Kingpin

by Lili St. Germain

  ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said, tugging Mariana from the room. She looked back at John hesitantly, who seemed to want to say something.

  ‘I’m not gonna kill her,’ Dornan said, looking between the pair. Something was off, and he wondered if it was just him, in the aftermath of what had happened, or if there was something he was missing.

  John closed his mouth, and Mariana followed Dornan slowly out of the motel room and into the adjoining room. He closed the door behind her. The room was identical to the other one. Two beds. A minibar. A bathroom.

  Perfect.

  He turned to Mariana, who was hovering at the door, looking everywhere but at him.

  ‘Get on the bed,’ he growled, lunging for her. Mariana backed away from him, only stopping when the backs of her knees hit one of the narrow double beds.

  ‘Baby, you’re scaring me,’ she said, her eyes glassy.

  ‘Why would you be scared of me?’ he asked, pressing himself against her so she was forced backwards onto the bed. Her eyes lit up and she pushed her palms against his chest, trying to push him off of her. He didn’t like that. It made him mad. Didn’t she want to make him feel better? Didn’t she want to help him forget?

  He grabbed her wrists and forced them over her head, using his weight to press her into the bed. Her eyes grew wide as she struggled against his stronghold.

  ‘Dornan!’ she hissed. ‘What are you doing?’

  He laughed. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’ he asked, letting go of her wrists and taking hold of the waistband on her pants, tugging hard until the material slid over her hips and down to her knees. She continued to thrash, but he held onto her hips so hard his fingernails drew blood from her flesh.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ she cried, pushing at his chest.

  He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. All he saw was red.

  ‘Dornan!’ More forceful this time.

  ‘Shut up!’ he snarled, taking hold of her hips and flipping her onto her stomach. He unzipped his jeans, letting out a breath as he pressed his cock between her ass cheeks.

  ‘It’s not too late,’ Mariana whispered, her voice shaky. ‘You can stop. I don’t want to do this. You’re not giving me a choice.’

  He thought about that choice as he spat on his hand and rubbed between her legs. ‘No,’ he said finally, ‘I’m not.’

  He thrust into her, and she yelled, her sounds muffled by Dornan pushing her face into the pillow.

  He pressed his other hand into the small of her back, needing release, needing calm before he snapped again and hurt her. He’d stop soon enough. Just a few minutes, and then he’d stop. She was upset because of Stephanie, but she’d understand. She loved him. She’d want to take his pain away.

  She started to really struggle against his hands, turning her head to the side to look at him, and that made him fucking angry. Couldn’t she see, after everything, that he needed her? After everything he’d done for her, after he’d changed his entire existence for her, couldn’t she just shut her mouth and let him give her some of his rage, some of the ache inside him?

  He laid over her, his large body enveloping her small one. She softened immediately, as if she were relieved. That made his gut twist, made his veins sizzle. Was she a liar, too? Was she just waiting for the moment when she could stab him in the back and run? He collected her small wrists in one hand and pressed them above her head until she whimpered and pressed her eyes tightly shut.

  He barely even heard her gasps. There was only need, thick and present and requiring satiety.

  He dragged a hand through her thick, silky hair, stopping at the ends and tugging hard. Mariana didn’t resist his insolent tug, following the movement like a good little kitty so her neck was outstretched, exposed. He imagined biting into her throat like some kind of lovesick pseudo-vampire, but instead he wrapped his hand around her pretty throat and squeezed.

  Her dark blue eyes came alive once more, still wet, but this time tears started to streak across her skin, mixing in with clumped mascara so it looked like she was weeping blackness. It didn’t make sense. Their fucking was like fighting most of the time, animals in heat, pain and blood and submission the things that got both of them off. A small part of him knew this was different – that this wasn’t good for her, that she had said no, that she was crying as if he were raping her – but he pushed that aside, because it didn’t matter what she needed in that moment. It only mattered that he get rid of this feeling inside, that he get rid of the image of Stephanie lying in the tub begging for her fucking life, and replace it with something else.

