by Evie Adams
Who was I kidding, of course I was, the man had an A+ dick game.
And was almost perfect in every way, except for that little thing he let slip on Tuesday, when I couldn't go meet him and his friends at the bar because there was no sitter for Bumpy. "You know I probably would have married you already if it wasn't for that kid of yours." He said it as a child, to hurt me, and maybe didn't really mean it, but he hadn't begged and apologized for saying it, for even thinking it, so I figured we were probably over.
I had three texts from him on my phone, “Where you at” and “Yo!” and “Yo?”. And I tried to ignore them, but I was sure I would call him once I got off, so I could get off.
Anyone who would make me choose between bumpy and them didn't deserve to be in my life, but it's tough to leave a cock like that and go back to meeting assholes at the bars. But a girl's got needs, sometimes you need to get fucked, and those assholes are the only option.
Mr. Higglesworth perked up his ears and rolled over and off my lap, running into the next room. When I looked up I saw the scariest man I've ever seen. He had huge jagged scars across his face, coming out of each mouth and up the cheeks. He was covered in blood from his stomach down to his waist and legs. He had a blank look on his face, as if surprised to see me, but he pulled a gun from inside his jacket slowly and pointed it right at me.
"Help me and you won't get hurt," he said and stared at me.
He was a wounded animal and my first instinct was to grab him and calm him, but having never had a gun pointed at me, a new instinct appeared, to run. I jumped out of my seat and ran for the door, I tried to pull it open and it was locked, I frantically tried to unlatch it, but by then his good arm was wrapped around my throat, for someone who lost that much blood, the strength in his forearms was impressive, my neck was between his bicep and forearm and he could have been snapped it like a twig.
I started crying, "I have a baby, please don't hurt me,"
"I already said I wouldn't if you helped me, but running away is not helpful, now is it?" He whispered.
He turned me around from the door and pushed me forward to the back room. I heard him close the blinds and shuffle his feet after me.
I felt surprisingly calm, I could taste sour, metallic adrenaline in my mouth.
"You're a nurse right?" He asked when I turned to face him again, in the back room.
"Office manager, well I help out too," I looked down at my scrubs, but they were for show more than practical. Corporate uniforms to make customers feel we were a hospital, everyone wore them no matter if they answered phones or were nurses.
"You can try," he said and smiled, a goofy, half grin, because the muscles in part of his face must have been severed when he got those scars.
I took off his jacket, slowly, easing it off through his wincing in pain. It slid off and revealed enormous arms and pecs, and a washboard stomach. If he wasn't covered in blood he would be damn sexy.
I got to work on him, and he never cried out, or showed his pain, "Much easier to work on than animals, they always try to bite when they're in pain," I blurted out, forgetting what was happening for a moment.
"I might too," he said menacingly, even though it was a joke, and I remembered exactly what this was. I was a hostage and trying to help a gunshot victim. He came alone, so who knows where the shot came from and if the person who shot him was still breathing.
I had him take off the gun holster, a thin leather thing wrapped around his chest, and then his white t-shirt came off with it.
"Can you stand up and follow me to the other room?"
"What for he asked," suspicious.
"To wash this off to see what's under the blood." The hole was obvious, crimson, near black blood, but I couldn't tell if or where it exited without cleaning it off. He followed without a word to the sink in the surgery room, and I ran the water until it was room temperature, and held his arm under, splashing the water over, cleaning the blood and ran some soap around and under.
"Clean through," he said before I had seen it, what I thought was the entry wound was the exit wound, he must have had his arm up when he was being shot at. The bullet entered underneath his forearm and exited on top. The entrance wound was a tiny little hole, like Bumpy's belly button.
I brought him back in the other room and sat him down on the examining table, and went to fetch the gauze to patch him up. It would be simpler than I thought. Maybe I'll be home before the babysitter starts to get pissed off or demands overtime. As I got the gauze out, I noticed his revolver was sitting alone, next to me on the counter where he had sat previously.
It was stupid thing to do, but I grabbed it and turned around, I pointed it at him, it was far heavier than I imagined in my hand.
"Are you going to shoot me or help me?" He asked when he looked up at me. I had the gauze in my other hand, under the gun.
"I don't know, what do you plan to do with me?"
"Nothing, like I promised twice already, if you helped me. Twice now you're the one to break that agreement." He looked at me coolly, not flinching at the gun pointed at him. I had never held a weapon, never mind shot one before.
"There's no reward for me, and you won't be any kind of hero, if that's what you’re thinking. But if you're going to shoot me, you have to look me in the eye as you do it, you can't shut them or look away when you squeeze the trigger, or else you'll miss. Trust me on that one. The trigger is real light in that, it's loaded and hasn't been fired yet, I promise that too. It's so easy to squeeze it, but you gotta look me in the eye while you do it, and remember how it looks for the rest of your life."
CHAPTER 2: GIANNI
Her arms were small and bare and deeply freckled. Her eyes were large and gray and somehow, in a way I had never seen before, also freckled, or at least exploding like a fireworks from the darkness of her pupil, a halo of gold dust.
