by Bea Paige
I’m brought out of my melancholy thoughts by the sound of glass smashing downstairs. Instantly my back stiffens. “Hudson, is that you?” I say, even though something inside tells me it isn’t, that I should be keeping quiet rather than drawing attention to myself. Instinct rattles like a petrified snake over my skin. There’s no answer and no further sound of glass breaking. Perhaps I’d imagined it. Perhaps the sound had been my heart shattering once again.
“Tutti Frutti,” a singsong voice calls from below.
I stop in my tracks, a deer caught in headlamps. It can’t be.
“That’s right, it’s me, your old friend Smithy. Nice place you got here. You’ve landed on your feet with this lot.” I can hear his laughter, it’s edged with a note of madness.
The sudden rush of my pulse scatters the flock of birds in my chest. They fly in all directions, my heartbeat matching their frantic flapping. Fuck. There is only one reason why Smithy is here, and it isn’t to say thanks for the money. I reach for my back pocket, expecting to find my mobile. It’s not there. Shit. It’s in my bedroom. Making a decision, I run for the stairs, acutely aware that he is climbing up towards the floor.
Just as I reach the bottom step, he reaches the top. My movements seem to slow just as his speed up. Our eyes meet, and I instantly realise three things. The first, this isn’t about the money anymore; secondly, he has come to finish what he started; and thirdly, he doesn’t care if he’s caught. This is about revenge.
He smiles slowly. “Your mum always loved to be chased. Like mother, like daughter, eh? Now look who’s on the run, quite fucking poetic, don’t you think?” Smithy laughs at his own twisted joke as I take the stairs two at a time, bounding towards my bedroom and my one chance to call for help. I have the advantage of fitness. Smithy is a big guy, and whilst I have no doubt he can pack a powerful punch, he isn’t as light on his feet as I am.
I reach my door, push it open and slam it shut behind me. For the first time I wish it had a lock.
“Tutti Frutti,” he calls in his twisted sing song voice. “There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I’ve been watching this house for days. The pigs aren’t as clever as they think they are. I gave them the elbow over a week ago. Fucking idiots wouldn’t know how to catch a snake in a sack. Not to mention the fact that none of your men are here either. I’d say we’re in for a fucking treat. I’m going to enjoy this way more than my time with your pretty little friend.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fear is trying its best to incapacitate me, I feel its claws clutching at my lungs, squeezing the air from them, but I force myself to calm down. To think. I have just seconds until he reaches me. With my back pushed up against the door I look frantically around the room. There’s nothing to barricade the door with. Making a decision, I sprint towards my phone which is on the side table beside my bed. Just as I pick it up, Smithy slams the door open.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he spits, anger contorting his face as he notices the phone in my hand. I press my thumb against the screen, the light flashes on. Bryce and Max are both on speed dial, I just need to take my eyes off Smithy for one second in order to call one of them.
“Put the fucking phone down, Tutti Frutti, and I’ll make sure I’m gentle,” he snarls, his twisted features telling me that being gentle has never been part of his make-up. Violence runs through his blood, he thrives on it.
“Fuck you,” I say, glancing down and hitting the icon that represents Bryce. I just hope he picks up.
Bryce answers immediately. “Sweetheart, everything alright?”
I don’t get to answer as Smithy rushes forward and punches me on the cheek. My head snaps back with the force as the phone flies out of my grasp, smashing against the mirrored wardrobe.
“I told you to put the fucking phone down, bitch.”
Instinctively, I make a dash towards my mobile and the muffled panic of Bryce’s voice at the other end of it, but Smithy knows what I am about to do and yanks me backwards by my hair. I let out a panicked scream, my hands flying up to my head as he pulls me to the floor. I hit the ground, landing on my coccyx. Pain ricochets up my spine from the force. Immediately, Smithy is on top off me, pinning my hips down with his weight. If he thinks I’m not going to fight, he is sorely fucking mistaken. I thrash my arms up at him, managing to claw his cheek with my fingernails.
