by Sam Crescent
The time they’d spent together, even arguing and being threatened, had been the most amazing of all. Unexplainable and beautiful. She hoped some part of her would remain with him forever.
“It must hurt for you to be fucked by the man who is responsible for killing your sister.” Cyril interrupted her thoughts with the cruellest words a woman in love could ever hear. Without thinking, she threw her hand out at the barrel and pushed it away from her face. How dare he hold Lance responsible for killing her sister? She’d seen who had killed her with her own two eyes.
“You fucking killed her!” Catherine yelled.
Cyril lashed out, slapping her across the face. Her cheek stung but she didn’t care. No way was this man going to hold Lance responsible for such an act. Anyway, with the amount of times she’d been slapped in the last few days, she no longer felt the sting.
“I killed Sidney because he fucking turned my whore against me. I thought she was the one—the one woman I could spend my life with, Catherine. We were getting on great. I was falling for her and was about to take her out of the work and make her my wife. Then one day, just for the sheer hell of it, I had her followed. She was meeting Lance during the day, fucking him and using me for information. She should have stayed loyal to me.”
Cyril walked around shaking the gun in all directions. He looked crazy as he spoke and she couldn’t believe a word. Lance knew the threat Cyril held to women, surely he wouldn’t have put her sister at risk? Or had he? Had his thirst for vengeance been that strong that he would have been blinded by his own pain? To get the job done of getting rid of Cyril Woods for good? Catherine couldn’t believe what she was hearing—it couldn’t be possible, could it?
“I don’t believe you.” Lance wasn’t the type of man to do such a thing. She was sure of it.
“No? What about if you heard this…?” He held up a device and played back a recording. Catherine felt her whole life crumble around her ears—her belief in Lance and her sister destroyed, every single thought hopeless. It was Lance’s and her sister’s voices, and she could do nothing but listen to the incriminating evidence before her.
“You’ve got the documents we need?”
“Lance, I told you—he only just started trusting me. I’ll get you what you need…just give me some time.”
“The more time you take, the more danger Catherine is in. Do you want that? Huh?”
She didn’t need to hear any more and yet it played on. The evidence was all in the short recording. Sidney telling him to wait, that it would risk more exposure for her, and then the threat—which always propelled her into doing what she didn’t want. Catherine…it was always about her.
The tears fell and she didn’t care who saw them. Her sister had done everything to try to keep her safe, yet here she stood, staring down a gun barrel once again…only this time her body was soiled by the seed of the man who’d killed Sidney.
Unprotected sex—an ugly term… One she shouldn’t even be contemplating because she wouldn’t live to see the consequences, but what if, even now, her body held the seed of the man responsible for causing her sister’s death?
“Are we being a cry baby?” Cyril pouted, sticking out his lip.
She stared at the man who had caused so much hate. Her tears fell for the woman she’d loved, who should be standing here laughing into this man’s face.
“Do you think he’s going to come and rescue you?” Cyril mocked her, and she was past fucking caring.
“Does it matter?” she asked him. Her world meant nothing. The man she loved had pushed her sister into losing her life, and all for what? The death of this man? Fuck it. She’d had enough.
She looked at all the men in the room. The ones who tortured and raped women. Who exploited them for their own monetary gains. The ones who’d brought suffering to her world and caused great pains throughout young people’s lives. They all deserved death in order to be brought to justice, but Catherine concentrated on the man who’d made her who she was. The woman who stood before him was different from the child she’d been years ago when her parents had been killed, and even changed from when she had stood before him a few days ago. Catherine was now a woman who’d experienced loss and extreme pain, though she’d fought through every passing emotion at a time. He’d taken both her sister and Lance’s sister, whom Ben had loved.
She used the anger and fed it into her next movements—into the boiling point of rage she imagined every person felt at some point in their life—while all of her failures and weaknesses fought against throwing her into a whirlwind of action.
She leant down, going to a crouch on the ankle that wasn’t injured—being thankful the injured ankle distracted their attention away from her good one. With speed she didn’t understand or know she possessed, she looked Cyril in the eye and seconds later lashed out with the knife she’d hidden in her sock, concealed by her boot. A small Swiss army knife her sister had given her for her eighteenth birthday, saying she’d never know when it would come in useful, was now in her hand as she went for his throat, slashing him in one quick motion.
The room froze as his laughing face became a picture of shock. Catherine watched as though outside of her body, almost as if someone had pushed her to carry out the task in order to keep her safe. She slowly came back to herself, watching as the blood around his neck began to seep out in tiny rivulets.
“I don’t need rescuing.” She threw the knife down and pushed Cyril to the floor. Empty… That’s all she was—empty. The men in the room stood in shock, looking at this tiny slip of a woman who’d just killed the man who’d terrorised the whole of London. No great explosion of happiness came, nothing surreal. Empty…she was just empty after taking out the man she’d been guaranteed would answer all of her problems.
