by S. Ferguson
30
Kella
I stand in Ron’s office, again, for the second day in a row. I don’t like standing here, I feel woozy.
“How are you feeling?” Ron looks me up and down with what looks a lot like worry on his face.
“I’m fine,” I lie. In reality, I feel like shit. I’m in pain, and my stomach has been fucked all night. “I just need some booze,” I say. “That will make things better.”
“No, it won’t,” Ron replies. “You are simply switching one problem for another. What you need,” he pauses, digging around in one of his drawers, “is this.” He pulls out a syringe, the needle glints in the light, and to my utter shame, I take a step forward before I catch myself.
“No, I don’t,” I say slowly, backing up toward the door.
“Yes, you do. The drug has been too high in your system for too long.” Ron moves slowly around the desk approaching me. “It will help you feel better. You can’t go off cold turkey. Your system will go into shock and shut down. Believe me, if I knew another fuckin’ way, I would try it.”
“I said I feel fine,” I hedge, trying not to trip over my own feet as I continue backing out.
“I don’t want this, but we can do it the easy way, or the hard way,” Ron pauses, and I notice he’s looking behind me. I turn sharply to see Greg standing behind me prepared to snatch me up if I try to escape. When I try to escape because I’m damn sure gonna try.
Caught up in the panic surging through me, I attack, leaping at Greg, trying to send an uppercut to his chin. Moving so fast sends my head spiraling out of control and I stumble, leaving a perfect chance for Greg to grab me. That was the most pathetic attack in the history of attacks. Ron slowly approaches, syringe in hand.
“No!” I scream kicking and flailing in Greg’s arms. “Don’t you fucking come anywhere near me with that thing!”
“You need it,” Ron says soothingly. “You will feel better, I promise.”
“I feel fine!” I yell back. “I’m not your prisoner, I’m not your property, I don’t need drugs!” Panic wells up inside of me. Why is he doing this to me? How could he be so cruel? Ron freezes, a look close to hurt on his face. Greg gives me a slight squeeze, causing me to wince from my bruises.
“You aren’t a prisoner,” Ron says softly. “But you do need this. I will give you two options; you can take it just this once and see how you feel, or you don’t and deal with it all on your own. I warn you though, the latter won’t be pretty and you probably won’t live through it.” He raises the syringe to eye level, waiting for my decision. Greg gives me a comforting squeeze as I weigh my options. I don’t want to lose face, but I also know something is wrong. I’ve seen enough druggies on the street detoxing when they can’t get their drug of choice. I swore I would never do drugs. Anger at Elizabeth for putting me through this shit goes through me all over again. I’m angry at myself too, that I could have gotten hooked on something after such a time.
“Fine,” I snip. “I will take it just this once. But only because I don’t want to fucking die,” I spit at him. “Now put me down!” I begin to wiggle out of Greg’s grasp as he lets me go, making me damn near fall into Ron’s chest. Backing up, I stick my arm out at him. I give him a glare, letting him know just how unhappy I am with the situation in case he wasn’t aware somehow. Carefully, he grabs my arm and sticks the needle directly into a vein causing me to wince. Pushing the plunger, I try not to let tears well up in my eyes from embarrassment and pain. The world fades away before he even pulls the needle from my arm.
31
Ron
I’m thankful that Kella is positioned between Greg and I, allowing us to catch her as she slips into unconsciousness. I don’t like doing this to her any more than she does, but detoxing cold turkey is a bitch, and she will thank me for this … someday. I could see how upset she was with me, with herself; it only took a week of constant use to get hooked. Hell, Lexi too for that matter, not as badly as Kella, but they both got hooked on a strong sedative. I curse Elizabeth’s rotting fucking corpse for putting Kella through this, for hurting her in yet another way.
“What do we do with her, Boss?” Greg asks.
“I’ll take her up to her room.” I scoop Kella up into my arms, Greg opening the door as I step out into the main room. The guys all look at me with sly grins. I cast them a glacial look, making them wipe the looks from their faces and return to their activities. Carefully, I take Kella up to her room, setting her down on the bed gently. Her pale hair fans out around her head, her chest gently rising and lowering. As I stand to leave, I feel a tug on the edge of my shirt. Looking down I notice Kella has grabbed the end in her sleep, holding on fast. She looks so vulnerable, I can’t bring myself to leave.
Gently, I unbutton my shirt, removing it. Almost immediately it’s yanked into Kella’s arms as she rolls over, taking my shirt with her. I smile watching her cling to it tightly, sighing from whatever comfort it seems to bring her. I tuck her in, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders before sitting down against the wall to wait for her to wake up.
I look around the sparse room and shake my head. I really should have taken better care of her. She deserves better than this bare room. She deserves a real bed, a room with furniture and whatever other shit girls like. She should be in your bed. I dismiss the thought as soon as it comes. There is no way, especially after this, that will ever be an option again.
Watching her sleep, I take the time to process everything that has happened. From the battle with Tony’s men, Kella being shot, to hunting Elizabeth. To now, Kella addicted to a drug she never wanted and now she’s probably fucked up from everything that happened to her in ways I can’t fix. I know something fucked went down. During our search of the warehouse, the boys found one of Tony’s men, weak but alive with a bloody fucking stub where his cock should have been. I can’t help but wonder if he did rape her even though Kella has been adamant it never happened.
