Here's chapter 27. I truly hope you enjoy it. And just as a warning, there are only a few updates left for TMB. I know, I am so sad. :'( I will truly miss it. If you enjoyed my writing and would like to read more of my work, I recommend you read When You Dare. Please vote and fan if you enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to let me know what you thought of it. Thank you. (:
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I had never felt more physically drained in my whole life. Fatigue was blurring my vision, causing my eyelids to drop incessantly over throbbing eyes. My stomach had seized growling, already seeming to notice that asking for food was hopeless; I hadn’t eaten since I left the apartment and I was certain there was no intention of feeding me or my lawyer. But the thirst was the worst. I felt limp, like I had been deprived of all my strength, and I wondered how long it would be until I was hallucinating, or worse, completely dehydrated. I hadn’t drunken anything the whole time I was here and it was beginning to take it’s toll on me.
I wasn’t sure the exact amount of time it’d been since I left the apartment but my rare glimpses outside of the storage container were giving me an idea. I was certain it’d been a few hours over a day since I had been taken. Since I had last seen Cisco. A tight knot formed at my stomach, both worry and longing taking over my mind.
I wanted nothing but to have him find me, for I was certain he was searching everywhere he could for me, but I couldn’t bare the thought of him getting hurt in the process. Or anyone else for that matter, but Cisco... He couldn’t get hurt.
A female cry for help had me brought out of my thoughts, my head snapping towards the sound that seemed to come right in front of us.
Again I heard her. “Help me, please!” and then, “Leave me alone!”
I froze where I sat, crouched into a corner with Mr. Benton dozing at my side. That was Delilah. Cisco was here.
Dread pooled in my belly, but a feeling of hope managed to form in my heart.
Bright light caught my eyes with force and I squinted from the unexpected halo. They had opened the container.
“I’m going to see what’s up,” one man, the one who’d been referred to as Moises, held open the door and looked toward his partner. “Stay in here and watch them. I won’t be long.” He cocked his gun and left, closing the crate behind him.
I almost screamed for him to stop, knowing Dee -and Cisco- were out there. But I couldn’t mess this up, not if I wanted our survival. Cisco and Delilah had probably planned this as thoroughly as they could and if I steered clear from their path, they had more chances of succeeding.
With my heart in my throat, I waited. Hours seemed to drag by when it had been nothing more than minutes, and the other man who stood erect by the crate’s door, Neil, was beginning to grow impatient.
“Hell’s taking so long?” he spat to himself. Neil cocked his gun and opened the crate, peering his head a good distance outside before turning to look me in the eye.
My heart stopped.
He looked away from, a glint in his eye, and pointed his gun. Then aimed fire a single time.
I gasped, rising to my knees and crawling to Mr. Benton. Blood stained his filthy white shirt and his head lolled awkwardly to the side, rattled by the impact of the bullet who penetrated his navel.
“No, no, no,” I whispered, moving to take off his shirt from him. If only I could apply some pressure to the wound-
Laughter came from behind me, causing my hairs to stick on end. “Oh, no you don’t. He’s going to die, Milani, and you won’t get to help him,” the man taunted, his voice closer by the second. I felt his breath on my ear, stopping me cold. “So don’t even try,” he whispered.
His rough grip on my arm caused me to wince and he dragged me to my feet, holding me to his side with one thick, meaty arm. Cool metal chilled the skin of my temple and I wondered how my legs didn’t give out beneath me. He had a gun pressed to my head.
“Don’t try anything stupid, sugar. Your life depends on it.”
I stayed quiet, shivering from the malace in his laughter. He took us outside the crate, my eyes needing time to readjust to such abundant light, and when they did, I quickly skimmed the area around me. There were crates, crates, and even more crates, their paint scraping off and giving way to rusting metal. The sky was a blank cape of silver overhead, hinting at the coming winter, and the chill of open land hit briskly at my skin. We were no longer in the heart of the city, surrounded by busy lights and streets and civilians, but instead hidden away from safety in what I was sure was an abandoned freight zone.
They couldn't have chosen a better place to kill and bury me in.
***
-Cisco-
I watched from a distance as Delilah spoke to one of the men. He was the one who was caught on camera in my lobby, I was sure. From his pale, ashen face, dark hair, and sturdy build, I could tell.
I knew everything that Delilah was saying to him, for we had rehearsed it beforehand, and I knew what was to come. If everything went as planned- Oh, I could only hope that it did. I hoped with every fiber of my body that nothing would go wayward. My very life was at stake.
Milani was my life now.
My hand pressed firmly on my pistol, I watched as the man was swayed by Dee's charms. I could almost imagine what she was saying to him.
I was being chased by a man. My- my pimp. He stopped paying me so I ran as far as I could, ending up here. And he's coming for me! I promise you, Delilah would say.
And surely he'd fall for her charms. Or so we hoped. Then she'd reel him in, make him an offer, and this would happen.
She put her arms around his neck, pulled him closer for a kiss, and the man took her mouth greedily. I winced. Poor Dee. And poor Mac, watching his woman be slobbered by another man. A pitiful one. But Mac was nothing if not reasonable and he knew what was at stake; lives.
