by Eve R. Hart
They took my silence for what it was and headed out the door. I flipped the locks behind them then flopped down in the chair. It so happened to be pointed in the direction of the bed. I settled in, knowing it was going to be a long night. I was used to it, I could go days without sleep if I had to. I didn’t like to, but that wasn’t an option I had at that moment.
I flicked on the lamp beside me and I propped my feet up on the coffee table. My eyes never left his still body as the soft light filled the room. I checked to make sure he was still breathing and it wasn’t hard to tell that he was indeed still alive. Running my hand through my hair, I let out a heavy sigh.
What was I supposed to do now? He was in my apartment. In my space. In my bed. I was sure if word of this got back to my employer I would be dead.
I crossed my ankles, my heeled boots tapping against each other with a strange nervous energy I hadn’t had in a long time.
My mind started going in all directions and I found myself wondering what this guy’s story was. What had he done to piss my employer off so much to put a hit out? Why had he suddenly appeared after so long? I’d been there months before he even came along. And now, he had wandered into my bar.
I had watched from afar all this time, he would drink himself into a stupor every day, most of the time passing out on his couch. I witnessed him pacing and talking to himself many times, but I would never know what he was saying. I won’t lie, I was a little bit curious and I chalked it up to the fact that I’d never seen such a sad sight before. The only time I saw him interact with anyone was when he had visitors a few days ago. The two men weren’t there long and in the end, they seemed defeated as they left.
So, to say that having him right in front of me wasn’t all that bad, even if he was a passed out lump in my bed, would be close to the truth. He was a bit of a strange mystery and I may have had a tiny fascination with his behavior. Or maybe I was just going insane from being in one place for too long.
My hand reached for my phone in my back pocket. I itched for answers and I hated myself for it.
Me: He’s in my apartment. He came to the bar and passed out after drinking an entire bottle of whiskey.
It didn’t take long for Lucy to answer me back and I knew it wouldn’t. I didn’t think she ever slept.
Eyes: What?! OMG. Please tell me you are joking.
Me: Nope. He’s face down on my bed, snoring away.
Eyes: Why?
Me: I have no answer for that.
Eyes: What are you going to do?
Me: Let him sleep it off, I guess. I couldn’t just toss him out of the bar.
Eyes: This is bad. Very bad.
Yeah, no kidding. By far one of the stupidest moves I had ever made.
My fingers hovered over the screen as my mind tried to come up with some good excuse for why I’d done it, but I had nothing. Part of me wanted to ask her questions I knew she had answers to. Hell, I didn’t even know this guy’s name. But we didn’t talk work. Even if I asked her, I had a feeling she wouldn’t tell me because it was the way we wanted it. The way that we could keep our friendship because we both knew that our work would only complicate things. Like right now, it was threatening to drive down a sharp steak between us and both of us knew it. We were each walking a fine line this time, wanting to know all the answers going on in the other’s head.
Me: No, this could make it easier.
Even as I hit send I knew it was a lie. What I should have done at that moment was put a bullet in him, packed my shit, left him there, and drove off into the so-called fucking sunset. I could have washed my hands of all of it, been done, and collected my money. But as I reread my words, I felt a sick kick in my gut. I had already made this job harder than it should have been.
She took a while to reply. I saw the dots dance and stop multiple times as she more than likely typed and erased her words. I wondered if she could smell the bullshit in my response. I sure as fuck could. My eyes moved to look at him.
He was a mess, that was for sure. While I shouldn’t have cared, I found a deep curiosity as to why. I studied him, really taking in every inch that I could. His arms were strong and thick. Looking closer, I saw the skin was marred and bumpy along his left arm. I took in an unexpected harsh breath. The skin was a mix of pink and white, and I knew they were burn marks. His face was covered by his hair, hindering my view of it unless I moved it out of the way, and there was no way I was going to do that. While I could handle my own, he was massive. I had no urge to step into the lion’s cage. So I sat back and studied at a distance.