  Mariana struggled underneath him, her nails digging into his hand that was clasped at her throat. She took in tiny sips of air, her eyes streaming with tears, the fear inside them both comforting and nauseating at the same time. The only sound was skin slapping against skin, the small choking sounds coming from her throat, and the bed banging against the thin stucco wall with every brutal thrust into her pliant flesh.

  It felt like my wrists were about to snap in two. My throat, though, was where most of the pain blossomed from. I could take in shallow breaths, but Dornan’s weight crushed me into the lumpy motel mattress, and my lungs burned, begging to be filled with oxygen. The room started to spin. There were tears in my eyes. He’s supposed to love me. And I guess the most fucked-up part of all was that he did love me. Even as he held me down, he loved me in the only way he knew how. With violence. With anger. With pain.

  I’d become hardened over the years but I’d never, ever felt this torn beneath him. I’d wanted to tell him about the baby for a split second there, but after what I’d seen – how he’d butchered his ex-girlfriend – everything inside me said to shut my mouth, to give nothing away.

  And my heart. My heart was hurting, because it was breaking in two. I still loved him, deep down in the dark places inside me. But I was afraid of him. I hated him. I was terrified of this man.

  And John. I wanted John. He was safe. He was gentle. He didn’t look at me like a possession. He didn’t lock me up and have me followed and hurt me. He didn’t murder women – not that I knew of anyway. He was tender. He was loving.

  Love. I choked tears back, clinging onto consciousness by a tattered thread, as Dornan finished with one final thrust and collapsed on top of me.

  I sucked in a breath the moment his hold on me loosened, coughing and choking as fresh air burned my lungs.

  In the shock that came after, I imagined stepping onto a plane with Dornan’s baby nestled inside my belly, safe and hidden. I imagined the utter relief as the plane took off. And then he would be there, dragging me from my seat, shoving me inside a toilet stall and killing me with his bare hands while his dark eyes burned with Why?

  I lay on the edge of the bed, not daring to move, until the last of the sticky liquid had seeped from inside me and turned cold beneath my thighs. I waited until Dornan was sleeping, his breath coming in slow increments, his form still. Rolling my legs off the side of the bed, I moved slowly and silently, heading for the bathroom. Once I was in there, I locked the door and stepped into the shower, turning on the hot water.

  I’d never been raped before. Is that what it was like? It had been less traumatic letting Murphy fuck me than it had been begging Dornan not to. I was shaking and I couldn’t stop.

  I held my wrists up to the weak light the bare bulb was throwing off overhead. I saw fresh bruises blossoming across my skin, and marvelled at how close love and death could become. Dirty, messy, inexplicably intertwined. I didn’t cry. I was numb. My heart beat in a steady rhythm, and I imagined the second tiny heart within me. Pressing a hand against my flat stomach, I said a silent prayer for the life inside me.

  I remembered the piece of paper the ultrasound technician had handed to me, the one I’d been supposed to give my doctor.

  The baby inside me was a girl.

  She was a girl, and I wanted her more than anything, but at the same time my heart told me it was utterly selfish to bring a little
girl into this world I was imprisoned in. Would she be corrupted? Would she be sold? Would her father end up destroying her?

  Weary but warm under the generous hot water, I said a silent sorry to my daughter, whatever her fate might be. I pleaded for her forgiveness – for my carelessness, for my selfishness, that I wasn’t even sure if I had the strength to be her mother. Because she might be inside me, but I’d never stared into her eyes, never held her in my arms and begged to keep her as she was ripped away from me. No, at the moment she was nothing more than a blurry picture and a plus sign on a pregnancy test.

  It wasn’t too late for an abortion. I still had time. But that time was fast running out, and if I decided to terminate I’d have to make plans. Get help. John. It would always come back to John.

  I could terminate the pregnancy, but I’d heard her strong little heartbeat thundering along in my ears. I’d seen her move. She had arms, and legs, and a heart. She’d already survived Murphy, and Allie shooting me. She was a fighter. She deserved a chance.

