by Michelle Amy
The man hadn’t even seen me coming. I buried the knife in the goon’s back, between two ribs. He let out a startled cry before whirling and swiping at me with a wide fingered hand. I narrowly avoided him by stumbling backwards.
He rose to his feet and got off of Clint, who lay face down, watching me through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
“Get the fuck out of here, McCoy!” He screamed at me. Actually screamed it. It was shrill and terrified, but genuine. He didn’t want me to die.
I clenched my teeth and bent my knees. My eyes narrowed on the man before me. He was crouched as well, and he flexed his hands and rolled his fists in a show of intimidation. His lips were curled off his yellowed teeth in a wicked snarl.
I raised one hand between us, palm up, and then beckoned him forward with all fingers. “Come and get it,” I hissed. I was tired. I wasn’t playing games. This was ending, right now, and I had zero intentions of going down after I had already taken down three of them.
It was time to bury goon number four.
He came for me with a deep bellow. He dropped his shoulders and crossed his arms to protect his belly and throat from the want-to-be-knife in my hand. He thought that I would only go for inflicting a wound that would kill him. That was where he had made his mistake.
I let him slam into me. As he propelled me backwards I buried the knife into his back as many times as I could. Then my shoulder blades hit the wall behind me. I slid down the length of it to the floor, my body trying to escape the pain it was suffering. The man came down with me, and grunted with the effort of punching me in the gut three times before he toppled sideways.
He writhed in pain beside me as he tried to reach for the knife that I had left buried as close to his spine as I could manage.
I rested my head against the wall behind me and my eyes fell upon Clint, who was pushing himself to his hands and knees and staring at me. His mouth was moving, and it looked like he was speaking to me. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. My ears were ringing with a pitch and felt like they were full of water.
As he scrambled towards me the doorway to the showers filled with inmates behind him. When they saw us they came pouring in, some of them pushing by each other to get a view of what had gone down.
Clint reached me and pressed his hands against my side to try to stop the bleeding. He turned over his shoulder and yelled at the others to go get help. Some of them hurried out. I spotted Link. He was standing apart from the others and staring at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw.
I couldn’t hear him, but his mouth started to move and I knew he and Clint were talking. Clint turned his worried eye- the other one was purpled and swollen closed- to me. I could see beads of sweat on his forehead.
I knew I was about to pass out. I was warm and comfortable and Clint was looking farther and farther away with every passing second. Before I let it swallow me I felt myself smile. Suddenly my ears cleared and I could hear the other inmates whispering and talking amongst themselves. Clint was talking to me. “You’re alright man, you’re alright. Shit. Shit. Fuck,” he looked over his shoulder at the others again, “where the hell are the guards?”
“Clint,” I managed, my smile still lingering on my lips.
He whirled back to me. “Yeah? You’re okay- why the fuck are you smiling?”
My smile morphed into laughter that silenced everyone in the room. “We kicked their asses,” I lifted a hand and nudged him in the ribs. “Their gang is going to destroy them.”
Clint nodded. “Yeah. They’ll probably be killed.”
I nodded. “Good.”
And then everything went blank.
Chapter Fifteen
There was a lot that I wanted to ask him- a lot that I wanted to say. I wanted to know how everything had unfolded after. Did he end up spending more time than ten years in prison? Was he punished? How long did it take for him to heal? Where was Clint now? What happened to the four men who had nearly killed him?
All those questions tumbled around in my mind as I stared at the man before me. His eyes had never left the ceiling as he recounted everything that had happened. His jaw was working, flexing and unflexing as his dark eyes stared unblinking above him.
I looked at his naked chest and torso and my eyes sought the spot where I expected to find three scars. He caught me looking and put his hand against his side, pointing out three very fine pale lines in his skin. I was surprised to see them.
“They healed clean,” he told me.
I didn’t know what to say. A part of me really wanted to go outside and clear my head. Another part wanted to make him feel safe and loved with me. The biggest part, and the part that won, wanted to simply cry.
So I did. I covered my face with my hands and I cried in front of him. He didn’t like it. He sat up and pulled my hands away from my face while he begged me not to be upset. I couldn’t control it. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs and cupped my cheeks in his hands.
“Please, Veronica,” he pleaded, “don’t cry. I can’t bare this. Please.”
I watched him through my tears. His eyebrows were drawn together in a straight and sorrowful line. His eyes looked wet too. I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said through deep breaths as I tried to calm myself.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry. This is why I didn’t want to tell you any of this. I didn’t want to burden you. If you need me to go, give you space, just say it. I’ll leave. I won’t ask any questions. Just-”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I managed, wiping my own tears away now.
His hands fell to his sides on the bed and he stared at me silently. “I wanted them dead. I still hope they suffered. I think about it all the time. How could I expect you to ever want to be with a man like me?”
My tears came back and I rolled my eyes at him. Then I crawled closer to him and wrapped myself up in his lap. I pressed my cheek to his bare chest and took a breath that smelled like him; that oh so familiar scent of pine mixed with the coconut sunscreen and a little bit of sweat. I wrapped my arms around him and clung to him.
