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Zoe
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What the hell was Valentin doing here? What the hell was he doing with these guys?
Okay… stupid question.
I knew him for being involved in gangs and all that… but I always thought he just sold drugs or something. Not… what was he even planning? To kill someone? Kidnap someone?
My stomach twisted at the thought of who could have gotten shot, who could have gotten hurt. Who actually got hurt. I glanced at Jerome, now holding his arms crossed and a steady, deadly stance. His baseball cap was pulled down, hiding his face from the three men, two of which both shot and bleeding.
"Before we get more into it," Jer began, "Please tell me you handled the cameras."
"They're handled," Valentin said without hesitation, looking at me as if in a trance.
Jer took off his cap and smirked, "Good deal."
All three of them froze and quietened as they stared at him with wide eyes. The other two immediately pulled off the ski masks they had been wearing to cover their faces. Val even took a step back, making sure to keep his hands in front as he paled like he'd just seen a ghost.
"We… uh, we thought you left." One of the guys on the floor muttered.
Jerome's brows lowered, looking down at him angrily, "I never leave a job unfinished. And what the hell where you even fucking planning?"
"Our- our mole told us about Acosta's future wife," one stammered.
"We were kidnapping her to use her as-"
"Yeah, I know," Jer rolled his eyes. "Did you know who she was?"
"Boss just told us about her," Val cleared his throat, avoiding Jer's gaze. "We weren't given any names, just a location and an hour."
"That's good to know. You could have fucking killed her earlier in that gunfire, did you know that?" Jer turned at me, looking me up and down, "Are you alright? Hurt? Anything?"
I shook my head, handing him back the gun by the barrel, "I'm okay…"
He nodded, taking the gun and putting it back in his coat, "We'll talk later about this. As about you three, I'd really love to handle you properly, but I'm afraid the time isn't on my side." He checked his watch as the two injured man approached each other. "Who's your mole?"
"Adriano Ferriz," Valentin replied, coming closer so the others couldn't hear him. "Are… are you okay?"
I raised my brows, "I'm alive, aren't I?" shook my head, dragging a hand through my hair. "How are you? How's Luisa?"
"We're alright," he murmured, his figure scrunching with sorrow, "She's mad, but she misses you."
"Yeah, I know. I miss her too."
He paused, unsure as if to speak. Before I could ask what was on his mind, he asked me first. "Are you actually marrying that guy?"
"The hell she is," Jerome growled, putting his cap back on.
"I'm sorry?" Val frowned at him.
Jer just shook his head as I replied, "We can't talk right now, we should leave-"
"No, wait," he quickly pulled out his phone, stopping me from continuing my sentence. As I took a close look at the device he lifted, my brows arched, realizing it wasn't his phone. It was my phone. The one with a handwritten quote from The Lathe of Heaven, by Ursula K. Le Guin.
“Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”
One of my favorite quotes…
"I know you're not allowed to have it, but… I thought maybe you could talk… when you think you can with Luisa. She… she would really like that."
But I knew it wasn't just her that worried about me. He worried too, probably even more. He just hated admitting it. He always had a hard time admitting to things, no matter how true they were. That made him… a little bit more like me. It was one of the few things we had in common. One of the few things we could recall about each other. One of the many things that made us good friends.
I looked at Jerome for approval for what I was about to do, but when all he gave me was that steady stare, I knew I needed no approval. I jumped in Val's arms and hugged him tightly, so tight I knew I left him breathless.
"I should have left a note," I whispered.
"It's alright. I told Lui everything she needed to know, leaving a note would have only hurt more." He paused, rubbing my back, "Plus now we can talk through the phone. And… please call whenever you need anything. Absolutely anything. Even that f you just need to talk."
I nodded into his chest, backing away to smile at him, "I'll call you okay? Don't call me. It's… it's a bad idea if you do."
"I won't," he agreed.
I took the phone and stuffed it in the inside pocket of my coat. Giving a last glance to Jerome, Val cleared his throat and stepped back. Jer shook his head meekly, saying clearly, "You better take them to see a doctor if you don't want them to bleed to death."
It was all he directed before he turned to me and dipped his head in the car's direction. Not hesitating, I said goodbye to Valentin and we both began walking back to the car. Far enough from them, Jer raised his palm on the small of my back, "You're a natural with a gun. Was this your first time you used one?"
I nodded, looking down at my still shaking hands, "I thought I killed him when he dropped to his knees."
He chuckled, his palm raising to my shoulder, massaging lightly, "The first few times are like that. But you handled it perfectly, Narah. I'm proud of you."
The smile grew on my lips at the sound of that, my heart swelling from the amount of pride I felt. I couldn't explain how my chest heated, how all my shaking just vanished or how I immediately relaxed into him after hearing he was proud of me.