She had put the gun down quickly enough, ashamed and sheepish and walked towards me with the gauze. But I could have kissed her for trying. A ballsy move. I also could have broken her neck for trying it, like I did the last person to point a gun at me, but the fight was out of her, for now at least. And it was too beautiful a neck to do any damage to it.
Her hands worked nimbly with the bandages, confident, but gentle too. I felt my cock harden as she ran her fingers over me, but that was the last thing I needed, to waste blood down there with all I had lost in the car.
"How old's your kid?" I asked.
"14 months," she said.
"What's its name?"
"Kendall, but I call it bumpy,"
"I was trying to guess boy or girl, but none of you answers are any help at all."
She smiled, "A girl, but yeah, I wanted to leave it a little mysterious for her teachers in school, and whoever else just sees a name."
"Mysterious." I hummed. "As a woman she'll already have plenty of mystery."
I tried to smile, but sometimes I forget how scary that is with my face. I used to joke around a lot, but losing the face muscles, no one can ever tell, and it's a pretty scary face now. I try to avoid mirrors, so sometimes I forget how bad I look.
She looked back at me, not sure if she should laugh. She seemed uncomfortable talking about the kid, so I let her off.
"You got any kids?" She asked.
"No." I answered. "I take care of my ma though, she's almost 75 and dementia, so sort of like a kid." She looked up and smiled weakly at me, those freckled eyes almost killed me.
A loud knock on the door startled us both. That wasn't a normal knock. It was that police BAM! BAM!, knock with the bottom of the fist. She looked up at me frightened, asking 'what should I do?' with those eyes.
“That's police, you have to answer it, but don't try to go back on our deal a third time. Three strikes is all you get.”
She nodded, terrified.
“You don't want to see anyone get shot tonight right or get shot yourself right? So don't do anything stupid.”
“What should I say?”
“That you're here working. Be cool, look tired and pissed off he's keeping you from finishing work and going home. Pretend he's me, but not as dangerous.”
She nodded, and still looked terrified, but I'll bet she could act cool. Women were natural actors. Make you believe almost anything they told you.
She turned to go and I noticed my blood on her shirt top, I grabbed the hem of her shirt real quick and pulled her back to me, “The blood,” I said and pointed to the spot on the front. A crimson mark shaped like Texas above her left hip, from when she leaned in close to me, bandaging me, and I studied those eyes.
Without any hesitation she pulled the top off and threw it on the floor, her breasts barely contained by a black lace bra, and my blood went to the wrong place again, I almost felt light headed it moved so quick. She went to the cabinet that held the gauze and stretched another duplicate shirt over her and walked out. She looked cooler than me right now, that's for sure.
I listed to her walk to the door, pull the blinds back, then unlatch the door. I looked around the room, there was no place for me to hide, and no way to hide the blood if this asshole came back to check, I was done.
But I had my gun.
I didn't want to do that to her, but I wasn't going to go down on felony murder either, at least not quietly.
I heard the cop walk in and say, “Good evening ma’am. I saw your light on and wanted to check in on you. How come you're still here past midnight?”
“End of the month reconciliations for the drugs plus re-ordering what we need. Is there a problem?”
She sounded pissed off, but polite, good girl.
“There's an armed criminal on the loose. He shot his partner to death, and we think he was shot himself. It may be nothing, and he's probably already gone or dead himself, but a place like this or a hospital is the other most likely places he'd be.”
“Shit,” she said. “I'm in danger.”
“It's probably nothing, but why don't I give you a ride home right now?”
I waited for her to do something stupid. I heard her say, “If I don't get these reconciliations done I'm in trouble, big trouble.”
“They'll understand. Your boss won't want you in danger for something like that, plus it's a lawful order, not a request. You can have them call me if you catch any flak for it.”
Goddamn cops. Always with the orders, always 'asking you' in a way that gives you no choice but to do what they ask, then they say you did it voluntarily.
“OK, let me grab my notebook and lock up,” I heard her say and I prayed the cop wouldn't follow her, but I knew he would. Always sticking their nose in wherever they wanted.
I had my hand on the gun when she opened the door and that fucking cat ran out past her.
“Oh shit, close the door,” she commanded the cop. I heard his keys jingle as he scooped down to grab the cat, not closing the door like she told him to.
“Fuck,” she said. “That cat's worth $2,000, it's a fucking show cat. I gotta go get him,”
“I can't let you, you have to come with me and shut this place down.”
“Fuck you, this can cost me job. And you can't make that right by talking to my boss.” She ran out the door and I heard the cop linger for a second, then I heard the keys jingle and he followed her out.
I might be in love with this girl!
I wished I could watch the cop chasing a cat in the dark, but I used the time to cover the table I was sitting on with gauze and scrubs from that cabinet. I tossed them there to look like she was going through them, and took the stained one with me, to wrap my arm.
I could maybe go out the back window, but I didn't want to attract attention with them out there. My other option was a boarding crate in the corner, a better fit for a 50 lb dog than for me, but I managed to fit just well enough. I'd be shot dead without a struggle if the cop found me, but I didn't have a better option.
The rest coming Soon……………
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About Evie Adams
I’m always reading, so I figured I’d start writing too. So I can have more time to read! I’m a lawyer and mother by day and romance author by night (and sometimes day too, but don’t tell anyone).
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