I watched in silence as Dee sent us the signal, her thumb rising behind the man's head.
She slit open the back of his throat.
He hadn't the time to scream as he fell limply over Dee. She pried his body off of her, strong she was, and winked my way. She knew where I was hidden. Delilah walked away from the dead body and graciously hid behind a crate.
The first part of our plan had gone well, but things would only get harder.
Adrenaline slowly started to pump through my veins as I waited.
The crate's door opened and out came the dark head of a man, looking about him in scrutiny. He hissed under his breath when he saw the bloodied body of his dead friend. The head went back inside the crate. I wasn't given enough time think before I heard a gunshot inside the small space, my wall of sanity falling to the ground. It couldn't be. This wasn't happening.
If I hadn't gone through all those years of training, if the importance of keeping my composure hadn't been etched into my very soul, I'd have ran out of this fucking corner and into that crate. God knew I wanted to. But I knew that was the dumbest thing I could do. If a bullet had been fired to alarm me then it would be the captor's very intention to draw me out and I didn't know for certain if Mila, her lawyer, and their captor were the only people inside the crate. Perhaps the men had called for backup, people that could easily kill me when I entered the crate. It would do no good for us if I was dead. And if that were not the case, my very presence could alarm the man, causing him to truly hurt Mila if she wasn't hurt already.
My heart was slowly withering, blood pounding loudly in my neck and ears.
She could be seriously hurt, hell, she could be killed. And it was ruining me to just wait here.
I couldn't afford to let my mind take over, not now. I needed all of my senses and wits about me so I could end this once and for all. So I shook my head a single time and made myself believe that no one I loved was trapped behind those crate walls.
The door opened again, out coming the man. He had Mila clutched to his side, holding her in place with a rough arm over her belly and a gun placed steadily at her temple. He would pay.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted. "I know you're there."
Forcing a smirk off of my face, I made my presence known and walked the space to him, forcefully slow. God, I longed to run, to bash his face into his skull and leave him lying beside his partner. It was reckless, but it sounded like so much fun...
The only thing stopping me was the gun he pressed to Mila's head.
I stood before him, waiting, and forced myself not to look at her face. I couldn't look at her face. Surely, she was so scared.
"Drop your weapon," he commanded. I obliged, shrugging as I let my pistol fall to the floor.
I just needed a clear shot.
"It's a wonder you kept her alive," I observed, looking him in his dull green eyes. I hated talking of her so coldly, but I knew what I was doing. I wanted him to relax, to think I didn't care as much for her as I truly did. "See, I'm fairly certain the lawyer's dead. And you have everything you planned to take from the Belvedere family. So why the wait?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.
He narrowed his eyes, looked at me with hatred.
"I was waiting for you, of course." He tapped the gun twice against Mila's skull, playing. Fire spread through me. I couldn't resist the need to look at her, and so my eyes went to her face, so sweet and beautiful, but she was so scared. Her eyes were wide as the adrenaline rushed through her body, but there was no hiding the purple irises under them. Her face was pale, the usual rosy tint of her cheeks gone. She must be so tired, so thirsty, hungry...
"You see, you do care about her." And with more conviction, "I'm not a fool."
I fought the urge to glare at him. “Perhaps she’s grown on me.” There was no use denying him.
I avoided her eyes, praying to God she wasn’t believing any of this nonsense.
The man’s chest rumbled when he laughed. “A little more than that, I’m sure. I wonder, how would you feel if I killed her right now?” He cocked his head to one side, mocking me as he pretended to ponder. By God, the force of my restraint was leaving me in awe.
“Probably the same as you feel.” I looked down at his partner’s body, but his eyes didn’t follow mine.
Fuck. I needed him to look down. A clean shot.
“But you wouldn’t kill her,” I said, staring him in the eye.
He arched a brow, looking at me with uneasy eyes. Oh, was I unnerving him? Pity. “And you’re sure of this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because, you said so yourself, you were waiting for me. And you know very well that if my client dies, I won’t be willing to talk. And you won’t be able to.”
He stared at me, his expression troubled as he tried to think. “We were going to offer you money if you cast your head to the other side and pretended none of this was happening. But now,” he trailed off, causing me to shake my head in amusement.
But now he had no stability. His partner was dead and he was all by himself. He knew that whether or not he killed Mila, I would kill him, and that even if I decided not to, I’d turn him in to the authorities.
He didn’t question my ability to disarm him if he was on his own.
I looked at Mila, caught hold of her fear-stricken eyes, and saw her silent plead to me. That’s it, this was how long I wanted this to last. He was going to give me a clear shot, now.
“You partner, who was he?” I asked. He glared, staying silent. “Your brother? Cousin?” I paused, letting the words reach him, “Boyfriend?”
He let out a breath, pain in his eyes, and I knew the answer was yes. They were partners in crime, in the literal sense. My hand twitched at my side, feeling the arising opportunity. If he looked down at his boyfriend, slightly to his left where he laid on the floor, his head would completely jut out in front of Mila’s, giving Mac and his rifle a clear shot of his head without any chance of harming her.
It was perfect. But not yet here.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And that did it, a rough sound escaped his throat as he cast his head downward to look at his dead partner.
