by Nina Levine
I watched his breathing grow ragged and took in the ravaged look on his face. There was something else going on here, and my anger eased enough to let him in. I moved off the bed and into his space. Placing my hand on his chest, I asked softly, “What won’t you lose again, baby?”
His chest heaved, and he took a moment to answer me. “You. I won’t fucking lose you.”
He wasn’t making sense; he’d never lost me before. “I’m not going anywhere, Donovan. I’m just mad, but I’ll get over it.”
“Now,” he forced out, “You need to get over it now. I’m not doing this again . . . ”
He still wasn’t making any sense. I grabbed his face with both my hands and begged, “Tell me what you’re not doing again.”
The despair on his face pierced my heart. My strong man struggled with so much, and all I wanted to do in that moment was wrap him in my arms and never let go. I wanted to soothe his hurt and take it all away from him. But that wasn’t how life worked, and he had to move through it before he could escape from its clutches.
I waited, but he didn’t say anything.
“Baby,” I whispered, “I feel you. I feel the pain that lives in you, the pain that has shredded you and left scars all over your soul. I feel the passion you feel. I feel the anger you have at life. And I feel your struggle with the darkness.”
His breaths were coming hard and fast as he stood staring at me, taking in my words. I stepped even closer to him, skin to skin, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. My hands went to his chest and I slid them up and around his neck. Pulling his face down to mine, I kept kissing him until he opened his mouth and let me in. This kiss was unlike any we’d ever shared. Gentle and loving, there was none of the roughness we usually preferred. I moaned into his mouth as the sensations washed over me. The pleasure Donovan never failed to give me.
He fell into the kiss and his hands went around me and slid over my ass to cup my cheeks. I ground myself against him, and he lifted me into his arms. As my legs locked around him, he turned and walked us to the wall.
He broke the kiss and brought his hand to my neck. Rubbing his thumb over me, his gaze focused on my neck as he murmured, “How the fuck . . . ” His voice trailed off, leaving me confused again.
“How the fuck, what?” I asked him, puzzled.
His eyes flicked to mine. “How the fuck did I find you?”
I held my breath for a moment as the intensity in the air settled over me. “How the fuck did we find each other?”
He felt what I said; what the spaces in between my words held. I saw it written all over his face. “Fuck,” he muttered, and then his lips gave me the roughness I craved from him.
Our mouths and bodies moved together as we forgot the stuff holding our minds back and simply let what we felt in our hearts consume us. I clung to him and when he thrust inside me, I squeezed my legs tighter around him and moved my hips with his. He fucked me with the raw, animalistic passion that was Donovan.
That was us.
As he brought me to orgasm, I moaned and dug my nails into his back. And then he came, too, roaring out his release.
As he stilled, his head dropped, and he grunted words I couldn’t make out. He seemed to be lost somewhere within himself. I simply held him and gave him the space to work through whatever was running through his mind. Eventually, he lifted his head and looked at me. I stared back at him, waiting.
“Never again, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse.
My brows pulled together. “What?”
“If you’re angry at me, we work that shit out before I leave. Not gonna be away from you again when you’re mad at me.”
My stomach fluttered. “Okay,” I whispered.
“And in the future I won’t leave if we’ve got plans.”
This time my heart fluttered. “Good.”
We stayed like that for a couple more moments.
Silent.
And then he muttered, “Fuck.”
“What?”
He pulled out of me and let me down. “I fucked you without a condom.”
“I’m clean and on the pill.” I tried to reassure him.
“I’m clean, too.” He still seemed annoyed, though.
“It felt good, baby.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, gruffly. “But I won’t lose control like that again, I promise.”
I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me. “It’s okay to lose control, Donovan. You’re wound so tight with that control. Let it go, baby.”
He didn’t say anything, and then he left me to walk out of the room. I watched with a heavy heart. Something held him back, kept a part of him locked away from me, and I wanted to know what it was.
Chapter Eighteen
Blade
“Baby, stop.”
A hand landed on my arm and gently shook me awake. I sat bolt upright, my heart beating wildly in my chest, my breathing hard to get under control.
“Donovan,” Layla’s voice penetrated my thoughts, and I turned to look at her.
“Sorry,” I murmured as I scrubbed my hand over my face.
Fuck.
“Don’t apologise. You were having a bad dream.”
Fuck.
I pushed the bed covers off, moved off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I flicked the tap on and splashed water on my face. Jesus, I looked like shit today. When the fuck would this madness end?
I walked back into Layla’s room and picked up my clothes. As I began dressing, she left the bed and came to me.
“Are you leaving?” The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable.
I kept dressing and said, “Yeah, I’ve got stuff to take care of this morning.”
“Who’s Ashley?”
I froze.
My heart thumped in my chest.
I struggled for breath.