“YOU FUCKING WHORE!” he screams, raising his own hand and slapping me across my cheek once again. Still I fight back, even though his strike has my head spinning and black spots floating in front of my eyes.
I buck my hips, twisting and turning frantically in my attempt to throw him off me, but he is strong. Pinning my arms to my side, he leans over me and snarls, his lip curling in delight at my horror.
“This is going to be so much fun, Tutti Frutti. Whatever these men have been giving you will pale into comparison to what you’re about to receive from me.”
“Fuck you,” I pant, fury and fear making me brave. I receive another slap for my insolence.
Smithy leans closer. I can feel his excitement press against me. Bile rises up my throat.
“No, Tutti Frutti, I’ll be the one doing all the fucking. Now, what’s gonna get that dirty mouth of yours screaming? Hmm, let’s see.” His piggy eyes rove all over me, before he leans over and licks my cheek.
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, twisting my head away from his rancid breath. He laughs cruelly.
“You’re a fighter. Good, it makes it much more fun this way. I’ll enjoy teaching you a lesson. I’ve been fucking waiting months. Those pricks fobbing me off with five fucking grand when they have all this money. Now I’ve got the MET on my tail and every policeman in the UK looking for me. Fucking shame they didn’t think to monitor this place, ain’t it? Didn’t think I’d have the bollocks to come here, did they? Pricks.”
“This house is being monitored, the police will be on their way here and so will my boyfriends. They’ll kill you,” I say. As far as I know, the police aren’t monitoring this house, but I’m not about to tell him that.
Smithy stiffens fractionally, digesting what I’ve said. “I reckon if that was the case then they would’ve turned up by now. Nice try, Tutti.”
We look at one another and an understanding passes between us. He’s going to hurt me and I’m going to fight. I guess only time will tell who’s going to win.
“Shall we get started then?” he asks, releasing one of my arms so he can grope my breast. The moment his hand paws at me, an anger like nothing I’ve experienced before erupts and I scream with rage, punching him as hard as I can on the cheek.
Next, two things happen in quick succession.
Smithy tips his head back, roaring in anger, and then a boot, seemingly coming from nowhere, connects with his jaw and I am free. I scoot backwards on my arse, panting with a mixture of anger, fear and loathing. Hudson is standing over Smithy, who is sprawled on the floor. He turns to me briefly, a host of emotions passing across his face as he makes a quick assessment. He asks me if I’m okay even if he doesn’t say a word. I nod my head sharply.
“GET THE FUCK UP AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN, YOU PRICK!” Hudson roars, his attention back on Smithy now he knows I am okay.
“You sure you want to pick a fight with me, pretty boy? I’m just taking what’s owed. This whore is mine,” Smithy sneers, standing.
Hudson launches himself at Smithy and they fall to the ground in a mass of arms and legs, knocking the side table over in the process. They pound one another, hitting, kicking, scratching, biting. I watch in fascinated horror as Hudson’s fire and fury explodes over Smithy. Not for one moment does he let up. He doesn’t give Smithy an inch. Bones crack, blood splatters and still Hudson fights. At one point he has Smithy pinned beneath him and is pummelling his face with punches, but Smithy is a fighter and he isn’t relenting either. With one swoop of his arm Smithy punches Hudson on the side of his head. The sound of bone against bone rings like a thundercrack through the r
oom. I watch in slow motion as Hudson falls like a heavy weight to the floor, out cold.
Everything stills.
Time stops.
The only person moving is me as I collapse on my knees next to Hudson.
He looks dead.
Is he dead?
I don’t recognise my own voice as I scream his name.
Smithy gets up, bloodied and swollen. He swipes the back of his hand against his mouth. “Now, where were we?” he says, a blood red smile spreading over his mangled face.
I ignore him, shaking Hudson’s shoulders. “Hudson, wake up. Please, wake up,” I cry.
“Please wake up,” Smithy mimics me with a cruel laugh.