In all honesty, I had just followed my instinct. When I had seen Jerome being pointed at, I nearly saw red. And without reconsidering I had stepped out and threatened the guy, more impulsively than anything else. I would have killed anyone who dared harm him, which reminded me…
"How is your shoulder?" I stopped near the car, inspecting the shoulder farther from me, the one that had been shot.
He shook it off like it wasn't anything more than a mere scratch, while I prayed the bullet hadn't remained in that thick muscle. In that case he'd need surgery, while all I could do was stitch the wound up from previous experiences.
"It's fine, I'll handle it later. I'm just gonna put a bandage over it so it won't bleed too much," he spoke nonchalantly, leading me to the back, opening the door for me. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"
"Yes, I'm alright, but-"
"I can handle this, don't worry, Narah," he kissed my head before urging me to get into the car. He closed the door for me like the gentleman he was, then walked to the back of the car. As he opened the trunk, I struggled to see what he was doing over the hood or on the side.
I saw him taking off his coat, raising his turtleneck only enough to slide a white bandage underneath, all the way up to his shoulder. He took the white bandage from a first aid kit he seemed to carry everywhere. His figure contorted only a little as he pursed his lips, as if disagreeing with the pain. Or even liking it? I couldn't tell for sure, that I was… distracted by something else.
I may have picked my moment wrongly, but I nearly drooled at the sight of his abdomen. That incredible, beautiful eight pack being quite ravishing. Every muscle was tense, smooth on the edges and yet sharp with every curve. Just as sharp as that V-line lowering down his pants to his member…
I moaned a little, feeling the tingly sensation between my thighs begging for him. Before I could enjoy the sight more, he lowered the shirt, grabbed a leather jacket from the trunk that he adjusted with two guns and several bullets, then threw on the thick leather. I jumped back before he could catch me staring at him like the ultimate freak.
He shut the trunk loudly, after which he came back to the front and entered the car. He didn't say anything, but wore a little sly smirk as he turned on the car and began driving to my ballet lessons. I wanted to ask more about his wound, about what had just happened and who the men with Valentin were, what gang they were apart of.
But I already had a feeling what my answers would be. He wouldn't want to talk about his wound, what they had planned with me, and as about what gang they were apart of? Must've been the Black Cobras or something. Since they recognized him so easily, they must've been apart of his gang, so… hopefully I didn't get this name wrong as well.
When we got to the ballet hall, he led me to the lockers where I met most of the girls. After Jer had threatened them, not even one dared to pick on me again. And with the lack of the bullying and the pressure put on by the teacher? My ballet skills slowly improved, returning to what they had used to be. After putting on my black tights, the pink, long sleeved shirt with a button at my wrist that ended the material raising between my middle and ring finger, I put on the pair of white ballerina shoes that were slightly dirty from being used most of the past month. And they had just a week from the last wash, which meant barely three classes.
The whole lesson, I was distracted by what happened in the parking lot… and what happened last night. I was dwelling between the two events, my feelings just as split. Part of me was still feeling the adrenaline flow through my veins, using it as a boost at damcing, while the other part couldn't stop glancing at the menace standing besides the column from the entrance, eyeing me intently.
Through some miracle, I managed not to get scolded at every motion I did. In fact, I didn't seem to even notice doing anything wrong. And the teacher didn't seem to notice either. However, my perfect peacefulness didn't last. At one point, while doing a twirl, one of the girls put a foot in front of my own. I fell almost face first to the floor, but managed to catch myself just in time by the elbows.
Confused by the act, I looked up to see one of the new girls scoff at me. The redhead always threw me nasty glares, but I never put much thought into it and she never did more than just glare.
The teacher saw her tripping me, but she didn't say anything as she just started scowling me for fucking stumbling in her foot! I was ready to storm out of the room, curse the bitch to hell and probably cry in the bathroom at the injustice, when I saw Jerome holding that oak steady stance as always. His face was darkened and I could see from where I was the murderous intentions glistening in his stare. But he made no move forward.
It reminded me of the way he eyed me earlier, when I searched for approval to hug Valentin. He had protected me as much as he could, proving to me that nobody would dare raise their voice at someone who didn't take shit like this. Of course, there was father and Mrs Nieto, the ones who foolishly weren't afraid of anything, but they could be handled in different ways.
By standing there, looking at me with that steady stare… he gave me the choice of my own actions, letting me pick whether to storm out and cry like a baby in the bathroom… or stand up to the goddamn bitches.
Taking strength from the man across the room, from the choice and the freedom he was giving me, I stood up and owned it. Because I could and I wanted to!
I kicked my chin up as I stared at my teacher, "My apologies for not meeting your expectations," I said warmly in spanish, "but it's not my fault you're growing old and incapable of doing what we do."
