Devlin looked up from the piano keys in utter shock when he heard the first sound of a gunshot. When people started to scream, he jumped from his seat and raced to help the children to safety. Thankfully, the door backstage was not clogged with people running for dear life so he was able to help shepherd the kids from danger.
Backstage, people were frantic and on edge. "Stay here, you will be safe, I promise." With that, he shut the door of the room and raced back to the ballroom in search of Pamela. He frantically prayed that she was safe, that she was alright. When more shots were fired, his heart dropped in panic. As he made his way around, he helped those he could and directed them to the backstage door but his heart pounded with trepidation.
Please let her be safe, he pleaded with God. I know we haven't spoken in a long while, but please, let her be safe. Please.
He drew up short when he saw a masked man holding Pamela at gunpoint. She was deathly still as if afraid that if she as much as breathed, he'd pull the trigger.
"Let her go!" He commanded, anger seeping through him.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll repeat myself one last time. Get away from her." He growled, ready to tear the person limb to limb.
"Why don't we do it this way? I call the shots because I have her at gunpoint and will shoot if you take a step."
Devlin gritted his teeth in anger as he watched Cody slowly approach the masked man from behind, aiming a gun at him. What was he waiting for? Permission to shoot?
"You will not pull the trigger."
"Try me."
"What do you want?" Devlin asked, making conversation to buy time. He seemed composed but in reality, he was sick with worry. Suddenly, there was a loud blast of a gunshot that sent the masked man to the floor. He ran forward to catch Pamela who was shivering.
"Take me home!" She cried amidst rising hysterical sobs.
He held her and patted her back, then turned to Cody. "Take her to the safe house," he brought out a gun from his pocket and gave the masked man a hard look. "I have unfinished business here."
~
Pamela was sitting in front of the mirror, running a brush through her hair. She was naked, her eyes were closed and her face was wet with tears. Brushing the brown locks of her hair to smoothness had always done a lot in soothing her nerves.
It was almost midnight and she was still recovering from the shock she'd undergone during the shootout at the gala. She couldn't dispel the violence she'd encountered even after Cody had put her in the car to take her home. The car had been shot at and she'd been very hysterical, screaming and crying but Cody assured her that the van was bulletproof and that Devlin would be back safe and sound.
Like she cared. All she wanted was her father's body. All she wanted was to leave. Whether she liked it or not, the danger would always be around him. Today, however, had been proof that he was protecting her, therefore, the possibility that he'd been the one that had attacked her on the day her dad died was beginning to look like a farce. Today, he hadn't been the one that'd held a gun to her head. He'd instead, been the one who'd saved her. Did that mean he was good? No, good was a stretch. Considerate was more fitting.
True to Cody's words, Devlin came back an hour ago. She knew because her mother had refused to go to bed till he was back. He was stained with blood when he arrived. Dorothea had been agitated and worried about him, even more than she had been for her daughter.
A knock on her door brought her back to the present.
"Yes?" She wiped her tears and put on her robe.
"Dorothea."
"Come in."
"It's locked." She said after a second.
Pamela stood up and went to unlock the door. Dorothea stood there looking somber. Pamela made way for her to enter then she shut the door.
"Is everything alright?" Pamela asked.
"I think I should ask you that."
"Really?" Pamela asked with biting sarcasm.
Dorothea sighed. "Are you okay? I think I should know if anything is wrong."
"Of course, something is wrong, Dorothea. I was held at gunpoint." She said aloud like she was talking to an idiot. "I am shaken up and need to rest."
"Yes and I understand honey. I'm so sorry about what happened."
"Thanks."
"You're pushing me away, Pamela. You're still mad at me about the divorce."
Pamela groaned in protest and sat. "Why are you bringing this up? This has nothing to do with the other."
"Of course it does, and I assure you I would feel the same if I were in your shoes. But try to understand me, honey -"
"Understand what exactly?" she shouted. "The fact that you threw away twenty-five years of marriage? The fact that you broke his heart and refused to forgive him even after seeing how he was suffering? What Dorothea, what?"
"The fact that I left him so I wouldn't lose him, how about that?!" Dorothea yelled back.
Pamela was taken aback. "What?"
Dorothea closed her eyes and took in deep breaths. "Just, just let it go." She whispered.
All the shouting had drained her strength but she didn't give up. "Tell me."
"I said let it go."
Pamela took a deep breath. "I want to go home."
Her mother looked at her sharply. "If you leave here, you'll be killed."
"You think so? The enemy who wants to kill me has shown me his face. I'm not scared of him at all."
Dorothea scoffed. "Devlin is not the enemy. If my memory serves me well, you said that he saved you from a masked man that held you at gunpoint. How can an enemy do that?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he staged all that just to win my trust and then slowly kill me someday."
"You are so naïve."
She placed her hand on her chest in mock surprise. "Oh really? Thank you but I'm just being cautious, a trait you suck at. Tell me, why do you insist we stay here? And why do you show so much concern for that beast?"
Her mother gave her a calm look. "Is that the problem? You're jealous?"
"No, the problem is I'm wondering if he's the reason you walked away from twenty-five years of marital bliss."
