Tainted Love

by Jaimie Roberts

  “Come in,” I say, waving her through. “I’m sorry it was locked. It completely slipped my mind.”

  “It’s fine,” she replies, dusting off imaginary bits on her coat. “I came in a couple of days ago and asked the gentleman here to put a vase aside for me as I unfortunately couldn’t purchase it then. I would like to now.”

  I nod my head and walk towards the cabinet where Charlie keeps all the reserved items. I unlock the cabinet and see the vase, a piece of paper attached. “Laura Kemp?” I ask, reading the name and amount on the slip.

  “That’s me.”

  I rip the piece of paper off and place it on the counter. “That will be one fifty, please.”

  She gives me her card, and I place it in the reader. I get to work wrapping the vase up as best I can before handing it over. She leaves, another happy customer, and I go through the rest of the mail.

  At some point later in the day, I fall asleep leaning against the wall, waking as a set of arms wrap around me. I jolt, frightened at first, until I hear his soothing voice.

  “Shh, it’s just me. Go back to sleep, Bri. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  I let out a satisfied moan, my head snuggling into his solid chest. I’m carried upstairs and placed on something soft, and then I must fall straight back to sleep again because when I wake, I’m more refreshed than I’ve been in ages. My body aches from sleeping in one position, but it’s a satisfying ache. I must have been so tired that I didn’t even move a muscle.

  I glance around the room I’m in, taking in the beige walls, thick, dark grey curtains, and a single wardrobe snuggled into the corner of the room. A very simple bedroom with only the basics of what Charlie needs. I turn over, burying my head into the soft cream pillows, inhaling the musky, citrusy scent which causes heat to ignite inside my core. I move my head, opening my eyes, and they immediately land on the digital clock on his bedside table. My eyes widen when I see it’s well after five.

  “Shit!” I shout, shooting up from the bed. I get up way too quickly as my vision blurs and my head spins. I gather my bearings then spot my shoes placed neatly against his small chest of drawers. I grab my shoes and carry them with me to the stairs. I start to descend when I hear raised voices coming from downstairs.

  “I know you know something, so you may as well tell me!” I hear a gruff male voice shout.

  “I told you already, I don’t know anything.” Charlie spits back.

  I kneel halfway down the stairs and clutch onto the railing for support.

  “If you don’t fucking tell us what you know, things will start to get ugly. You had a beef with my brother, and now coincidentally, he’s missing.”

  Fuck! It’s Brandon’s brother sniffing around again. When is his fucking phone going to arrive in Australia?

  “That doesn’t mean jack shit. Your brother’s disappearance could be for any number of reasons.”

  A scuffle sounds, and then Tom’s growling voice rumbles, “Tell me what you’ve done to him.”

  I hear more scuffling, my heart entering my mouth and the guilt at Charlie having to deal with this eats away at my insides. How much more will this man put up with before he kicks me to the kerb? I’m not fearful for him. Charlie can more than handle himself. It’s just… so much fucking grief for a mere employee.

  Just as these thoughts enter my head, the scuffle grows louder. “Let go of me, you fucking prick!” There’s a loud popping sound and then a grunt before I hear the sound of something or someone slumping to the floor.

  My heart races and my body quivers, because unfortunately, I know all too well what that sound is.

  Someone’s been shot.

  Please, God, don’t let it be Charlie, I pray as I race down the stairs.

  With no thoughts regarding my safety, I sprint down the remaining stairs and out into the hallway where I find Charlie slumped in the back doorway, his hand clutching the area between his chest and shoulder.

  “Charlie!” I scream, panic setting in tenfold. I glance a look outside to make sure Tom’s not here anymore before I bend down, pulling his hand away to inspect the wound. “I need to check your back.” Charlie nods his head, his features contorted in pain. I lift him slightly forward, making him cry out. Shit, there’s no exit wound which means the bullet is still imbedded.

  “I need to ring an ambulance,” I say, scrambling to get to my feet.

