’s sake, and even though I was trapped by his muscles, I fought to help. My knight in shining armour has suddenly tarnished in my mind’s eye.