I look up at him, hate narrowing my eyes. “Fuck you,” I snarl.
“Look at you. That anger is just precious. Now what are you going to do? If he’s not dead, then he’s out for the count and I have free rein to do what the hell I want. You, bitch, are going to pay me back for the trouble you’ve caused. If I’m going to go down, then I’m taking you with me,” Smithy says, making a grab for me. I dodge out of his way, rushing upwards. I need to get help for Hudson and I can’t do that here in this room. I make a run for the bedroom door, but Smithy is too fast and grabs me on my arm.
“Not so fast, Tutti Frutti.”
Swinging around I bring my arm up and punch him as hard as I can, then knee him in the balls. He screeches, letting go of me.
I dash for the door, but he is on me, ramming into my back so that I stumble forward against the chest of drawers. The force winds me, but I ignore the burning pain in my chest and struggle against his hold. He has my arms pinned to my side with one meaty arm and I’m unable to wriggle out of his hold.
“I am going to fucking enjoy this,” he says, biting on my ear lobe. His hand slides down my back, groping my arse, before he unzips his trousers. I kick backwards against his shin, but my bare feet do nothing to dislodge him. Through the material of my trousers I can feel the state of his arousal.
“GET OFF ME, YOU BASTARD!” I holler. I don’t want him to know how scared I am. I need to think, I need to calm down. On the dressing table in front of me are my bottles of perfume, a lamp and mirror. The lamp base is made of heavy marble. If I can reach it, I can use it as a weapon to get free. But struggling like this, there is no way he will let me go. Maybe if I stop fighting he’ll ease up his hold. I will my body to relax, to stop lashing out and feign defeat. It seems to have the desired effect.
“That’s it, Tutti Frutti, enjoy yourself,” he growls into my ear. I want to bite back with a smart remark, but I don’t. Instead, I relax further and press myself back against him. It makes me sick to feel his excitement, but this is my only chance.
“See, I knew you were your mother’s daughter, she used to enjoy it in the end. I never believed her tears.”
Hate as viscous as molten lava heats my body at his confession, but rather than allowing that hate to take over, I force myself to relax and breathe slowly, allowing my mind to concentrate on what I must do.
“That’s it, relax.” Smithy presses his mouth against my neck, bringing his hand up to curl his fingers around my throat. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. My arm shoots out, reaching over to grab the lamp. My fingers curl around the base as I push back with my body as hard as I can. Spinning on my heel, I twist around and crash the lamp base against his face. The force is so hard that Smithy falls like a great oak tree to the ground. This time he won’t be getting back up.
I drop the lamp, step over him and run to Hudson’s side, pressing my fingers against his neck. “Thank God,” I say, feeling the firm beat of his pulse. “Hudson, can you hear me?”
He doesn’t respond. Flashes of him lying on Railay beach come flooding back. What if this has irritated his head injury? What if it’s made it worse? Fear bubbles up my throat as I lean over him, my hands feathering against his cheek. “Hudson, please wake up.”
There’s no response.
Tears run down my cheeks, but I swipe them away fiercely. I look over my shoulder at Smithy, who is laying still on the floor, blood pouring from the wound on his head. Good, I hope he rots in hell. I don’t give a shit if he needs medical help, the only person I care about is Hudson. I lean over, resting my forehead against his chest. “Hudson, I love you so much. Please wake up.”
I feel a hand press against my back and, believing Smithy has somehow woken up and is touching me again, I freeze.
“Louisa, don’t cry.”
The sound of Hudson’s voice is like music to my ears. I sit up, my head snapping around. “Hudson, oh my God. I’m so glad you’re okay.” I throw myself into his arms, not caring that he may not welcome my touch. I’m just so relieved he’s conscious. Tears fall unbidden now I know he’s alright. He holds me close against his chest until my tears subside.
“Baby, it’s okay. I’m okay,” he soothes.
Baby? He hasn’t called me that since before the accident. I pull back slightly, daring not to hope.
