Silent Echoes

by Aleisha Maree

  “I’ll kill her and tell him.” Stopping, I try to not take anything from what he just said.

  It could mean anything.

  He wouldn’t know about her and I will remove his tongue before he can even utter another word.

  “Try it,” is all I say before I walk away.

  Chapter Seven

  The demons run circles, round and round inside my head.

  ~ Micha Ragen

  I couldn’t get Layla out of my head as I drove across the city, heading toward Jimmy’s place. He ran a strip joint in the very south part of the city, and he did a nice little business down there. I had no problem with Jimmy’s club. He treated his girls with respect and actually gave a fuck - unlike Ian’s club. A few of his girls Jimmy and I have saved and brought over here to the south. The old man gave Jimmy the club and that side of town as a thanks for his loyalty and now the south area was his main turf. He controlled the drugs and the hookers that moved through there, plus everything else you could imagine. It was his own little kingdom down there, and he loved it. I also liked to escape to there when my side becomes suffocating. Like now with Ian.

  Walking in I pick up a bottle of beer from behind the bar as the little lady wiping down tables looks at me. She’s new.

  Flipping the cap and sending her a wink I take my beer and head out back to Jimmy’s office, passing by girls barely wearing a thing getting ready for the night’s show. His doors open at 11pm and shut at 6am. He sure knows how to have fun.

  Kicking the door to his office open he doesn’t jump, he never does, he would have seen me coming. The chick with her lips around his cock on the other hand jolts slightly, a strangled yelp leaves her occupied mouth, his fingers finding the back of her skull and pushing her mouth further down his shaft.

  “What the actual fuck man.” Dropping down onto the couch Jimmy starts to laugh and tokes on his blunt while the little lady continues to give him head like it’s not weird as fuck that I’m in the room.

  “Oi, man, knock that shit off, will ya?” I wave my hand over the chick whose head is bobbing up and down like she’s bobbing for apples at the fair.

  Jimmy taps her shoulder pulling her head up.

  “Thanks, doll. Let’s finish this later.” Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she ogles at him and nods.

  “If you need a blowie later, big boy, I’d be more than happy to help,” she says walking past me in just a black G-string. I shake my head as I watch her walk out and shut the door.

  “Wow, man. Just wow.”

  “Right, Bro. She can fuck for days too.”

  Pushing my hands into my jean pockets, I pull out my smokes and my phone. Next is my gun and knife. I place all my items on the floor, kick my legs up and lay down on the couch. Placing my hands behind my head I pull my cap down over my eyes.

  “What are you hiding out here for this time?” Jimmy asks. He knows me well, too well.

  “And who has fucked the Riddler off to the point he has to be here instead of the streets.”

  “You wouldn’t even believe it if I told you, brother,” I say rolling my cigarette around in between my fingertips, clicking the lid open-and-shut on my zippo.

  “Try me.” I hear him say as he moves closer to me sinking down in the oversized chair across from me that is covered in a god-awful leopard print.

  “I swear these coverings change each week,” I reply while lighting my smoke.

  “Na, more like once a fucking month. Depends on the mood of the girls and what they want. I swear women are the most painful things to deal with and understand.” Laughing out at him, I suck the smoke deep into my lungs.

  “Don’t avoid the question either, brother, something’s up or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Breathing in deep, I looked at my friend and started from the beginning all the way to the end of my little encounter with Damon and Ian.

  “Well ain’t that a massive kick to the cunt, aye,” Jimmy says then whistles out.

  “Ya fucking think?” I stare at him like he’s grown three heads.

  He stands and moves over to the liquor cabinet pouring us both a glass of Jameson. Mine with Ice, his with a splash of milk. I shake my head at him as he hands it over.

  “What?” His eyes question mine.

  “You and the milk. Even after all these years I still don’t get it.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he says, “You don’t have to.” He takes a gulp from the glass.

  “So, what ya going to do, brother?” he asks me as I lower my glass from my lips then run my tongue over my bottom lip, licking up the whiskey left there. My mind is still swimming with her scent and her tears. The way she looked so broken and now this new threat.

  “This cock wants me to keep him safe from, well me,” I laugh out.

  “It’s really quite fucking poetic.”

  “How?” My best friend asks me while lighting up a smoke.

  “Hunting him and knowing he’s scared.”

  ***

  One beer, ten Jameson’s and a pack of smokes later I find myself outside her work. I didn’t think that she would be there this late, but she is.

  She’s alone.

  No bodyguards that I can see anyway.

  Just her.

  She has a book in her hand and a coffee to the side. Her favorite sweet treat next to that with little bites taken from the fluffy delight.

  Placing her book pages’ side down on the table while emptying her cup, she stands and walks to the counter, placing the small cup inside the sink. Her long slim body stretches up leaning toward the black stereo on the small shelf above the sink. She turns the dial. Her long fire red hair falls in long, soft, yet wild curls tonight, like a wave of hot lava rolling through a wild sea. Her hips start to sway, and her lips move like she’s talking or singing to herself.

  The urge to slip closer to her, to watch her closer overwhelms me. She’s all that has occupied my mind since that night in the rain.

