by Tia Wylder
Moments later, the door opened a crack, and a bleary-eyed Will looked out at her. He frowned. “What?”
“Let me in, Will, I--... I need to talk to you. I'm so sorry about last night--”
Will swung the door open and pulled Lily into an embrace, kissing her hard while his warm, strong arms wrapped around her small, shivering form. Lily kicked the door shut behind her as Will pulled her down on the bed and began peeling the wet clothes off her body. Lily assisted him gratefully and soon they were both warm and naked, tangled in the bedclothes and kissing and fondling one another. Lily surrendered to her desire for Will and lay back on the bed, parting her legs for him as he kissed her all over her delicate frame. He was ready to enter her when the door burst open and Lord Blackwood lumbered in, aiming a gun at his son.
“Get off,” Blackwood growled at his soon, advancing on the two of them. Lily clutched the blankets to her chest, trembling in terror.
“Stop!” she cried, “Don't hurt him, he's your son!”
“No he's not,” Blackwood sneered. “His mother was a whore, same as you. He's a bastard.”
“Lily doesn't love you,” Will snarled, “no one does!”
“Get off her before I kill you,” Blackwood demanded as he approached the bed. He grabbed Lily's wrist and yanked her off the bed, making her cry out as she scrambled to her feet, and Will threw himself at his father, tackling him to the floor. Blackwood released Lily's wrist to fight. Father and son rolled around, fighting for the weapon, when it discharged. Lily screamed and covered her ears as blood bloomed on Will's bare chest. She began weeping as Will collapsed, and Lord Blackwood loomed over him, aiming the gun at his head, but he was caught off-guard, and had assumed Will was done-for, but Will found the strength to spring up and steal the gun from his father. They grappled for a moment, then Will got control of the weapon, and did not think twice to shoot Lord Blackwood right between the eyes. Then the gun slipped from his nerveless fingers, and Will collapsed.
Chapter Eleven
Hours later, after the doctor had come for Will and the coroner for Lord Blackwood, Lily sat by his bedside, sick with anxiety. They were still in the rented room above the pub because Will was in such poor shape the doctor advised against moving him just yet. It was a tawdry place, as far as Lily was concerned, for such a fine young man to die, and the thought made her frantic with grief, so she told herself that Will was not going to die, even though the doctor said the bullet had grazed his lung and he might die that very night.
Lily did not sleep. She kept vigil over Will, holding his hand, listening to his every breath. It was the worst night of her life, including the night Lord Blackwood beat her so badly, because as Will listed, so ashen-faced and still, Lily realized that she loved him. How she could have come to love such a disreputable hellion she did not know, but there it was, and there he lay.
It was a long, dark night, but Will still breathed when dawn broke. Lily was not a religious girl, but she had prayed all night, and now she thought she might have to start going to church, if Will lived. It was uncertain, but the doctor visited mid-morning and said that if he had survived this long, he would likely mend just fine, in time. Will did not wake all day, but that night, Lily was so tired she slept beside him.
When she woke, Will's arm was around her shoulders. She peered up at his face and thought he looked a mite more lively now. She kissed his cheek and he stirred, brow puckering, and his eyes opened a crack.
“Will!” she gasped, grasping his hand.
“Is he dead?” Will whispered, his voice hoarse and weak.
“Yes,” Lily said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
“Are you... sad?” He looked grieved.
“I am sad for you,” she said, kissing his hand, “you mustn't die on me now, Will Blackwood, I... I've grown rather fond of you.”
“Why wouldn't you come with me?” Lily felt a stab of guilt at the pained look on his face, and she knew that she had hurt him.
“Will, I... I-I have a secret,” she stammered. She felt his fingers feebly squeeze hers in encouragement, so she sighed and pressed on. “When my parents died, and I was left penniless, I tried to find a husband to take care of me. One of my suitors... he... he took me, one night, and left me with child. So I bore that child in disgrace and was outcast from society. I have not been able to secure a living for myself, and my baby was starving, so I gave her to a charity home, but...” Lily dashes a tear from her eye. “I am racked with guilt every day for abandoning my daughter. Rosie. Her name is Rosie. Lord Blackwood was engaged to me under the pretext that, after we married, Rosie could come live with me, but... that day he said he had no intention of doing so, and that's when I came to find you.” She sniffed and pressed Will's hand to her cheek and she heard him making a noise. It sounded a bit like coughing, breathy and spasmodic, but when she looked at him in alarm she saw the amusement on his face and realized that he was laughing, only wounded too badly to do it properly.
“Lily Monroe, you really are full of surprises,” he murmured. “You say... you've grown fond of me.” He trained his half-lidded blue eyes on her. “Do you love me?”
“... very much,” Lily admitted, another tear slipping down her cheek.
“Are you fond enough of me to consent to marriage?” He grinned faintly.
“Marriage! A man like you! And a woman like me!” Lily scoffed. “Will Blackwood, I don't care how close you are to dying, that is a wretched cruel joke to play on me at a time like this.”
“I'm not joking.” He squeezed her hand again. “Be my wife, Mrs. Blackwood.”
“But what about Rosie? I must have her with me, Will, I cannot bear to let a stranger rear my daughter.”
