Sleeping with the Beast

by Hamel, B. B.

  I don’t know how far he ran or how long. Eventually he slowed and stopped, gasping for breath. He lowered me down and we sat in some random front yard under a large maple tree.

  “Are we safe?” I asked him.

  He nodded once. “I think so.” He took a phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it up to his ear.

  I looked around wildly, but didn’t recognize where we were.

  “Vincent, it’s Ren,” he grunted, still breathing hard. “House is compromised. Your wife’s fine. We need a ride.” There was a long pause and I could hear someone shouting on the other end. “I’ll send the location. Hurry the fuck up.” He hung up the phone, tapped a few more times, then leaned back on his elbows.

  “We should move,” I said, still on the verge of panic.

  “We’re fine. I ran halfway across fucking town. You’re not so heavy, you know?”

  I gaped at him. “You’re making jokes about my weight right now?”

  “Sorry. You’re panicking. I need to try and calm you down.”

  “That won’t work.”

  “How about we kiss again? Or maybe that would rile you up.”

  “Goddamn, you’re insane.”

  He laughed and grinned at me. “You love it.”

  We didn’t have to wait long. By the time the car showed up, an old, beat-up truck being driven by a guy named Simon with an annoyed expression, I had gotten control of myself. I replayed what happened over and over in my mind on the drive back, squeezed between the two men, as Ren glared out the window.

  He saved my life. He risked himself to make sure I escaped, and when it looked like I couldn’t get away fast enough, he risked himself again to pick me up and keep going. He didn’t owe that to me, but he did it anyway.

  I’d be dead without him. I knew it, as sure as anything.

  I put my hand on his knee and he glanced at me, gave me a tight smile, and put his hand over top of my own. He held my fingers as we headed back into the city.

  7

  Ren

  I held it together until I made sure Amber was safe. She sat blank-eyed in a side room in the Leone family mansion and wouldn’t budge from the warmth of the gas fire as it crackled behind a set of fake logs. I poured her a drink, something brown and strong, and she held it loosely in her fingers.

  Vincent stormed into the room a few minutes later. “What the hell happened?”

  Amber jumped, frightened by his sudden loud voice. I turned to him, and I thought something in my eyes made him reconsider his current tone.

  “Let’s talk in the hall.”

  He opened his mouth, and I could tell he wasn’t used to being ordered around like that—but fuck him, and fuck this place.

  He grunted and followed me out the door. I shut it softly with a click then turned to face him. The mansion’s hallways were covered in wooden chair rails and fancy molding, and the heavy carpet dampened our voices, which was probably good, because I half yelled at the motherfucker.

  “You said that place was secure,” I said, anger rising sharply. I knew it was a mistake, Vincent Leone wasn’t the kind of man you got mad at, but I was livid as hell.

  “My wife lives there,” he said, keeping calm, which actually knocked some of my anger away. “You think I’d keep her there if it weren’t safe?”

  “Then explain the men that broke in.”

  He shook his head. “I’m at war. They must’ve decided to take things too far.” He stepped close to me. “Mona could’ve been hurt. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your wife,” I said, my voice soft and hard. “Amber almost got hurt. Mona wasn’t even home.”

  His eyes flashed anger and I knew I’d gone too far, but I couldn’t take it back now. He didn’t move for a long moment and I stood staring at him, standing eye to eye with the big bull, the most powerful man in the city. I thought he might hit me—but instead, he turned and stalked a few feet away before turning back. “Come with me.”

  It wasn’t a request. I followed him down the hall, and he took me into a side room. I hesitated in the entryway and frowned at a huge wall covered in what looked like vinyl records. To the right was a huge, absurdly fancy stereo system, and to the left was a small couch.

  Vincent walked to the stereo, turned it on, and put a record on the platter. Immediately some weird, random jazz started playing, all wailing horns and horrible, off-beat drumming. I grimaced and shook my head.

  “What the hell is this?”

  He put a finger to his lips then gestured at the couch. I hesitated then sat down. He sat next to me, leaning forward on his knees. I had to lean forward to hear him as he spoke softly.

  “I think there’s someone listening.”

  I almost pulled back, but he looked at me, and his eyes were clear, his face serious. I thought he must be insane, but then again, he was the head of the mafia. If there was someone in the city worth spying on, it was Vincent.

  “How do you know?”

  “Nobody here knows about that place. Unless you tipped them off, which I don’t think you did, then I don’t know how they found out about it.”

  “Someone has to know.”

  “Only people I really trust.” He shook his head. “Other things are happening. The Dusters keep showing up places they shouldn’t, hitting safe houses, robbing stashes. They keep getting the drop on me and I don’t know how.”

  “You think this place is bugged?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe I’m going insane.”

  I stared at him for a second. “Maybe you are.”

  He laughed and leaned back, considering me. “I like you, Ren. The rumors about you are true. You’re frustratingly honest, you know that?”