  She is so all-consuming. I don’t know what the fuck possesses me to do it, but with my fists pushed into my jacket, a smoke dangling from my lips, I cross the darkened street lit only by flickering streetlamps and small tress wrapped in the tiny white lights on strings. I push inside the shop, easily I might add. Internally I berate her for leaving her shop door unlocked so late at night. Like, fuck, a man as dangerous and fucked as me could just wander in off the street. Anyone fucking could come in here and fuck this beautiful lady right up. It’s Greek town for god’s sake.

  The sound of a bell chiming has her spinning toward me in surprise, completely startled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but…” She stops midsentence when her gaze collides with mine. Those rosy, plump lips drop open in an enticing little O that makes my cock stir to life. Heat rises to the apples of her cheeks, coating her face and neck in a wash of bright red.

  “Well, shouldn’t that door be locked, little lady?” She finally seems to snap out of whatever spell she was under because her mouth snaps shut, and she nervously tucks invisible stray hairs behind her ears.

  “C-can I help you with s-something-g?” Her stutter is violent. She is nervous as I startled her, sent her into a tailspin. She looks around the shop and out to the street and her body relaxes as she lets out a held breath.

  “No one is out there,” I say to her.

  “You sure about that?” Her nervousness bleeds through her voice.

  I eat up the distance from the door to the register, and surprise lights up her eyes. They widen, and I see the moment they latch onto the cigarette hanging out of my mouth. “Also, there is no smoking in here.” I smirk. Taking the cigarette from my mouth.

  “It’s not lit, babe.” I place it back into the pack inside the breast pocket of my jacket.

  I watch her as she follows my movements, her eyes falling back to my lips. The way she licks her own while looking at mine. She wouldn’t know how to hide her arousal if her life depended o
n it. Being from a Mafia family her poker face is shit. I’m going to have to coach her on how to be less transparent.

  I rest my forearms against the counter in her personal space. She doesn’t jerk back in fear like I would expect her to. She didn’t the other night either. She stares at me with wide, innocent eyes that are one of a kind because they belong to her. They are the most beautiful eyes that I have seen like ever, and yes, it’s because they are hers.

  For some reason, my mind travels to how it would feel having her tiny body inside my arms as I lift her from the ground and onto the counter. What it would feel like to have her legs wrapping around my waist holding me to her body as my mouth take hers chewing her sweet pink lips until they are swollen and red.

  “I want something sweet,” I say, winking at her.

  Her eyes widen and those plump, pink lips part. I’m certain she thinks I’m talking about something else entirely. The corner of my lip itches up.

  She coughs clearing her throat like she’s trying to regain her composure. Turning, she stretches up to turn the music down, her tee rides up showing off her white skin. It’s so white, it’s just about translucent. I struggle to stifle the groan reverberating up inside me. My cock is so hard under my jeans I fear I may blow my load at just the thought of my hands on her skin, my teeth sinking into her flesh.

  “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.” I raise a single brow, challenging her. What’s even more surprising is when she meets that challenge head-on, crossing her arms over her chest like that’s the end of the conversation. My eyes dart down to said chest, appraising the swell and curve of her breasts. I dig another hundred-dollar bill out of my wallet and slide it across the counter toward her. “Still closed for business, babe.”

  “Yes, Irish boy, we are. You can’t come up in here and just lay out one-hundred-dollar bills and think that I will drop to your demands,” she blurts out, turns her back on me and focuses on washing the dishes in the sink. Walking around the side of the counter to where she stands, I lean in really close to her. My lips graze the skin on the side of her neck as I reach around to grab the tea-towel from the other side. I feel her hold her breath and her hand grips onto the side of the sink holding her in place. I feel her body hum.

  “Well I was kinda hoping that you would,” I breathe into her heated skin before grabbing the tea towel and taking the clean cup from the rack and drying it while she just looks into the sink filled with bubbles and washes the dishes, humming along to the music and trying hard to ignore me.

  I glance at her; I see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. The way her lips quiver. My mind undresses her more and more the longer I look at her.

  I need to get her to talk. I don’t want to be the creep standing here staring at her. I want her to turn and look at me, talk to me. I want to hold her hand and kiss her lips. She makes me feel and it scares but excites me. No other human has ever had this effect on me before and it scares me. I don’t like feeling, because to feel - you’re opening yourself up to hurt.

  She looks close to tears, and I don’t fucking like it. It’s like the other night when her eyes held tears, I didn’t know what to do. Fuck it, see what I mean? I’m fucked. I’m not equipped to deal with other’s emotions. Especially not that of a woman. I continue watching her. I turn, resting my back against the bench as she heads over to the cabinet, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and emptying the slices and cakes from inside and placing them in teal green boxes with the coffee shops logo stamped in black on the top.

  She inhales a deep, stabbing breath before she slides the boxes over the counter and turns to face me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says it so quietly I almost don’t hear her. But I know she said it because when I meet her eyes, I see how sorry she really is.

  “For?” I say without even thinking. I walk over to her. My hands fall to her hips as my eyes meet her green ones with the insanely bright yellow streaks through them. I’m falling for her harder than I ever thought would be possible. She’s a stranger, a fixation. Just a girl I’ve been following because I found her unique.

