I turn off the engine, and as he approaches the car, I take out the condoms from the glove compartment and throw them at him through my open window.
“I’m not fucking wearing one of those nasty things,” he says the moment they hit him.
“Wear them or this is not happening.”
He picks up the packet and inspects it. “Get in the back seat and lie down,” he commands, still staring at the pack.
Closing my eyes, I swallow hard as I unbuckle my seatbelt then get out to do as he instructs. I climb in the back, Pete following after. But just before he climbs in, he throws the packet of condoms away.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sitting up. Pete smacks a hand against my chest, pushing me back down, a winded breath leaving me.
“I already told you. I’m not wearing those fucking things. I want the full experience with you, Bri.”
I violently shake my head, anger, disgust, and frustration crawling all over my skin like a thousand poisonous spiders. “No, that’s not happening. I could get pregnant,” I lie. “It’s my only protection.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me, and then very slowly crawls his way inside the car, an evil smile on his putrid face. “You’ve just had your period, right? That means you’ll be okay.”
Nope. Not a fucking chance!
“No, no, no, no,” I repeat over and over again. “This isn’t happening. I won’t let…”
I don’t have the time to get the words out as his hand covers my mouth, halting me. I scream into his hand and start to wrestle myself away from his grip, but his body is pressing against mine, effectively trapping me in this cocoon of a car. With his free hand, he tugs at the buttons of my jeans, trying his best to yank them down past my hips, but I struggle so much he has difficulty maintaining his stride.
“That’s it, Bri. Fight me. You have no fucking idea how turned on I am right now.”
Those words break me, and I stop fighting him. If it adds to his sick pleasure, I’m not doing it. And what’s the use anyway when he’s going to take what he wants? Instead, I go rigidly still, my face turned to the side, my mind racing to blank out everything he’s about to do to me.
“You think if you stop struggling, I’ll stop?” I already know the answer to that, so I say nothing, just lie there like a dead fish. “Is that it?” he asks, darting out his tongue and licking the whole side of my face. I close my eyes when I hear the sound of his belt buckle undoing, nausea erupting from the wetness of his tongue now cooling on my skin and settling there.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for years, you know that? Dreaming about your tight cunt around my hard cock. Dreaming about ramming it in you over and over again until you scream.”
I try my level best to keep my breathing in check, but his words are zinging their way through my brain, settling there like the bad pennies they are. I want to scream, I want to fight. I want to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone—so many things I’d love to say, but all the words are fruitless.
I keep my eyes closed as he continues to pull down my jeans, and just as he’s about to get them past my hips, a sudden whoosh of air whirls past me, and his weight disappears from me.
I shoot up with just enough time to witness Charlie swinging a punch at Pete’s face, a discernible crack sounding as his nose breaks.
“I’m going to kill you, you motherfucker!” Charlie roars, pelting Pete’s face over and over again. On the fourth punch, Pete is out cold, but that doesn’t deter Charlie. He continues his onslaught, completely immersed in his rage, one hand punching him whilst the other fists his shirt. If I don’t stop Charlie, he’ll kill him.
Scrambling out of the car at the same time as frantically trying to do my jeans up, I approach this beast of a man to try and make him see sense. “Charlie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!” I get the last button of my jeans done up when I throw my arms around Charlie from the back, pinning his arms and pulling him into my chest. His own is heaving, but he relents, relaxing in my arms. I glance a peek down at Pete who has blood covering his whole swollen face. He’s barely recognisable after that extremely quick but seemingly endless assault.
Once I have Charlie secure and feel confident that he won’t punch Pete anymore, I relax my arms, letting his down. “Come,” I command, pulling him to the boot of my car. Acting on autopilot so I don’t have to think about everything that’s happened, I open it up, grabbing a bottle of water and my first aid kit before turning around to inspect Charlie’s hand. I wince at the swollen, bloodied knuckles. It’s hard to tell, but he may have broken a couple. It looks pretty messed up.