  On the other hand, she had a father who was a murderer. A grandfather who was a monster. A family wrapped up in lies and death and torturous pain. She’d either become one of them or be imprisoned by them, and I didn’t know which one was worse.

  Whatever happened, if she even survived long enough to be born, her life wasn’t going to be easy.

  The merciful path would be to make the choice for her, to lie down on a hard hospital bed, spread my legs and let a stranger vacuum her from me. To let her fade away before anyone ever knew of her existence.

  But I knew I couldn’t do that.

  I couldn’t bear to destroy the one good thing Dornan and I had left.

  Dornan rolled over and kissed me on the mouth, tasting like stale whiskey and lies, before closing himself in the bathroom. The motel would have to burn the sheets, streaked with blood from where he’d slept.

  While he was showering I dressed and headed outside, making sure to wrap a scarf around my neck to hide the bruises Dornan had left. I couldn’t bear to spend another moment with him, but I was ashamed that I’d been so fucking weak. I could have yelled for John. But I hadn’t, because being forced was preferable to watching John and Dornan kill each other if I’d cried out for help.

  I just wanted to be alone for five minutes, so of course as soon as I opened the front door I ran smack bang into John.

  He looked shattered, and I realised he hadn’t slept for days. I gave him a sympathetic look, affronted when he returned it with a tight-lipped stare.

  ‘Bad night?’ I guessed.

  He sneered, looking past me. ‘Not as good as yours,’ he said cruelly, flicking his gaze up and down me. ‘You get off on Dornan killing people?’

  Furious, I yanked my scarf down and tipped my head back so he could see the bruising across my neck. ‘Go fuck yourself,’ I said, swallowing back tears as his face fell.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, reaching out a hand to touch my neck. I pulled away sharply, narrowing my eyes at him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t you worry about me, John. I’m just fine.’

  It was a tense drive home. I sat in the back of the truck with Jason, who Dornan had drugged yet again. I was starting to seriously worry about him killing his new son, who I’d still not actually seen awake in almost twenty-four hours, with an overdose. The kid had wet himself in his comatose state, and we drove home with the smell of piss filling the car.

  When we finally arrived back in Los Angeles, John drove to my apartment. When we pulled up, I didn’t move. After a few moments, Dornan turned around, looking at me expectantly. ‘You can get out,’ he said.

  I didn’t budge. ‘Where are you taking him?’ I asked, pushing the boy’s fringe off his face.

  ‘To the clubhouse,’ Dornan replied. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. I’ll let him wake up and give him something to eat, introduce him to his brothers. He’ll be fine.’

  I felt my mouth open in shock. ‘You just fucking murdered his mother,’ I hissed. ‘You can’t just feed him and expect him to be okay.’

  Dornan’s mouth twisted into a grimace. He got out of the car, yanking my door open and gesturing for me to get out. I hesitated for a moment, and he took hold of my arm, pulling me to my feet.

  I looked down at John, who was watching with a detached expression on his face. I knew there was nothing he could reasonably do, but it still pissed me off that he was just going along with everything without questioning Dornan’s sanity.

  ‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ Dornan said to John, placing his hand in the small of my back and taking my duffel bag from me. I cringed against his touch as he escorted me up the stairs, remembering how he had forced himself into me, while I’d been begging him to stop. As soon as we were at the front door to my apartment, I took the bag from him, unlocking the door and letting myself in.

  The apartment was empty, Guillermo nowhere in sight. As soon as we stepped into the kitchen I turned on Dornan.

  ‘You need to bring Jason up here,’ I said. ‘I’ll take care of him. He doesn’t belong at the club.’

  Dornan raised his eyebrows. ‘And what are you gonna do with him, huh? You’re not his family. You’re not anybody. What makes you think he’d be better off here with a stranger?’

  I laughed in disbelief. ‘A stranger?’ I echoed. ‘You’re a stranger! He doesn’t even know you. The only thing he knows is that you murdered his mother!’