“Hudson…” My lips wobble at the gentle slant of his smile, the recognition in his eyes. He isn’t looking at me like I’m a stranger anymore. Is it possible? Is he back? My Hudson, my love, my dragon.
Hudson brings his hands up to cup my face. “I’m here, baby. My beautiful butterfly, I’m here.” I turn my head and press a gentle kiss against the palm of his hand. Inside, the birds in my chest break free from the concrete and soar once more.
Chapter Twenty-One
After spending most of the night at the hospital getting checked over, eventually we are allowed home and the four of us climb into a cab in the early hours of the morning.
Max and Bryce had returned home not long after Hudson had awoken and even though Smithy had remained unconscious, it was all I could do to prevent them from beating him further. The police were called, statements were taken and then we all headed to the hospital to get checked out. My cheek remains sore from the punch Smithy had inflicted, and even though it hurts like a bitch, I can live with it, given Hudson’s change of circumstances.
By some miracle, the blow to Hudson’s head has somehow reset his memories, and whilst our time in Thailand and the days since we returned is a little blurry, he remembers everything about us, about our love. The relief I feel is immense and frankly, all I want to do is get home. I need to feel safe, and in their arms is the place I feel the safest.
Even though I wish Smithy was dead, he isn’t. Lying in a hospital bed guarded by police whilst he recovers from the head injury I gave him, Smithy sleeps. I hope he gets put away for a very, very long time, but more than that I wish he remains in a coma for the rest of his shitty life. He hurt me, hurt Nisha and my mum. I haven’t forgotten what he’d said. Had he raped her? It wouldn’t have been the first time she was abused in such a way. Sighing heavily, I push those dark thoughts away. I can only hope she’s at peace now and that Smithy suffers for the pain he’s caused.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Bryce asks gently, resting his hand on my knee. I am sitting between Max and Hudson in the back of a Black taxi. We are all exhausted.
“A bit sore, shaken, angry at that bastard, but honestly, Bryce, my joy at getting Dragon back overshadows all of that,” I say, turning to Hudson, who is gripping my hand tightly. He hasn’t let it go since getting in the taxi.
“Dragon?” Hudson asks with a slow smile. “I have a nickname now too, do I?”
“Yes. Don’t you like it?”
“It suits you, mate. I always thought you were a bit of a dragon. Remember our science teacher, Mrs Battelon? She was a right old dragon, but as I recall you quite fancied her. Maybe like called to like?” Max laughs.
I elbow him in the rib. “Hey, that’s not why I call him Dragon.”
“Is it because of my tattoo,” Hudson asks softly.
“Partly, but it’s also the fierce love you have for Max and Bryce. It’s because of the way you guard us all with the fire in your belly that has the power to destroy and t
o protect. It’s the way you look after us. In my opinion, all of that makes you our dragon.”
“Then I accept my nickname, beautiful butterfly,” he says leaning over and kissing me gently. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“My love for you.” Hudson brings his hand up to my face and trails his fingertips across my cheek. “As much as I fucking hate that prick, Smithy, in a small way I am grateful to him for bringing you back to me.” He leans over, kissing me. I groan into his mouth, unable to help my reaction. Even through our exhaustion, even through the trauma of the last few hours, I still feel the pull of these men, my men. They are my heart.
Why aren’t we home already?
“Driver, can you go a little faster?” Max asks, a note of desperation in his voice. We all laugh and the easy way we are with each other lifts my heart.
Back home, we all head upstairs. We don’t stop on the first floor, instead we make our way to Hudson’s bedroom. We walk straight past my room and the stain of blood that blooms across the carpet. I’m not sure when I will feel comfortable entering that room again, if ever. The four of us enter Hudson’s room on a trail of lust, desire and love. I can practically smell it. The heady scent that draws my back straight and melts my insides. Hudson is the first to draw me against him. He cups the back of my head and the base of my spine and kisses me until I am giddy and jelly-legged.