Roses & Thorns: Women

by Bry Ann

  “I'm not getting into this with you over the phone. Not with Rose lurking around, and not until you fucking prove yourself.”

  “Fine, but I will pursue it!”

  “I expect you too,” he states matter of factly. Quickly I learn, very unlike Rose, Nix is not a guy who lets his feelings dictate his actions.

  “When and where do we meet?”

  Nix pauses, taking a second to think. “Today. Rose… yeah, just today.”

  Rose is a mess. She’s freaking the fuck out. Because she doesn’t hate me, and she knows I won’t hurt her and I think that scares her most of all.

  “Where?”

  “Labronski’s.”

  “I’ll be there.” I’d go anywhere he said. I'm like a dog on a fucking leash.

  “If you cross us I swear to God…”

  “Save it. We both know I won’t, and even if I did your attempts to hurt me would be futile.”

  “You are a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

  “I need a time Nix.”

  “Seven. Don’t be late.”

  Click.

  I don’t give myself time to even process this. I grab my coat off the dresser and stalk out the door. I rattle off a text to Boss so he knows I'm gone, but I could care less if he needs me. Rose agreed to see me, and that is all that fucking matters. I fucked things up with her playing some sick game I’d never win, for a prize-driven by nothing but ego. I want more.

  The drive to Labronski’s is a quite a ways away, but I don’t give a fuck. I need to see her. And not just in passing. She’s one the first things in my adult life I haven’t taken strictly because I wanted to. I took her the first time. This time she would come with me willingly. Fuck what her brother thinks. I'm not her fucking therapist. I'm the man who gets her. Loves every inch of her, even her baggage.

  Three hours later, 6:45 pm, I arrive at the small Italian restaurant in the middle of fucking nowhere.

  Ding!

  Boss: Get your girl. And come back less of a fuck.

  I didn’t even mention I was seeing Rose, but he knows me well enough to know there is no other reason I’d stalk out like I did.

  “Hello sir,” the hostess says, looking me up and down with a slight downward turn of her brow.

  “Table for three,” I say, not even looking at her.

  She starts to take me to a random table in the center of the restaurant, but I snap. Fast.

  “In the back,” I bark.

  Her eyes widen slightly, but she quietly leads me to the back instead The hostess doesn’t even give the usual spiel. She simply hands me the menu and runs off. Once she’s gone I grab my phone and pound the keys to dial Nix’s number.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Nervous?” Nix says, sounding amused. I want to rip his stupid head off. I'm so pissed at Rose for making me into this person. I vouged never to be him, but… with one freaking look, she had me. Then she fainted in my arms and sealed a fate I swore never to have.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “We are fifteen minutes away. You better be alone. You better be unarmed.”

  I'm never unarmed, but I’d never pull a gun in front of Rose again. Boss shooting her still haunts me. I still see the look of pain and betrayal on her face. My finger absentmindedly raps on the table.

  “Can I get you anything?” the waiter asks, knowing to keep it short and sweet.

  “Vodka,” I snap, fingers still tapping the table.

  “Sven sweetheart. Come here. I’ve got you, sweetie.”

  A pair of cold, soft hands slips over my eyes.

  “Mom? Mom?”

  “I’ve told you. I'm not your mother. I'm your keeper, and I'm paid to keep you safe here.”

  I shake my head. Where the fuck did that come from? Interesting. I haven’t thought about that shit in years.

  “Sven.”

  I look up, past the vodka glass the waiter set on the table several minutes ago. In front of me is Nix, dressed casually, but still like a man who means business.

  “Where’s Rose? I didn’t drive all the way down here to see you.”

  Nix glances over his shoulder. A head pops out from the doorway. Her soft pink finger nails dig into the wood.

  My eyes find hers and stay there. The breath is sucked out of me. She’s so fucking thin. Even thinner than when I last saw her, and she was pretty fucking thin then. I'm so pissed at her. Does she not remember how fucking good she felt healthy? I stand and stalk over to her. All that’s showing is fingers and eyes. I need to see all of her. She backs up behind the wall, like a very shitty spy. My body spins around. Then there she is. All 5’8 of her.

