by Sweet, Izzy
“Holy fuck, the Spider really isn’t gay?” Thad chortles.
I’d turn around and shoot the bastard then fuck the wound if Meredith wasn’t holding me so tightly to her. Her kiss as deep and full as my own.
20
Meredith
“I didn’t know you could drive a car,” I say, catching Matthew’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he takes the driver’s seat of the armored car we’ll be traveling in.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Meredith,” he says with a smirk and starts the engine.
I incline my head, giving him that point, and turn my attention back to Simon. He’s leaning heavily into me, with his good arm wrapped around my waist.
“But I hope we can change that,” Matthew adds, surprising me.
My head jerks to him, meeting his gaze again in the rearview mirror. Intense icy-blue orbs stare back at me.
As far as I can tell, he’s being completely serious. And at this point, I have no clue how I feel about it.
Too much shit has happened today. I almost died too many times for my liking. But even worse, Simon and Matthew’s men were hurt trying to rescue me. At least one has died, and another is so badly injured he might die too.
Simon hisses as he shifts in his seat and his arm tightens around me. I look worriedly to the oozing wound on his left shoulder.
Watching him get hit by so many bullets was the most terrifying experience of my life, hands down. Even now, ice floods my chest as I remember how close I was to losing him. In that moment, I realized how much I want him.
How much I fucking need his craziness.
“Don’t cry for me, princess,” Simon says, and I reach up to wipe at my cheeks, surprised to find tears there. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a scratch.”
I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to get my shit together. I can’t crack yet. That will have to come later, much later…
“You should have just let me go,” I say quietly in admonishment.
He could have died. He almost died. And I had to kill yet another man to stop it from happening.
Even now that man’s blood stains my face, and I’m not sure but I think there are chunks of his brain in my hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push out the flash of his head exploding as I slammed two bullets into it.
“Never,” he says so vehemently I can tell it pains him as my eyes flash open. “I’m never fucking letting you go.”
“But—”
His good arm jerks me into him and his jaw clenches as he grits out, “Meredith, I would walk through the fires of hell and fight the devil himself to get you back.”
His declaration fills me warmth, but also sends tingling sensations down my spine. Is he implying what I think he’s implying?
Glancing towards the front of the car, I see Matthew’s hard eyes staring right back at us. Fuck, this is more drama then my poor heart can take right now.
Simon’s arm relaxes around me and he winces as he shifts in his seat.
“Simon, you need to go to the hospital,” I say, pulling away from him as carefully as I can without hurting him.
The corners of his lips curl up. Oh, how I hate that my concern for him seems to amuse him. “It would draw too much attention, princess.”
“I don’t care,” and I don’t. I could give a flying fuck about how much attention we draw. He needs to be treated. I can’t stand to see him wincing and shifting around in pain. A pain he’s suffering because of me. “You need to be treated by a professional.”
All kinds of yucky things could happen if his wound isn’t treated properly and quickly. It only takes a few hours for an infection to set in…
Fuck, he of all people should know this!
Simon’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “Trust me, Andrew is a professional. Besides, we still have unfinished business to see to.”
“Unfinished business?” I repeat.
What could there possibly be left to do?
All traces of amusement fade from Simon’s face and it feels as if all the warmth is sucked out of the car as his expression grows cold. “A message must be sent.”
Just hearing those words come out of his mouth thrusts me back into that bloody scene in the basement with Matthew all those years ago.
No. No. I’m not going through that again.
“Pull over the car, Matthew,” I order, jerking away from Simon.
Matthew shakes his head and I swear he hits the gas. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Meredith.”
“I don’t care,” I find myself saying again. “You can get one of your men to take me back to Simon’s.”
“All the men are currently occupied with other, more important, matters,” Matthew smirks.
“Then I’ll fucking hitch a ride,” I hiss.
Matthew’s eyes meet mine in the mirror and his smirk sharpens. “Even if I were inclined to put you in such a dangerous position, do you think anyone would pick you up looking like that?”
I glance down at myself. My blue dress is absolutely ruined. My stockings are ripped to hell and back. One of the heels on my shoes is cracked and could snap off at any second. I’m covered in blood and other things… Things I rather not know the origin of.
My head throbs, pulsing behind my eyes, and I’m pretty sure I have a huge knot on my forehead from where that asshole cracked me with the butt of his rifle.
He’s not wrong but he doesn’t have to be so fucking smug about it.
Whipping my head towards Simon, I resort to pleading. “Simon, please. Drop me off at the house first, then take care of whatever business you have to see to.”
Simon stares at me for a long moment and I think he’s about to give me exactly what I’m asking for, but then his eyes fill with fire. A fire that scorches my heart.
“No. At this time, I don’t think I could bear to be separated from you, princess.”
Fuck. He’s really going to do this to me… He’s really going to make me relive my worst nightmare.
Reaching out with his good arm, he grabs me by the wrist and yanks me closer until I’m tucked against his side.
I feel his lips brushing across the top of my head before he murmurs quietly. “It will be a long time before I let you out of my sight again.”
