Roses & Thorns: Women

by Bry Ann

  Oh, my God, he’s trying to protect me.

  And I have no clue what from.

  After pacing the floor a few times he turns to me, pinning me with his stare.

  “I need to know every word of those texts. And then I'm confiscating your phone. For the time being,” he adds quickly.

  Normally I’d be pissed that he would invade my privacy and take away my control in this way, but I'm too stunned to think, too shocked to respond. I just nod dumbly. This seems to dull a bit of Sven’s anger towards me.

  “The texts of Rose. What did they say?”

  “Um,” I suddenly feel so stupid, “I didn't recognize the number. Uh… the first one just said remember. I thought, I don’t know,” I look down to hide my humiliation from him, “I thought it was a mistake. That, someone, texted the wrong number. Then four days ago I got another text. It just said love’s not a game. Okay, so weird. Still didn’t think anything of it. I got nervous two days ago when I got another text that said promises can’t be broken.”

  I look down as a reality I didn’t want to face, and didn’t even occur to me until this moment, slaps me right in the face. I feel my eyes pulse. Sven is unrelenting, but a tad of the rage has died down. If I'm not mistaken there’s even some softness in the way he’s looking at me now.

  “That last text, what is the significance of it Rose? Why are you reacting now?”

  He knows. Oh my God, he knows. I ball my hands into tiny fists.

  “Rose,” he repeats, firm, when I don’t answer.

  “I promised my dad I’d see him again if he helped me escape you guys!” I blurt out in one breath. “Oh my God, did I really fuck up Sven?”

  I look up at him, pleading. Please say I didn’t fuck up. Please say I'm not in danger from my own father. Please. Please.

  “He’d never hurt me. I'm… I'm his girl.”

  The look Sven gives me makes me feel like the stupidest woman in the world.

  Pity. He looks at me full of pity. SVEN.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “He… he wouldn’t.”

  “Rose, he’s a serial killer. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

  “But what reason could he possibly have for hurting me? He’s left me alone this whole time. My entire life he’s never laid so much as a finger on me. What, did seeing my face suddenly trigger his need to kill me! That’s nuts.” I stand up. “You’re a killer and you care. Oh God, you don’t. You’re just like him. What am I doing?! Oh God, what am I doing?”

  I need to run. I'm losing it.

  I don’t get the chance. Sven grabs my arm.

  “Sit!”

  He lets go and points to the bed. Being on the verge of a panic attack, I do.

  “I want you to listen to everything I say. Because this is shit I don’t say lightly to you. I don’t usually give a fuck who knows, but…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

  “First, there’s a difference between a total sociopath and someone who is so fucked up killing is how he makes his way in the world. It may be subtle, but it’s there. I’d never kill someone I actually give a damn about. And before you say otherwise, I can care. It’s just fucking rare, and not wanted. Your father, Rose, your father has no conscious. He could kill a child without thinking. A family member. A lover. Whatever. He doesn’t feel. So, yes, although he did develop some sort of attachment to you, if it comes to it, Rose, he would kill you.”

  “What am I ever going to do when you date precious flower?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I laugh.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if anyone hurt you.”

  “I'm such a fucking idiot,” I say, shaking my head and quickly wiping the falling tears. “How does he manage to still hurt me? I know what he is.”

  Sven sighs and sits next to me.

  “Not necessarily an idiot. You’re just a naive young woman who wants her dad to love her. It’s not like that’s rare or you’re alone in feeling that way.”

  “You’ve never felt that way.”

  His lip twitches, despite everything.

  “I'm not a naive young woman.”

  I punch his arm. He smirks, but soon his face falls serious.

  “But I do have a story to tell you.”

  I turn to him. Everything else falls away as Sven begins his story about a very broken young boy.

  Chapter 16:

  Boss:

  “Lacey, we have to talk about this!” I call from outside the bathroom door. I don’t fucking wait outside doors for people. I hear the shower running so I'm sure she can barely hear me anyway. I would have never ruined the sounds of her precious and rare laughter if I’d known she was going to react this way. I genuinely thought she’d be happy for the break.

  “Fuck this!” I snap.

  I grab a paperclip and easily pick the lock. Lacey likes her showers hot. Even from outside the doors I can feel the steam. I stare at the door before opening it. Only with her would I question my decisions. It’s starting to piss me off. Not to mention the increased frustration I feel that I upset her.

  And the sick feeling of happiness that sits in my gut. She’ll miss me.

  I throw my coat off, then my shirt, then my shoes and pants. Once I'm in my boxers I slowly twist the handle open. I realize my mistake when Lacey leaps back, throwing her hand over her heart, cowering against the wall.

  “It’s me! It’s just me. I'm sorry little dove. I should have said that sooner.”

  Slowly she pushes off the wall, watching me warily. Until she realizes she’s totally naked. She leaps back again, covering herself with her hands.

  “What are you doing here?” she squeaks.

  I walk forward through the haze of water spraying us.

  “We need to talk.”

  I trace my fingers gently along her arm. When she softens I slowly move her hands down by her sides.

  “Don’t look at me,” she whispers.

  “I’ve seen it all little dove.”

  “Some are new.”