  Her eyes find mine.

  “Hi Sven,” she says breathlessly. My dick twitches at the sight of her.

  “Rose,” I respond curtly. I won’t give her anything until I know what she is doing here. “Come.”

  I extend my hand. She looks at it. She doesn’t take it, but she follows me back to the table. Immediately she plants herself by Nix, who instinctively widens his stance.

  “Sit you two psychos.”

  “Who are you calling psycho?” Rose shouts, stepping out in front of Nix. Nix’s lip twitches, as does mine.

  I step forward, but Nix subtly blocks me. I glare at him. Wanting to remove him. Desperately. For now, I step back. Rose is staring at me.

  “I told you I was leaving back then. Remember? I pulled one over on you asshole.”

  “Yeah, well. You’ve been surviving, not thriving. Am I wrong little Rose? What good is escaping when you lock yourself up in an even smaller box.”

  “I hate you, Sven!”

  Nix touches her arm. “Let’s sit, okay?”

  He flicks his gaze between the two of us.

  “You men are so bossy!”

  I see a smile slip out of Nix. One he doesn’t want to let show. He shakes his head. I know. She’s different around me.

  We all take a seat. The waiter gets their drink order. Nix gets a coke and Rose gets water, of course. Once the waiter is gone I turn to Rose, whose cheeks are sunken in, despite all her bravado she’s not feeling well.

  “You’re eating while we are here. It’s not up for discussion.”

  Nix’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “You can’t control what I stick in my body.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

  “Yes. Fuck you, if I'm not hungry I'm not force feeding myself just cause you said so!”

  “Rose. Pleaseeat something for me. I'm worried about you.”

  Her eyes widen and flash with a multitude of emotions. Nix gazes between the two of us.

  “Did you just say please? You’re… worried?” Then anger consumes her. The anger I know she carries for me. But mostly for herself. “You weren’t worried when your Boss had a gun to my head or put a bullet in my foot! You weren’t fucking worried then! Take your worry and shove it up your cold, criminal ass.”

  This pisses me off. How the hell could she say that? How do women never fucking see when I give a shit? This is why compassion, love, that fucking shit never matters.

  “You think I didn’t care! Fuck you, Rose. I regretted it the second I realized he’d involved you. I gave up the whole plan. I learned from it. Because of you! Seeing you in danger… getting you out unharmed was all I fucking cared about in that moment.”

  Furious, I run a hand through my hair, sending my usual well-groomed hair sticking up all over the place. Rose stares at me, eyes narrowed. Finally, she speaks.

  “I got shot!”

  “I'm fucking sorry! You ruined me too, you know? You really think you are innocent in this?! Just… fuck you, Rose!”

  “I ruined you! I ruined you! You are insane! What the hell did I do?”

  “You…” I glance at her brother. I can’t say this in front of her brother. I practically growl and slam my fist on the table, sending all the glass clanging together like a symphony. I stand and shove my chair back.

  “I'm lea
ving. I don’t have to deal with this. Have a nice life, Rose. That is if you live to see thirty.”

  I storm out of the restaurant. I can’t hear anything past the rushing in my ears. The sound of cars whizzing past me as I practically run down the sidewalk. This isn’t fun anymore. This isn’t a fucking game. She made me feel, and I hate her for it.

  I was broken once too.

  Every powerful man has once been broken. At least at one point or another.

  Without that, how does one ever learn to rebuild?

  I won’t let her destroy me. Rebuilding twice from scratch. No man has the strength for that.

  “Sven! Sven, wait!”

  I hear footsteps trailing behind me. I turn around, trying to let the anger show on my face. Rose is standing there, barely covered in clothes, underweight, with hardly any shoes covering her feet. It started raining a bit ago too.

  “Wait,” she says, cowering from my rage.