“You might have to go to hospital,” I say, my breathing heavy from the adrenaline. I screw open the bottle of water and pour it over his knuckles, making him wince.
“No hospital,” he breathes out. “I’m fine.”
Despite the fucked-up situation, I attempt a smile. “I thought fine was code word for nowhere near fucking fine,” I joke, grabbing some alcohol and gauze.
“Okay, then. How about I’m fucking peachy?”
I snort out a laugh. “Peachy is better.” I pour alcohol on the gauze and grab his injured hand. “This is going to sting.”
I carefully graze over his cuts, and at his natural instinct to pull back, I hold firm. After some wincing, he remains silent, letting me tend to his wounds. Charlie simply watches me the whole time I bandage him up. When I’m done, I glance up at him with a smile, suddenly realising I had been so engrossed in my job that I’d completely forgotten why we’re here in the first place.
I glance another look at Pete, and again he’s unmoving. I’m about to check to see if he’s still alive when Charlie’s arms are suddenly around me.
“Are you okay?”
I’m not okay, but I snort into his chest. “I’m good, it’s you I’m worried about with your messed-up fist.”
Charlie pulls away, cupping my face with both hands. “Typical Bri, always thinking about others before herself.”
His kind words warm my heart, making me ache to be with him. “Aren’t good nurses supposed to be like that?” I tease back, trying to lighten the mood.
“Nurse’s don’t get sexually assaulted by their uncles. And I think that trumps my messed-up hand. In time, my hand will heal. But what about you?” I don’t respond to that, simply look away, biting my lip. “You promised me.”
I close my eyes, guilt riling through me as I breathe out. “I know, and I’m sorry. It was eating me up inside that I lied to you, but I already told you that he has me trapped. There is nothing I could do to stop it.”
Charlie nods and steps back, the loss of his touch like torture. “I already knew you would go back on your word. That’s why I followed you. I was a few cars away, and when one made a turn, it held me back a while. Took me some time to find you, but I’m glad I did before he…” He stops when I flinch.
I’m glad he found me, and I’m glad he rescued me, but all this does is bide me some time until Pete recovers from his injuries.
Speaking of.
I take a step back and walk towards Pete who is still out cold on the ground. I check his pulse; it’s there, but it’s extremely weak.
“He needs a hospital.”
Charlie stalks towards me. “He needs a grave.”
I’m about to argue with him that I’m not going to risk him going to prison because of me, when all of a sudden, Charlie snakes his arms under the back of Pete’s, propping him up before grabbing his head and snapping his neck.
I stumble back, almost falling on my arse, a huge gasp leaving my lips. Charlie lets go of Pete’s body, and it slumps to the ground in a heap.
“He needs a grave,” he repeats, completely detached like he hasn’t just killed someone with his bare hands.
My mouth remains open, my heart beating wildly in my chest as panic starts to set in. “Why, Charlie? Why would you do that for me?!” I shout, grabbing at his arms and yanking them. “You could go to prison if you get caught, I’m not w
orth it, Charlie! I’m not!” I scream, trying to make him see sense.
Swinging his arms up and around mine, he grabs them, pinning them down so I can’t move. “Will you fucking stop this self-deprecating bullshit!” he yells, nailing me with those dark, intense, caramel eyes. “One, I won’t go to prison because I’m going to take that scumbag’s body and bury it so deep within the woods, no one will ever find him. I know for a fact he won’t be missed because, let’s be honest here, who would miss that fucking piece of shit? Two, he deserved everything he fucking got. And three, I did it for you because I care about you, okay? I don’t want to feel…” he sneers, slapping his chest, “this… this… infatuation I have for you, but it’s there! And I can’t switch it off no matter how hard I try. And knowing I can’t fucking have you… I want to break the world apart, tear down all walls, and scream at the sky at the injustice of it all. You may believe you’re not worth it, but you’re a million percent worth it all to me!”