  I thought she was talking about her nudity, but no. I quickly remember the new cuts and scars she’s kept hidden from me.

  “Come here,” I say, pulling her into me.

  Although it kills me to have her naked body pulled so close to me. And it kills me that I can’t inspect the damage she did to herself, it kills me more to see the shame written across her face.

  “You think I care? You think I'm judging you. Lacey, never. Never little dove.”

  I slowly peel her off me. I want to look and see them. See what’s she’s tried so hard to hide from me, but I don’t want to give them that kind of power. Not right now. Not with her watching me like I'm going to throw her in the garbage if I lay my eyes on even one of them.

  “I'm still naked,” she repeats. She’s embarrassed. And turned on. I can’t help but grin a little.

  Oh, Lacey.

  “Time to get you washed off.”

  “I already washed my hair!”

  I feel my eyes darken with need. Lacey’s eyes widen slightly. She’s watching me wearily, but her bodies leaning into me, hips pressing against mine.

  “What about your body?” I say, with a slow graze of my hand down her midsection.

  “No, not that,” she squeaks.

  I grab the bottle of girly body wash I brought her and squeeze some in my hand. She scatters backward. I laugh and move forward.

  “Scared of me little dove?” I chuckle.

  “No, but…”

  “Don’t worry Lacey. All I'm going to do is wash you. I wouldn’t… touch you like that again. Not in here.”

  That seems to relax her, and I totally understand why. When I did touch her in here last time things ended disastrously. So, I simply wash her. I run my hands along her beautifully crafted skin. Skin forged in fire and hell to create someone so beautiful. I watch as she closes her eyes, reveling in my touch. I want her eyes on me as I touch her, but I know the darkness allows her to enjoy me without her mind interfering. I
can’t deny her that. When I finish up washing from the base of her neck down to the tips of her toes, I watch as she slowly starts to flicker her eyes open.

  “Wash the soap off little dove. Alright?”

  I kiss her forehead and climb out of the shower. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I dry off and wrap it around my waist. Once I'm not dripping water all over the floor I grab her one. I throw the shower door open.

  “Out you go.”

  Lacey washes off one last part of her body before shutting the water off. The second the warm water stops and the cold hair pricks her skin she scrambles to the towel. Lacey hates being cold with a passion. She’d never say it because she never complains. At least not about herself, but she does hate it. I think that stems from being cold for so long. No prisoner is ever warm, no cell is ever comfortable. So, with that said, she runs into the towel I'm holding full force and lets me wrap it around her. She freaking loves these towels. She’s so easy to please. She smiles every damn time one is wrapped around her. Other women I’ve been with have wanted things like diamonds, clothes, precious jewels and fancy dinners from me, because of my wealth and status. Which was fine, because that’s all I had to give them. Lacey’s the complete opposite. She doesn’t want much in the way of material things. She wants comfort, safety, affection. All the things I'm shit at giving. All the things I gave up to fill the role as Boss.

  As Lacey snuggles herself into the towel I change boxers and throw back on my suit. I grab a Lacey a Hurley sweatshirt and a pair of oversized jeans. I never imagined my closet being taken up by women's clothing. Especially clothing so informal, to be honest.

  “Thank you,” Lacey says as she takes the clothes I brought over for her from my outstretched hand. She throws them on quickly, sadly departing with the towel. She lets out a quick shiver as the cold air rushes her skin before turning back to me, face neutral. She knows we need to talk. She left so abruptly after I told her the news. A reaction neither of us expected.

  “Ready?”

  She nods reluctantly. Her footsteps echo across the bathroom as she moves to sit on the futon in the corner room. She sits so still. Every muscle in her body frozen like ice. I slowly take a seat across from her, watching her carefully.

  “I'm gonna start,” she says quietly, letting out a whoosh of breath between her teeth. I expect her to hide her face and withdraw but she doesn’t. She turns directly to me.

  “I know you have to leave. You’re important and there are jobs you have to do all over the world. I get that. Besides, I really not even sure how long I'm here for. Your life goes on without me. I get that. I'm fine. More than fine. I just… had a moment.”

  “I just want to be sure you’re okay. What happened? I honestly thought you’d be happy to be away from me while, and you’d still have the house and this room so you know you’ll be safe.”

  Her mouth drops, but she closes it quickly.

  “You really thought that?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Much to my surprise, she looks up at me and smiles. Her smile is almost condescending, but her eyes look sad. My jaw tightens in response.

  “If you have something to say, then just say it!” I snap. I don’t like not being in the know.

  “I’ve already had a safe house, Adam. I had food and everything I else I needed. Nix was there. He’d protect us. Yet I'm here. I could have shot you back by the car, and we would have escaped. I don’t have to shoot to kill. I could have shot your foot and you wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop me from getting free. Think about that.”

  She stands up and walks right out the door, leaving it open on her way out. I watch her leave with my chin on my chest.

  The fuck?

  Did she just admit to coming here voluntarily? If she did, does she… I mean is it possible she wanted to be with me?

  What does that mean?

  I… what?

  I get right up and follow her right out that door.

  She owns me. I'm completely fucked.