My phone vibrated in my hand, pulling my focus away from him.
Eyes: If that’s what you think is best. Be safe.
Translation being, she didn’t agree but wasn’t going to say more. The conversation with her was over by her choice. She wasn’t going to tell me how to do my job and I loved her for that on most days.
I tossed my phone beside me in the chair and it slipped, nearly falling between the cushion and the arm. I snatched it before it made it there. Then I crossed my arms over my chest, rested my head back and watched as he slept.
By the time the sun came up my ass was numb. I didn’t dare move from my spot, though. He had tossed and turned most of the night, his body jerked and trembled at times. He also mumbled, but I couldn’t make any of it out no matter how hard I tried.
I stood, unable to bear the tingling numbness in my ass and legs any longer. I went to the fridge and pulled out eggs and bacon. I didn’t have much and unless he wanted to eat four-day-old Chinese takeout, eggs would have to do. I whisked the eggs as the bacon cooked, the amazing aroma filling the room and making my stomach rumble. I had no idea if he would wake soon but I just needed to do something. My question was answered when I heard a low and deep growl. I looked over my shoulder, trying my hardest not to tense.
He was sitting up, his knees bent and his head in his hands. I pulled the bacon off and started the eggs, my body angled in his direction so I could keep an eye on everything. He didn’t move for a long time, then his arms came around to hold his legs up as his head rested between his slightly parted knees. I would bet he was feeling like hot roadkill.
I plated the food then poured him a big glass of orange juice. I walked over to the edge of the bed and stood there, plate and fork in one hand and glass in the other. I waited for what felt like forever.
Finally, he slowly lifted his head to look at me, his eyes instantly going to mine. I didn’t blink or move and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I kept my face passive as I bent over and set the plate on the bed beside him and the glass on the floor next to his booted feet. His eyes moved to the food then back up to me. Something behind his glare was unsure.
“Relax,” I said, speaking to him for the first time. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t do it by poisoning your food.”
And it was so true. To prove my point, I picked up a clump of the scrambled eggs and shoved it in my mouth. Then, I turned, making sure to keep him in my peripheral, and steadily walked over to my chair even though my legs felt shaky and my stomach was uneasy. With the grace of someone completely at ease, I sat down like I had nothing better to do.
CHAPTER TEN
Tank
She spoke. Her voice was raspy and deep but somehow, beautiful and magical all at the same time. What the hell was I thinking? I must have still been slightly drunk but not enough to make me forget the things I wanted to.
The plate of eggs smelled horrible. She may not have poisoned them, but I had a feeling only by looking at them that they just might kill me. I poked my fork at a clump and quickly shoved it into my mouth. They were so overcooked and rubbery you could have used them for tires. I swallowed hard, trying my best to show no reaction.
They were, by far, the worst thing I had ever put in my mouth.
I picked up a piece of bacon and it was so burnt that it practically crumbled between my fingers. My eyes looked over to find her watching me. I
raised an eyebrow at her and she simply shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like she didn’t give a shit if I liked it or not.
I thought about my mom as I did my best to choke down everything. My mom raised me right, despite being part of the MC, and I could hear her in the back of my mind telling me that it would have been rude if I didn’t eat it. After all, this chick had gone through all of the trouble of making it for me. After the plate was cleared, I chugged the juice down trying to wash the horrible taste out of my mouth. I found myself feeling slightly better after, even if it did feel like I had rocks sitting in my belly.
I stared at her, wondering who she was and why I was there. I couldn’t remember anything after my world went black. When I passed out I went down hard.
How the fuck did she even get me here?
I decided not to try and imagine it. I squinted as my gaze swung to the window to the right of me. The light was too bright but I could still make out that I wasn’t on ground level. Trying to figure out where I was and how far from the bar, where my truck was parked, I might have been, I searched the sight outside. I was practically sitting on the floor. The cheap, lumpy mattress was sunken in so far under my weight that I could feel the hardwood floor beneath it.