  “I know that Amber almost got killed, and you’re going on about your house being bugged. It doesn’t inspire confidence.”

  He leaned toward me again, eyes shining. “How’s this for inspiring: I’m sick.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Sick, how?”

  “I have multiple sclerosis. Do you know what that is?”

  “You’ll end up paralyzed or something like that.”

  “Sort of, yes. Everyone always thinks it’s a death sentence, but not necessarily. In some ways, I’m lucky. I have a good doctor and I was diagnosed young, so I’ll be able to stay on medication for a long time. Many people don’t get their diagnosis until they’re much older.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because the rumors about me are true. I am sick, but I’m not weak. The Leone family’s been at the top of this city for a long time now, and we haven’t been challenged in years. We need to crank back up into war mode, but we’re getting there. I need you to stick around while we get ourselves sorted.”

  “I didn’t plan on abandoning Amber.”

  “Good.” He nodded to himself. “That’s good. You can both stay here for a while.”

  “Don’t know where else we’d go.”

  He shot me a glare. “Please don’t keep testing my patience, Ren. You’re honest, but you’re not stupid.”

  I cracked a little smile. “All right, Vincent. I hear you.”

  “Good.” He stood up and looked down at me. “I can’t promise it’s going to be safe here. I can’t promise it’s going to be safe anywhere in the city, not anywhere my people will be. Maybe you should think about getting her away if you can.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He nodded, glancing toward the door. “I wish I could send my Mona with you, if you do decide to leave the city, but I know she’d never go. And hell, I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Must be hard.”

  His face hardened again and he stared at me for a long beat. “Just watch Amber. Make sure she’s safe.”

  I nodded, stood, and walked to the door. I felt his eyes on me the whole time. The strange, wailing saxophone continued to bleat wildly from the speakers. I opened the door and stepped out, but he said something I couldn�
�t hear. I looked back, nodded to him.

  “What was that?”

  “The music. It’s the shape of jazz to come.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

  He smiled and laughed. I slipped out and shut the door behind me as I walked back to the room where I’d left Amber.

  Vincent was losing his shit. No doubt in my mind about that. He was half-crazed already, and I didn’t know how much longer before he lost the rest of himself. Or maybe it was just the stress of his disease, coupled with this new war that wasn’t going well for him, but either way, the cracks were showing, and if I could see it, then other people could see it too.

  Things were much more dangerous than I’d realized.

  Maybe he was right though. It was totally possible that there were bugs in this place. The whole house was ostentatious as hell, and although security was decent, all it would take was one well-placed guy in the kitchen staff, or one of the cleaning people, and it’d be pretty easy to leave bugs lying around all over the place.

  Hell, if I wanted to rob it, I had a pretty good feeling that I’d be able to get away.

  I slipped back into the small living room and found Amber right where I’d left her. The glass of whiskey was half finished, at least. I walked over and sat down, putting a hand on her knee.

  She flinched and stared at me.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I think so. My ears are ringing.”

  “From the gunshots. Guns are really fucking loud.”

  “On TV, they don’t talk about that, you know? They just shoot the things like it’s no big deal.”

  “TV’s not real, princess.”

  A little spark of anger. That was good. She was still in there. “What do you want from me, Ren?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You almost got killed today. Why the hell are you still here?”

  I frowned at her, head cocked. “Almost getting killed is my job.”

  “No, it’s not.” She looked away. “Babysitting me is your job.”

  “Guess we disagree on that one then.” I wanted to reach out and touch her, try and rekindle some of the spark I’d felt, but right now it felt like she was buried under thousands of pounds of snow and ice, and it would take a long time before it all thawed.

  “You don’t have to stay. You did your duty. I absolve you of more.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Ren—”

  “I took a job,” I said, leaning close. “I know what happened today was fucked up and we’ll be dealing with that for a while. But I’m not going to walk away and leave you here alone.”

  She looked at me again, and this time I saw the tears. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she buried her face in my shoulder. I let her cry and held her there, worried that this would be the last straw for her, that whatever she wasn’t able to get over from her past would come back with a vengeance, and then I didn’t know where I’d be if that happened.

  I didn’t want to leave her down there, buried under the avalanche of her past.

  She calmed down after a few minutes. I got her some tissues and she laughed bitterly. “Sorry. I hate crying. It’s pretty ugly.”

  “I disagree. You’re sexy when you cry.”

  She laughed once. “That’s gross, but funny.”

  “Not trying to be funny.”

  She wiped herself with the tissues then stared at them, crumbling them between her fingers. “What do we do now?”

  “I’m going to find you a room to stay in,” I said. “We’ll stay here in the mansion from now on.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll be as close as you want.”

  She blinked a few times then nodded. “All right. We can do that.”

  “Mona’s here too. I haven’t seen her yet, but Vincent mentioned her, so I assume she’s fine.”

  “Good. That’s a relief. I’m happy she wasn’t home when it happened.”