So shocked I am at his confession that I slink to the ground, my knees hitting the cold grass beneath me. His revelation has me on my knees, my heart splitting open and breaking into tiny little pieces.
He reciprocates my feelings, yet I still can never, ever be with him.
Charlie takes me into his arms, and for a while we stay there, clinging onto each other like a second skin. But all too soon, reality kicks in, causing us to break apart.
“Go home, Bri. Chris will be waiting. I’ll deal with this.” I start to argue that it’s my problem, not his, when he holds his hand up. “I won’t take no for an answer. Go. Now. Before Chris starts asking you questions you can’t answer.”
Sadly, I nod my head, pack up my shit, and get into my Mini. As I’m driving away, I watch him in the rearview mirror as he stares back at my retreating car. When I turn the corner, I notice his van parked hidden behind some bushes. I shiver at the thought that Pete’s body will no doubt be thrown in there shortly, destined for his permanent resting place.
As I turn onto the main road, my mind begins to race over tonight’s events. But the questions at the forefront are ones pertaining to Charlie. I can never leave Chris—not even for him. My mind is made up, and this is how my life will be until my it ends. Charlie asked me why I don’t leave Chris, but he never said the two words that would have cemented the reason why he asked.
For him.
Which then leaves me with one more question…
Is there something also holding him back?
Parked in front of my flat, I’m surprised to see that I have zero messages or calls from Chris. Maybe he’s trying to give me some space after all. A part of me thinks not, but I’ll roll with it until I see otherwise.
I unload the four shopping bags, struggling with them in my hand as I head towards the lift, all the while my mind is awash with Pete, what happened, and the fact that he’s now dead. At some point, it will hit me, but for now I’m still so raw. I’m relieved, though. Hugely relieved that I’m finally free of him. But I’m so afraid as to what cost. Hopefully Charlie’s right, and he will be able to bury him somewhere no one will find him. It still makes me nervous to think he could somehow be found.
When the lift opens, I struggle to the front door, my hand ready with the key to let myself in—performing a very difficult balancing act. I’m about to turn the key when the door opens, revealing Michael on the other side.
“Here, let me help you with those.” He takes all the shopping bags from me, so I follow him into the kitchen, noting that Chris is nowhere to be found.
“Where is he?” I ask, placing my bag and keys down on the counter.
Michael starts taking the contents out of the bags, laying everything out on the countertops. “He’s asleep.”
I close my eyes, a frustrated sigh leaving me. “You mean he’s passed out again from all the alcohol and God knows what else he’s consumed since eight this morning?”
He stops what he’s doing, turning around to face me. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been really stressed lately with Brandon, the big deal in Morocco, and now this shit with Brandon’s family.”
I want to do the biggest eye-roll on earth. Chris is stressed?! I don’t say anything, though, causing Michael to scrutinise me.
“Have you been wrestling in the woods or something?”
“What?” I ask, my breathing heavy. How does he…?
“Your knees are all scuffed with what looks like mud and grass stains.”
I glance down, and sure enough, the evidence is there. “Oh, this,” I reply, my mind struggling to quickly find an explanation. “I parked by the grass when I went shopping and accidentally tripped, landing on my knees.” Relief washes over me. That’s a good enough explanation as any.
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have helped.”
Yeah, no… that would have been the last thing I would have done.
“Ah, it’s fine. I managed.” I point behind me. “I want to check on Chris and get a shower. Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Michael smiles brightly. “Yes, that would be nice, thanks. What were you thinking of? I can get started on it.”
“There’s mince in the fridge. I was just going to do a spag bol for tonight.”
Michael heads towards the fridge and pulls out the mince. “You go get a shower, I’ll take care of the rest.”
I smile, grateful that someone else can take over. I’m so tired after everything that happened tonight. “Thank you.”