* * *
No matter how hard I beg and plead, Simon stands firm in his decision to keep me beside him.
The car ride to wherever they’re taking me is long and torturous. Not only is all the shit that just went down replaying in my head, but I’m also having flashbacks of the past.
I hate Asad, hate him with every fucking fiber of my being, but I don’t want to watch him get tortured.
By the time Matthew pulls the car up in front of what looks like an abandoned warehouse, I’m ready to puke.
“We’re here,” Simon says quietly as Matthew shuts the engine off. “Open the door, princess?”
Shaking the tendrils of the past from my head, I look at him. Really look at him. If I forgive him for what he’s about to do, wouldn’t that make me a huge fucking hypocrite? Wouldn’t I have to forgive Matthew too?
“The longer we linger, the longer until I’m treated,” Simon reminds me.
“Fuck,” I curse out loud and shove the door open.
I slide out and then offer Simon my hand. He accepts it gratefully, and only grunts half a dozen times as he exits.
As Simon steps into me, leaning his weight into me, Matthew comes up and shuts the door for us.
“This is going to fucking suck,” Simon says, eyeing the distance between the car and the warehouse.
I laugh. I fucking laugh. Yeah, I’m losing it.
“We can always turn back,” I suggest. If only I could be so lucky…
Simon’s jaw tenses with determination. “It’s too late for that.”
He takes a step forward and I have no choice but to move with him. Slowly, but surely we make it up to the door of the warehouse. Matthew moves ahead and holds
the door open.
I can’t even look him in the face as we step past him. After all, this is all his doing…
Inside the warehouse is exactly what I imagined. Old, forgotten machine equipment. Years of dust and dirt that floats up into the air as soon as our footsteps disturb it.
What I didn’t expect though was how much the concrete floors and walls remind me of the basement.
Oh god, he’s pretty much recreated it, hasn’t he? Except bigger and scarier.
“Andrew has arrived,” Matthew says suddenly behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Thank fuck,” Simon mutters.
We weave through the old equipment, making our way to a room in the back that must have once been an office. I stop in the doorway, every hair on my body standing on end.
I do not want to go in there…
“Meredith, come,” Matthew says, giving me a little nudge. “Simon needs to rest.”
I shoot him a dirty look but move forward.
Inside the room is a table, a few chairs, and a desk pushed up against the wall. There once must have been carpet, but it’s been ripped up, baring the concrete floor. The red fibers lining the edges of the room the only clue it was ever there.
The smell of disinfectant is heavy in the air, and maybe it’s just my own sick imagination, but I’m certain I can smell blood beneath it.
I help Simon to the closest chair. He slumps down into it with a hiss. Sweat glistens on his brow and his skin looks a little ashen.
I try to take a step back, fully intent on finding some excuse to go outside, but Simon’s hand whips out, his fingers latching onto my hand.
“No,” he says firmly and his pain-filled eyes turn up to me. “I… need you here with me, princess.”
I hesitate and stare into his face.
Fuck. I want to run far, far away from here.
But how can I deny him when he needs me? When the only reason he’s suffering right now is because of me?
Even though every instinct inside of me is screaming for me to flee, to put as much distance as possible between me and this warehouse, I nod my head.
Simon’s shoulders relax, the tension flowing out of him as I move closer to stand beside his chair.
He keeps ahold of my hand, squeezing it sporadically and stroking his thumb along my skin.
I try to focus on his touch, on how amazing the simple act of his skin rubbing against my skin feels, when Andrew and James appear in the doorway.
“Look who I found outside,” Andrew says, walking into the room carrying a big black backpack draped over his shoulder.
“Where do you want this asshole?” James asks, shoving a bound and gagged Asad in front of him.
Asad stumbles forward and turns his head, shouting muffled curses at James.
“Save your breath for later, asshole. You’re going to need it,” James laughs and gives him another shove.
“The table, Simon?” Matthew asks, looking to Simon for confirmation.
Out of everyone, Matthew looks the most calm and collected. In fact, he looks like he’s mildly amused by all of this.
Simon’s eyes blaze and his skin flushes with color as he glares angrily at Asad. “Yes, the table will work perfectly for what I have planned for him.”
Asad jerks his head towards Simon, glaring back just as angrily at him, then his attention turns to me.
The glare turns downright murderous as he shouts something that’s muffled but sounds a lot like ‘filthy whore’.
James cracks him upside the head with the pistol he’s holding in his right hand and Asad drops down to one knee, nearly collapsing.
“That’s no way to talk to a lady. You’re going to regret that, motherfucker,” James says, his own anger showing now as he grabs Asad roughly by the arm and drags him over to the table.
“So tell me where it hurts, Spider,” Andrew smirks and drops his big backpack down to the floor with a loud thump. He squats down in front of Simon’s chair.
Simon’s angry glare swings to Andrew. “You need to check out Meredith first.”
I blink in surprise. Besides the headache, I haven’t sustained any other injuries. The cavalry showed up just in time to spare me from whatever Asad had planned.
