by Belle Aurora
Ling stands behind Julius, licking blood off her upper lip, smirking. “Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?”
It does. It really does.
Julius turns to Ling, and in a gesture of affection, reaches up to hold her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks. “You okay?”
Ling smiles a bloody smile. “You know how I like it.” She glances at me before blowing me a kiss. “That was just foreplay.”
The fact that this woman gets off on pain makes me ill. The fact that Julius seems to be the one who delivers said pain breaks my heart. He’s probably just like Dino, and if that’s the case, I have no hope in hell of surviving.
He releases her face then hands her his cell. “Call Aida. Tell her she’s going to need a tetanus booster and antibiotics. Ask her if there’s anything she can do for your nose.”
Ling nods then moves toward the entrance of the building, away from the car. My heart jolts. Having Ling around made me feel safer. And now I have an angry god-like man in my midst… I decide to be honest. “They’re going to kill me.”
He doesn’t respond, just watches me.
“I don’t want to die.”
His jaw tics, but he says nothing.
“You’re my only hope.”
It’s then he responds, a short bark of honesty, “If I’m your only hope, little sparrow, say your prayers. You’re as good as dead.”
The statement forces my chest to tighten as anxiety sets in. My chest heaves with unsteady breaths.
I’m not ready to die. I don’t even know how to live yet. It seems unfair somehow.
Julius straightens then crosses his arms over his chest, looking something like an avenger. It’s such a sight, chills run down my spine. As he watches me, Ling unceremoniously blows blood out of her nose and onto the pavement.
She doesn’t seem like a bad person. She could also be my one hope of escaping. Shame courses through me. “Sorry about your nose.” This comes out in a near whisper.
Ling looks me up and down, narrowing her eyes for good measure. “All’s fair in love and war.”
I nod, knowing exactly what she means.
I’m not sure how much time passes before a white SUV comes down the drive, parking behind the black one I’m currently seated in, but I’m colder than ice. I’m not sure what I expected when Julius called for a nurse, but this wasn’t it.
A very short, very plump mature woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth approaches. Her shock of bright purple hair is short and styled, and she wears blue scrub bottoms with a pink floral scrub shirt. She waddles over to us. “What kind of shit you get yourself into this time, Mr. Carter?”
He smiles down at her. And I feel it all over. My gut churns.
I wish I were the type of person who had smiles like that reserved for them.
He kisses her cheek. “I missed you, Aida. Gotta make excuses to see you is all.”
She snorts out a disbelieving laugh, spits out the cigarette then steps on it. Turning to me, she takes a look at my heel then over to Julius. “This needs to be cleaned. I need salt and water, quite a bit of it. Can you get that for me, dear?”
Julius looks over at me. His eyes narrow in warning before he nods and heads into the building. As soon as he’s out of sight, I lean forward and hiss, “Please, they’re going to kill me.”
A bright light suddenly shines, illuminating the entire front of the loft, and Aida ignores me. “The hole is deep. The salt water is going to hurt like hell, missy. I hope you’re a tough one, because I don’t tolerate bullshit. Especially the self-inflicted variety.”
My voice hoarse, I utter, “If they don’t kill me, he will. Please help me. All I need is for you to find my brother—”
Aida’s eyes turn sharp as she cuts me off. “I would shut that pretty mouth of yours, girl.” My lip trembles and I turn away, fighting the grief I’m feeling.
Will no one help me?
That’s when Aida sighs. She inspects my other foot, and utters quietly, “You think someone who planned to kill you would call a nurse to make sure you didn’t die of tetanus?”
That…
My brow furrows in thought.
That is a damn good point.
I open my mouth, but she places up a palm, stopping me. “If I were you, I’d behave. Dealing with men like Mr. Carter can be harmful to your health.” She glances up at my bruised temple. “But something tells me you already know a little something about that.”
Julius comes out of the building carrying the things Aida needs.
I don’t have much time. I ask desperately through a whisper, “What do you suggest I do?”