  Dornan stepped forward and slapped me across the face, so hard I tasted blood. I brought my hand up to my cheek, shocked by his sudden outburst, but not surprised.

  ‘You’re losing it,’ I said coldly. ‘You’re really fucking losing your mind.’

  ‘I thought you, of all people, would understand,’ he said, and for a moment he sounded like a lost little boy, completely at odds with the way he’d been acting.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘What happened to you? So she left you. Why would she stay here and bring a baby into this fucking mess?’

  ‘Shut up,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘No, I won’t. You tell me, Dornan. Tell me why she should have stayed with you – while you were married, by the way – and had a baby in this fucking life? She deserved better. Your son deserved better than this.’

  ‘Shut up!’ he roared, pushing me hard against the wall. He charged at me, and before I could get out of his way, I felt a hand around my throat and a fist in my stomach. I doubled over in pain, gasping silently for air that wasn’t there, but he didn’t release his grip. I saw stars, then brilliant bursts of white that spread across my vision and merged into one, and still he wouldn’t let go.

  The bleeding didn’t start right away.

  I was out for a while. How long, I’m not sure. All I remember is that the sun, bright and unrelenting, started to bother my eyes and finally I had to open them.

  The ache was dull, low in my abdomen. It wasn’t so bad at first, just like I was having a period.

  For a while, I forgot I was pregnant. Must’ve been from when I knocked my head against the tiles.

  Then I started to notice a dampness between my legs, like I’d just peed my pants.

  And then the pain, sharp knives stabbing into my womb, one after another. I gasped at the intensity as I struggled to sit up, wetness flooding between my thighs. I winced, one hand to my stomach as I came to a sitting position, and it was only then that I saw the blood streaking my thighs and pooling onto the floor beneath me. And I knew.

  I expected to feel sadness, grief at losing the baby that had gone undetected by anyone else so long inside me. I knew immediately that there was no hope for the tiny creature who’d been a part of me for three short months. I watched, nauseated, as she bled from me and onto the stark white tiles.

  He did this, I thought to myself. He killed his own child. For nothing.

  Dornan would be back at the clubhouse by now, now that he’d kidnapped his secret son and drag
ged him back to Los Angeles, a son who would no doubt hate his father for ripping him from the only life he’d ever known. And in doing so, inadvertently, Dornan had killed something that hadn’t even lived.

  There was a knocking at the door. Three sharp raps at first, then a yell.

  Was he back already? God, no. Not now. Not like this. Another yell.

  Relief flooded through me.

  John.

  I heard the lock hiss and the front door open.

  ‘Jesus,’ John said, falling to his knees beside me. He pulled my head into his lap, taking out his phone. His voice calling for an ambulance sounded so far away, it was like I was listening to someone in another universe.

  ‘Mariana!’ I heard him yelling. The sound was so faint. I opened my mouth and tried to respond, but the pain was too much, and the sound came out as a whimper.

  I blacked out again.

  I was awake for bits and pieces of the ambulance trip. The emergency line operator had tried to convince John to drive me to the hospital, telling him that a miscarriage wasn’t life-threatening, but he’d been insistent. And with good reason. I wasn’t just having a miscarriage, I was haemorrhaging, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I came to in an operating theatre, my legs in stirrups and a kind-faced nurse stroking my cheek as I closed my eyes again.

  Later, when I woke up, I was in a regular hospital bed. I tried to sit up, but the pain was excruciating. Even though no one had told me, even though I had no real way of telling, I knew the baby was gone.

  John was dozing in the seat beside my bed, and when I tried to move he woke up, his bloodshot eyes finding mine. He reached for my hand, and I let him because I couldn’t bear not to touch him any longer.

  ‘Don’t sit up,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve just come out of surgery. You lost a lot of blood. Here, I’ll move the bed.’

  He took a remote in his other hand and pressed a button, slowly inclining my head. The change in pressure made me dizzy, and I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning.