Leave Her in Pieces

by August Red

  Judas gives him little time to think or react because the next second, he lifts his collar and shoves him right back into the wall. The pathetic weed panics and dares to swing his arm at him. But Judas is too quick and blocks the punch, countering it with one of is own, right in the gut so that his victim curls over. He’s gasping for air, his arm banding around his midsection.

  His face is red with pain and fear as he gulps to say, “L-Listen, man, whatever you want. You can have my wallet, okay—take it."

  Judas grumbles over him, right before he drags Emmett Irving’s hunched-form back up and presses him into the hard surface. He uses the collar to jerk him forward and beat his head back, before hissing through his teeth, “You know Belle Dela Cruz." It isn’t a question.

  Emmett whimpers low, “I-I don't know… Look, man… she… whatever she told you she’s a lying bitch—"

  Judas punches him in the gut. “I dare you to call her that again.”

  A tear rolls down Emmett’s cheek. Judas isn’t sure if it’s emotional or physical. He hopes it’s the latter.

  “P-Please, don’t hurt me.”

  Kicking him in the stomach, Judas warns, “You come near her again—it won’t end well for you. We clear?” The gruff voice threatens.

  “I—I… I don't know what—”

  Judas grabs the top of Emmett’s hair and slams his head back into the wall. “Understand?" It knocks the wind out of him.

  “Yeah…” Emmett gasps, “Yeah… I understand… I understand completely."

  “Good.”

  The asshole beneath him lets out a brutal cough. His eyes adjust for a second on Judas; the glow of anger in Judas’ stare, along with the ruthless edges and shadows of his face, scream murder at his target. The little shit quickly returns his foggy gaze to the floor, breathing in gulps of fresh air as though more pain is taking over. Emmett’s eyes shut tight, his hands resting on his knees.

  When he dares to look up, Judas is looming over him. “I said… I promise man…” There are more tears welling in his eyes. “Please I—”

  Judas’ reflexes are too fast. His arm whips out, the heel of his hand smashing against the bridge of the little fucker’s nose. His head cracks back, and his body follows after, plummeting fast onto the concrete.

  Blood spurts out from his victim’s nose, coating his lips. “Fuck!” Emmett jerks when he touches the swollen broken area.

  Judas doesn’t budge as he watches him squirm on the floor. A cold pleasure dances across Judas’ eyes as he hisses, “In case you forgot."

  And then, like a ghost, just as he appeared, Judas is gone.

  Payback is a bitch.

  But it’s way too much fun to dish out.

  “VLADIMIR.”

  “It's me." Judas can hear the sigh through the static of the shitty reception.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, it's about fucking time.”

  “Yeah, I know. I'm parked for the day, riding back tomorrow,” Judas replies.

  “No later. We need to run on this thing."

  “Yeah, we gotta talk."

  “We will. Just get back."

  “Tomorrow morning,” Judas says, his voice hushes as a million thoughts take over. "Should be in by seven. Gonna ride all night."

  “Ten. You know I hate mornings."

  “Yeah…” Judas replies, already distracted. “Tomorrow,” he repeats, snapping the phone shut against his cheek. He raises his hand to the base of his neck, and then sighs when he realizes it’s not there anymore. His silver cross. It’s the only reminder he has of… her. He must have fucking lost it somewhere…

  He is so lost in the pieces that he has to put back together. The mess that the last few days have created… he isn’t sure where he’s suppose to begin. He’s starting to feel like his old self again though. His side hurts like a bitch and he’s weaker than he’ll ever admit, but he can do his job, and that is all that matters.

  Judas glances at the small damp bed knowing he can’t put off sleep for too much longer. If he sleeps for a few hours and rides all night, he should be good. His fingers graze the top of his left side, taking in the bump under his white shirt.

  Belle Dela Cruz...

  The girl from his past.

  His last good deed.

  She nursed him back from the brink of death, fed him, put up with his shit… He doesn’t know one single person who would go to the extent she did to save a stranger. Even after everything she’s been through—

  But why the fuck should I care? What the fuck happened to me there, anyway? I got all… soft… That isn’t me.... It was because of the fever, the drugs. THAT’S why I acted the way I did, said those things, felt those things… I don’t give a shit about her… It was all an act… Yeah, an act to get what I wanted from her… That’s all…

  Yeah, he did the right thing. Leaving when he did. The intensity is messing with his head, closing in on him. Judas finally feels like he can breathe. The air around him isn’t so suffocating. He doesn’t feel boxed in anymore. The motel room may be dingy and cheap, but it’s clean enough for him. And it’s got him far away from her. The farther the better.

  Thump thump.

  His chair, which is leaning back on its hind legs, ceases from moving.

  Who the fuck?

  He waits for a second knock, and when it comes, he lets the chair fall in a silent thud while he retrieves his gun from under his shirt.

  No-one knows where he is. Not even Vladimir.

  He cocks the gun in place and holds it at his side before he moves over to the small window near the door. With one finger he pushes the stained white translucent curtain slightly away and peeks out.

  His back tenses and his fingers squeeze around the stem of the gun. He growls, “Son-of-a-bitch,” and lets the curtain hang back.

  The fuck you think you’re doin’?

  He pauses for a moment, but a third knock sprints him into action, making him dig the gun back in place. Rage grows inside him, rocketing to the forefront of his mind. He throws the door open, making the unwanted guest in front of him yelp.

  “What the hell’re you doin’ here?” Although his voice can’t mask his outrage, he tries hard to control its volume.

  It's the last person he’d ever suspect.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I-I…” SHE LICKS HER LIPS. He watches the movement. It seems to further his fury. “I came to see you."

  “The fuck would you wanna do that?”

  “Because I-I,” she stumbles, her cheeks prickling with heat. “I have something to say to you—”

  “Shit. You shouldn't be here—"

  “But I am,” Belle cuts through. “I have something to tell you and you're going to listen to me whether you like it not."

  "How'd you know where to find me?" he bites out.

  Luck, Belle's always believed, is a fickle thing. A streak of luck has never come down from the heavens and touched her with some of its magic.

  Until today.

  But from the way Judas swung open the door and smacked her with the darkest eyes she's ever laid her eyes on, she’s beginning to believe maybe it’s Luck asking Karma to pay her back for all the times she’s cursed Luck. Either way, she’s here standing in front of him with a million words in her heart, none of them transferring to her brain. She keeps breathing, in and out. Her chest feels scratchy under the soft material of her sweater.

  "Uh, well, this is a small town and I figured if you were still here you can only be in a few places. I tried the local motel first but no luck obviously”—she can’t stop herself from rambling—“and this is the only place to go to rest that's right on the outskirts of town because after that it’s all highway until you hit the city... so..."

  Standing opposite him in the doorway, she somehow doesn’t feel in place with him. Judas is so undeniably beautiful, and every time, he steals her breath. Hair casually tousled, flexes of gold shining back at her from the Sun, his eyes starbursts of electric blue, his clothes re
laxed, wrinkled but gorgeously accenting his chest, stomach—all the tight, hard places she doesn’t want to notice, but can’t stop her body from responding to.

  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea... But it’s too late to turn back... This is my only chance.

  His breath rasps in his throat, bringing her back to focus. "Uh, I just asked the clerk if anyone matching your description—you know you don't get too many tall… men of your big, uh, build… in these parts that often, so..."

  Please stop mumbling.

  But the nerves eat away at her and she just can’t stop herself. "Yes, so, I asked if someone like you rented a room. Forty bucks later and I got a room number. Easy as… pie, really..." She sneaks a small peek at him, watching his chest rise higher with each passing second.

  "Why’re you here?" he grunts.

  She isn’t sure where exactly to start. The truth is tangled in a web of emotions. Judas is blunt and to the point. She should just blurt it out, save herself more humiliation.

  “Judas, I—”

  The words stop in her throat when his arm snakes out and yanks her from the shoulder, and into the dark room behind him. The door slams, making the lamp on the nearby desk rattle.

