by T K Barber
“It was horrible, man. I ain't seen anything like that. I mean, not in real life, you know what I'm talking about?” Ace said.
What the hell . . .
Thomas craned his neck and peered through the window.
Butch frowned and shook his head. “Where is he now?”
Ace rubbed the back of his neck. “He took Shiner and sped off, going after Price.” He sat down in the chair and hung his head in his hands as he spoke to the floor. “I think he's gone off the deep end. Matches is gonna lose his damn mind.”
“I know I would,” Butch agreed on a wheezing sigh.
Thomas's nerves buzzed. Lose his mind about what? Time to get the facts.
He rounded the corner grinning like a cat that just caught a mouse. He flipped the lighter hard and high, making it spin end over end rapidly before he snagged it out of the air with two fingers.
“What's with the sad-sack faces? Lose a bet?”
Ace and Butch glanced at each other, and Ace sat back in his chair. Thomas ground his back teeth.
“It's nothing, man. Listen, Boss Man said you're done for the day.”
Thomas frowned. He'd never say that. In fact, he loved working him as hard as damn possible.
“He did, huh?” Thomas crossed his arms and lifted his chin again. “Where's he at now? I'll just make double sure before I head out. He in there?”
He gestured to Anna's door with his head and swallowed. Butch cleared his throat and Ace shook his head.
“No. Just head on home. You look tired.”
Tired be damned, he was sick. Something wasn't right. What the hell was going on?
“I'm fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “I'm just gonna make sure she's good. Did either of you two losers remember to feed her?”
Ace stood up and put a heavy hand on Thomas's shoulder.
“Go home, Tom. You're done for the day.”
Thomas twisted and snapped his shoulder free. Something was up with Anna, and the whole crew couldn't hold him back.
He took a step backward and spun on his heel, too lost in fear to hear what they were saying. Let one of them try and stop him. It'd be the worst damn mistake they made that day. He paused for one second at the door, before he stormed through.
His heels dug into the concrete just inside the door.
No . . .
His vision narrowed to a point, focused only on Anna and the swath of red down her stomach, the blood on her face. Her ripped shirt.
She turned a surprised look at him and dropped the shard of glass as she shot up from the bed, pulling her arms up in front of herself.
“Thomas!” She covered her mouth as tears poured from her eyes. “He . . . said . . .”
Something shifted in him. Prickles of rage settled deep in his chest, a sharp, violent pain; a sensation that rivaled any he'd had before.
He stormed across the room and took her terrified face in his shaking hands, tears floating in his eyes.
“Did he . . .” He sucked in a breath. He couldn't make himself say it. Despair threatened to split his brain wide open.
This was exactly the kind of thing that asshole would do, destroy a girl for no reason at all. Damage for damage’s sake. The chance fully existed that he had done what he wanted with her, left her bruised and broken, and she had only gotten halfway redressed. His stomach turned, filling with rage.
“Tell me he didn't take that from you!” He yelled and stroked his shaking thumbs across her wet cheeks, then squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to know, but he had to. The battle for control of his raging heartache, terror, and desire to rip a person limb from limb was quickly becoming a losing one.
He reopened his eyes to see his tears reflected in hers. No! His chest clenched and he swallowed. When she finally shook her head, relief sapped the air from his lungs.
“Anna,” he whispered jaggedly and nearly dropped to the ground in front of her. When he found his legs again, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him, struggling to be gentle even though all he wanted was to hold her as tight as he could. A glint on the floor drew his gaze, and as he caught sight of the shard, a pit opened in his stomach. He pulled back, eyes and mouth gaping.
“Were you,” he pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and fought the tears. “Damn it! God, Anna, I told you I'd come back. I told you how important you are to me. We can get through whatever, you just have to stay with me!”
She sucked in a stuttered breath and spoke in a broken rasp.
“I was going to,” she choked back another sob. “He said I'd never see you again and that he was going to kill Nick. What choice did I have?”
He scoffed and shook his head, pressing their cheeks together as he hugged her again.
“That's never a choice. Don't ever make that choice. When this is all over, I'll still be here.” He pulled back and put his hands on her face again. “You’ll be too. Understand me?”
She nodded, and he slid his hands down her face then wrapped his arms back around her again, hugging her tight as her sobs tore holes in his heart. Eventually, he sat her gently on the bed. The cuffs came off in a flash, and she covered her face.
Never again. His own life be damned, this made-just-for-him woman, the only thing good that’d ever happened to him in his whole wasted life, wasn’t staying here any longer.
Thomas gnashed his teeth and popped up to his feet, clutching the cuffs. With a shout, he pitched them clear across the large room, where they clattered against the far wall. Anna let out another sob, and he spun back around. He placed his hands on either side of her head and planted another firm kiss on the top of her head.
Never. Again.
He spun around again to storm into the bathroom but froze when he saw the broken mirror. He'd come so close to losing her. What the hell would he have done then?
He scowled and continued into the tiny room. He knew exactly what he would have done. He'd done it before, apparently. Didn’t matter that he didn’t remember, everyone else did. He walked back toward her with a wet towel and a fierce expression.