“I’m fine, Simon,” I assure him. “Your injuries should be tended to first.
Simon squeezes my hand. “You need to be checked, Meredith.”
“But you’re—”
“The longer you stall, the longer until I’m tended to,” Simon growls, putting the matter to rest.
I sigh with resignation. Will I ever get my fucking way with this man?
Andrew looks between us then nods his head. He unzips the front part of his backpack, spreading it open.
After snapping some gloves on his hands, he grabs a small flashlight and straightens.
“How many times were you hit?” he asks as he approaches me.
“Only once, I believe…” I answer as he steps close.
“Where were you hit? Here?” he asks, reaching for the top of my head. He probes lightly at the huge tender knot that is forming and I flinch.
Simon growls low in his throat.
Andrew smirks at Simon. “I’ll only touch her as much as I have to.”
Then he returns his attention to me as he leans back. “Any other injuries I should know of?”
His gaze roams over me critically from head to toe.
Yeah, with all the stuff I have on me, it’s probably hard to tell.
“No,” I answer and feel Simon squeeze my hand.
Andrew nods and places his gloved hand on my cheek. He shines the beam of the flashlight in my eyes and I immediately squeeze them shut.
“Try to keep your eyes open,” Andrew says gently.
Well, as gently as a man with his deep of a voice can.
Forcing my eyes open, they water and burn as I stare ahead.
Andrew clicks the flashlight off and drops his hand from my cheek.
“Well?” Simon asks impatiently as Andrew drops back down to his backpack.
“She’s sustained a mild concussion. She’ll need some pain relievers and rest.”
I shoot Simon an ‘I told you so’ look.
He frowns as Andrew rises again with a small bottle of water and a bottle of pills.
“Are those safe for the baby?” Simon asks Andrew.
Shock slices through me and Andrew seems to freeze in place.
“I’m not pregnant,” I insist, and shoot Simon a pointed glare.
“You are,” he says with such surety I have the sudden urge to punch him.
“You don’t know that!”
“I do,” he grins, his thumb stroking along my hand.
God, help me. If there’s a baby growing inside me… his baby…
Andrew chuckles at our little exchange and shakes his head.
He holds the bottle of water and pills out to me and I just stare at them. “It’s safe. It’s only Tylenol.”
But is Tylenol truly safe for my baby?
Fuck!
Am I accepting this? God, I think I am…
I accept the bottle of water, but wave off the pills. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
Andrew nods and bends down to shove the pills back into his backpack.
“Alright, let’s have a look at you now, Simon,” he says as he straightens. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Simon stares at me as he answers Andrew, and there’s the strangest look on his face. It takes me a moment to recognize it, but fuck, I think it’s pride and affection.
Why would he be looking at me with pride and affection?
“I got winged on the left shoulder and I think I cracked a couple of ribs.”
Andrew nods his head. “Remove your shirt and let’s have a look.”
Releasing my hand, Simon reaches for the buttons of his shirt but I stop him. “Here, let me do it,” I offer, knowing that it would probably be excruciating for him to do it himself.
Hand freezing on his button, Simon’s face goes slack. I shove my bottle into his hand and bend down to reach his shirt front.
He watches me warily as my fingers work quickly down his line of buttons. Almost like he’s afraid I’m going to suddenly bite him or something.
Good, he should still have a healthy fear of me. Especially since the fucker got me pregnant…
When I reach the bottom, I gently spread the fabric open.
“Thank you, princess,” he says quietly, so quietly I barely hear it over my gasp.
Large, angry red welts are peppered across his chest. I knew I almost lost him, but seeing is believing. Fuck. If he wasn’t wearing his vest…
Andrew whistles between his teeth. “Looks like someone really wanted to kill you.”
“Stop fucking fighting!” James suddenly growls and then there’s a loud crack.
“Don’t you dare fucking kill him!” Simon roars and then winces.
I flinch back, my ears buzzing, then glance towards the table to see what the hell is going on.
“Here, let me give you a hand,” Matthew says, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over a chair before he eagerly approaches the table to help restrain a flailing Asad.
For a moment, I somehow forgot where we are and why we’re here. But suddenly all the panic I was feeling earlier comes rushing back in.
Matthew helping James seems to pacify Simon because he slumps down in his chair as I turn back to him.
He gives me a look full of remorse. “Sorry, princess.”
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves, but I doubt all the oxygen in the world would help me right now. Not when I know what’s about to happen…
Devoting my full attention back on Simon, I try to ignore Asad’s struggles in the corners of my eyes and focus on getting Simon’s shirt off his shoulders while hurting him as little as possible.
Some of the blood has started to dry though, so I quite literally have to peel the shirt away from his skin.
Once I have his shirt off and bunched at his waist, I take a step back, giving Andrew room to work.
Andrew bends over Simon and closely examines his wound on his shoulder. Gloved fingers poking and prodding at it. “Yeah, you were only winged. A few stitches and you’ll be good to go.”