  He lets go once they’re inside the room, but he doesn’t lengthen the distance between them. He towers over her like some dark overlord about to smite down a harsh ruling. The light from the room is dim at best, casting shadows on his face that make him appear harder and meaner than she remembers.

  Staggering mentally under his stare, she opens her mouth and hopes instinct will take over. "I, um—”

  “The fuck you thinking, Belle?” He stomps closer.

  She stumbles back. “I wasn’t. I mean—”

  “Yeah, damn straight you weren't. You shouldn't be here. Leave.” He stabs a finger at the door, his eyes blazing into hers. “Now.”

  “No."

  “That wasn’t a request. Get back to town before your parents find out where you are.” When she remains in place, her eyes hold his, and then he erases the foot between them with one, large, stride. “You're leaving whether it's your choice or not—it’s up to you."

  His hand comes up, but she’s quicker, darting away from his grasp and moves around him. “Oh, no—not before I say what I need to say."

  “Belle—”

  When he turns, she knows he’s expecting her to be that vulnerable girl he first met. But, standing opposite him now, her stance is rigid and determined, her eyes two hard jewels like a wooden doll. She is anything but the Belle Dela Cruz he’s become familiar with.

  “Just hear me out; I need to say this."

  She can see his anger simmering under a fine line of paper-thin control. “Belle,” he rasps, “I'm a dangerous man. You get that?"

  “This has nothing to do with who you are, Judas."

  “It has everything to do with it! You need to go, Belle. Go before you regret it.” His words almost sound like a warning, something wise that she should heed before he does something he can’t control. But she can’t. She won’t. Not when she has come this far.

  “Maybe you can ignore what's going on but I can’t, I won’t, I…” She fumbles, licking her dry lips. Her thumb traces the inside of her palm as she searches his eyes for a sign. Any sign of connection. “…I care about you," she says, whisper soft. When he stands as still as a statue, with no flicker of feeling for her confession, she forces herself to continue, “I know what happened between us… I mean, I know what you went through was traumatic but things like this don't happen every day. I'm not sure… I mean, I'm not dealing with it right, I know, but I can't ignore it, Judas. For the first time I don't want to."

  “You got no idea what you’re saying,” he replies, shaking his head. "You're a kid. I helped you years ago, Belle, that's all this is. You see me as some kind of a hero—well I'm not!” His voice seems to roar, shaking the very ground beneath her. “There’s no good in me and you need to stay the hell away from me!"

  She pretends she doesn’t hear him yelling at her, gulping down the anxiety that vibrates inside her. “I'm not a child. I know I'm… damaged... but I know how I feel. I know what's going on inside me isn't some stupid adolescent crush.”

  “You wouldn’t like me if you knew the things I've done.” His voice is gruff and his words are short on patience.

  “But that’s it, Judas. I have seen the things you’ve done. When you saved me, you didn’t just save me from being raped by that sick bastard…” She can’t help but smile, remembering what he did for her. “…You saved me from myself.” His stare seems to devour her, and she feels her knees buckling underneath her. “I’ve seen what evil really is—enough to know you’re not bad inside. And don't tell me I'm just feeling this because of the situation.” His brilliant blue eyes seem to boil with fury, but it only furthers her need to finish. She came here for a reason. And nothing is going to stop her. "Don’t you get it? Maybe you weren't looking for it—God knows I wasn’t—but you found something in me I thought died long ago. You got me when no-one has ever even tried and I realize I don’t have to pretend with you. I don’t want to—”

  “Don’t.”

  “—When I went into my shell, I’ve done nothing but pretend to be something I’m not to everyone around me, being in control of everything. But then you came along and—”she inhales sharply“—I can’t fake my way through you.”

  "Belle—"

  "You see me, Judas." She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes misty as she strips herself completely bare. "You make me feel alive.” Her flush burns like the Sun is scorching six inches above her. “I like you and I won’t apologize for it.”