“I’ll kill that bitch!” he yelled as blood poured from his face that was just as mangled. Jake laughed and Greg smacked the back of his head.
“Apparently, it was a blow job gone wrong,” Greg said, giving the guy a sad look. “Next time you wanna get your dick sucked, make sure the girl wants to … but there won’t be a next time.” Greg pulled his piece out to finish the guy off, but I beat him to it. One shot square between the eyes, the silencer on my gun muffling the shot. It’s better than he deserves.
“The asshat had it coming,” Jake said, still chuckling. “She may be a bitch, but she sure as shit can handle herself.”
I simply shake my head, trying to keep my rage in check. This makes twice a girl has been raped under my watch. Twice I couldn’t save her until it was too late. Lost in a rage, I pull out my gun, head down the hall and shoot the fucker through the chest two times for good measure.
I smirk at the memory, knowing that bastard got what he deserved. He got off easy if I’m being honest. If we’d had the time, I would have kept him alive and toyed with him for hours before finally putting him out of his misery. It’s amazing what the human body can endure without dying.
I look sadly at Kella, still deep asleep, clinging to my shirt for her damn life. That is why I can’t be with her, can’t keep her around me, she is just not safe. I sigh at the thought. Unfortunately, I knew it to be true. I can’t fight the need to keep her safe, and I can’t do that.
I look up when I hear her moan in her sleep.
“Ron.”
I look up at her seeing that she is not sleeping well. I feel sorry for her, that she can’t even have a dreamless sleep on a sedative. But she just clawed her way out of hell and that is not something you come back from. People always think being strong and surviving means you’re fine after shit happens. Not even close. Being strong means you’re still fucking breathing after it. Everything else is just a bonus.
My instincts are to reach over and hold her close, tell her she is safe; even though I would be fucking lyin
g. Elizabeth is just one threat in a long list. I caused this hell. That’s a burden I will carry for the rest of my life. Guilt courses through me as she tosses and turns in bed, this was not what she deserved. Seeing the panic filling her face accompanied by her whimpers, I rise and make my way to her side.
32
Kella
I wake in a panic, my heart racing in my chest; the nightmares still fresh in my mind. I stifle the scream building in my throat, fighting the tears threatening to fall.
“Hush, hush.” A calm voice, immediately soothing me, reaches my ears. I feel a hand stroking my back gently. Without thinking I reach out, wrapping my arms around Ron’s neck with a small sob.
“Shhh, you are safe, nothing can get you while I’m here,” he whispers, and I know it’s true as I rest my head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.
“Promise?” I sniffle, I hate feeling like this, so powerless, showing others that I can be hurt. I lived my life not showing people this side of me, or at least trying to. Once a weakness is shown, it’s just a matter of time until someone uses it against you.
“I promise. I will keep you safe.” Ron wraps an arm around me, planting a small kiss on my forehead. I nod into his chest, rubbing my nose against his skin, believing him with every bone in my body.
“Wait.” I pause, his … skin? “Where is your shirt?” I ask, letting him go. My eyes search his broad chest, unable to resist looking. I hold the blanket close to me needing the security now that I’ve let him go.
“That’s not a blanket you’re holding,” Ron says playfully, raising his eyebrow at me.
I look down to my arms and see it’s Ron’s shirt gripped tightly in my hands. I toss it back at him quickly. He snatches it from the air, showing his quick reflexes, before putting it on. He leaves it unbuttoned.
“You were holding it when I put you in bed,” he says, looking down at his shirt. “I just took it off and let you take it. Seemed easier than trying to rouse you.” He toys with the last two buttons, looking at me with his ice blue gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, twisting my fingers together. “I didn’t mean to.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he responds, looking at me sincerely. I don’t understand these conflicting Rons. He’s so tender with me, so careful, so thoughtful. And so quick to push me away.
“But weren’t you cold?” I ask, feeling awkward and needing something to break the silence.
“Of course not.” He shrugs. “I didn’t need to leave the room, and I don’t mind.” Guilt and embarrassment fill me, the last thing I want to feel like is some sort of charity case. Something he does because he has the time.
“Stop overthinking it,” Ron interrupts my thoughts. “It’s just a shirt, that is all. I would have stayed behind anyway. I wanted to monitor you and make sure that you were okay. That shit is strong and even though we are weaning you off of it, you still got a decent dose.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You’re welcome,” he replies looking at me with humor in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
I take a moment to stop and think. Much to my chagrin, I do feel a bit better. I’m not shaking or feeling as on edge, I still feel a bit agitated, but that could also be from having to admit that Ron was right. I’m still pissed that Greg decided to stick to Ron’s side when it came down to this. I thought he was my friend, and instead, he helped Ron double team me. I sigh, puffing a bit of blond hair from my forehead, Greg does work for Ron though, so of course, he would take his side. Just thinking about it makes me want a drink. I know though I’ll make Greg pay for that, one way or another.
“So?” Ron says, looking at me expectantly.