She responds immediately, clinically. “Keep your head down and your mouth shut. This is not a game. But if it were”—her hard eyes meet mine—“Julius Carter would win.”
Julius brings over a bucket of water and a container of salt. As he walks, his eyes find mine and don’t leave them. His eyes speak full sentences, yet, I can’t make any of them out. I wish I knew what they were saying. Making his way to Aida, he places the bucket by her side. Without even looking at him, she holds out her hand, and he places the container in it.
Aida reaches out to my hands and removes the tape before cutting off the cable tie. I rub my sore wrists as she mutters, “You’re going to need those hands in a minute.”
The familiarity between them does not calm my sprinting heart. In fact, it has the opposite effect. My heart beats harder, faster.
They’ve done this before.
Aida takes some salt in her palm and drops it into the water. Pulling out a wooden tongue depressor, she stirs it a while before taking my injured foot and placing it in the warm water. But I’m not ready for it. The salt in the water stings my open wound almost as badly as the warmth of the water does. Gasping loudly, I grip the sides of the passenger car seat and bite my bottom lip as my entire body shakes.
Aida glares at me. “Perhaps the pain will be a lesson to you.”
I bite my lip so hard I’m afraid I’ll puncture it. And Julius… he watches me. His hard gaze burning holes through me, I close my eyes to keep myself safe from those harsh blue eyes.
Ling smirks cruelly. “Payback’s a bitch, bitch.”
My body trembles and I begin to sweat. I feel it trail from my temple down my jaw, dropping at my chin. Wetness runs down my nose, over my lips. The saltiness of the perspiration is so harsh it burns my eyes. I try to blink it away to no avail.
Then Aida places a gloved hand in the salt water and proceeds to torture me in the form of a deep clean. She runs her hand over my heel, and it hurts so bad that my mouth opens in a silent scream. Pulling out a large cotton swab, she lifts my foot out of the water and peers closely into the hole in my heel. I expect the cotton swab to graze lightly over the wound, not to be placed directly into the wound, and none too gently.
It’s then that I do scream.
Aida comments, “Maybe we should take this inside.”
Julius shakes his head. “Don’t want her bleeding in the house.”
Gripping the car’s doorframe, I take in a shaky breath and let out a trembling wail. Aida continues to twirl the cotton swab deep inside the wound. I’m unable to take a solid breath. My head droops sideways, and with hair plastered to my face in sweat, I whimper hoarsely, saliva dribbling out the side of my mouth and down my chin.
In short, I’m a hot mess.
The cotton swab is removed from the wound and held up in front of me. Aida points out the speckles. “Regardless of what you might think, I’m not doing this for fun. See those specks? That’s rust. I need to do that one more time, so prepare yourself.”
My body shakes violently, border-lining a fit, as I plead, “No, please don’t. No more. Please don’t.”
Nurse Aida ignores my pleas. She takes another cotton swab and repeats the process. Whatever I look like right now, shaking and moaning, must look like I’m not having much fun, because even Ling looks down at me, tissue balled up in her nose, sympathy etched
on her features.
Aida pulls out the swab and checks it. Seeming happy with the cleanliness of the wound, she gently smears antiseptic cream in and around it before packing the small hole with gauze. “Take that out when you wake up tomorrow and put some more of this antiseptic cream over it. After you unwrap it, don’t cover it again. Keep it open, keep it clean. Wash it twice a day with salt water. You should be okay within the week, but it’s going to be sore for a while.” Turning to Julius, she orders, “She’s not going to be up for much in the next several days. You’re going to have to help clean the wound.”
His brow furrows. “What are you saying, a week? It’s a fucking puncture, not a gunshot wound. You’re telling me she needs a week for that bullshit to heal?”
Aida looks back at me, and as she looks me in the eye, I see apology. It’s then that I realize that Nurse Aida had been meaning to help me by giving me more time to heal than is necessary. The older woman looks back at Julius and answers quietly, “Four days at the very least.”
Without another word, Aida begins to unbutton my blouse. I slap at her hand. “Hey!”