"What? That's ridiculous. Devlin is –" Dorothea sighed. "You know what? I'm out. All I'll do is advise you to stay here because your life is important to me."
"I don't know the horseshit he's been feeding you but I'm fine, and I can take care of myself."
"Pamela, please." Then Dorothea smiled. "I think you like him."
"Excuse me?"
"That's the reason you're denying that he's a good person. You don't want to see him as a protector, you want to see him as the monster you were expecting him to be. Beneath all that façade honey, I think you like him."
"Mom!"
"What? It's the truth."
She folded her hands beneath her breasts. "I think you've overstayed your welcome."
"Relax, Pamela. I was just saying." She laughed. "Whenever you're offended you puff up like an emotional porcupine. Take it easy."
"This is not a freaking movie. I what, get kidnapped then fall in love with the Mafia and we make love in a parking lot?"
"Doesn't sound half as bad."
"Why is he still holding dad?" She switched the subject because it was getting way too uncomfortable for her.
"He has his reasons."
She rolled her eyes. "I bet."
"Why don't you go talk to him about it?"
"Like he's going to listen? He's the worst person to have a conversation with and besides, he's injured. Ain't nothing scarier than a wounded beast."
"Stop calling him that, it's mean. And all I can say is that you should try to talk to him, iron things out, and see the real Devlin." Her mother stood. "He's in the garden right now. Go there. Talk to him."
Dorothea placed a comforting hand on Pamela's shoulder for a brief and fleeting moment, accompanied by the warmth she had so longed for from her mom ever since the divorce, before exiting the room, shutting the door quietly and replacing the warmth with coldness.
Pamela sighed. She stood before the foot-length mirror. "I am Pamela King. I am Pamela King. I am Pamela King. Daughter of Robert King, the CEO of King Pharmaceutical. I am bold, I am beautiful, I am –"
So this is the famous Pamela. What did Rob call you then? Was it Pam Pam?
SHUT UP! Pamela yelled at Devlin's voice that spoke up in her head.
~
His square and huge figure was facing the sea of daffodils, and it looked like his shoulders were slumped, or so Pamela thought as she made her way toward him.
It had taken all the strength she had to muster the courage to meet him. Not courage per se, because she was not scared of him. It was more like strength to deal with the stress he loved to dish out. She had even memorized what she was going to say to him to keep the meeting as brief and concise as possible. She envisioned how the conversation would go:
Pamela: Hey.
Him: Hey.
Pamela: Can I go home?
Him: Of course, you can.
Pamela: Can I take my dad's body along?
Him: Sure you can.
Pamela: Thanks. You're not as awful as you sometimes are.
"What?"
"I said you're not as - wait why are you replying to me?"
"Because I think only insane people talk to themselves, especially when about to step on a TRAP!"
Suddenly, she was roughly yanked from under her feet to the nearby bush as bullets started exploding. It took ten seconds for it to stop and all the while she was laying on him, held close to his beating heart, and – was that the rough feel of a bandage?
When the ruckus was over, Pamela bolted away from him like he was a beast. Well, wasn't he?
"What was that for?!" she demanded.
"You're welcome."
"Tell me Devlin, are your enemies that much that you have to surround yourself with so much danger?"
"This place is laden with traps in case of infiltration. Only my men know where the traps are. Those that don't would've stepped on it and would be dead by now. You should thank me."
"Yaay, thank you."
He ignored her sarcasm. "Talking to yourself is crazy. If you're going around the bend then you probably need all the drugs your father manufactured."
"Speak of the dead with respect! What is your problem?"
"You!" he exploded, his face dangerously close to hers. He turned away. "You're my problem. My responsibility. You!"
"I don't need you! I can take care of myself! I want to go home."
"Really?" the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in mock. "If I let you go how sure am I that you won't start talking to yourself again?"
"I won't because you're the one that drives me crazy!" Pamela massaged her throbbing temple and paced the garden. "You know what Devin, all I need right now is happiness. And I realize I'm not getting any of that with you; regardless of the so-called protection you offer."
"So what do you want?"
She faced him. "I want to bury my dad. Please." It cost her a whole lot of her pride to say please. But she said it anyway. She had to.
"Okay. When you choose a suitable day, we'll bury him."
"We?"
"Rob is a -" Devlin stopped. "Never mind."
"I want to know. Everyone seems to know something except me. I want to understand what's going on! Why did you kidnap me? Why are you protecting me? Who's after my life? Who was the person that held me at gunpoint today? I'm going crazy with questions."
"It's better you don't know."
"Fuck you!" She yelled and stormed off. She was so frustrated she could cry. All of a sudden, a strong hand curled around her arm. It was Devlin. He turned her around and held her toward him in a tight embrace. Pamela was stunned to silence.
They remained that way for several seconds: her head on his beating heart, his hand still around her arm. She looked up at him, just as he looked down at her. The look in his eyes was filled with something she couldn't decipher but it made her mouth go dry and her heartbeat quicken. His dark hair was falling over his face and she resisted the urge to sweep it back. He let go of her and slid his strong arms around her.
Before she knew what was happening, his face started to close in. An alarm bell went off in her head but she ignored it. Something strange was filling her senses, just like the scent of the daffodils. Was it...desire?
~
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