Her jaw dropped, her eyes enlarging. With a deep frown she started to retort, "How dare you-"
"How dare I? I'm just stating the fact," I paused, pursing my lips, "Did you hear that frowning provokes wrinkles? Oh, and yelling makes your voice hoarse. It sounds like you're speaking through an old, rusty pipe every time you talk. Did I mention that you have the intelligence of a dog? Every time you talk to the owner of the building you flash your boobs like he's supposed to be impressed. If you haven't noticed, he's wearing a wedding ring, which makes you just desperate and sad." I spoke quickly, looking down at my nails. "Like a puppy searching for a master."
Silence was all I could hear, from her and from the other few ladies in the room. Then, I turned to the redhead who tripped me. I raised my hand to a red curl escaping her neat bun as I smiled.
"You know, I wondered, you kept looking at me ever since you came here. If you're interested in me, all you have to do is say. There's no shame in not being straight, I don't judge. But you should know, I'm not interested." I hissed lightly, taking my hand back, "I am straight."
In a panic from my words, she shouted, "I'm not a homo!"
"Whatever," I shrugged, returning back in line. "Can we continue? I'm afraid I don't have all day."
The teacher blabbered something, telling us to get back to the exercises before leaving the room with tears in her eyes. All the other girls looked at me warily, the redhead no longer throwing me death glares out of embarrassment of her exposed sexuality.
Finally taking a grip over my confidence, I stood straight and proud as I smiled brighter than ever for my own gain. Jerome watched me from afar with a little smirk, giving me a nod of respect. Prouder that I had his respect, I used my confidence to do the moves perfectly.
And just like that… through a surprise, I was finally back in charge of something. Maybe not all of my life yet, but still something.
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Jerome
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As soon as dinner was over, we headed upstairs to get ready for bed, in Arturo's words. But I had a feeling Narah was going to make a phonecall and talk with her friends while I was going to pull the bullet out of my shoulder and stitch myself up. At least I hoped she'd be talking to her friends. I didn't want her to see me all bloody and shit.
Believe it or not, the pain was easy to move on from with some painkillers. The numbness that came with too many pills taken somewhere around halfway through her discipline lesson? Yeah… that wasn't so fun to got through.
Thankfully, they had hit my left shoulder, not the right one. So it wasn't so obvious that I could barely feel my arm from the blood loss.
At last, alone in our room, I threw off my cap and leaned down to kiss Narah. She put her hand over my mouth, her brows inching up as she gazed my shoulder, "You need help."
I sighed, kissing her palm, "I can handle it. Call your friends."
Her brows furrowed disapprovingly, "Fine," she pouted adorably.
I kissed her cheek before heading into my room, leaving the door partly open. I went directly to my desk, turned on my laptop and slid in my password. Meantime, I shrugged off the leather jacket I had taken from my trunk to replace the punctured coat. I left it on the back of my chair as I rolled my numbed shoulder, feeling the bullet amplify a stinging sensation through the coldness.
Knowing it couldn't wait anymore, no matter how much I wanted to get onto investigating on that mole they told me about, I stood up from the chair and walked to my bathroom. I took off my turtleneck slowly, feeling like I was peeling off my skin from the dried blood soaked in the material. I took a glance in the mirror and knew, just knew, that bandage wasn't enough for the whole day of moving around. And my being so pale spelled out the same thing.
Turning my back at the mirror to make sure I didn't feel just phantom pain, I inspected the area for an exit injury. No luck in finding one.
I pulled out of the cabinet one of my first aid kits. Taking off my gloves, washing my hands and putting on some disinfectant to get rid of any bacteria I could be wearing, I started displaying the kit. The pliers with which I'd have to pull out the bullet, the bandages to wipe the blood, the wounds disinfectant… other stuff I had to use…
Eventually, I pulled from my pocket the painkillers I kept taking to numb the annoying feeling.
"Fuck… me," I groaned, realizing the one I took an hour ago was the last one.
"Still don't need help?" Narah hummed from the door.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck, "I'm about to pull a bullet out of my shoulder. You surely want to witness that?"
She came closer, wearing a red gown made of silk, this one running past her thighs. She looked so goddamn beautiful, I was willing to let the bullet in my shoulder and fuck her instead.
Hopping on the counter of the sink, she looked at my wound closely, her eyes narrowing with precision, "Maybe I can pull it out, but you'll have to guide me through it. I never did this before."
Could I really trust myself in her hands like this?
Hah, what kind of question was that?
"Wash your hands and put these on," I pointed at the medical gloves. As she twisted her waist to turn to the sink and wash her little hands with soap, dry them with a towel, disinfect them and put on the gloves, I watched the entire time, remembering oddly when she put her ballet teacher and one of her colleagues back in their place.
Fucking hell, that was a hot scene. A very… very hot scene!
Raising her prepared hands coated by a white, elastic material, she looked at me with a cocked brow, "I'm ready for surgery, Mr Black."
