DUNDEE // John Shelby

Chapter Sixteen

It was 10 in the morning once I got home and unloaded all the shit. I changed into a white button up with a pair of silk night pants. It didn't matter what I looked like, I just wanted to be comfortable. My body was aching like nothing else.

Giovanni, however, had the best fucking cigarettes I've ever had. I smoked one on the ride home, and let me tell you, I've never felt more free in my life.

I had an empty plate and a file in front of me. I opened it, then saw a picture of my father. It was when he was in his prime, at home. It was a picture with his brothers and my mother, and a big pile of cash on a table.

I read on through the file, looking at his war stats. He got payout papers in August 1918, then was filed dead in September 1918. What spooked me were drug deals that were marked November 1919. Four months ago. His picture was attached to it. He looked a lot more rugged.

I shut the file abruptly as I heard the door open and footsteps come into the house. They were the blinders, obviously. Their footsteps were recognizable a mile away.

"Toni, my brother here has something to say- Jesus fuck!" John screamed as he saw my face. Arthur and Tommy's faces also dropped when they saw what I looked like. I had cuts from my forehead all the way past my collar bones.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?!" Arthur questioned as he took a better look at my face.

"I took care of it." I lit another cigarette. They looked at the table, seeing my Bowie knife stained with blood.

"Took care of what? Because it looks like you got attacked by a wild fucking animal." Tommy commented, his eyes darting to the knife, then to my face.

"Giovanni's dead. No more vendetta." I spoke with the cigarette between my lips. Thomas's face dropped a little more as he saw a line of blood come from my cheekbone. This is what I get for talking. Lovely.

John handed me a damp washcloth to hold to my face, which I thanked him for. Even when we were mad at eachother, he still cared.

"But, there is good news." I got up and leaned against the counter, looking at the three.

"For you, or for us?" Tommy asked. I shrugged.

"My father's alive. Good for both." I looked at him. Tommy smiled and cocked his head to the side.

"How is that?" He asked. I shrugged.

"My father's name is known all over in the Middle East and most of Asia. He could get you so many connections it's not even funny." I told the three. Arthur nodded, Tommy was just shocked.

"Alright, let's not talk business when she looks like a fucking cutting board, eh? do it some other time." John walked towards me, standing beside me.

"You're right John, I'll leave you to your lady." Tommy said as he made his way out of my house, snagging a box of the high class cigarettes on his way out. What a bastard.

Before Tommy even got to the door, we all heard my mother shriek out of horror. She started pushing the two brother back into her home, shooing them with her sandal. What a fucking mess.

"Mama!" I grabbed her shoe out of her hand. She looked shocked to see me. How nice. "They're friends of mine," I looked at the three. "And dad's" That seemed to calm her.

"Who you?" I Guess her English had gotten somewhat better.

"These are the Shelby's, uhm," I looked at the three. "I work for them."

"The, John Shelby?" She asked, I nodded. Her face lit up in delight as she looked towards the youngest. What the fuck did those idiots tell her.

"We were just leaving, Mrs. Dundee," Tommy said, attempting to leave. My mother nodded in response, turning back to me. My mother nodded in response as she saw the three leave. Then she turned to face me.

Her hands went to the side of my face, seeing all the cuts and bruises. She gasped, tears swelling in her eyes.

"My baby, did Shelby's do this?" She asked me. I shook my head no.

"I'm fine." I told her with a small smile. She nodded in response.

"I need flour for bakery. We out." She told me, going to the cabinet and getting a sack of flour. "See tonight?" She asked, I nodded.

I guess I had to be cut up for my mother to look at me with something other than hate. Sure, she was still upset about my name, but who the hell cares now? It's a fucking name.

After a few minutes of her being gone, I started walking towards the stairs. Of course, the front door opened again, making me go back into the kitchen.

"Antonia, come here." John told me. He looked scared. His eyes were brighter than they normally were, and his tone was calm.

The moment I got in his reach, he put his arms around me and hugged me. He knew better than to hug me right, not wanting to get blood on his suit, but he hugged me like he actually meant it.

"Are you okay?" I asked, kissing his neck quickly. He nodded in response.

"They need to be cleaned. I don't want them to be infected." He looked at my face, scanning over every inch.

"I already cleaned them." I retorted, leaning back into his chest.

"They don't look clean." He pulled my face out of the crook of his neck. We made eye contact. "Where's your lavatory?"

"Up the stairs. Go in my room, then the door across from my bed." I mumbled into his chest.

His hands reached down to my thighs and picked me up in a swift motion. My legs wrapped around his torso, holding onto him. I didn't know why, but I just let him do it. I trusted him enough.

He turned the tap on for the bath, letting it run until it was about halfway fully. He undid his vest and blazer, but kept everything else on. He even rolled up his sleeve.

"You're not joining me?" I looked back at him once I had removed all my clothing, throwing them into the corner of the room. I could tell his face lit up by the way I heard his buttons being undone.

I sat at the end of the tub, pulling my knees towards my chest. I didn't really enjoy seeing myself bare, let alone John. It was better when it was dark in the room.

He sat across from me, smiling as he looked at my face. He grabbed the washcloth from the sink counter and dipped it into the water, then brought it to my face, slowly scraping the dirt away.

"When I was over in France..." he continued working on my face. "Men who got cut up like this turned really ugly really fast," he rinsed out the blood in the rag, then started working on my face again.

"Are you saying I'm gonna have a deformed face?" I smiled as I looked at him, he rolled his eyes. He actually had a pleasant smile.

"No. I'm saying I don't ever want to see you like this again. If Giovanni wasn't already dead, I'd blow him to fucking pieces." He said calmly. My smile widened, making my lip burst open once again. I caught the blood in my hand before making it drop into the water.

"That son of a bitch," John murmured as he cleaned the cuts closer to my jaw. "Making my girl not be able to smile," he mumbled. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Your girl?" I asked, adjusting my position a bit so it'd be more comfortable. He nodded.

"I don't want anyone else, Antonia. Even though you royally piss me off sometimes, I want to be with you." He ran his thumb over my jaw, his skin going into the indents mine had.

I leaned forward and kissed him, making him drop the washcloth and grasp my hips lightly. It dawned on me that my lips were still cut and chapped, he probably didn't want that.

"Is this okay? I mean, the cuts on my lips." I pulled away from him, straddling his waist in the water. He kissed my neck with a smile.

"Anything you do to me is okay," he kissed my jaw, looking up at me. "As long as you don't pull a bloody knife on me, I would probably be scared shitless,"

"I think we could have a little fun with a knife if we wanted to."