My eyes met hers, and my focus went in and out as I struggled to see through the haze.
“Fuck.” The word came from my mouth, but I heard it as if someone in the distance uttered it.
My past collided with my future and the torment I’d lived with for so long came rushing to the surface.
“Talk to me,” Layla whispered, and I heard the plea in her voice.
“She was my fiancé.”
Her eyes widened but she didn’t say anything.
“She died three years ago.” I forced the words out, hating the sound of them on my lips and the feel of them on my skin.
She still didn’t say anything. Just watched and waited.
“She was raped and murdered.” More filthy words out of my mouth.
“You’ve been dreaming about her, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Bad dreams?” Her voice was soft, coaxing.
“Yes.”
“Oh, baby,” she murmured as her arms came around me, and pulled me to her.
I let her hold me, but my arms stayed by my side. I was unable to hold Layla while talking about Ashley.
Fuck.
She let me go and said, “Tell me about her.”
I stared at her.
I can’t do this.
I rubbed my hand over my face. “I’ve gotta get to work,” I muttered, trying desperately to fight through the haze.
“Don’t do this, please, “ she begged on a whisper.
“I can’t . . . ” My voice was a strangled mess as I fought the emotions pressing against me.
Fuck.
I finished dressing and sat on the bed to put my boots on.
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
I stood, and walked to the door. Pausing, I said, “I’ll call you.”
And then I left without waiting for her response and without a backwards glance.
***
“Onyx took care of Phil,” Merrick advised me an hour later.
I sat in my office chair, staring out the window at the river, a million thoughts racing through my mind. Turning to him, I
said, “Good.”
“Said he would have preferred for it to be more than just a chat.”
I nodded. “Yeah, there’s no love lost between those two, but we need Phil alive so he can sort this shit out for us.”
“I’m sure we could have come up with an alternative plan.”
I threw my pen down on the desk. “Fuck, Merrick, when does the fucking blood end?”
He stared at me in shock. “What?”
“Do you ever get sick of the shit we do? Of the bloody battlefield it feels like some days?”
“You know I do, Blade, but you also know as well as I do that we can’t walk away from that fucking battlefield. We made the decision years ago to help those girls, and we’ve worked fucking hard to keep that good in the world. There’s no turning back now, unless you’re willing to throw them to the wolves again.”
“Fuck!” I roared, and shoved my chair back.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Blade?” Merrick stood as well, his forehead creased with worry.
“Every-fucking-thing. I’m fucking stuck, and I don’t know how to escape it.”
He watched me silently. “Shit.”
I clenched my fists at my side. “Yeah. Shit.”
“She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?” he asked, quietly.
All the thoughts racing in my mind came to a halt. “Yes.”
“But you’re holding back from her, aren’t you?”
“Fuck, Merrick, how the hell do you read my fucking mind like that?”
“Blade, we’ve known each other since we were fucking kids. Twenty years of friendship will do that shit to you. You’re an unpredictable bastard to most people, but, to me, you’re like the back of my fucking hand.”
I glared at him. “So tell me, how the fuck do I get my shit back under control?”
He smiled. “You let it all go.”
“What?”
“Go to her, and let yourself go. Give yourself to her. If she’s half the woman I suspect she is, she’ll take that shit and put you back together.”
The chaos of my mind eased as I considered what he’d said.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe the way forward was to revisit the past and deal with that shit once and for all.
***
I didn’t go to Layla.
I drove around for hours before finally going home.
And I slept.
For hours.
I woke to my phone ringing in the darkness.
Two am.
Layla.
I answered it but struggled to form words so remained silent.
“Donovan?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. I hated that I’d caused that.
Asshole.
“I’m here, baby.”
“I’m at your front door. Can you let me in?”
Shit.
My thoughts shifted to how she knew my address, but I knew without even thinking about it that Merrick was involved in this somehow. I headed to the front door, and pulled it open to find her waiting patiently for me.
“Why are you on my doorstep at this time of the morning?” I asked as I let her in.
“Your friend rang me.”
“Merrick?”
“Yes.” She grasped my face with both hands. “He’s concerned about you. Told me you need me and gave me your address.”
“Fuck.”
She squeezed my face. “He told me you had stuff to tell me, and that I wasn’t to leave until you’d told me everything.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“He told me I had to make you tell me about Leroy, Ashley and the women.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she mentioned the women. She thought it was something it wasn’t.
Shit.
That motherfucker.
I pulled away from her hold, and stalked down my hallway, into the kitchen. I pulled the bottle of scotch from the cupboard and two glasses. Filling them, I slid one across the counter to her. Lifting my glass to my lips, I said, “Drink up, baby. None of this shit is pretty. You’re gonna need that.”
I slammed the drink down and poured another one, downing that one as well.
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes, and started at the beginning.