“I love you,” I told him, wanting him to hear the words in his soul.
His slack arms wrapped around me.
“You are everything to me,” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head before resting his forehead against it. I felt a built up tension in him slip away and we sank deeper on to the bed. “I love you too, Veronica.”
We let ourselves be in each other’s embrace without being overcome by what had just ensued. We stayed like that for over an hour, holding each other, until eventually we ended up lying down. We fell asleep tucked into each other, and I felt like I belonged there more than anywhere else on earth. McCoy was home to me, and the comfort that held was enough to make me smile into the pillow as I listened to his even breathing and the crash of the waves outside our balcony doors.
Chapter Sixteen
Carly popped her trunk with her fob and rested one hip against the driver’s side door as she watched McCoy unload our two suitcases.
“The two of you look like tanned Greek Gods, by the way,” she said, unable to stop the scowl on her face. “I’m jealous. Next time I’m coming with you.
McCoy closed her trunk and carried both suitcases up on to the sidewalk in front of my house. “You’d like it, Carly. It’s peaceful, and quiet. We’d never lose you.”
Her scowl hardened. “Don’t test me, McCoy. Not after I’ve just spent two weeks without either of you for company while you both basked under the Mexican sun.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome,” she shot me a wink, “welcome home. You kids have a nice relaxing evening.” She hopped back into her little silver Cabriolet and started the engine. She left us on the sidewalk.
I peered up at my house and sighed. “Usually I like coming home after a vacation. Not this time. I think I would have been happy staying there forever.”
; McCoy lifted our bags again and pushed the front gate open with his knee, where he held it open for me while precariously balancing on one leg. “This place is equally as good as that place,” he said over his shoulder. “It has all I could ever need.”
“You’re such a softie,” I giggled, brushing by him and running my hand over his chest. “It has everything I need too.” I kissed him and he let the gate fall.
“I was going to say coffee,” he muttered, “but I guess you’re a good perk, too.”
I laughed and we hurried up the stairs to the front door. I unlocked it and we stepped inside. I was greeted by all the familiarity of home. The smell of sandalwood from some of my candles. Laundry detergent. Lavender. I smiled. “I take it back, it’s good to be home.”
He gently touched my shoulder. “I’m going to put these up in the bedroom. We’ll unpack tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” It was already almost midnight. I wanted nothing more than to have a cup of tea and then go to bed. “I’m going to boil the kettle for some tea, want some?”
He shook his head as he took to the bottom of the stairs. “No thanks, I’m good.”
I yawned and passed through the archway from my foyer to my kitchen and living room. I flicked on the light and padded over to the stove, where I clicked on the gas element and set the kettle atop it. Then I yawned again, stretched, and turn around to lean on the counter.
Across from me, in my living room, on my couch, appeared to be four men.
I blinked at them when they remained motionless and I thought for the briefest moment that I was tired and imagining things.
My eyes rolled over thick muscled and tattooed arms. I saw fingers covered in gold and silver rings. I let out a heavy swallow.
Chapter Seventeen
Suddenly, they all stood up. I instantly felt sick. My voice was lost in my throat and I stood against the counter while they came around the island between us. One of them had long hair that was slicked back in a ponytail. The sides of his head were shaved. He licked his lips as he watched me and stopped when he was only a few feet away.
“He was right, boys, McCoy has it pretty good here.” His voice was raspy and his speech was slow. “Hi there, sweet cheeks. Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
I tried to tell him to stay away from me, but I couldn’t.
He closed the gap between us with two strides. He lifted one hand and rested his knuckles gently against my cheek. “Are you taking good care of our boy?” His eyes held my stare as he waited for my answer.
I didn’t know how to answer that question.
His hand lowered to rest lightly at the base of my throat. “I asked you a question, darling, and I expect a God damn answer. Are you treating our boy right?”
I swallowed and nodded. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered. My whole body had started to shake.
His hand wrapped around my forearm and he yanked me forward. I fell against him and he chuckled. The sound was deep and cruel. I tried to squirm away from him. He turned and began pulling me with him. I struggled.
He whirled back to me and grabbed my face in one hand. His thumb pressed my cheek into my teeth. I whimpered against the pain. He shook my head in his grip. “You will be quiet,” he growled.
Then he pulled me forward to stand with him at the bottom of the stairs. The other three men gathered around us. The lighting here was better. I could see bruised jaws and purple eyes. I recognized two of them. They had been there the night Carly and I were saved by McCoy. These men were part of the gang that was trying to get McCoy back.
I was in trouble.
The man who held me wrapped one arm around me, right under my breasts, which were lifted above his arm. He rested his chin on my shoulder and still held my chin in his other hand. He peered down at my breasts over my shoulder. “Those are lovely,” he purred. Then he licked the side of my face. I couldn’t hold in the muffled cry that escaped me. He shook me roughly. “I told you to be quiet.”
McCoy called down to me from the bedroom. “Do you know which bag we put the damn toothpaste in? I can’t find it anywhere.” When I didn’t answer him, he called my name. The man holding me covered my mouth with his hand. I thought of biting him for a split second, and then decided such antics would be foolish and would only get us into more trouble.