  I reached out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go find a good spot for you.”

  She hesitated, then took it, and let me pull her to her feet. We walked out into the hall together, and although I had no clue what the hell I was doing, I was determined to figure it all out.

  Because right now, she needed someone to take charge. I could tell she was in shock, and that sort of thing didn’t go away without a struggle. She was fragile before this shit happened, even if she put on a brave face, but goddamn, I couldn’t imagine how she’d be now.

  I was pissed. Livid, really, but I wouldn’t back down and let her crumble to dust.

  8

  Amber

  I found myself in a huge room, and I should’ve been comfortable. It was more lavish, more expensive than anything I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and my father was a pretty wealthy man.

  Instead, each day felt like a new nightmare.

  I kept reliving the moment when I got shot. Over and over again, I kept seeing the guns, hearing their explosive noise, feeling the bullets rip into my body. Every morning I’d open my eyes drenched in sweat from the nightmares, and all day I’d be unable to get out of bed.

  I had my own apartment complete with a living room, a little kitchen, my bedroom, and two bathrooms. Ren slept out on the couch, and every day I’d wake up to coffee and breakfast. I didn’t know where the food came from, and I didn’t ask. I’d sit with him and eat, then I’d retreat back into my room and watch TV, or read books, or really do anything but think about what had happened, because the second I tried to think was the second I got my flashbacks again.

  It was torture, pure and simple.

  Ren never once left me. He stayed in the other room, gave me space, but he was always there, strangely comforting. He saved my life, I knew it, and even though there was still a part of me that was afraid of him and hated him for what he was, I didn’t think that part of me would ever be in control again.

  Mona came to see me after a couple of days. Ren left us alone and Mona looked at me like she might cry.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, taking my hands.

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “I should’ve been there. Maybe—”

  “What could you have done?”

  “I don’t know. Talked to them. I’m good at talking to these kinds of guys.”

  “Mona, they were there to kill us. You wouldn’t have done anything but get hurt.”

  She chewed on her lip then shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Amber. This is so fucked up.”

  “I know.” I forced myself to smile at her. “It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened to me.”

  She groaned. “Come on, that makes it so much worse.”

  I tried to laugh, but I couldn’t make myself do it. “What is it about me, do you think?”

  She was quiet for a long moment then squeezed my hands. “It’s not you, it’s them.”

  “How?”

  “Those guys are scared all the time. They’re afraid, so they try to hurt the people that can’t fight back.”

  “They want to kill me because I’m weak?”

  “Weak, and a girl, and related to the men they actually want to hurt. It’s because they’re pathetic.”

  “Sounds more like I’m pathetic.”

  “You’re not.” Her tone was sharp and she stared at me with a fierce expression. “Just because you don’t go around fighting people and killing them doesn’t mean you’re weak. You survived twice now, Amber. That means something.”

  “Ren saved me the second time. The first time was pure luck.”

  “No. You had a part to play in both of those.”

  I hesitated. She was right. Ren did all the work—but there was that moment, when he was covering me, and I had to run to the doorway. I had to run into the fire, and I managed to do it. That wasn’t much, not even a little shred of what Ren had gone, but to me—it was everything.

  “I’m alive, at least,” I said, unwilling to speak that p
art of myself out loud. I felt like admitting that I took some sick pride in my survival would be too much, like admitting something horrible.

  “I’m happy about that.” She was silent for a second before she touched my face. “I’ll get you new paints, if you want.”

  I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t thought about painting since leaving that house. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” She stood up. “Vince says we should be safe here. I doubt we’re safe anywhere near the city right now, but he’s probably right. The mansion’s got serious security. It’s been hit before, but it always survives.”

  I nodded a little. “Good.”

  “I’ll come visit you again soon. For now though, I’ve got some work to do.”

  “Mona, thanks for coming to see me. But you don’t owe me anything, you know.”

  “I know.” She smiled and drifted to the door. “But I like you.”

  Then she was gone. I leaned back against the couch and squeezed my eyes shut. In my mind, I heard Ren shouting, heard the gunshots—

  The door closed and I flinched, unable to help myself. Every time a door closed too hard near me, I reacted like someone was shooting again.

  “Let’s go downstairs and do something.” Ren stood nearby, watching me.

  I looked at him and shook my head. “No, that’s okay.”

  “Come on. There’s a pool table. You know how to play?”

  “Ren—”

  “You can’t stay in here forever,” he said, voice soft, but still firm.

  “I can try.”

  “I won’t let you. So come on, baby steps. Come downstairs and play pool with me.”

  I gave him an annoyed look and hoped he’d leave me alone soon. “No, thanks.”

  “I’ll give you a minute to get changed.”

  That pissed me off. He always found a way to piss me off. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

  He looked almost apologetic. “You haven’t gotten changed in a couple days. Maybe you should shower, too.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off—but he was right.