  “Why should I?”

  “I,” she bites her lip, “What did you mean?”

  I feel her like a magnet. Resisting the urge to give into the pull is nearly impossible, and takes all my focus.

  “By what?”

  “How did I hurt you? Please tell me.”

  I take a step forward, watching the uncertainty cross her face.

  “You haven’t earned it.”

  “I want to hate you.”

  “I know.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “I know that too.”

  “What do I do?” Her shoulders fall forward. “I don’t want to be a criminal, or aid one or whatever the word is. I’d hate myself forever. I can’t live like that. I also don’t want to be a prisoner of your life, but… I…” But you what? I close the space between us. Desperate to hear her say the words, “you drive me nuts. Crazy. I want to punch you in the face half the time. But when I'm with you I feel the most alive I’ve felt since my father was taken away. As crazy as it is, I miss you. And I hate myself for that.”

  My hand grazes her cheek. “Why do always question what you feel?”

  “Because I'm a magnet for bad things. If I didn’t question myself I’d end up just like my father.”

  “That scares you?”

  “It terrifies me.”

  “Oh little Rose,” I say pulling on my cufflink to hide my smile, “the last person in the world you could ever end up as is your father.”

  I can tell that gets her because she turns away from me. When I'm right, when I make her feel something other than anger, she turns away.

  “You kidnapped me. Used me. How do I just forget that Sven? I'm scared of you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Her head whips around, indignant.

  “Wanna know how I know that?”

  “I'm sure it has something to do with your enormous ego, but go ahead.”

  I smirk. God, I missed her.

  “One. Because you’re standing out here with me all alone, and this street is virtually empty. You didn’t bring Nix with you. In fact, I was leaving. You didn’t have to go after me at all. Two. You know I’ll protect you from harm. That I’ll do anything in my power to make sure no one ever hurts you again. Last. You know I feel for you.”

  “Feel for me? Is that why you hate me now?”

  “I don’t think I'm capable of hating you.”

  She ducks her head, and much to my surprise a small smile plays on her lips.

  “Let’s head back inside Rose. Come on.”

  I extend my hand. She stares at it for a second before slowly taking it. I notice the mild shaking of her fingers. Her hand feels so soft and small in my mine, which is rough and hardened from years of fighting. We walk a few feet before Rose nearly jumps out of her skin, scaring the shit out of me. My hand goes instinctively to my gun as Rose pulls out of my grip and turns to face me.

  “How’s Lacey? I'm a terrible person. A terrible friend. How could I not ask about her?”

  I let out a frustrated breath and move my hand off my gun.

  “I’ll tell you at the table.”

  Her mouth tightens and her eyes turn into slits. Stomping right past me, she swings the front door open.

  “You can’t be too mad at me Rose. You’re the one who didn’t ask sooner.”

  She huffs but keeps just her foot in the door, holding it open for me haphazardly. I laugh as I pass her.

  “You are the most stubborn woman in the world.”

  “How else would I gain the favor of the world’s most stubborn man?” she snaps back, refusing to make eye contact with me.

  I shake my head, but half my mouth is turned up in a smile.

  “Jesus, you two.”

  Both of us turn to see Nix leaning against the wall, arms over his chest. His look is a stark contrast to mine. I'm well dressed, in a suit, put together. Everything about Nix screams ‘I don’t give a fuck’. Between his leather bracelets, ripped jeans, logo t-shirt. He’s my opposite in every way. Anger swells inside me knowing he was watching us, but it’s quickly dulled by the one thing we have in common. We care about Rose’s safety.

  “Spying?” I say, making sure to give him my darkest glare.

  Nix smirks.

  “Protecting.”

  Chapter 12:

  Lacey:

  The ceiling has small little holes. I wonder how many there are? The covers feel nice against my skin. I wonder how much these cost? My mind is swirling with thoughts that don’t matter as I lay in his bed like a ghost, just staring at the ceiling.

  Woosh!