McCoy called for me once more. I could hear the worry in his voice. The man holding me finally answered. “Veronica is a little busy, at the moment. You’ll have to deal with us instead, pretty boy.”
McCoy’s footfalls on the hardwood upstairs were quick as he ran from the bedroom to the top of the stairs. When he saw me he stopped and stood up straighter. “Let her go,” he said evenly.
“I don’t think so, John. I know what you’ll do if you get the chance. She’s protection, she is. You just come on down here, nice and slow, and I won’t mess up her pretty face. Deal?”
My thoughts were jumbled and my nose was full of the smell of the man: beer, tobacco, sweat. He had called McCoy John.
McCoy was seething at the top of the stairs. His fists were clenched. His eyes flicked from me to my captor.
All of a sudden, something cold was being pressed up under my chin with such force that I couldn’t breathe. I closed my eyes.
The man holding me shook me again and I sobbed once before catching myself and falling silent. “You come down these stairs now, Johnny boy, or I’ll blow her brains all over the wall. You hear me?”
I heard McCoy start coming down the stairs. I wanted to scream for him to stay where he was. I didn’t want him getting any closer to these monsters than he had to. They wanted him dead. Or they wanted him working with them. I didn’t know which option scared me more.
When I gathered the courage to open my eyes McCoy was only a few feet from me at the bottom of the stairs. My captor held me to him tighter and adjusted the gun at my throat. “Stay where you are, John, don’t take another step.” McCoy stopped. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go. You’re coming with us. So is this lovely arm piece of yours. We like her. Then you’re going to sit down and have a nice chat with the Boss, and if all goes well we can send you on your merry way. But, first things first. We have a bit of business to get out of the way.” He nodded at two of the men who stood to our right. “You roughed up my boys a couple weeks ago. Cost us money. I don’t like losing money. So we even the score, then we go meet the Boss.”
McCoy’s chest was rising and falling with rage. “Just don’t hurt her, Donnie, or I swear to God I’ll-”
“You’re in no position to be making threats,” the man holding me, Donnie, said. “You will not fight back. She will watch. Then we go. No negotiating. Say you agree, or bang bang, the bitch is dead.”
I tried to keep myself from crying. It was impossible. My knees gave out beneath me and Donnie wrenched me back up on to my feet. His fist wrapped itself in my hair and he craned my head back. The gun was still against my throat, and it rose up and down when I swallowed. I was staring up at the ceiling.
“Alright,” McCoy said, “alright.”
“No,” I sobbed, trying to squirm away.
“Veronica,” it was McCoy speaking to me, “stop. They won’t hurt you unless they have reason to. Everything will be okay. I promise. You have to trust me.”
“Yeah,” Donnie whispered into my ear, “trust him. Calm the hell down.”
Then they started beating him. McCoy remained on his feet for the first few blows, but eventually fell to one knee, where the biggest of the two men wrapped both his hands together and swung his fists like he was holding a baseball bat. I heard the impact and McCoy fell to his side at the bottom of my stairs.
I was unable to look away as he tried to get up on to his knees. He was too disoriented. One of the men pushed him back down with a boot on his side. McCoy fell back down. He was bleeding from his eyebrow and his mouth. He had a split lip. His nose was bleeding. There was a cut on his che
ek bone. He spat red on my hardwood floor.
“Please stop,” I heard myself whisper.
Donnie chuckled in my ear. “He deserves it, princess. He would do worse if the shoe were on the other foot.”
I didn’t deny that. “Please,” I said again, unable to think of anything else to say.
Donnie only chuckled louder before he raised his voice to the other men in the room. “We’re on a time crunch boys, get on with it.”
They kicked McCoy where he lay. He never made a sound. Then one of their boots hit his face and he remained motionless. I shouted his name. Donnie threw me to the ground and my knees sang with sharp pain as they hit the floor.
I crawled to McCoy. He was lying on his side. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead. There was so much blood. I put my hands on his shoulder and clung to him. “Please don’t hurt him anymore,” I sobbed.
Donnie planted his fists on his hips. “Load him up, boys.”
The three men approached us and ignored me entirely. The gathered McCoy up and hauled him up off the ground. Then they carried him out through my front door. I watched them go in shock. Donnie stood with his hand on the door handle. “You too, princess, let’s go.”
I got unsteadily to my feet. He reached out and took my arm and pulled me outside, slamming my front door behind us. He took me down the stairs, across my yard, and out through the front gate to a black sedan. The men were loading McCoy into the trunk.
“You can’t put him in there,” I said, trying to go past Donnie to get to McCoy.
He grabbed my wrists and hauled me backward. “We can do whatever we want. Get your ass in the car.”
I listened. I sat in the middle seat and Donnie slid into the one on my right while one of the others, a man with a shaved head, sat in the other seat. Donnie put my seatbelt on for me and his finger grazed my stomach. I recoiled from his touch.
“Oh come on, sweet cheeks, relax. We aren’t gonna do anything to you,” Donnie said, resting a hand on my knee.