Chris is completely zonked out when I enter the bedroom. As usual, he has the most angelic face in sleep. He’s on his side, one leg under the duvet as the other props over it. His long eyelashes are fanned out against his face, and a couple of his dark blond locks lie on his forehead, making him look younger. The whole room reeks of booze, but that’s not an uncommon theme after one of Chris’s benders. I lean over him, checking to make sure he’s still breathing before I get undressed and take a shower.
Once I’m done with the shower, I get dressed in a pair of pyjama shorts and tank top, not caring that Michael is here. I’m too tired to bother getting properly dressed, and besides, he’s seen me in a lot less. I shiver at the thought of my antics that night on the boat. I seriously don’t know what had come over me. I keep putting it down to the fact that I’d been high on sex when it happened.
Glancing one more time at Chris, I approach him. Pushing away those two locks from his forehead causes him to moan my name, but he doesn’t waken. Even in his sleep, he seeks me out.
I leave him to sleep and walk out of the bedroom, the smell of cooked mince and onions hitting my nostrils. It’s much better than the alcohol aroma in my bedroom, that’s for certain.
“Smells wonderful already,” I say as I enter the kitchen spotting Michael tapping on a container of basil over the mince, watching as it drops into the pan.
Michael stops and turns to smile at me, but it drops when his gaze lands on my attire. “Hello to you too, sex kitten.” He winks at me, causing me to gasp.
“How do you think Chris would react knowing that you’re flirting with his girl, huh?”
Michael chuckles. “He’d fucking kick my arse, but it would be so worth it.”
“Michael!” I protest, causing a rumble of laughter to fill the room. He doesn’t say anything back, simply walks to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of rosé wine and pours a glass, handing it to me.
“Now you’re trying to get me drunk.”
He places a hand on his chest. “Ah, shit. I’ve been rumbled.”
He returns to the stove to continue stirring while I consider the burning questions on my lips. “So how did it go with the whole Bilko family shit?” I take a nice gulp of my wine, closing my eyes as the welcome coolness of it washes down my throat. Michael doesn’t realise just how much I needed this drink right about now.
“Larry luckily keeps shit. He’s like a fucking psychopathic serial killer who likes to collect victims’ belongings. Do you know he has a box of belongings f
rom all the people he’s killed over the years?” My eyes widen at his statement, causing Michael to nod. “Exactly. Anyway,” he continues, “to cut a long story short, he has Brandon’s phone, and as Kane has family in Australia, we’ve sent the phone to them with instructions to make a phone call from a remote place then wipe their prints before throwing it away.”
“Australia, huh? Can’t get more distant from the UK than that, can you?”
“Exactly,” he smirks, stirring the tomato sauce in, the sweet aroma instantly hitting my nostrils and making my stomach growl.
“How long will it take the phone to get there, do you think?” Instantly, I’m thinking of Charlie and what he’s doing right now. Guilt churns my insides. He’s already killed for me, and now I have to worry about Tom Bilko sniffing around asking questions about him. I bet he’s in his van now, wondering why he ever hired me.
“It should arrive in around three days. We realise time is of the essence, so we expedited the package. The quicker it gets there, the quicker they get off our backs. Chris just wants to do them all in, but I told him that’s a stupid idea.”
I roll my eyes. “It is a stupid idea. Once they hit a dead end, they’ll have no other choice but to leave it. What else can they do? Shoot first and ask questions later? I tried to tell Tom that I can’t be Brandon’s only enemy.” I take another gulp of my wine.
“You’re right, of course. What doesn’t help, though, is the fact that his two minions who attacked you with him have also gone missing. But since Bilko didn’t mention that fact to you, then I’m guessing Brandon didn’t reveal that to his brother.”
That thought hadn’t crossed my mind before now. Tom certainly knew I was attacked, but he hadn’t mentioned the other two to me during his little interrogation. Maybe it was because Brandon was embarrassed to mention it was just my boss against the three of them? I suppose that’s not something you’d want to reveal when telling a story.
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