Leave Him in Pieces

by August Red

  "After the way you’ve treated me? Yes!"

  She hesitates, desperately fighting to mask her pain. Her eyes are glassy and she is sure it’s obvious that she’s seconds away from breaking down. Blinking back the stinging tears, there’s no way in Hell she’s going to lose it in front of him.

  But suddenly there is that uncertainty again. His eyes meet hers, and for a second, they soften with something like concern, his unfeeling mask momentarily slipping. His frown deepens for an instant, before he quickly averts his eyes and lowers his head.

  Belle shudders as every fiber of her being screams to give him a second chance. It will be the death of her, but she can’t stop her herself from feeling it. With every breath, that tiny flicker of hope burns brighter. Her heart begs for him to make everything right again. To make her feel… right again.

  "Unless... you...” she chokes, “…unless you have something else to say to me." Her voice is so quiet, she isn’t sure if he heard her.

  Without a single word, he turns his back on her, and begins to head toward the door.

  He’s leaving her.

  Don’t leave me, Judas… Please don’t leave me all alone!

  Belle had at least expected some display of bravado to cover-up his feelings. She’s desperate to know the truth of why he’s doing this to her. Because it has to be an act. It has to be...

  "I've said my piece,” he says, with his back to her, “do what you want, Belle," and then he leaves.

  No ultimatum. No drama. No demands. He doesn’t want the last biting word? Maybe he’s having a change of heart... Maybe he’s already having regrets.

  Belle hurries after him, the bottle of vodka still dangling from her hand as she catches up to him in his room.

  "You're not even going to try and stop me?!" She sounds desperate, but she doesn’t care. She only cares about one thing.

  "Why should I?" He glances back at her.

  She is at a loss for words. "I-I..."

  "Sleep wherever the fuck you like, Belle. As long as it’s in my mansion."

  There is an element of coldness in his voice, but she’s growing weary of trying to decipher his cryptic behavior. She isn’t going to beg. Not this time. If he wants to be cold and abrupt, then so will she.

  "Fine. Whatever. Goodbye, Judas."

  Turning on her heel, she makes for the door with no intention of looking back. But his soulless voice stops her.

  "Wait. Before you leave." It’s the touch of something almost civil in his voice that makes her turn around. But when she sees his ice-cold eyes, she second-guesses herself.

  "What is it?" she sighs.

  "Before you leave," he says, "you'd better do as I ordered. My boots."

  She closes her eyes slowly as his words sink in, kindling an anger so hot, it nearly makes her see red.

  You bastard!

  What takes place next, seems to happen in slow motion. Bringing the bottle to her lips, the glass feels cool against her mouth as she quaffs it down. This gives Belle just enough time to contemplate her next move. The burning liquid sears her throat, but the sensation is no match for the fire that courses through her veins. Fury overwhelms her sensibilities, and with deadly acuity, her eyes seek what she’s looking for.

  His black leather biker boots sit at the foot of his bed. And without so much as a glance in his direction, she raises the bottle in her hand, and tips it, pouring it all over and inside his boots. Judas just stares, taken aback by her bold move.

  Still holding the empty bottle, she sneers, "There! Happy? No?" Before she even knows what she’s doing, she is flat-out yelling at him, "Polish your own goddamn boots, Judas! I'm through taking orders! I'm through with this damn place! And I'm through! With! You!"

  She begins to storm away when he finally speaks up, "Yeah. Run away, Belle. Run away and hide. It's much easier than facing your mistakes head on, isn't it?"

  Stopping short, she whips around to face him. "You're right, Judas. I’ve made mistakes. The biggest one being that I trusted you." She shakes her head. "I know I was crazy to have feelings for you. You say I’m just like all the other women you’ve had—but you know what, Judas? You’re just like Emmett Irving.” She takes a deep staggering breath and wills herself to keep strong.

  Just a little more…

  “You’re all monsters!” she growls. “I made a huge mistake to try and see you as something more. My actions have been loaded with mistakes since I came here... What the hell… what's one more?"

