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Cole
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God... she looked terrible. Dark circles under her eyes. Red and purple bruises on her face and neck. Bandages covering her arms. I was afraid to know what was under them. I was afraid to know what other bruises and wounds hid under the blanket.
I watched closely as she drew in heavy, yet steady breaths. When she exhaled, I could only see her chest lower for a few seconds. They felt like hours. It was torture. Those few seconds were torture. They reminded me of... of the times Zane, my father, used to beat her up, rape her and leave her bleeding on the floor. God, those bruises where an awful reminder.
I closed my eyes tightly, hoping I could recollect the tears intending to fall. Wanting to cry was nothing. I wanted to sob. I wanted to weep. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her she'd never have to face that again. That I'd protect her, no matter what. A few months ago probably I would have done that. But now, she had Logan. Even busy, I knew he protected her. He protected her by allowing me and Nathan to stay here and act like creeps by watching her sleep. He protected her by not calling some untrustful fucks from the gang or some strange bodyguards.
My eyes lingered over her bruises once more, before getting squeezed shut by anger. I inhaled and exhaled, trying to relax myself a little. I had to relax myself a little if I didn't want to lose it.
Inhale...
Exhale...
Inhale...
Exhale...
That's what you learned at anger management. To breathe until you relaxed. Get rid of the negativity and try to think of the bright side. She was alive. She was breathing. She was here. Safe.
Thank God for that!
While I was at it, I let my mind wonder for a bit. I remembered of the days spent in that facility. Three months, two weeks and four days. I counted the hours and minutes too, because apparently that helped me relax. I remembered the white little room with a sink, a bed and a toilet. An awful picture. For someone claustrophobic it would've been catastrophic.
It was the longest period of time I spent without getting in a fight or making enemies. Well, the first record. All because I had to come home to Mom. Home to Charlie. I wanted to protect them from that bastard of a "father". Nobody else would. Not Vaughn, not Julian. They tried to help, but they never caught the son of a bitch doing it, they only saw Mom's terrible wounds and tried to help. They were fools enough to trust her on knowing what she was doing. By the time the morons figured out they had to force the idea into her head, she was laying almost dead on the porch. Took them nearly four years.
I exhaled, having a chill run down my spine. I could still remember how she looked after Zane had beaten her up. I wanted to get involved, I was keen on ripping his head off and laughing at the sight of his dead body, but Charlie was just as hotheaded and set on the idea of jumping him. I couldn't risk having her get hurt. She was too young, too fragile. I couldn't risk having her anywhere near him.
God, I still remember the fire in her. The temper that boiled in me and Mom. Only, Charlie was far worse. She was the definition of "she can be your best friend or worst enemy". And she was only ten. Only ten the last time I saw her. Right before the shotgun and the flames took her away from me. They didn't even find her body, just Julian's, burnt to a crisp.
My heart clenched at the memory. I could still see Zane shooting her and her little body falling in the flames. I could still remember the tears in her eyes, the fear, the anger, the fire of youth burning in her. For a kid, she was damn smart, but she couldn't save herself. In only a matter of seconds I had Vaughn pulling me out of there. The rest of that night passed by in a blur because of the numbness.
"Cole," Nathan whispered, pressing his palm on my shoulder. My eyes flickered open, my gaze darting to Mom first. She was alright. A wave of soothing relief washed over me. Who would have thought?
My gaze traveled to Nathan. His brows highly rose, knitted, not pity, not sadness, not nothing. Curiosity, some kind of comfort and support. I didn't even feel the tears until the salty wetness made me grimace. After a whole day and night of not eating shit and not closing an eye, the taste of a tear felt like utter shit. I think it would've tasted worse if I stayed longer up.
"You need a moment?" He asked, rather softly than urging. Urging so I could relax the tension in my body and not punch a hole on the wall. Or at least try to.
I sighed, wanting to refuse, but I couldn't. I nodded. I could use that moment to get some food.
"I'll go get something to eat, want some?"
He shook his head. Lying bastard. He was just as starved as I was and he knew it.
"I'll bring some. See what I can find through the kitchen." I mumbled, as silent as possible not to disturb Mom.
He nodded. "Have a smoke." He said, "You could use one."
"I think I've already lost my head, my man." And with that low murmur, I turned at the door, opening it slowly.
A low creak floated in the air and as soon as I was out, my ears were silenced. There was not a buzz in the wide, royal hallway with marble floor and expensive paintings decorating the walls. There were little tables in the distance between the bedrooms doors against the walls, tables with plants that gave a little life to the deserted place. It was hard for me to imagine living here. All alone. A maid of some sort and other employees walking around felt even creepier.
With slow, heavy steps, I made my way down the wide corridor. I entered the elevator. Pressed the button to the first floor and waited. The doors closed. Ambiance music echoed in the golden space. Relaxing. But not for me. For me, silence was relaxing. Or some hardcore shouts and begs of an enemy were relaxing. Not this. This was plain annoying.