“Anna, I'm coming back tonight. I'm gonna get you out. I don't care what else happens to me, or who I havta kill, but you're not staying one more night. Not after this.”
He stood her up gently and held her gaze as he carefully wiped the blood off her chin. He wiped around the split in her lip with slow tenderness, watching her closely to make sure he didn't hurt her more.
Her chocolate brown eyes sucked him in, just like every time, but the tears suffocated him. He blinked several times and cleared his throat as he cleaned down her neck. The blood had started to dry which meant he had to wipe harder. Where the red cleared, old yellowed bruises made themselves known again.
That sorry son of a—
He wiped her collarbone and right below that. His rage grew the further down the blood went. He wasn’t sure how to tackle the next bit. His eyebrows knitted, and he blinked a tear back before looking in her eyes again.
“Do you . . . wanna do the rest?”
She covered her mouth to fight tears again, then finally shook her head. He planted a firm kiss on her forehead, speaking against her skin.
“Alright. Just . . .don't move, yeah?”
She nodded and closed her eyes, then leaned her side against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. She tucked her hands under her chin, keeping herself covered as best she could. He furrowed his brow in focus and began wiping the blood off the center and right of her chest.
She finally couldn't keep the tears in anymore and sobbed as she clutched at his shirt collar with her fingertips. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned his head down to hers.
The tally he’d been keeping of how many times he had failed to keep her safe and from harm would cap out tonight. And he’d spend the rest of his life making sure that number stayed exactly the hell where it was. He cleaned her stomach and around her bent elbows, as
carefully as he could, speaking just above a whisper as he went.
“I swear, Anna. I swear with everything I am. He'll never touch you again.”
She stuttered a breath and pulled him closer. Once he succeeded in getting all the blood he could safely reach, he leaned her up, catching her bloodshot gaze and offering her a small smile.
“There ya go, gorgeous. All gone. I'm gonna toss this in there,” he gestured with his head to the bathroom over his shoulder. “You tie up your shirt, yeah? Can you do that?”
She nodded and breathed in deeply.
“Atta girl. Be right back.”
He bent and snagged the mirror shard as he headed to the bathroom where he tossed it and the towel in the trash before hanging his head. He needed a plan. He waited another minute, using it to collect his thoughts from the swirling smoke of emotions in his brain.
How was he going to break her out? He slapped his hands down on either side of the sink. Charlie might help, but no way to know for sure unless he blabbed his plan. And he wasn't sure he was ready to do that, not yet at least.
He chewed the inside of his lip. He'd have to wait until there wasn't as much activity, which meant after the last trucks left. He grunted and put his hands on his hips. Or he'd have to break down and ask for help from the one person on earth he vowed never to ask again.
Drumming his fingers on his hips, he cast his gaze skyward. If he couldn't get help, he'd likely have to roll up, guns blazing. Really didn't want to kill that many people. He hated the idea Anna would know he did, even if it was to protect her. He saw how it tore her up to know what Nick was doing.
But right now, he'd set this whole damn place on fire with everyone in it and hold her hand while they watched them burn, surrounded by their screams.
His cheek twitched, and he blew out a short breath. The reflection in a leftover thin shard of glass in the mirror wiped the smile from his face, and he swallowed. She was better than that. He'd never damage her with that memory.
“You ready?” He called out to her.
“Yeah.”
He smiled. So damn strong. He stepped back through the door and stopped. She sat on the edge of the bed; worrying her puffy bottom lip. God, just looking at her fixed everything. She was so beautiful. He moved back to her, lost in her eyes as she glanced up.
“Thomas, what if you don't come back tonight?”
He smiled and clicked his cheek.
“I'm unstoppable, remember? I'll be back. Just be ready, right?” He took her hands and stood her up gently. “Ready to run.”
She finally returned his smile with a tiny one of her own, and his heart skipped, elated to see it.
The heat that rolled through his body when she looked at him like that was the single most addictive thing he’d ever experienced. If he could bottle it, he'd be rich. She didn’t see the monster everyone else did.
To her, he was just ‘Thomas.’
And the way her lips curled up at the ends was one of his many favorite things about her. He drew her closer and put her hands around his back, then wrapped his arms loosely around her neck.
“And we won't stop. Won't even look back.” He swallowed nervously and leaned her back a bit to catch her gaze. “We’ll run right to the end, where’s there’s nothin’ but sky, and nothin’ but time left to be you and I.”
Regret swamped him. That was the first time he’d ever done a poem out loud, and he was terrified of what she’d think. He'd only just started writing again, thanks to her, so she was probably going to hate it. Maybe he should have kept his damn mouth shut. In fact, she was for sure going to hate it. What the hell was he thinking . . .
Her eyes widened, and tears pooled at the corners again. He pinched his eyebrows up. Yep. Should have kept his dumb trap shut. He chewed on the inside of his mouth. “Too cheesy? Was it terrible? It sucked. Sorry, I'm a bit rus—”
She sobbed and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing for all she was worth. “It was beautiful!”