  Three Weeks Later:

  Surrounded by guards, I drag my body through the front door. It’s taking every ounce of energy I have to not let my exhaustion show. Sven had to stay back. I wanted him there with me. He wanted to be there. Hell, he was fucking pissed he couldn't be. But when he informed me of Rose text’s, and how fucking naive she was to the whole situation I demanded he stay back. I didn’t give him room to argue. He had to stay back and keep her safe. If she got a text saying to go somewhere, she’d go. If the person texting her threatened her or Lacey, she’d turn all of us in to keep the two of them safe.

  Simply speaking, she’s too big of a risk to keep unguarded until her father is taken care of.

  I have men in prison of course. I could simply sick them on the asshole, but it’s not that simple. It never is with men like him. See, he has men in prison too. And more importantly, he has men outside of prison. They’d still do his bidding. I'm betting this man has a plan laid out for Rose, and as beautiful as she is I'm sure his men will be happy to follow through with it in the event of his passing. Not to mention the fact that they’d take advantage of the situation with her father dead. So this has to be played smart, and I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.

  And for the reason I was gone so long, I had to meet with a client about an order they are placing with us. A large order. One worth having me come out personally for, but that’s not the only reason I was gone. I had a meeting with some contacts of mine regarding the situation with Rose.

  Contact, after fucking contact, to find out shit. Nothing. Fucking. Nothing. This Marketta fellow is smart, and honestly, Sven and I aren’t really sure what he wants with Rose.

  But I'm smarter. Way smarter, and I WILL find out.

  I roped Frances in on this. Gioele as well, to a lesser extent. Both of them came with me on this trip. I needed them, mainly for contract negotiation. It is always made clear to my clients that I will not be dealing with them personally unless there are special circumstances. That’s what my men are for. Of course, in reality, I'm in on every detail of every negotiation. If people thought there was a chance I’d get involved personally then they’d start pulling all kinds of bullshit. Expecting shit I won’t give them. I want them to expect nothing from me on a personal level except for a fair price and a swift exchange of cash and product.

  I give Gioele a nod and walk in the other direction. God, I need my fucking room. I need to sleep. I haven’t slept in days.

  “Boss!” Sven yells.

  “Where’s Rose?” I snap.

  That better be under control. I swear to God…

  “My room.”

  I cock an eyebrow.

  “She with you finally? Now you can stop chasing her like a lost puppy.”

  He glares at me. “She was always with me.”

  “Sure she was. Whatever you need to tell yourself, my friend.”

  “Fuck you,” he mumbles. “What did you find out?”

  My exhaustion almost seeps out. “Nothing. A fuck ton of nothing.”

  A mask slips over his face, revealing nothing. That tells me he’s feeling more than he should be.

  “We’ll keep her safe, alright? Hear me on that. Don’t do anything stupid. I won’t be as forgiving a second time. She’s one of ours. We’ll do what we have to to protect her.”

  I look at him, seeing the disbelief in his eyes. I don’t know shit about Sven’s past, but I know he doesn’t trust anyone.

  “I have a plan.”

  He looks up at me, the obvious next question in his eyes. What is it?

  “Let me see Lacey first. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Alright. Guess I don’t have a say in that.”

  “No, give me ten minutes.”

  With that I stalk off, leaving him to his own devices. Hopefully, he’s not a fucking idiot and interrupts me before that ten minutes is up. I'm fucking exhausted and I’ll explode.

  “Where
’s Lacey?” I ask one of the guards watching the hall to my room.

  I see the faintest hint of the smile he tries to hide. He points in the direction opposite my room. My eyebrows furrow. Where would she go? Rose is in Sven’s room. I won’t be able to hide my displeasure if she’s in there.

  “I didn't ask for a finger. I asked where the hell Lacey is.”

  The guard clears his throat. “Kitchen sir.”

  “Kitchen?” Of course. I look him up and down. “I assume you men have been eating well.”

  That hint of a smile is back.

  “Oh, sir. Just wait ‘til you get to the kitchen.”

  I furrow my eyebrows and smirk. Oh, Jesus. What has she been doing? I turn on my heel to the kitchen. I have to do a double take when I get there. There are trays and trays of food everywhere. Lacey is frantically moving about the kitchen.

  “Mirial,” my chef, “Can you please get the potato skins out of the oven?”

  “Si.”

  “Gracias.”

  Lacey turns and smiles at her before going back to furiously stirring what looks like cake batter. The kitchen is a war zone. What the fuck? So much for missing me. My eyes soften.

  I'm so proud of her. She’s finding herself.

  “They are done senorita,” Mirial says.

  “Perfect.”

  Lacey whips around, clearly pleased. Halfway to the potato skins, she leaps back. Her eyes meet mine. She freezes on the spot. Her hands fall to her sides and she just stares at me like I'm a ghost. Mirial glances back to see what Lacey is staring at. When Mirial sees me she wipes her hand on her apron and bows her head respectfully.

  “Welcome home sir.”

  “Thank you Mirial.”

  The older woman looks between the two of us and then turns back to me, head slightly bowed. She’s one of the few staff who has worked here since before I became Boss. Back when my father ruled. So I respect her immensely. With age and experience comes respect.