  Stark silence follows; their breathing the only audible passage flowing between them. Belle fiddles with the round button of her jeans, her fingers betraying her with a slight shake in every move. She peers at him through her lashes. Waiting.

  “We’re from completely different worlds, Belle,” he strains out through gritted teeth, like she should know that already. Hearing her heart pound frantically, all her strength leaves her body. “You have no idea who I am and the things I’m in to. There’s evil that has never touched you, Belle, and it flows in every vein of my body. So for your sake—leave.”

  Belle shakes her head. ”I know there’s more to you than I could know… I didn’t come here thinking we’ll get married and be together, Judas. I know there’s no future for us.” Belle hadn’t come here to run away with him into the proverbial sunset. Her family are in trouble. She’s moving away—God knows where—and Judas… Judas is from a dangerous world. She sighs, knowing it can never be. “I had to at least tell you how I feel and to say thank you.”

  His eyes rake her. “For what?” he asks, his voice an angry pained rasp. He steps back as if her gratitude poisons him.

  It’s her turn to come closer, a compulsion firing up inside her as she sees the control in him break and snap, only to fall back in place. He shakes his head, licking his lips and taking a breath in one movement.

  She can’t stop her trembling hand from reaching out, stroking the side of his face. “For saving me."

  “Don't,” he warns, in a rough heated whisper.

  “Don’t what? she murmurs, her hand feathering across his strong jawline.

  He grabs her wrist, yanking her hand away. “You know exactly what.” When her wrist goes limp under his hold, he drops it. His hand stays still in the air, waiting, and his face turns red as frustration soaks up every word he spits out, “Do you really think I could feel the same way about someone like you? I don’t want you and I never will.”

  Belle shoves him. The surprise of the movement jerks him off-balance but he easily finds control. “Are we done?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Good.” His hoarse voice shakes.

  “You think I wanted you to mess with my heart?” She goes to shove him again, but his hands come up to block her, holding her tiny wrists between his solid fingers, their faces a mere inch apart.
“That I wanted to remember what happiness felt like—for even a second when you kissed me?! That I don’t know I’m broken inside after what he did to me that night—”

  “Don’t…” His torn voice hisses between them as his breathing escalates. His hand dives into her hair, drawing her forehead against his. "Belle...” his hot breath pants, “I might want more than you're willing to give."

  "How do you know? Maybe I want more than you can give, Judas."

  "Not likely." The crystal blue vanishes, blackening when her tongue sweeps across the lower half of her mouth. He runs his thumb over her lower lip and softly kisses it. She can already taste his fire that’s burning inside of him. A low, hungry sound rips from his throat. “You’re playing with fire, Belle,” he warns, his expression tight with pain.

  "I know what I'm getting into," she whispers. Her pulse throbs as the heat of his stare ignites inside her.

  "I'm bound to lose control with you." His voice is so thick with desire, it brings on the sensation of hair rising on her arms and nape.

  Belle knows she’s playing with fire; she just can’t help but go down in flames with him. "Then lose control."

  His mouth descends on her lips, followed by a raw deafening silence that only breaks when she hears her own gasp flooding her ears. He collides against her; their bodies and mouths fusing together all at once. The moist heat of his mouth is the first sensation she feels; the intense contact dousing her thoughts and liquefying her in place as he presses his parted lips harder into hers. His mouth hovers over hers for a second only to wedge her plump lower lip between his. Her shaky moan vanishes in between them as he kisses her again, toying with her mouth, thoroughly touching every unattended inch of it. Her eyes close as the heat of his want travels through her, catching on the nerve-endings inside her and making her bloodstream scream.

  His hands come up and cup the sides of her face, directing her head, turning it sideways as he seeks to deepen the kiss. His face slants as his lips pull from hers, opening slightly wider before consuming her again. Their mouths mate, opening and closing together, slowly at first, then the pace quickens, fervently, when her tongue darts out tenderly. His tongue meets hers, massages it agonizingly in slow maneuvering circles, before taking over completely and leading her into her mouth.