He blew out a breath and grinned as he squeezed her back. “Well, it’s all yours, gorgeous.”
She let out another sob before she rested her cheek against his chest and sniffled.
“Anna, I've gotta go now.” He placed a kiss on her neck. “Don't you dare cry, no need. And don't say bye.”
He pulled back and winked. She stuttered a breath, forcing a smile, and he kissed her forehead again before he strode to the door. He had plans to make.
When he glanced back, the sight of that smile made him feel ten foot tall, easy.
Nick
“Hey, you hungry?”
Nick pushed off the back of the chair and stepped past the tiny two-person wooden bar into the white L-shaped kitchen. Scarlet bent to snatch the little pillow up again and hugged it as she followed him.
The memory of being pressed against that same chest, running his hand across it came barreling to the forefront, and he shifted. Those thoughts would lead to exactly the wrong location in his house.
“A little. Can you cook?”
He chuckled. He'd only been cooking for two for eight years.
“Yes. Although Annalise would tell you no.”
Damn it! Apparently, he had to work harder. Talking to her was just too frustratingly easy. He scowled.
“That's a beautiful name, that's your sister?”
He avoided her gaze and nodded as he grabbed random ingredients from the fridge. He wasn't even paying attention to what he plopped down on the tiled counter. He was too busy having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that she was here. He'd thought about it. Dreamed about it. Shit, had nightmares about it.
Scarlet, who would run away screaming if she knew what was good for her, was in his apartment like everything was fine. Like he wasn't a killer. Like they were two normal people, talking about boxing and target shooting and about to share a meal. All while his sister was still being held captive. He frowned.
Bit much to process.
He put his hands on the counter and let his head drop. Her hand brushed his back, sending a tiny shock right through the shirt, and he glanced up.
“What's wrong?”
He snorted and shook his head. Like he could possibly answer such a loaded question. What could he even tell her? Was there even any point?
“Just got a lot on my mind.”
She hummed an amused note and pressed her hand further as she leaned around his arm to look at the counter. Why would that be funny? He couldn't decide whether to scowl or smile. Though, his decision-making skills were frazzled thanks to her hand, which wasn’t helping.
“I can tell. Not sure I want to taste what you're going to make with eggs, horseradish, pastrami, grape jelly, butter, and blueberries.”
He dropped a quick, surprised glance to the counter and let out a single laugh. So, that's what he grabbed. He wouldn't want to taste that either. If there was a recipe that used all that it would be some form of torture device. He smirked at her.
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
She giggled and removed her hand, the sudden loss of warmth finally drawing a scowl. He turned a backward glance in time to see her walk around the little bar toward the stool, the sway in her hips mesmerizing. He scowled harder. This was such a bad idea.
“Do you want to talk about it? I can be a pretty good listener when I stop talking.”
He laughed again. Then frowned. That was far past frustrating. It was too easy. Too easy to be around her. Too easy to enjoy himself. Too easy to . . . He shook his head as he started shoving the food back in the fridge. Would she be happy with someone like him? If she knew the truth? Of course not.
“By the way, the answer is yes.”
He raised his eyebrows and spun a quick look to her. She had her arms rested on the bar top, with her fingers linked. There's no way she was psychic . . . at least he damn sure hoped she wasn't. That would be a few seriously awkward conversations. He swallowed. He h
ad some pretty vivid thoughts.
“To what?”
It was then he noticed the softness her features had taken on. The little smile on her mouth. The slow blink she tossed him. He wasn't sure what caused the shift, but it was incredibly distracting. And frustrating. And sexy. And frustrating. Despite his best effort, he couldn't make his face scowl or his eyes blink.
“Whether I'd still want you without a late-night sidewalk rescue or two.”
He raised his eyebrows again. He wanted to move, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the way she looked biting her bottom lip as she crossed her arms.
Damn it, this was ridiculous. And such a horrible idea. Maybe he should have just kept guard outside her place instead. Not brought her to his. Where he could see her. Hear her. Smell her. He cleared his throat. Touch her.
“That's great. To know, I mean.”
Her smile widened, and she shifted on the stool, leaning further over the bar top and over her arms. He sucked in a breath and held it. That movement pushed her already perfect chest just a little higher. It was literally either storm around that bar and take her right then and there like they both wanted, or ask a benign question and try to keep things from spiraling out of control. His brain chose option two. Much to his body's complete and utter dismay.
He rubbed the side of his neck. “So, how are you feeling?”
She leaned back to sit fully on the stool and shrugged, appearing unaffected. He was still impressed with her ability to push past horrible things and carry on like nothing had happened. Actually, it was either impressive or concerning.
“Better now. Safer now. I just have to hope they weren't tailing me this time. He didn't know I left, though, as far as I know. He stalked up the stairs, and I shot out like a bullet, so I doubt he would have had time to call his bar buddies.”
Nick raised his eyebrows as the fog of desire lifted. “Bar buddies?”
She nodded as she kicked off her heels. They clattered to the floor, and he smiled. Annalise did the same damn thing. What was it with women and shoes?