Ignoring my sad attempt to keep some small form of dignity, she utters a hard, “You need a shot. Actually, you need two.” Her eyes meet mine. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer the derriere to the upper arm.” Her brows rise. “I can drop your pants as fast as I can get your sleeve down.”
The fight leaves me. I don’t want to get an infection. I don’t want to be sick. I allow her to manhandle me.
Aida pulls down my sleeve to reveal my arm. She pulls out two already loaded shots. Taking an alcohol swab, she cleans the skin on my upper arm before administering the first shot. It stings like a motherfucker, but I bite my tongue. The second burns twice as bad as the first, and she mutters, “The booster is a slow release, so it works in place of a ten-day pill course.”
Aida places a cotton ball on my arm, cuts off a piece of medical tape and sticks it there. She explains, “There’s likely to be a lump there tomorrow. Don’t touch it unless you want it to bruise.”
Ling steps up then. “Can you set my nose, Aida? I don’t want it to heal crooked.”
Aida sighs and stands. “Okay, but take it in the bathroom. Chances are, when I do it, it’ll bleed like a faucet.”
Ling’s gaze snaps to me, fury evident. Curling her lip, she lifts her hand and flips the bird my way. Walking away, she mouths, “Fuck you.”
Aida waddles behind Ling, disappearing into the house, leaving me with Julius.
“You need help walking?”
I look up at him. My mind is set on more important things. “Are you taking me home?”
He is. I see it in his eyes. He’s going to take me home, to my death, then leave like I never existed to him.
“I can’t go home.” This comes out a whisper, and far more pathetic than I intended.
Julius tilts his head, studying me. “Your brother.”
“What?”
Julius straightens. “Your brother will help you.”
I force out a cold laugh. “My brother is a soldier. Even if he wanted to help me, he couldn’t. And my father…” My eyes close. I swallow past the thickness in my throat. “My father will do what he has to in order to keep the peace.”
In layman’s terms, I’m already dead to him.
Blinking away the stinging behind my lids, I declare, “I’m not going back there.” As God is my witness, I fucking mean it.
Julius simply rumbles, “You’ll go where I take you.”
Already shaking my head, I state, “No I won’t.”
Then he smiles. A small smile, but a smile at that. “You really think so, little sparrow?”
I glare. “I know so.”
His smile intensifies, and if I weren’t in this fucked-up situation, I would take the time to appreciate that smile. A smile like his deserves appreciation. It’s too bad he’s an asshole sent to kill me. He doesn’t seem like the type to get off on his job.
He steps forward, arms extended. “Relax, li’l bit. I’ll carry you to the house.”
Julius Carter may be a master of the game, but he has made one solid mistake.
He has underestimated my will.
The moment he steps into arm’s reach, I extend my leg, kicking him square in the balls. His breath leaves him in a whoosh, but he reaches out to grab hold of me, his fingers securely fisted into my long hair. Pain radiates through my scalp and my eyes water, but he doesn’t pull, just holds on. I kick him again, this time in the knee, and fight. I watch as the pressure builds inside of him. The vein in his temple bulges and he loosens his grip.
With no time to spare, I shake his hands off me, ripping the sleeve of my blouse, and limp away as fast as I can. Approximately three seconds later, I’m tackled to the gravel, the impact forcing my breath to leave me in a whoosh.
I’m winded.
We struggle.
I hit him, kick him, and even attempt to head-butt him. My hands closed into fists, I fight for my life. Trying to dodge my blows, his arm snakes around my middle, across my chest. I reach back and attempt to pinch him. Anything to get him to let me go.
“Stop hitting me.” This is growled into my ear.
But I don’t stop. I fight harder. I twist in his grip, kick out and hit him wherever I can reach. I don’t stop to think about the fact that I’m hurting myself in the process.
A hand once again tangles in my hair and pulls back harshly. “I said stop hitting me!”
My voice quivering, I plead, “Please don’t take me back.”
Julius stills. After a moment, he mutters, “I don’t have a choice.”
“We all have a choice.”