Catherine shrugged, bent to pick up the knife and moved to the door. Ben and Lance, along with several men dressed in uniform, charged in all masculine and macho. It would have been perfect if she’d cared. They looked at the crumpled bloody heap of Cyril Woods and at the changed woman walking towards them.
She smiled at Ben but moved to Lance. “There is nothing satisfying in his death. Sidney is still gone and I’ve got the bitter reminder that the man I thought I could love was the one responsible for her death.” Catherine slammed the knife against his chest. “I hope this brings you some comfort in the middle of the night.”
Not waiting for his reply, she took her bruised and well-used body and walked into the night.
That was it—over and done with. A few days of her life wasted on a man who wasn’t invincible but had instead become cocky with his own power.
Ben glanced down at the man who’d plagued his thoughts for years and the euphoria he’d believed he’d feel at seeing his body didn’t come. Running a hand over his face, he looked towards those they’d taken in—the cronies and women. It was over. All of it was finally over in an anticlimactic ending.
“Sir, we’ve got a problem here,” one of the officers called from the back office.
He wanted to see if Lance had heard but he was too busy watching the woman walk away. Shaking his head at the loss on his friend’s face, knowing all too well what he was thinking and feeling, he moved with his gun in hand towards the young man.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” The man appeared shaken and Ben turned the corner to see why. He gasped and charged into the room, noticing the charm bracelet he’d bought her as a parting gift. He touched her wrist to check her pulse. It was slow.
“Shit, Beth, why didn’t you do as I asked?” Pulling back the hair covering her head, he looked into the bloody face of the woman whom he should have loved.
Her eyes were swollen shut and her lips cut from the pounding she must have received because of him.
Nothing appeared broken but he wasn’t taking a chance on having any other man holding her. He picked her up and carried her outside.
“Please…no…more,” she gasped.
; “Baby, it’s Ben. I’ve got you, love, and I won’t let go.” He cradled her against his body and nodded at Lance.
“Peter… He’s got Peter…”
His heart flipped in his chest, and he turned to the other men in the room. “There is a little boy here. Find him and bring him to me.”
The ambulance had arrived and he took her to the waiting paramedics. He laid her on the stretcher and watched for a few minutes while they checked her vitals then started to clear away some of the blood.
“Wait for me, please. I’ve got to go and check on a friend.”
Lance was still waiting for the police to arrive. Ben went to his side and stared at Cyril’s body, shock clear on the dead man’s face. After so many years of waiting and planning to take this man out, a young woman had done the deed then walked out on them.
“You’re going to have to go and check on her. This is her first kill and she’ll be in shock.” Ben watched the other men scouring the building looking for the boy. His palms were sweaty and when he wiped them down his trousers, the blood from his hands smeared on to his clothing.
“Didn’t you hear what she said? She hates me and will blame me for the rest of her life for the murder of her sister.”
“Sidney died doing what was right. You can’t blame yourself for everything that went down. Yes, Catherine is hurting, but that’s not you. She’ll deal with it in her own way and, before you know what’s happening, you’ll be back together.” Ben slapped him on the back. Out of all the people for Lance to befriend and leave the talking to, Ben was not the best candidate. He dealt with things in his own way.
“We’ve found something.”
Both men looked to the sound of the commotion. A young boy, being carried in the arms of a police officer, came into sight through the lines of security. The boy was awake and appeared unharmed.
Ben swallowed against the giant lump in his throat. He moved forward and held his arms out for the small bundle. This was his son—the result of the night he’d used Beth then crushed her. Holding the boy, he nodded at the men, turned to Lance and then, without saying another word, walked out of the building. Once Peter was secured in a car, he followed the ambulance to the hospital. Beth needed him, and, for the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing and stick by her.
Chapter Twelve
Lance moved out of the building in time to see Catherine being escorted to a car. He ran towards them to try to stop what they were doing. The man holding her looked him over and, evidently deeming him no threat, gave them some time alone.
“What do you want, Lance?” she asked, avoiding eye contact.
“Can’t you look at me?”
Reluctantly she turned her gaze back to his. “Is this what you want? For me to stare into the eyes of my sister’s killer?” She took a step closer and still her eyes remained firmly locked on his. “Tell me, Lance, did you know you were pushing? If you’d simply listened to her, she’d still be alive.”
“You don’t know that,” he growled.
“Don’t I? Maybe you’re right—maybe Cyril wouldn’t have ever been smart enough to cotton on to your interference, but then he’s always been one step ahead, hasn’t he, Lance? One step above the rest of us. I can’t do this. Looking at you makes me sick inside.”
She turned from him then, and Lance couldn’t have any of it. He needed privacy and a way to get his message across.
He took her by the elbow and pulled her away from all the prying eyes around to the side of the building where they were plunged into darkness. Lance thrust her up against the wall, placing his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.
“You think this is going to help, going all Neanderthal on me?” Catherine put her small hands on his chest to push him away, but unlike any other time where he would have stepped away and let her go, tonight he couldn’t. Tonight he was fighting for more than the ability to win an argument.