This would either be the end of us or the beginning of something I knew deep in my heart I wanted.
“I began selling drugs when I was twelve. My mother worked two jobs and yet we still never had everything we needed. My father didn’t give two shits if our cupboards were empty. Leroy roped me into his gang and taught me how to make money. He also taught me how to channel the anger that was burning holes in my soul. Up until that point, I directed my anger at myself. I fucking hated myself. My father resented my existence, and so did I. Leroy taught me how to fight and used me to take care of his shit. It was bad shit and as much as I hate some of what I did, it forced the anger out of me. Forced me to stop bottling it all up.” I took another breath and watched her reaction.
She poured us another drink, and as she gave it to me, said, “Keep going, baby.”
Fuck.
The softness in her voice fucking slayed me.
Perhaps Merrick was right.
Perhaps she would cope with this shit and accept me.
“I was seventeen the first time I killed someone. That’s how I got my name, Blade. I killed him with a knife. I did it for Leroy. He had us all under his control to the point where we did whatever he said. Even my mother couldn’t break the control he had over me. God knows she tried. Leroy ran drugs and women, but I was pretty much only tied up with the drugs side of his organisation. I only learnt more about the prostitution when I met Ashley. I was twenty-five by then, and she opened my eyes to the evil in Leroy that I’d been unable to see before. He was forcing women into his brothels by getting them hooked on his fucking drugs, and when they owed him so much money they’d have no way of paying it back, he’d force them to work for him. Ashley was different; she didn’t owe him money, her brother did. Leroy tried to force her to pay off her brother’s debt when she attempted to negotiate the payment of the debt with him. Our paths crossed the day she went to see him and she told me everything. I didn’t want to believe her, but hearing her story made me go to the brothels, and I talked with the women there. After some persuasion, they confirmed everything.”
I stopped talking. My heart pumped furiously in my chest as the memories assaulted me, and I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get my breathing under control. Layla placed her hand on my back and began rubbing it. My eyes found hers and I saw only kindness and concern there.
“Do you want more?” she asked, jerking her chin at the scotch.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Okay, baby.” She kept massaging my back, her touch reaching my soul.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded and waited for me to continue, her hand never leaving me.
“Merrick and I came up with a plan to deal with Leroy. I’d known Merrick since I was about fourteen. He’d been recruited by Leroy to sell drugs as well, and he’d had enough of all the shit we were involved in. I killed Leroy, and we split his organisation in half. One of the other gang members took the drugs, and we took the women. We shut the brothels down, but then we had the problem that they needed to earn money, and most of them were junkies by that point and all they knew was prostitution. Merrick found a clothing manufacturing business for sale so we bought that with the profit Leroy had made, and the women worked there instead.”
I paused and she asked, “So that’s what you do?”
I realised I’d never spoken about my work with her. “It’s not my main business. We don’t make any profit on that side of our organisation. In fact, that business runs at a loss because we employ more women in it than we actually need. Some of the women who’ve been with us since we split from Leroy now spend their time helping prostitutes, and if any of them want out of the game, we take them on and help them change their
lives. We put a lot of money into rehab because most of them are addicted to drugs when they come to us.”
“How do you make money, then?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“Construction. When we pulled the girls from the brothels, I discovered they were living in shit conditions, so we bought a rundown building and renovated it for them to live in. After we took care of Leroy, some of the gang members came with us, and I put all of us to work on the renovation because we couldn’t afford to hire someone to do it. Merrick and I saw an opportunity there; we had the manpower to do that kind of work so we started off small and we’ve worked our way up in the construction industry. We now employ hundreds of guys and have multiple jobs going at once. It’s a dirty industry, though, and we deal with a lot of shit.”
I poured us both a drink. I’d need it for the next part of the story.
Layla drank it silently and waited for me to continue.
After I drank mine, I said, “Ashley helped me become a better man. She helped us push all those changes through and she helped the women change their lives. We moved in together and were planning our wedding when she was murdered.” The pain sliced through my heart, but I pushed on. “She was out with friends one night and her drink was spiked, and . . . they took her. Fucking gang raped her and slit her throat.”
I fought to catch my breath again and forced the rising bile back down. Layla kept massaging my back, soothing me with her touch, but this pain couldn’t be soothed away completely. Not when it was my fault.
I stared at her, preparing to tell her the worst part.
“What else?” she whispered, knowing there was more.
“She tried to call me that night. Her message said she needed a lift home. I didn’t take her call, though, because I was angry at her. We’d been fighting on and off all week and had a huge argument before she went out. It was over fucking trivial shit, but I was a stubborn bastard and didn’t want to talk to her when she rang. She was supposed to be staying at a friend’s house after they finished at the club. I didn’t know she wanted me to come and get her . . . didn’t know she’d walk the streets trying to find a fucking taxi . . . ”