  “Don’t apologize. Ever,” I glower, keeping my voice stern. “Not to me or to anyone,” I say pulling her hips into me. Her hands go up to my shoulders trying to push me back but I don’t let her. I pull her in wrapping my arms around her body and squeeze her into me.

  “You’re perfect,” I breathe into her.

  “And you’re a fool,” she says. Her voice cracks as I feel the wetness of tears on the skin under my shirt.

  “Are you following me?” she says hiccupping.

  “Maybe,” I say running my hand up her spine, cupping the back of her neck then pulling her head back slightly, so I can look into her eyes.

  “Would that be a problem if I was?” I ask her. She shakes her head unable to find words under the weight of my stare.

  Her eyes burn into mine and I feel my cock move under my jeans. She feels it also. Her eyes burn with wildfire as her tongue rolls over her drying lips wetting them.

  “Can you save me?” she asks leaning closer to me, her breath hot on my lips. Closer, she moves closer and I can partially taste the coffee still laced to her lips.

  “What makes you think you won’t need saving form me, sweetheart?” Raising my eyebrow at her my fingers curl tighter into the flesh of her neck. She sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and the sound just about pushes me over the edge.

  “Because you’re not that type of guy.” I laugh at the nonsense coming from her mouth.

  Biting down on her lip, my other hand whips my knife from my sheath slamming it fast to her neck as I release her lip and pull back her head with a fist full of hair. The cool steel of the blade shines against her skin, fire burns in her eyes egging me on to draw blood.

  “Want to rethink your statement, sweetheart?” She smiles at me.

  “No,” is all she says before she pushes herself forward into my blade, the razor-sharp edge digging into her skin. Pop goes a small piece of her flesh from the tip of my blade and blood, such a deep purple, rolls over my blade marking the sliver with art, pure fucking art. That has me so damn fucking hard I can feel the precum move over my head squirting into an arousal I have never felt before. What the fuck is she doing to me?

  “You could have been killed you know?” My voice is a blunt whisper so close to her lips. What I wouldn’t do to have them on mine.

  Running my tongue over my own lips, I can practically taste what her kiss would taste like.

  “M-m-maybe,” she stutters out, her finger going to the small slice on her neck. Wiping the blood over her index finger, she lowers it into her mouth sucking the blood from it.

  “I’m a dangerous man, princess.”

  “You look it but you wouldn’t hurt me, intentionally that is.” Her tongue rolls over her lips. She takes my blade from me and my hands fall to my side as she runs her tongue over the blade taking every drop of her blood from it. Shock, awe, excitement and fucking plain arousal dance over my spine as I watch this lady go from shy girl with tears in her eyes to a fucking sexual goddess.

  She leans in closer and I have a strange feeling bubbling over my body.

  Closing my eyes, I let out a frustrated breath.

  “Oh, princess, you have no idea.” Shaking my head, I pull back from her as she steps in closer to me. I am meant to be dominant here. I am meant to make her fall to her knees in front of me. Make her weak with lust not the other way around.

  “I’m no good for you, darling. I’m not someone you want in your life.” My voice is like gravel as my body tries to withstand the storm brewing inside. This is why Jimmy gets so drunk on this feeling. It’s fucking insane as all hell.

  “How do you know? I may just know and like it. Want it,” she mouths to me. I watch her move around the room flicking lights off. She takes her apron off slowly, seductively uniting the strings from her waist. Stuffing my hands inside my jacket pockets to save
myself from ripping her clothes off and showing her and her body just how fucking sick and dangerous a man like me is.

  “Want what, princess?” I manage to get out as she picks up the boxes she packed earlier.

  “You and all the danger that you possess, Micha Ragen.” She pulls her body into her jacket by the door.

  “To be devoured, swallowed up and destroyed by you,” she says calmly in control while I’m standing there unable to fucking breathe at what is coming from the girl who cried in the rain.

  She opens the door, turning slightly looking over her shoulder at me I just stand there looking at her, running my index finger over my hard cock from inside my pocket.

  “You going to take me home, Micha?”

  Chapter Eight

  Forbidden feelings waking a soul that is hell-bent on vengeance.

  ~ Micha Ragen

  How many encounters with a person does it take to have feelings for them? How many shared looks through teary eyes and shop windows? How many small touches and near kisses do you think it takes to know you love someone? Is it instant? Is it over a period of time? Is it when you know all their secrets and have seen all their scars? Listened to their fears and spoken with their demons? I have no clue because to feel, to love, to experience anything other than pain that got stolen from me by monsters, that over time as I grew, slowly turned me into one also.

  A beast filled with a hate that it was consuming.

  But then there was her, this woman, this beautiful creature sitting in the front seat of my Camaro with boxed sweet treats sitting on her lap. I have never ever experienced such a feeling of pure and utter uncertainty as I have tonight looking at her.

  Listening to her.

  Feeling her.

  I am sweating bullets at the pure fear of fucking this up.

  I had seen my parents love fiercely and I had also seen how much it hurt my mother when that got stolen from her. I live that same life that my father lived.

  With the same threats and the same demons chasing your shadow.