I swung my gaze to the room I was in. The paint that I imagined was once white was now a dirty gray and peeling in sections. There was practically no furniture and it barely looked lived in. The place felt more like a flop house than anything. Did this chick live here? Fuck, and I thought the cabin was bad. This place was bare. If she cooked me breakfast, there must have been electricity at least.
The seconds went on in an odd silence that made me uncomfortable as fuck. I didn’t try to talk and she didn’t seem like the chatty type. I watched her through my still blurry eyes. I could only imagine what she must have been thinking and I wondered what the hell would make her think that bringing someone like me home was a good idea. Hell, maybe she was crazy.
“Thanks,” I finally muttered out.
I cleared my scratchy throat. I hated talking. I remembered a time when I loved it. I loved to read my son stories and tell him jokes. I loved to sing along to all those shows he would watch over and over. I missed it all and it hit me like a cannon to my heart. Instead of going deeper down that hole, I decided to turn my focus on her.
She sat there unmoving, unaffected by my gruff thanks. The only thing that moved was her eyes as they slowly darted over every inch of my face. For a moment I felt self-conscious. Her eyes slowly blinked, cutting off my view of the molten chocolate color for a brief second. I noticed that her makeup was slightly smudged under her eyes. She looked tired and I found myself wondering if she had even slept last night.
“Don’t mention it,” she said waving me off with one hand. She was almost cold and calculated. Like she took a moment to thoroughly think over her words before she spoke them. Had I been less hungover, I might have found it odd.
“Right,” I cleared my throat and did my best to stand without stumbling. “Well, I’ll be goin’ then.” I found myself pausing, hoping she would stop me.
However, I got nothing from her. Not a name. Not even a small sign saying she wanted to know more about me. She, for the most part, seemed indifferent. I couldn’t figure her out and for some fucking reason, it bothered me.
I shook it off, thinking I didn’t need to give a fuck. I wasn’t here to make friends or get to know people. I was here for solitude and I blamed fucking Loch and Axe for the fact that I was even having to make my way out of this so-called apartment.
I grunted and turned away from her, making my way to the door next to the kitchen. I thought about asking her where I was but decided I would just find my own way back to my truck. The walk and fresh air would have done me good anyway. I felt her eyes on me every step I took until the door was closed behind me.
It was a crisp fall morning and the cool air hit me as I stepped outside. I glanced at the building as I walked down the narrow and rickety as fuck stairs. The same faded burgundy that I recognized coated the outside of the building. I was behind the bar and so it looked like I wouldn’t be walking that far. I quickly walked around the building and hopped in my truck. I sat there for a moment trying to pull myself together and make sure I was sober enough to drive.
When I got back to the cabin, I immediately flopped down on the couch. My whole body hurt. I had no one to blame but myself. My head was pounding because I drank way too much. And my muscles were stiff because I fucking drank too much and left it up to fate or what have you on where I would end up. And my damn luck, it ended up being some really fucking odd chicks place.
The bright side, I was sure I didn’t sleep with her. Not only was I too wasted to perform, but I was pretty sure she wanted nothing to do with me. And who could blame her. I was a fucking mess.
I closed my eyes. I needed more sleep. No, I needed more booze. It was the only thing that kept the darkness at bay, and while I was teetering on the edge of the end waiting for that final push, it was the thing that kept me in check.
I pulled on the chain around my neck, freeing it from my shirt. The picture was so small in my huge hands. My beautiful boy smiled up at me. I remembered the day that picture was taken. It was his fourth birthday party. My mom had gotten him a bicycle that looked like a Harley. He loved that thing. I remembered watching him ride it, thinking he was just like his old man. He was a mini version of me. I had no doubt that he would grow up to ride. And maybe one day, if he wanted, he would join the Steel Paragons.