  She turns her back on him, and without hesitation, she throws the bottle across the room. Her aim is perfect. The bottle strikes the enormous mirror dead center. With a sickening smash, the mirror shatters into hundreds of tiny fragments. Without another word, she tries to march out the door, but someone blocks her path.

  “Um... am I interrupting something?”

  Chapter Two

  HE LOOKS AT THE CUTS ON HIS HANDS.

  The ones inflicted on him when he picked up the pieces of broken glass. But it isn’t the damage to his mirror that concerns Judas; it’s another sort of damage that cuts him deep.

  He can’t get rid of that feeling rotting inside his heart. For the first time in his life, he truly feels like a monster.

  I hurt you.

  The only one in the world brave enough to look for the good in me. You took a chance getting to know me and I hurt you. I betrayed that trust, I betrayed you because… I’m weak and scared. All the power I have, and I fear losing myself in you.

  I’m a coward. An evil bastard. All this time I’ve been protecting my pride, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I have nothing. I’ve already lost myself in you. I close my eyes and all I see is you smiling… your sweet face… Now you know the monster I truly am. I don't deserve you. I never did. I’ll never forgive myself. How can you ever forgive me after what I’ve done?

  It’s too late.

  It’s always too late.

  I can’t undo what I’ve done.

  I’ve lost. I've lost everything.

  There’s no playing you, Belle Dela Cruz. I’ll always lose against you. The worse part of it... I never want to win with you.

  “COME ON.” HER LIPS SLIDE the side of his neck. They're smooth and cool; they'll be very workable under his mouth.

  "Where's my beer?” Judas speaks into the flaming crown of her hair.

  The minute he’d strutted into the back entrance, she’d taken no time in cornering him. He doesn’t need a guess to figure out why. Her breath rattles, dipping and quivering against his skin. Her zealousness with him is distracting, especially in the way she paws at him in the dark corner of the waiting room. Her body snakes up against his, stretching like a cat begging to be pet.

  Any other day, he would have fucked her by now. Had his way with her, right there in the corner of a public bar… But he can’t. He doesn’t want it. Not anymore.

  “Tina,” he mutters, “I don't have time for this."

  “Another chick?” She kisses below his Adam’s apple. “Come on, Judas, baby. I know you want me." When all he does is sigh, her fingers tip-toe lower, cupping the front of his jeans. “You've always wanted me. I promise she never has to know…”

  She kisses the tip of his chin as he wrenches her hand from its place, shooting her a warning look. He skirts his head to the side when she tries to kiss his chin again. He's losing patience, but the woman pressing up against his body, seems oblivious. Little does she know that his short temper has nothing to do with her.

  Nothing to do with her at all.

  “Quit it.” He pulls away, feeling the loss of her warm body. Clipping his words, he looks down at her, leaning his head forward to make sure she understands. “I'm. Not. In the mood."

  “That's what your mouth says,” she purrs, leaning her stomach against his clenched one. “But that's not what your cock—”

  He jerks her hand away from the place it's leading to. “Get the hint," he grunts.

  Finally, Tina yanks her hand from
his grasp and he lets go. “You're a fucking cock tease, Judas. You know that?"

  She looks as frustrated as he feels. “Does that mean I'm not getting my beer?"

  “Fuck you.” She steps back, giving him the middle finger. “You think you're some goddamn prize? Think again. You act like a fucking Prima-donna when you come around me but I can have any man I want—I swear it. And here you are thinking you're better than everyone here just ‘cos you got money, but I know the real you and you're just as fucked-up as the rest of us. Trash in a nice package. Remember that.” She grabs a cigarette from her jeans, placing it between her lips.

  “Beautiful mouth you got there.” His eyebrow flexes up. “You finished?"

  “Screw you.” She flips her lighter up.

  "You already done that, babe,” he retorts, leaning against the wall behind him. “Beer?"

  “I'm on break. Ask someone else."

  “You're the only one here. Anyway, I like the way you bring me my beer," he grins.

  She huffs out a stream of smoke from her nostrils, flicking the end of her cigarette. Small ashes drift to the floor and Judas watches them as she hisses, “You're one confused motherfucker, you know that? You flirt with me, you act like you want me”—she steps closer—“in fact I know you want me. But something's stopping you...” Her eyes dart in between his, scoping for his reaction, but there is none. “There is, isn't there…? Some slut's got your fucking balls in her hands."