I opened my hand, then closed it, a gesture lasting naught but a millisecond.
And the man was falling to the ground before I could count the passing seconds, dragging Mila down with him and his weight. A small cry left her throat as she hit the ground, tumbling over dead limbs and jarring her knee against the concrete.
I ran to her, disentangled her from the dead man’s hold and took her into my arms.
She was frail and trembling, undoubtedly cold with the harshness of the coming winter.
“My goodness, sweetheart. You’re safe now,” I murmured, stripping off my coat and putting it over her shoulders. Was she trembling from the weather, fear, adrenaline? Just the same, I wanted it stopped.
Warm blue eyes looked into mine, scared and frantic. “F-Forget me. Mr. Benton. He’s been hurt. In the crate,” she sputtered, holding the coat to her shaking body. I wanted to protest, tell her she needed me with her, but I knew better. I nodded, rising to my feet. Delilah was already coming our way. She gave me a wistful smile and nodded her head, telling me to go.
The crate was dark despite the invading daylight, reeking of dust moats and decay. The floor was a memorial to all kinds of substances; blood, urine, feces, dropped food. Mila had been kept here for hours, and judging from her appearance, she’d had naught to eat or drink. And this floor had been whatever kind of resting area she could’ve used to sleep. I hated to think of her here, alone and scared and neglected.
With one sweep of the room, I saw him, lying awkwardly on the floor, slumped against the wall. In this position he was in, I was sure he had been sleeping when shot. That wasn’t good, for the adrenaline that would’ve ensued were he expecting the bullet and fighting for his life would’ve given him strength after the blow.
I ran to him, searched for a pulse in his neck. It was too weak, almost too hard to feel under my fingers, and the loss of blood was immense. I took of my shirt, ripped it open so that I could tie it over his torso and cover his navel, tying it as tightly as I could without hurting anything internal. I doubted it would help, for so much blood had already left him. How he was still alive, I didn’t know.
I’d get him to a hospital. The nearest one was only five minutes away.
I wanted him to, but I doubted he’d survive.
***
-Mila-
Police officers had been called to the scene, taking care of both of my captors’ bodies. One cop was assigned to come with us to the hospital, thus making it easier for us to leave the hospital without any delay. If we had no explanation, they’d make us wait as they called for police who’d later explain to them why there was a dead body in their E.R.
Mr. Benton had died at the very hospital though I was almost certain he had stopped living when we were in the car. I hadn’t asked, too afraid to know, and they hadn’t told me, wary of my reaction.
I had met the famous Mac, thanked him and our friend Dee for all their help. I wouldn’t be alive if it were not for them. And for Francisco. He was everything. I had yet to thank him, wanting a moment alone with him so that I could do it right.
All I had wanted these past hours was his warmth, his simple presence, and everything he brought along with it. And now we were finally alone, unbelievable as it was. It was too good to be true. He hadn’t been hurt, neither had Dee or Mac, and I had been spared of any harm as well. But poor Mr. Benton, it was all my fault-
“Honey?” Cisco’s voice brought me to reality. He had me seated in his lap, on the couch in his living room. I was no longer in that stuffy crate and that, too, was hard to believe.
“Hmm?” I looked up at him, love filling me when I looked into those deep dark eyes.
He studied me. No doubt he was wondering if I was alright. I had been all sorts of messed up when I saw the thick, red liquid stains on my clothes and I hadn’t calmed down until he stripped me, helped me take a hot shower. He’d quickly fixed me a meal, made sure that I was not breaking apart. And all I wanted was to sleep in the comfort of his arms, sleep throughout the night without fear of waking up dead, in some other place.
“It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Benton died.”
Well, he hit the spot. He was Francisco. “It was my fault. He’d not been dragged into this mess if it weren’t for me. He was innocent man, Cisco, and now he’s dead.”
He took my face into his hands, shook me gently. “No. Can’t you see? You didn’t want any of this. It’s all their fault, Milani. They took this upon themselves, and now they’re dead.” His eyes searched frantically in me for my understanding.
I cupped his forearms with my hand, felt the tense, bulging muscles under my palm. “You’re right,” I whispered. I always blamed myself.
Cisco relaxed when he judged for himself I was not only trying to make him feel better. He let out a sigh of relief, pressed his lips against my forehead. I closed my eyes in bliss, letting me take in the overpowering feelings he gave me.
“I love you,” I said to him.
“I love you, Mila.” He looked into my eyes, and with a pause, “You know, I had never been more scared in my life than in these past few hours. No one’s ever mattered this much to me. And to think I might’ve lost you,” he trailed off, resting his forehead against mine. “It almost killed me.”
I could only breathe, “Thank you for saving me.”
He chuckled. “I’ll never stop.”
Gingerly I stood from his lap, placed my feet on the smooth, icy marble of the floor. I stretched my hand out to him and he placed his own in mine. Fair against dark, cool against warm. His face, handsome and rugged as ever, was softened with the sweet expression of his eyes: love.
This man, this wonderful man, loved me. Just as I loved him.
“Take me to bed, please,” I whispered.
“With pleasure.” He took me into his arms.