“I’m sorry, all right? Sidney and me got together a while ago. No, we didn’t sleep together. We agreed to take Cyril out at all costs.” He pressed his body to hers to try to trap her in. “Will you stop and please look at me?” Lance grasped her face and forced her to look at him.
“What are you doing? What are you trying to prove?”
“I’m trying to explain. It wasn’t as cut and dried as you make out.”
“Then explain it to me. Tell me in nicer words how Sidney was working for you and for Cyril and got caught in the crossfire. Tell me, Lance. Tell me how, at the end of the day, I still lost my sister.”
Lance knew there was nothing he could say to help the situation. Catherine was hurting and she needed some distance between them. He didn’t answer but cupped her cheek instead. “I love you,” he whispered before he covered her lips with his and took the kiss he’d been wanting since he’d watched Cyril take her away.
If anything, he wanted Cyril alive to punish the bastard for hitting her. To have an outlet for all of his anger. Her moans echoed in his mouth and he swallowed them down, curving his hands down her body, touching her breasts and moving to cup her mound. He felt the heat even through the trousers. “I love you, I love you…” He kissed and chanted over again, trying to tell her repeatedly how much he felt.
Catherine pulled out of his grip, crying out and falling back into his arms, her ankle apparently still painful.
“Let me take care of you,” he begged.
Tears shone in her eyes but they didn’t drop. “I can’t,” she choked.
His heart breaking, he silently pleaded to convince her.
“Please, Lance, if you love me like you say, please let me go.”
“No, anything but that… Please, I beg you.”
She sobbed and still held him.
He would never let her fall.
“Lance, I love you—I do—but right now I need to be alone, away from all of this.”
From the love in his heart and the death of Cyril… Where was the justice? Was this his justice? To be alone in his own thoughts and to never have the woman of his dreams?
“I’ll always be here if you need me. I’m not leaving or letting you go.” He cuddled her near and kissed the top of her head. He’d always be there for her until the day he died, even if she never came to him again.
He helped her to the truck to take her back to town, back to her life. He watched her go and couldn’t do a thing to stop what was happening.
* * * *
“Looks to me, sir, as if Cyril got caught. I can’t see clearly but there are certainly soldiers and a few police,” the driver said to the man in the back.
“I told the bastard to go slowly, that it wouldn’t take long for some fucking heroes to spoil my fun,” the man growled, puffing out a circle of smoke.
A girl shook in the corner, her eyes darting round for an escape route.
“Shut your crying, girl. You’re going to have to stay in my keep.”
The girl covered her ears in fright.
The man in question took the binoculars and looked through the lenses to see the commotion. He spotted the larger man with brown hair bundling a bloody woman into an ambulance. It would seem as though Cyril’s temper got the better of him.
Cyril’s daughter, Beth, had been a breath of fresh air when she was younger. A lightness in contrast to her father’s darkness. He wondered what she’d think if she knew the true age of her mother when she’d given birth. Cyril had been an evil bastard—evil. He drew the line at anyone under the age, but that had never mattered to Cyril.
The problem now was Cyril had been a man of action in keeping the business running. That had been his one saving grace. With him dead, the work would dwindle, but a new man would soon take his place. However, a backlash would still need to happen.
He watched through the lenses to try to find the other one he’d heard so much about. He saw him just before he took a beautiful young woman behind the warehouse.
Catherine Hart—she was supposed to have been his
prize tonight. A gorgeous brunette with lovely eyes and a body made for a man to fuck.
“I think it’s time to make our presence known.” The driver nodded and moved the car away from the scene.
* * * *
Catherine stopped off at the hospital to get an X-ray, have her foot bandaged and receive some medication. Afterwards, she went by to check on Beth and Ben. Ben sat in the waiting room, a young boy on his lap.
“Hey, you,” he said, raising his head. She got a good look at the boy and smiled, realising there was more to Beth and her life.
“Hey.” She hopped on her crutches and sat beside him on the sofa. “He looks like you.”
“I know. She had to go through everything on her own. Not anymore. I’m going to be like a leech, always at her side.”
“You hurt her, didn’t you?”
Ben nodded. “Kind of like Lance hurt you.” Catherine made to stand but Ben put a hand on her wrist to stop her. “Did you use protection with him?”
She’d never get used to the bluntness and directness of these two men. She shook her head. The nurse and doctor had each offered her the morning after pill to stop any chance of conception, but she couldn’t do it. If she was pregnant with Lance’s child then she’d figure something out and go through with it.
“He loves you, you know?”
Catherine shrugged her shoulder. She didn’t know if he really did and couldn’t say otherwise.
“Do me a favour, Catherine, and don’t let stubbornness and pride get in the way. I did, and look at me… I’ve got the woman I love in the hospital, who’s been used as a punching bag, and a son in my arms who knows nothing about me other than I abandoned them both.”
Catherine nodded before promising to stop by to see him tomorrow. The next place she went was her apartment. She hadn’t been there in weeks. Cyril and his boys had messed up the place, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was done.