I groaned, dipping my head back. If felt like hours before the elevator stopped and the doors opened. I stepped out on the first floor. The first place I went was to the balcony, so I could have a smoke. My fingers were shaking from a reason of a sort. From the pocket in my jacket, I pulled out my cigs and a lighter. I lit it up. Staring back into the perfectly arranged garden with all kinds of flowers, I relaxed.
Silence, I thought, finally.
But it didn't last.
"I don't understand why everybody likes her so much. Can't anybody see how she's using him?" A feminine, hoarse voice asked.
I didn't care or want to hear what she was talking about, but my eyes drifted to the source. A woman with brown hair, facing the open window with her back. She was leaning something on the floor and then picking something else up. My gaze lowered to her outfit. Black dress, white apron. She was a maid.
A younger woman, cherry red hair, pink full lips, brown eyes with freckles dressed also as a maid, frowned at her, seeking to differ. "I don't think she's using him, Sky. She's actually a really cool person. She is very kind and warm, she reminds me of-"
"I don't care! She can remind you of virgin fucking Mary, I know she's a bitch and she'll end up hurting Logan." The brunette woman stated.
Now that, that got my attention. I turned at them, pulling the cig out of my mouth as I leaned with my elbow on the marble handrail. I twitched it to get rid of the ashes to listen closer.
"I heard she was held captive by one of Mr Black's enemies until she escaped. Abe said she looked half dead." The redhead sighed. "She suffered-"
"She didn't suffer shit, alright?!?" The brunette shouted back, dropping whatever she was holding. "She has no idea what real pain means, and for all we know, she could as well fuck her way out of captivity! Stop pitying her, Jurly, it's pointless!"
The redhead lowered her head, squeezing a broom in her hands. "Mistress Samantha isn't-"
"Stop calling her Mistress, she's a stranger invading Mr Black's home, alright? You know what? Just shut up!" The brunette shoved the other woman a ruthless look with a pair of crystal blue eyes.
By that point, I was holding the cig so tightly, it had reached its limit. It burned the fingertips of my index finger and thumb. A passing sensation that disappeared once I dropped the rest of it.
With a growl I made my way through the glass doors and slid on the hallway where the two maids cleaned in deafening silence. A few steps into it and they acknowledged me. More, I was standing face to face to the brunette, gazing her with hard eyes.
"Do you know who you were fucking speaking about right now?" My voice came out as a rasped growl.
She seemed taken aback by my presence and question, but her courage quickly build up. She rolled her eyes. "I swear if your crushing her you're a fool-"
"That's my fucking mother," I snarled. "The one who carried me in the womb and gave me life! The one who took beatings from my Goddamn father to protect me! She's the fucking woman who would save your ass instead of hers in a shitty situation, you... you..." I couldn't find an insult mean enough for this demeaning person.
I just wrinkled my nose, looking her up and down with complete disgust as I stepped back. "If you think you know half of what pain means, you're completely wrong, maid."
I didn't stay around to listen more of their gossiping. I watched her shock, not loosing the hate I had developed over her. If she weren't a woman, I would have smacked her on that wall and punched the life out of her, but I wasn't my father. I glanced at the redhead with the name of Jurly who had the same shock in her features. With a dip of my head, a show of respect to her, I left, heading to the kitchen.
I needed to get something to eat before going up and going out with the guys later.
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Logan
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Waiting. Now we were waiting. Waiting at the docks, at the meeting place, where I fired Alvarez a long time ago for dealing humans. Partners of shares until that point. Human trafficking wasn't my thing. Other than drugs, guns and explosives, I didn't deal with. Those were more than enough to get me through the top. Alvarez was the type who never had enough, on the other hand.
"I fucking hate you so much right now!" Rhett's voice rang through the ear piece in a loud growl. If someone were standing next to me, they would have heard loud and clear. Though, I can't blame the kid.
"Life sucks, kid. It ain't made of fucking rainbows," Jerome replied boredly. "Get used to it."
"I'll get used to it when I stick my foot up your ass, you dickhead!"
What was great, was that the four of us left here were practically caught in the middle. I didn't even know why they started arguing, but I was sure gonna put a bullet in one of them once this shit was over.
"I'd like to see you try, kid. I truly would."
"Oh, it's on, old man!"
"Old man?!? I'm barely ten years older than you!"
"See, that's-"
"Boss, they're approaching." Byron warned, getting all of my instincts to fire up.
"We'll finish this later," Jerome grunted, ending the meaningless fight.
A few moments of silence later, and there it was. Alvarez's voice, as horse and gruff as always. "Huh, I must admit, I didn't expect you to actually come alone."
I looked at him over my shoulder, seeing the two bodyguards watching his back. Gorillas, huge and scary. Though, there was always a catch about big men who looked scary. They had the tendency to be slow... and sometimes huge idiots.
"I must admit," I looked around them at the lack of people and Samantha, which was clear, "I didn't expect you so alone either. Now where's my woman?" I growled the question facing him.
He grinned, crossing his arms. "I might have made some changes in the deal."