  Using the wall, he pushes his body forward. “I said I wanted a beer. You can't oblige me—find someone who can. Otherwise mind your own fucking business."

  Faltering at hiding her fear, Tina places a good foot between them, eyeing the crowd as if he’ll jump her. She tosses the half-smoked cigarette on the floor, mashing it with her stiletto heel.

  “Aw, what? Someone's a little too sensitive for their own good. Get in my face again and I'll have you thrown out." Judas only stares at her. “You hear me? You don't fucking talk to me that way, asshole.” Her voice wavers as he moves closer. She turns, is about to call for help, when she realizes he isn’t moving in her direction.

  Judas struts on by, heading toward the entrance, not sparing her a second glance when he spots his company. Tina spits out another string of four-letter curses as she reaches for her lighter again. “Bastard!” he hears her yell, as he heads over to Luis.

  “How was Vladimir today?" Judas asks, as they exit the roadhouse.

  “Better... I guess...” Judas eyes the couple entering the bar when Luis asks, “Where you been the last few weeks, man? Ain't heard from you since you came by the penthouse."

  “Met with Abruzzi. Cleaning things up before the next move."

  “Don't like this. This shit’s getting dangerous."

  Judas doesn’t like the panic that set off Luis's words. Panic makes people mess up.

  “You need to calm the fuck down. The heats already off us."

  “Vladimir’s a very suspicious man, Judas. The heats never gonna be off. Not today—not fucking ever. You forget this man can fucking sniff out a lie? I don't fuckin’ like this—"

  “Hey.” The one word silences Luis in his place. “You trust me?"

  “Yeah, man, that's got nothing to do with this, it's Vladimir I don't fucking trust,” Luis replies, his blue eyes bulging. “He knows something."

  “Listen to me. Everything goes exactly as planned. Cops pushed things back a little but it's still going down just as before."

  Nodding, Luis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, letting a shaky breath out, “I know, I know. I just… Vladimir—we don't exactly get along. Dunno whatever I did but—”

  “Think he’s just had a gripe with you ever since you lost him that big fight but Vladimir is Vladimir. Forget him.”

  Barking out a disbelieving snort, Luis ends the laugh with a sigh. “Easier said than done."

  Standing there, almost as a bystander to Luis's nerves, Judas peers down at the man that’s had his back in the cage for years. A young man he picked up from the streets. A man he has come to trust. Or he hopes he can trust…

  The smoothness of Judas’ voice counters the dull gleam in his eyes, “Need your head in the game, Luis."

  “Man, c'mon”—Luis slaps Judas’ shoulder—“it's me. I'm here for you, man. You know that. And I owe you. A lot." Judas nods, but it falls way short of convinced.

  Luis's phone rings then and it makes Luis jump. Taking it out of his pocket, he presses the answer button. “Boss?” Luis says, staring nervously at Judas. When Judas doesn’t avert his hard glare, Luis looks away. "Yeah... Okay… I’m about two hours away from you, sir… Yeah, on it, sir… Will do…" Luis hangs up and his eyes skitter around their surroundings, never falling onto Judas.

  "What?" Judas grunts.

  Luis finally looks his way, not quite reaching his eyes. "Boss wants me."

  Judas rubs the back of his head. "Fine. Go. Just play it cool and remember what I told you."

  "Yeah, sure, man."

  Luis is halfway across the parking-lot when Judas calls out to him. Luis turns, the jumpy look still very much in place. Luis shuffles a bit forward when Judas doesn’t say anything, just continues staring at him. “Belle's life is on the line, so is her family.” When Luis automatically shakes his head, it only adds to Judas’ hidden anger. “Don't fuck with me."

  Luis’s only reply is a shake of his head. From the blank look on his face, it appears to be the only thing Luis can manage. Judas’ eyes never leave Luis, they are unceasing as Luis mounts his Harley and rides off a little faster than necessary.