  A hand grabs my wrist, tugging at me. “I trust you,” Charlie says, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  I violently shake my head. “No, this is way beyond my capabilities, Charlie. You need a hospital.”

  His hand squeezes mine, his eyes glazing over in pain. “I want you to do it,” he reiterates. “I know you can do it. There’s no need to call an ambulance because the person who can save me right now is right here.”

  Shit, how can I begrudge him when he’s done so much for me?

  With that thought in my head, determination sets in, and I run for my first aid kit. “We need to get you upstairs. Can you walk?” He nods his head, but the grimace he makes scares me beyond belief. Going into fight mode, I pull out a gauze and press it into his wound. He yells out in pain, a sound I don’t ever want to hear again.

  “I know it hurts, but we can’t have you losing any more blood.” I grab his good arm and throw it over my shoulder, using all the strength I have to lift him up. He bellows out in pain, and it takes everything in me not to give up and call it quits, tell him he needs help and that I don’t want to lose him.

  Painfully slowly, we make our way up the stairs then I get Charlie to lie down on the dining table, praying that it holds his weight. I’m acutely aware that he’s in a lot of pain, so the first thing I do is go in search for some painkillers. I pull out a syringe and administer Toradol into his arm before pouring alcohol on my hands and reaching for some gloves. I then yank off his shirt, his buttons splaying out all over the floor.

  “Sexy,” Charlie mutters under his breath, the medicine already kicking in.

  “I can’t believe you’re flirting with me after being shot,” I respond, sweat forming at my brow. I wipe it away with the back of my arm then use scissors to cut away the rest of the shirt from him, fully exposing his wound.

  “With you it comes naturally,” he whispers, making light of the situation.

  “Flirt with me all you want, as long as you stay alive.”

  “Believe me, I don’t intend on going anywhere.”

  I smile, but then my eyes travel to the task at hand. When I glance at his arm, I find a tattoo of an anchor wrapped in the Queen’s coronation crown with the words Lest we forget above. Charlie catches me looking, his eyes glazing over.

  “I was in the royal navy for five years.”

  Considering I had an inkling he was in the forces of some kind, this hardly surprises me. However, I have no time to dwell on this as one by one, I get out all the tools I will need to try and find this bullet, my mind fully focused on the task in hand. “You’ll have to tell me all about it one day,” I reply, wondering if will. He just responds with a groan.

  Knowing it’s now or never, I intake a deep breath and get to work pulling the gauze off his wound. I grab the alcohol and pour it over, causing Charlie to cry out in pain.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, wondering if I can do this.

  “It’s… it’s okay,” he breathes out listlessly before swallowing hard. “You do what you have to. I’ll be fine.”

  “There’s that word again,” I joke, causing a ghost of a smile to grace his lips.

  “Now look who’s flirting,” he replies, his head lulling to the side. His eyes are beginning to droop, which may be a good thing. I really don’t want him awake for what I’m about to do.

  I snort back. “If you call that flirting then you really should get out a bit more.” My laughter stops the moment I realise I’m going to have no choice but to cause him more pain than he’s ever probably experienced in his life. I grab the Lidocaine and begin numbing the area
as best I can, saving the rest for later when I have to stitch him up. Charlie winces with pain, but the more the drugs kick in, the quieter he becomes.

  Once I’m satisfied that I’ve numbed the area enough, I grab some tweezer forceps and delve into the wound to try and find the bullet. Charlie’s scream is the most hair-raising, blood-curdling howl I have ever heard in my life. Thankfully straight after, his head flops sideways, passing out from the pain. I quickly check his pulse to make sure he has just passed out, breathing a sigh of relief when I pick up a strong beat. He’s fit, still young and healthy, all positive things for him right now.

  Once the panic subsides, I’m thankful to all gods that he’s temporarily free from the pain. At least I can now tend to the wound without guilt tearing me up inside over hurting him.