But that wouldn’t happen now. He would forever be stuck at the age of five. He wouldn’t breathe another breath. I wouldn’t get to hear him laugh again. I wouldn’t get to hold him in my arms again. I wouldn’t ever get to see the way he looked at me like I was his hero again.
At one time, I had been. I had been a man worthy of that look in his eyes. I had wanted to be a hero in every way for him. But now, I would never be that. I was the opposite—a monster, a failure. In the end, when it mattered the most, I’d let him down in the worst way possible. I couldn’t save him. I let him burn in that house. And all that I wished, was that it was me instead. I would have given my life that day to save his. I failed him and I would forever live with that.
Tears ran from my eyes as I closed my hand around the locket, squeezing it so tightly that I felt like I was going to crush it. This was the last thing I would have as a reminder of the best thing in my life.
I let my eyes drift shut as I welcomed the pain and disappointment. The sadness that I would never outrun or forget. And I didn’t even deserve to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nadya
“Are you still alive?” Lucy asked me with humor in her tone as soon as I hit the answer button. It was the afternoon after the big guy had left. I wasn’t used to someone worrying about me and I couldn’t help but to smile, thinking that it was sweet. Completely unnecessary, but sweet nonetheless.
“Did you really think otherwise?” I snorted.
“True. It is you, after all.” She laughed. “Well, what the hell happened?!”
“He slept. I watched. Then I made eggs. He ate. Then he left.” I knew this wouldn’t be enough information to satisfy her, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the aggravated growl that escaped her.
“That’s it? Come on, there has to be more. Give me something. I live in the dark, here, I need something to live vicariously through,” she almost whined.
“Seriously, that was it. Less than five words were exchanged,” I said, pausing for a moment. “Okay, maybe a few more than five. It was weird and awkward, to put it mildly.”
“You didn’t press for more?”
“Why would I? I needed him gone as soon as possible.”
There was a long moment of silence, and I could tell she was contemplating telling me something. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know what she was going to say. But what I was sure of was that she knew a hell of a lot more than I probably wanted to know. My targets needed
to stay just that—targets—with no life and no goals. Nothing that could make them human to me.
But even as I tried to harden myself, I knew this guy was anything but just a simple job. That was my own fault. I somehow had not taken him out the moment I knew he was there. I’d let him go on. I’d watched him. I’d taken in his every move. And even when he was right in front of me, served up on a fucking silver platter, I didn’t make a move. I pushed away all the questions that surrounded the whole thing the best I could. But they kept popping back up.
I remembered the look in his eyes. The hopelessness. The broken glint that didn’t shine. I wanted to know why this beautiful man felt like he had no way but down to go. I wanted to dig inside and find the root of what had broken him. I wanted to know why he had burn marks and how much of his body was covered with scars.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I found myself saying in almost a whisper. I didn’t really mean to say that out loud but there was no taking it back.
“Yeah?” Lucy said a bit hopeful. I knew by that tone she agreed with me, though she would never tell me that outright.
“Fuck! This is not good,” I gritted out as I flopped down onto my bed.
His scent filled the air around me. Being so lost in my head, I had temporarily forgotten that he’d spent the night tossing and turning in the spot I was currently splayed out on. It was a mix of day-old man and a sweet scent of cedar. For some strange reason, I found the combination oddly intoxicating.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you smelling something?” she screeched in my ear. I’d completely forgotten that I had the phone pressed against my ear and that she was on the other end. Yes, I was smelling my pillow. I was taking in the scent like it held some sort of answers.
“No!” I snapped defensively. Even though we’d never been around each other in person, I had an idea that she knew me well enough to know I was lying. No matter how hard I tried to keep myself impassive around her, I couldn’t. She was my outlet, the one person I could let my hair down around. As much as I hated being vulnerable to anyone, I loved that I had her. “How’s it going with lover boy?” I asked, changing the subject as I jumped up and moved away from the overwhelming scent left behind by the big guy. The chair, yeah, that was a better place to be.