I chuckled at the dark voice she used, settling myself between her thighs. "Pick up the pliers, you'll have to dig in."
She did as told, her whole expression drawn in lines of concentration pointed on my reddened wound, "Don't you need something to numb the pain?"
I nodded at the initiative, opening a cabinet under the sink. The Lagavulin bottle I lifted easily brought a big smile to my lips, "Narah, love, this is my best friend, Lagavulin."
She glanced at the bottle with arched brows, then cleared her throat and said, "Good to meet you, Lag. I'm Zoe."
Smirking widely, I roughly swung the bottle and took a healthy gulp from the amber liquid. With a hiss, I dropped my head back, "That's what I call quality…"
"Didn't take you for a Scotch fan," she smiled as I poured some of the drink on my shoulder. I grinded my teeth, frowning deeply from the damned pain.
She raised some napkins and wiped the blood fused alcohol. The following events were blurry. She managed to pull the bullet out, the process hurt like a bitch, then she stitched the wound and bandaged it. Moving my arm around, tensing and relaxing my biceps, I managed to loosen the feeling of numbness, only to give into the sting from the alcohol and the agony left by the bullet.
I usually didn't stay with a bullet inside me, unless I knew it wouldn't kill me. Like the one I had purposely left somewhere above my hip. It hadn't been a fatal injury and I was certain I would have done more damage by trying to pull it out. So I left it there.
But this shoulder one? Yeah, no. It needed to go out.
"I have a plan," I blurted, words led by the small amount of alcohol in my system.
Yeah… right. Small amount. I drank almost the whole bottle. The rest was still running down my chest.
Narah inspected the bandages to make sure the blood wasn't leaking, "What plan?"
"You'll need to play victim. You and your sister, that is. I have to convince Jose on this one. He'll surely help. He seems to care about your sister," I exhaled, lowering my head in the crook of her neck, "We're both free on our Saturdays. The night before we'll make it seem like we're having a guy's night out or whatever and leave. There's still hella many factors I need to think about… but that's a beginning."
"I don't think it will be hard to convince Jose," she murmured, her fingers curling in my hair, "In fact… I kinda have a question."
"Mm-hmm…?"
"When my father mentioned that I was going to be Acosta's… wife," I growled at her words, wrapping my arm around her waist. I so hated that damned reference. She seemed to catch the fact as her arm lowered down my back, "I hate it too… but that's not the point. The point is… there were only seven people in the room when father made the announcement. You, me, my sister, Jose, mother, father and Giorgio. My mother barely spoke a word and when she did, it was with us. My sister was just the same. Father is the whole head of this shit living style and Giorgio would never betray him-"
"Wouldn't be so sure about that," I muttered, interrupting her without intention.
"I'm not even gonna ask about that one. But still, he can't be the mole because he's been devoted to father since I know myself. A mole wouldn't stick around for so many years, in my opinion." She spoke truthfully, the added, "And if you and me aren't the moles…"
"Jose," I whispered, my eyes growing big as I pulled away from her, "You're a genius!"
I kissed her on my mouth hard and good before rushing out of the bathroom to my desk. Finding the name in the data base of the police, I found just the figure of the bodyguard protecting the little woman next door.
"Hello, Adriano," I smirked, leaning back in the chair.
Narah sat down in my lap a moment later, looking at the image, "So, I was right."
I ran my hand up and down her spine, nodding at that statement, "Smart girl…"
She smiled broadly, leaning her head on my good shoulder, "I like you, Jerome…"
"I," love, "like you too, Narah," said the fucking pussy.
She raised her hand up to my cheek, stroking the surface with her soft thumb, "If we get out of here-"
"When," I corrected, "When we get out of here. No ifs. Never ifs."
She arched her brows, "It's always been the ifs for me." Curling one of my strands with her finger, she spoke, "If I'll ever go to school, if I can trust anyone in the house… if I'll ever get out of here…? I still look at you and can't believe you… you exist." She sniffled, avoiding my eyes, "I'm afraid of waking up and finding you gone…"
I tightened my hold over her, embracing her with all I had, speaking into her hair, "I'll never leave you alone, kitten. Never. I'm going to get you out of here for good by the end of the month. I'll get you and your sister out of here. Then I'll kill Acosta and your father, and I'll take you home. I'll take you away from all this." I exhaled roughly, seeing those dark eyes fill with crystalline tears.
"Away?" She croaked.
"I'll take you to meet my family." I nodded, "My annoying, genius sister and Logan and their families. You'll meet Sam, the twins, Cole and Nathan. You'll meet Reeve and Vinny. Damian and even my father! I'll introduce you to them all…" I lowered my forehead to hers, breathing above her lips, "I'll take you away from all this… for however long you want."
The words that spilled out of her mouth were quick and light, not impulsive or halting, "Forever. Take me forever, Jerome."
"Forever it is, my Narah…"