  It takes a few agonising seconds as all I hit is flesh at first, but when I come across something solid, my heart rate drops a little. I clasp the tweezers on the offending object, and as slow as possible, I pull the bullet out. I plonk the bullet on some gauze then quickly get to work stitching him up. Once I’ve fully bandaged him, I sink back in the chair a few minutes. I am completely and utterly exhausted but also so fucking grateful that despite Charlie’s comatose state, his chest is steadily rising and falling.

  As I take in another deep breath, I pull off my gloves and place them, along with all the bloodied gauze, into the bin. Once all is done, I collapse in a heap. The moment I do, Chris’s booming voice fills the air, making me jump through my skin.

  “Bri!” His muffled screams followed by him bashing the door downstairs race up to Charlie’s apartment.

  I groan but rush as fast as I can down the stairs and unlock the shop door to let him in. Charlie must have locked it himself once it hit five.

  “Bri, what the fuck’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you.”

  I sigh, letting him in, closing then locking the door behind him. “I’ve been busy with something.”

  An angry frown forms on his forehead. “Busy with what?” He then plants his eyes on all the blood on my shirt. “What the fuck, Bri! Are you hurt?”

  I grab his arms, trying to calm him. “Chris, calm down. It’s not my blood.” When he’s about to open his mouth to no doubt ask whose blood it is, I crook my finger at him. “Follow me and I’ll show you. I’m going to need your help.”

  “With what?” he asks, following me into the back. “Fuck, what’s with the blood everywhere?”

  “I’m going to show you now,” I repeat as he follows me up the stairs.

  Once we reach the kitchen area where Charlie is still sprawled out cold on top of the table, passed out, Chris curses under his breath.

  “Shit, what the fuck happened to him?” Chris’s eyes are wide with shock, scanning the whole scene in front of him.

  “He was shot. He didn’t want to go to hospital, so I tended to his wound. He’ll need looking after. That’s why I need your help.”

  “With what?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

  “I need more pain medication for Charlie.” I pull at my top. “And I definitely need more clothes.”

  Chris gazes at my bloodstained clothes. “Do you know who shot him? Were you with him?”

  Knowing I can’t lie to him, I nod my head. “It was Tom Bilko.”

  “Fuck!” Chris bellows, a hand rubbing over his face.

  “We really need his phone to turn up in Australia.”

  “I know,” he sighs, shaking his head. As if something dawns on him, he turns to me. “In the meantime, you can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

  “I’m not leaving him, Chris, so you can get that out of your head straight away.”

  “I’m not compromising your safety, Bri. We’ll just have to bring him home with us, and you can nurse him there.”

  I whisk my head back and forth. “Nuh-uh, never going to happen.”

  Chris’s jaw tics, his mouth forming a hard line. “I don’t want to argue with you about this…”

  “Then don’t,” I reply, hopefully interrupting anything else he might add. “Even if the Bilkos come back here, they will see that the shop is closed, and with no word of someone being shot in this area, they will believe he’s dead. They should disappear once they get the lead in Australia anyway.”

  “Yes, but what if they do come back? I’m not risking your safety.”

  I run up to him, grabbing his hand. “Then stay here with me tonight, and we’ll figure something out in the morning. For now, I really need you to get me some stuff. Please,” I implore, giving him my best begging eyes.

  He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “I never could say no to you.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, my eyes glancing to Charlie. “We’re going to need to move him to his bed.”

  Chris gazes at Charlie’s frame on the table. “Easier said than done. Have you seen the size of him?” Something catches his eye, so he leans forward, seeing the same tattoo I spotted. “Royal Navy, that figures.”

  I frown. “Figures what exactly?”

  He points his hand towards him. “Well, he’s gay, right?” I roll my eyes and he notices. “What?”

  “You think everyone in the RN is gay?”

  He smirks. “So many men on the ships spending so long at sea without the comfort of a woman.”

  Typical of Chris to respond with this. “That’s such outdated thinking. Women have been onboard navy ships for years now.” I shake my head, wondering how we got round to this conversation when we have a wounded patient laying on a dining table. “Anyway, that’s by the by. We need to do something to get him more comfortable. He certainly can’t stay here all night.”