The hand in my hair loosens. “Most of us do. You lost that right when you framed your husband and let us kill him. You took my right away for me.” He hisses out, “I don’t have a choice.”
Gasping for breath, his body leaves mine, and he pulls me up by my lapel. I stand on shaking legs and yell, “Goddamn it! Just let me go!”
His nostrils flare, and he barely contains his rage as he aims the gun at my chest. “Get inside.”
“No.”
“I have a gun pointed at you, bitch. I have the upper hand. Get in the fucking house.”
My eyes water more from frustration than fear. “I’m not scared of you or your gun. Just let me go. I can’t allow you to take me home. They’ll kill me.”
His jaw tics. “I don’t like repeating myself, Alejandra.”
If he plans to take me home, I feel I have no choice. I limp forward, getting closer and closer to the loaded gun till I’m a hair’s breadth away. Reaching up, I take the barrel in my hand and pull it to my forehead, panting harshly. I grind out, “Do it. Pull the trigger.”
Those blue eyes look at me, into me. My stomach dips. I fight the effect they have on me, just barely. “Don’t think about it, just do it.”
He attempts to lower the gun, and a swift sense of panic fills me. I shuffle forward on my aching heel and take the barrel into my hands, once again using what little strength I have left to lift the gun up to my cheek with shaking hands. I hold it there. My voice hoarse, I utter a rough, “I’m as good as dead. Grant me this one kindness. Kill me before they do.” My eyes shut and I breathe deeply. “Please. Release me.”
The gun is firmly pulled from my grasp, and before I let out the first sob, an arm is wound around me, guiding me to the house. As this is happening, all I can think about is how to get my hands on that gun.
If Julius won’t kill me and he won’t let me go, I’ll just have to kill myself.
“Hey.”
I turn to face Nox, currently in the driver seat of his family truck. He eyes me thoughtfully, carefully, before reminding me, “This is what you wanted, T.”
Looking out of the passenger window to the almost deserted diner, I nod in complete silence. A thought comes to me, and I snuffle a light laugh.
If you’d have asked me five years ago if I’d ever willingly give
myself up to the cops, I would’ve told you that it wasn’t in my nature, that I’d rather go down swinging, fighting till my last breath was pulled from my body. But things have changed.
Part of me wishes Lexi could see me now.
That same part of me thinks she’d be proud of me.
The other part of me knows she’s better off without me and prompts me to stop being a fucking sap.
I clear my throat. “You know this dude?”
Nox sighs, “Yeah. Old contact. Used to be a field detective, but he fucked up. Now he’s on desk duty.”
“I’m thinking bringing me in is gonna get him back in the field, no ass-kissing required.”
Nox doesn’t deny it. Instead, he grins. “That’s the plan.”
My lip twitches with a struggling smile, but the effort causes my stomach to turn with the wrongness of this situation. In a sudden movement, lest I have a moment to rethink what I’m doing, I reach over to open the door. “Let’s do this.”
Nox and I enter the diner and the smell of disinfectant hits my nostrils. A lone waitress mops the floor and calls out, “Closing time, boys.”
A tall man sitting on a stool, sipping coffee, calls back, “It’s okay, Sheila.” He turns to me, and when I see his face, I pause in my tracks. The man’s hard eyes hit me with a glare, and he mutters, “They’re with me.”
The man stands, unfolding himself from the stool, and takes his coffee to a booth. The lights shut off around us, leaving only the light from the kitchen to illuminate our surroundings, and Nox slides into the booth. I take my time, seating myself next to him.
I take in this man, this cop, and I don’t do it discreetly.
What can I say?
I don’t do well with authority figures.
He watches me in my blatant display of disrespect and grins. “Antonio Falco, raised from the dead, alive and well.” When he reaches out with a hand, I try not to sneer. “Casper Quaid.”
I take his hand firmly and pump it once before letting it fall. Nox greets his old friend. “Cas, how you doin’?”
Casper sighs, running a hand through his too-long blond hair. “Overworked and underpaid. Same shit, different day. How’s Lily?”