  Judas has a lot of rethinking to do. About everything. Which means another sleepless night. He can’t afford any slip-ups, and if that means he doesn’t sleep till this is over—then so be it. His body and his mind can’t seem to stay in one place without thinking about what he has to do, what’s already been done, and what he’s forgotten.

  He’s so goddamn restless, he feels ready to rip his fucking skin off. He watches Luis make the turn that leads to the exit for the highway.

  Yeah, he’s gonna be up all goddamn night. But first he needs a good, stiff cup of coffee.

  HAND IN MID AIR, Luis feels more than a little foolish.

  Judas has given him very specific orders of what not to say. Tate and himself had gone over the mundane checklist at least a hundred times, but Luis still feels completely unprepared. He’s going to mess up somehow. He can feel it in his bones when he pictures Vladimir’s black stare dissecting his thin fortress of excuses.

  Leaning his thick knuckles on the shiny wood, stalling time is over. This is life or death, and Luis has to step up.

  His light wrap is heard instantly. It's almost as if Vladimir is waiting for him. “Yeah, come in," a disgruntled voice calls out.

  “Boss.” Luis waves his hand in the air, nods again with a short greeting of a smile.

  Vladimir is sitting by the fireplace in the corner chair. That’s odd. He never sits there. His back is to Luis, brandy in his hand, but it appears as if it hasn’t been touched. Vladimir is still wearing his burgundy silk robe. The ordinarily meticulous man's hair is disheveled and unkempt, his face weary and worried with lines and dark shadows.

  He looks like shit.

  Clearing the burn of nerves in his throat that usually accompany Luis when he’s in Vladimir’s presence, he makes his usual offering, “You need anything, Boss?" Vladimir responds with just a glare. “Boss?” Luis tries again, “Want me to get something?"

  “Like what?” Vladimir asks, his voice shaky and hoarse, like it hasn’t been used in awhile.

  “Whatever you need.” He hopes he doesn’t sound rehearsed.

  “What I need… is answers." Vladimir's voice comes out even lower—deadlier—than before. “Sit down.”

  Sitting on a chair nearby, the initial cramping of his gut subsides quicker than Luis hopes for. “Thought we’ve been through this, sir.”

  “Answers.” The bite in Vladimir’s voice raises the hair
s on the back of his neck.

  “Things went well... Better than expected."

  Vladimir fingers the stubble on his cheek, eyeing the glass of brandy between his fingers. “You said this already. Details."

  Fuck. This is the part he's been dreading.

  “Uh, well, we got there and they were on their way out. They had their things packed and everything but we got to them, executed them like you ordered, ransacked the house to make it look like a robbery and brought the bodies to the shop. Cut them up like normal and you know… local dumpster and shit."

  “Who killed the girl?” Vladimir’s interest borders on the perverted.

  “Er... Judas, obviously.” He shrugs when Vladimir scowls. “Well, I mean she trusted him the most so he told her to come out back and she listened. She got the family to stay together and not panic and then we, uh, got rid of them."

  Vladimir downs the half-filled glass of liquor in one gulp, settles it on the edge of the ottoman. “Judas kill her first or last?"

  Shit, shit, shit… Judas always kills the person most important… first. Last! No! Oh shit, which is it?

  “Last... of course."

  Vladimir’s chin slants down as he relaxes back into the sofa. “Must've been hard.” He clears his throat. “Can see he had a thing for the girl."

  “He did what he had to. You know Judas.”

  “Yeah I do know Judas—better than you.”

  The room is silent and dark. Luis adjusts his collar. He can feel Vladimir’s eyes on him, black and wary as they fall over him in a dissecting manner. For the past several minutes, Luis tries everything but ripping his own arm off to stop from squirming or asking his boss if something is wrong. Luis has a guaranteed guess that he’s know the answer.

  “You know you need to attain better listening skills, Luis. Maybe Judas can teach you a lesson or something. He hears, he doesn't speak, unless it's absolutely required of him. Judas trusts me; I trust him. And there's nothing he won’t do for me."

  Luis isn’t sure what Vladimir wants him to say. Nothing will satisfy the man from continuing his berating marathon with him, so he prolongs the silence that he thinks Vladimir is seeking.