  Chris looks around the room a moment, deep in thought. “I think the only way we’ll be able to do this is if I grab him under his arms and you grab his legs. Where’s the bedroom?”

  I point towards the door a few feet away, and I’m about to say it’s in there, when I get paranoid he’ll want to know how I know this. “I think it’s in there. I’ll go check.” I rush towards the bedroom and turn once I’m there. “Yep, this is a bedroom.”

  “Okay, so not too far. Maybe we can scoot the table a bit more towards the room and then carry him from there?” I nod my head, thinking that’s a good idea as any.

  With brute force, both of us manage to push the table towards the entrance of the bedroom then Chris grabs under Charlie’s arms, lifting him up with as much strength as he can muster. I quickly run to his feet, picking them up and carrying him like he’s a wheelbarrow towards his bed. Charlie moans, but he thankfully doesn’t wake as we grunt our way to the bed and place him on top. I pull his trainers off and try yanking the sheets down under him so that I can place it over his sleeping frame. I gaze at him after, grateful that he seems peaceful enough in sleep.

  “You did a good job with him. You should be proud of yourself.”

  I beam at Chris, grateful for his praise. “Thank you.”

  “Follow me downstairs? We need to make sure everything is locked up tight before I even contemplate leaving you to get all the stuff you need.”

  I nod my head, and then remember Michael. After everything today, I had completely forgotten about him. “Did you sort it all out this morning?”

  A sad expression crosses his face before he answers. “Yes, I got someone to help me. Looks like I fucking owe the little bastard now, but at least Michael’s gone, and there’s no sign he was ever at the house. No doubt questions will be asked once he doesn’t turn up in the next couple of days.”

  I want to remind him who is to blame for that, but this is not the time or the place, so I hold my tongue.

  “Did he not want the hospital?” Chris asks as we make our way out of the room and head for the stairs.

  “No, and thinking about it now, I believe he only said no to protect us.”

  Chris halts his descent down the stairs, turning to me. “What do you mean?”

  “Put two and two together. I get attacked, Charlie saves me, and t
hen within a few days all the guys that attack me go missing. He’s not stupid, Chris. He knows we have something to do with that, but for some reason he’s choosing to protect us.”

  His forehead crinkles, doubt forming. “Are you sure he’s gay, because he seems to be doing a lot for someone who simply works for him.”

  My heart rate kicks up a notch because he’s right. This is more than he should be doing for a simple employee.

  “He doesn’t like coppers,” I say, the lie easily leaving my lips. “Can’t stand them.”

  “Do you know why?”

  I shrug. “No clue. He’s very secretive, so there’s not much I do know about him.”

  Seeming satisfied with my answer, Chris continues his descent down the stairs, leaving me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

  We get to work bolting the back door then Chris leaves from the front after I promise I will lock up after and listen out for when he comes back. Once he’s gone, I wash the hallway as quickly as I can, trying to get as much of the blood off as possible, before grabbing my phone and making my way back up the stairs.

  I walk into Charlie’s bedroom and silently sit by him, taking his hand and watching him sleep. He looks so peaceful now, but no doubt he’ll wake shortly, when the pain medicine starts to wear off.

  For the next couple of hours, I keep myself busy checking Charlie’s blood pressure. It’s low, but understandable considering the blood loss. It doesn’t dip below 90/50, so as long as that continues, he should be fine.

  My saviour, Chris, returns, bringing more medical supplies, some of my clothes, and some food. Just after eleven, Charlie wakes and is in pain again, so I administer more medicine, and shortly after, he falls asleep. I remain vigilant in a chair by his bed, waking myself up every hour throughout the night to check his blood pressure. Chris sleeps on the sofa in the living room, and at around five in the morning, he wakes screaming the house down during one of his nightmares.

  “Shit, Chris!” I shout, trying my level best to hold his arms down so he’ll stop flailing them around. One time he did this, and he accidentally punched himself.