Saving Tin Man (#Wattys2014)

Chapter THIRTEEN

So hi everyone!

Tin Man broke 600 reads! Yay!

I know I told a lot of you I wasn't going to be able to post this for a while but guess what? The stars aligned, the rain poured and the work I was having to do took a break for one day, long enough for me to write. :)

Normal sized chapter this time. :) This chapter will reveal much about Justin and also will pose more questions. I can't give to much about him away all at one time or your brains will explode from his awesomeness. This is kind of a boring chapter, but it's informative and should make up for it. 

U guys are the best!

Not so sure when I'll get the next chapter out. Work is hectic. Stupid work. Might be two weeks, might be a week. Not sure.

Anyyyy who, those of you who are reading this story, can you comment and let me know you are? I'd like to see how many readers I've actually got on this thing.

As always, comments are rainbows on a rainy day and votes are chocolate chip cookies. (And yes, I've had cookies today. I'm pretty sure they would give Finnley a run for his money.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gobsmacked.

That's a word right?

If not, then I just invented a word to show how utterly surprised I am.

Mafia?

Russian Mafia? Justin doesn't have a hint of an accent. He doesn't break people's kneecaps or do...mob things.

Now that I think about it, I have no idea what people in mobs actually do other than the general Hollywood based assumption that you'll wind up in the bottom of a lake with a pair of concrete shoes. Maybe it's the name that carries a weighty stigma and it's really like joining the Boy Scouts or 4-H.

"Are you sure?"

He rubs the inked circle as if it's a dirt smudge on top of his hand and he can wipe it away.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably, eyes avoiding me.

"It's not... that bad." He mutters, playing it off.

"But it scares you. They scare you."

His expression softens from razors to chocolate pudding. "I never told you that."

"You didn't have to. Did they make you...kill people?" I chuckle at the notion of Justin popping a cap in someone while laughing maniacally. He doesn't have it in him.

Silence.

Oh my gawd! He's a contract killer! He's an assassin! Omg omg omg.

"You kill people!" I shriek, but before I can get the words out, his hands cover my mouth. Effectively silencing me, just as he's probably done with tons of other people.

"Shh. Don't tell the whole fucking world! Settle down!"

I'm squirming against him trying to escape. He's going to snap my puny little neck!

"Yoou illlllll peeeeefffllle!" I scream into his hand, trying to resist his grip on me, but he's much too strong. I'm a gnat trying to fly free from the sucking winds of a cyclone, I claw at his arms. I feel the muscles in his chest contract with surprise and one of his arms gently gathers up my Freddy Krueger claws and holds them in his free hand.

Whoa...wait... gently?

I'm struggling with all my strength, but the hand over my mouth is like a delicate paper napkin, dabbing away my freaked out screams. His hand that binds my wrist is applying no more pressure than if he'd gripped them passionately to pin me up against a wall to...