  Something falls onto the bed. I shoot up, quickly bringing the covers up to my neck. In front of me is a large cardboard box with a bright blue label taped to the front. I look up at the doorway to see Adam standing there, arms firmly by his sides. He must have thrown it. It’s clear he’s been working. There’s so much energy radiating off him. His face is pulled tight. His suit immaculate. His watches probably cost more than my life.

  “Your clothes,” he says gesturing to the box.

  I'm relieved, as he is I'm sure. My clothes smell awful. Luckily, Adam doesn’t sleep with me. There’s an elegant futon in the corner of his room. That’s where he stays. Even though I’ve offered a hundred times to sleep there, he doesn’t even bother having the conversation with me. I take the bed.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome, Lacey. Get dressed so I can burn those.”

  He gestures up and down my filthy sweat outfit. I feel small at that, but I look away so he doesn’t see.

  “Okay.”

  I pull my body out of bed and grab the giant box. When I get to the bathroom it takes me all of two seconds to rip the filthy clothes off my body. I grab my favorite sweat outfit out of the box. I don’t think I’ve ever picked out my own clothes. Obviously, not when I was a prisoner, but even at home my clothes were either hand me downs or thrift store clothes. We picked the cheapest scraps of cloth we could find. Not that I ever wanted nice things, it’s more about having a choice and encouraged individuality. That’s the cool part.

  My sweatshirt is bright red with a surfboard blazing across the front. I pair those with a simple pair of plain oversized stretchy blue jeans. I feel happy. At least that’s what I think a warm feeling is. I can’t remember the last time I felt the feel of new clothes against my skin. Or worn such a bright color.

  Adam’s eyes roam over me once when I walk out.

  “Look at you. See, not a prisoner.”

  I smile a little. For the first time, it really doesn’t feel that way.

  “Wanna go outside now, or would you prefer to go later?”

  I look him and down. He doesn’t look ready to go outside. He looks busy. And stressed. And angry.

  “Whenever is best for you,” I say timidly.

  “I'm asking you. Do you want to go now or later?”

  “You seem busy.”

  “I have time for you. So you’d prefer to go now?”

  “I’d prefer to go wh
en you don’t… um…” I look down, terrified I'm going to make him angry, “when you don’t look so mad. Or busy.”

  I keep my eyes peeled to the floor. I feel him walking over to me. I want to move, but I can’t. My feet stay rooted to the ground. I hear his footsteps invade my space. When he’s right in front of me, nothing but his dress shoes filling my gaze I start to shiver. A finger comes under my chin and lifts my timid eyes.

  “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, Lacey.”

  His molten chocolate eyes look so sincere, but his position in all this tells me that’s not possible.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to know that there is nothing you could say or do that would make me hurt you. I may be mad. I may not like what you say. But I’d never hurt you.”

  “Okay.”

  I allow air to flood my lungs as he moves away.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but you will.”

  I really doubt that. “I still see those angry eyes every time I look at you,” I whisper.

  He whips around, stunned. I realize I spoke that aloud. Full on life-threatening panic consumes me. I sprint from the room, nearly tripping over my pants as I make a desperate run for the closet. I somehow make it there before he grabs me. I quickly shut the door behind me. I go to the back of the closet where the long coats hang and hide behind them, shaking profusely.

  Several minutes pass and he never comes. I'm not sure if that scares me more or less. Finally, the door creaks open. I scoot back so my spine is perfectly aligned with the wall.

  Like he won’t find me.

  “Please don’t be scared,” he says as comes directly to where I'm hiding. Again with the please.

  His body, covered in black, comes down in front of me. I try to grab a coat to cover myself, but he gently pulls it away.

  “I'm not mad at you.”

  More shaking.

  Adam sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He drops from his toes to his butt, sitting criss-cross in front me.

  “I heard the audio. When you were taken. I heard it all.”

  My eyes go wide and the room starts to spin. No. No. No. Say that’s true. Please.

  “They tortured you for information on me.”