“I feel better, okay?” I reply sharply. “Don’t get too fucking happy with yourself.” I rise from the bed, the sheet falling from my body. I smooth out my clothes before making my way to the door.
“And where exactly do you think you’re fuckin’ going?” Ron stands as well, crossing his arms over his chest,
“I did what you wanted,” I begin, putting my hand on the door handle and pulling the door open. “And now I’m going to do what I want. And I want,” I pull the door open, “I want to get out of this fucking room and away from you.” I step out, closing the door before Ron can say anything.
I enter the main room at Keegan’s coming from behind the bar and march around it until I’m standing in front of Declan.
“Hey, Kella!” Declan leans his elbow on the counter. “The usual?” he asks as I hop up onto a stool.
“Of course,” I reply, tapping my fingers on the bar impatiently.
“You drink too much, kid.” Jake sidles up to the bar standing next to me, “Especially for someone who is underage.” His voice is teasing, but I have no patience for his shit right now.
“You’re just jealous because you can’t drink anymore,” I snap, taking my glass from Declan. “And that my drinking buddy happens to be your boyfriend.” I take a sip turning to face Greg before grimacing. Declan gave me a fucking Sprite, not vodka. So that’s how this is going to go.
“I happen to agree with my boyfriend,” Greg says, walking up and putting his arm around Jake. “You and I both know that alcohol isn’t what you need right now. And yeah, you’re only what, like twenty?” He gives Declan a nod, I’m assuming a thank you for switching my vodka for Sprite.
“Twenty-one, thank you very much!” I puff out my chest with pride. “I am no longer underage.” I take a gulp of my drink, making no attempt at trying to hide my sour face.
“When did you turn twenty-one?” Ron asks from the kitchen door, arms folded over his chest.
“My birthday happened to be last week.” I put my hands on my hips when they all give me shocked looks. “What? I’m not allowed to have a birthday?” My voice is full of sarcasm.
“No one said that,” Bree replies, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I didn’t see her walk up either. I guess we’re having a fucking meeting at the bar. “We just wish we knew. We could have done something, gotten you a cake at least.” I simply shake my head, clutching my drink.
“Birthdays don’t mean anything, they’re just another fucking day.” I shrug. “That’s all they are to me at least.” I avert my eyes from the sad looks I’m getting from Bree and Greg. Ron and Jake’s faces are stoic masks.
“Not the case,” Declan says, and I already know no one is going to forget my birthday next year. If I’m anywhere near here then.
“Why are we all so busy talking about a day that happened a week ago?” I say hotly, downing the last of my drink. “It’s over and done with, I’m now legal to drink so enough of you bothering me about it and give me some fucking alcohol!” I slam the glass down on the table causing Bree to wince. I notice Declan slide the empty glass away from me slowly.
“Because birthdays are important,” Bree says. “At least to me they are.”
“Well.” I look her in the eyes. “They aren’t to me.”
33
Kella
“Time to go.” I look up at Greg skeptically.
“I’m not going,” I reply, returning to my drink.
“You are going, and you will be on time,” Ron says, his voice making it clear he doesn’t want to argue. “Greg will drag you there if necessary.”
“I don’t need to go to a fucking gym. I am perfectly fine the way I am,” I complain. I have no desire to attend a gym filled with sweaty guys learning things I already know.
“Your fighting is shit. You can’t keep going off like a loose cannon,” Ron replies. “So you are going, that is final.”
I groan in protest. “This is bullshit …” I begin, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “Besides, you said so yourself, I’ve killed more people than the fucking guys here. I don’t need to go learn shit. I fight the way I need to, and it works for me.”
“One: you haven’t killed more than me, but good try, kid. Two: Didn’t keep you from getti
ng kidnapped,” Jake said snarkily.
I look at him and growl, my body tensing, preparing to jump on him and claw his eyes out. I still owe him as far as I’m concerned.
Ron looks at us both sharply and I back down.
I have to admit, despite Jake being such a jackass, our fighting is turning into more of a sibling rivalry than actual arguing.
“Asshat,” I growl. “I did pretty well until I was tasered.” I cross my arms over my chest before looking at Ron. “And that can’t be avoided by training at a stupid gym.”
“Don’t care,” Ron replies and Greg puts a hand on my shoulder firmly. “You’re still going.”
“Fine, fine.” I shrug off Greg’s hand like the petulant child I’m being. “I’m going, I’m going. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No one said you did.” Ron looks at me, his eyes softening a little.
***
I stand just outside the door to the gym, a bag slung over my shoulder filled with a change of clothes. Greg is beside me, his arms folded over his chest. He looks like he’s waiting for me to make a run for it. He looks a lot less threatening in his gym shorts, but I still know he could outrun me without breaking a sweat.
“Time to go in.” Greg nudges me. “Don’t want to be late. Trust me.” I scowl in displeasure, opening the door with a huff.
“You must be Kella.” A man I assume to be Ze looks up from where he is going through some paperwork at a desk near the entrance. “You are just barely on time.” He looks me up and down, clearly not pleased with what he sees before speaking to Greg. “Rough around the edges was right. Last time you brought me someone broken. I can already tell this time … this time I’ll be doing the breaking.”