My brows furrowed. "What kind of changes?"
"Well," he cleared his throat, gesturing with his arm , "for starters, I was thinking I'd keep the woman," yeah sure, "to have a guarantee that you do what I tell you to do."
"And what is that?"My eyes narrowed into slits as I grinded my teeth.
"I had some thinking," he rubbed his chin, thoughtfully staring at the ground, "and I decided that I want my partner in shares back. If not, the woman dies. And so do you."
I boredly gazed him, seeing how his gaze had darted over my chest. Skeptically, I looked down my chest at the red dot that was set right above my heart on the black shirt.
My eyes pointed back on him, a smirk curling my lips. "Now, now, why don't we relax a little? I'm sure this can be discussed easier... once I see her. In person. To have a guarantee that she's fine. Living fine, you get me?"
Nonchalantly, the son of a bitch rose his palm over his shoulder and snapped his fingers. From the distance, two men appeared with a woman whose body looked almost the same with Samantha's. It missed the wounds. She was wearing a black bag over her head, so I couldn't see her face. The men stopped and gripped her arms to stop as well near Alvarez.
"Shit, this was not apart of the plan," Kaleb grunted, doing the talking for the rest of the team.
"It doesn't change shit, tho. Just aim to the others and avoid the girl. If anything, you get to her while we kill them, Lo." Jerome suggested, his voice as calm as possible through the line.
I wanted to roll my eyes at the obvious. As if I'd just let her get shoot by them or us. Sometimes, brother dearest could be a fool.
"How's this doing for you?" Alvarez asked.
"Take the bag off." I growled. "I want to see her face."
For the first time tonight, Alvarez frowned in disapproval. "Don't give orders around, boy. This is going on my terms and I won't allow that bag off."
I tilted my head, seeing the red dots on the forward one person, Alvarez. Now, things were getting fun.
"You know, you thought this was going on your terms," I uncrossed my arms, giving the fucker a sly smirk, "but you never asked what I had planned."
"So you didn't come alone after all," Alvarez sighed, snapping his fingers.
Five more men came from around the area, all covered in black and hiding in the shadows up till now. Yeah, well this had a great start. Begin with a bunch of sons of a bitches that outnumbered us. Oh, this was going to be painful.
I snapped my fingers as well, having Rhett and Kaleb show up behind me. Three against ten. Fucking great!
"He's out cold, boss!" Kyle announced, letting me know that the lunetist wasn't aiming for me anymore. "Which one do I shoot?"
"Neither, wait for the signal." Byron said calmly.
"Yeah, I don't think that'll do it to you." Alvarez winked, grinning from ear to ear once again.
At that moment, we all pulled up our guns and pointed them at each other. My smirk grew wide as I pointed the gun at Alvarez only. "You better do yourself a favor and look down, my man."
Alvarez glanced down relaxed, being the only one who didn't hold a gun. His expression grew pale as he caught sight of the shining red dot on his white shirt. His eyes widened. It didn't take him long before he rose his eyes back to me, holding a racked smile.
Sweat broke out in his forehead. "You're going to get killed if you have me shit."
I rose a brow, smirking. "Not so much, I don't think so." Doing a swift movement of my hand, I pointed my index and middle finger towards him. The dot from my shirt disappeared, and was glistening in Alvarez's hair, on the side of his head. Both of his men took in the threat and called out to their dead man.
Alvarez smiled sheepishly. "I'm sure there's other ways to talk things through." Gee, what a pansy!
"Back your men the fuck up and bring me the woman!" I snarled.
He wrinkled his nose, signing at the two holding the woman. They pushed her further, letting her walk her way up to us. "I'm not sharing shit with you. You're a moron if you even thought I'd consider it."
His grin grew once again. "Shoot." And at that moment, before Rhett could manage to shield the woman, a bullet blasted right through her skull, followed by a loud thump. She was dead. Gone.
Dammit! I grunted at myself.
And then, all hell broke loose. What else could it happen? We all got caught in the crossfire. His bodyguards shielded the fucker from getting shot, while the other seven launched at us with their guns. And let me tell you, dodging bullets was no walk in the park!
Luckily, we had Jerome who took a few out for us, Kyle as well. By the time they were all dead, Alvarez and his one bodyguard was out. Gone. Running off to hell! How would I know? We killed one bodyguard and the other seven men. Something good on our side, right?
We were fucking lucky neither one of us got shot. What we needed was another man to stay in bed for God knew how long. Next thing we did was call the cleanup boys. They took care of the bodies. Byron tracked down Alvarez and I asked Jerome to go on pursuit.
Rhett was disappointed for not fighting my psychotic brother, but I couldn't give a fuck less about their childish drama. I dragged the kid home to get some sleep. He needed sleep, just like Nathan, who watched over Samantha the whole day.
When we got home he told me she had nightmares and... she woke up hardly, crying, tossing and turning. I thought it was just as bad as when she had Zane nightmares, but I was wrong. After I had sent the boys to bed, I witnessed one.
Painful wasn't even close to describe it.