“A scandal, I know, to have another man's child under my own roof,” Will sighed, “but for you, Mrs. Blackwood, I shall tolerate this mark on my notoriously pristine reputation.”
Lily burst into giggles and threw her arms around Will's neck. He groaned in pain and Lily squealed an apology, then leaned in to kiss him.
“Then yes, I shall have you for my husband, Lord Blackwood, but only if you promise to reform your rakish ways,” she cooed, cupping his cheek.
“For you, Mrs. Blackwood, anything,” he grinned.
The Asian Bad Boy
By Jessie Summer
Chapter One
Daiki Uchida
“I know your ears are probably still ringing, but listen close because I’m only going to say this once. Payment is required when services are rendered, and not a moment later.”
I stood up and nodded to the rather large individual to my left named Kraig. He enjoyed hitting people, and he was quite good at it. I let him do the talking most of the time.
Money is power. Anything in the world can be bought for the right price. The only question one must ask, is how far are they willing to go? It’s all about how you exercise the power afforded to you by the wealth you’ve accrued. I, for example, have decided to invest in the one business that will never go out of style: war.
I lifted a hand to stop the relentless punching. The conviction in his eyes told me he still hadn’t learned his lesson.
“Listen, I get it, I do. You want to forge a better life for yourself and your people. I want to help you do that, but I’m not a charity,” I said.
I motioned to the hulking man beside me and he resumed his duties.
Whether it’s a border skirmish in a third-world country, or a full-scale rebellion against the local dictatorship, I’m always there product in hand. I’ve been accused of prolonging conflict and increasing death tolls, but I would argue that these conflicts would rage on regardless of my presence or lack thereof. If people want to kill one another, they will find a way.
Of course, a weapons dealer isn’t the public face I want to wear. No, my “day job” is running a dummy corporation designed to launder the funds and put on a pretty face for the world to see. We specialize in private security solutions, the perfect cover for purc
hasing weapons and ammo. Some of our clients are very important people after all, but most are angry refugees determined to overthrow the governing body of their choosing.
I stopped him again.
“Untie him, I think he’s learned his lesson.”
The man could barely stand. His emaciated body stood like a rickety tree in the dimly lit room.
“Now, you’re going to find a way to pay me for those weapons and ammo within the next twenty-four hours, or my face is going to be the last thing you’ll ever see.”
It’s all money to me. So long as they pay, we don’t have any problems. But then, of course, you run into situations where we disagree on the speed at which payment is rendered. In those situations, I like to take a hands-on approach.
“I don’t have any money,” he babbled.
“Figure something out!” I shouted.
I motioned to Kraig, and we the left the room. I walked out into an abandoned bunker that this particular resistance was using as a base of operations. The armed men in the halls regarded me with blank stares, but I saw the hatred in their eyes. I was both their savior and their vanguard of destruction. They needed me, but ultimately my services would send them deeper and deeper into the maw of war.
Such is the way of the world, I was simply providing supply to meet demand. We reached the surface and emerged onto a makeshift helipad where my chopper was waiting. The pilot had been standing at attention in the freezing cold with a fur-lined hood over his head and thick goggles over his eyes.
He pulled down the bandana over his face as I approached. The icy snow-filled wind cut right through my trench coat and bit at the skin beneath. I was ready to leave this cold hell and get back.
“Everything fixed sir?” he asked.
“He has twenty-four hours. I’m not coming back to this ice box, though, send one of our own to collect.”
“Very good, sir. Where to now?”
“Back home, I need a drink.”
I climbed into the chopper. Kraig slid in beside me, taking up almost two seats on his own. It was all muscle, though, he was truly a powerful weapon.
“Do you love your job, Kraig?” I asked.
He looked over to me as he polished the blood off his fists with a dirty cloth he kept in his jacket.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
“Me too.”
As the helicopter’s blades picked up speed, I felt the entire machine lift itself off the ground and ascend toward the sky.
My phone started ringing and I felt my fists clench. It was probably my wife, calling to remind me that I should be at her beck and call.
I pulled the vibrating device out of my pocket and saw not her name, but the name of a contact I had in Africa. I couldn’t remember which country. I looked at his name on the phone and focused on how to pronounce it when I answered. I set the headset I was wearing to Bluetooth from my phone and picked up.
“Babatunde, what can I do for you my friend?”
“Went to collect Mr. Uchida, Baako didn’t have the money. You said to call.”
I really needed to get better at delegating these things.
“One moment, Babatunde.”
I turned to Kraig.
“Are you able to do more negotiating today?” I asked.
Kraig flexed his thick hands and nodded. I switched back to the phone call.
“Thank you, we’ll be there soon to take care of the situation.”
I hung up the phone and sighed. Looks like we were going out of the freezer and into the frying pan.
I turned off the Bluetooth and radioed to the pilot.
“Change of plans, it seems we have another debt to collect.”
Chapter Two
Kamaria Ife
When you grow up with nothing, not even clean water, love is something you never expect to have. Your dreams are composed of the things most people take for granted. I grew up in a small village somewhere in Africa. I never knew the name. This was a place where most people didn’t survive past their infancy, let alone to adulthood. There came a day when a man claiming to be a prince came to our village. He was looking for a woman to bring home as his wife.
Everyone wanted to be chosen. A chance to leave this place, to enjoy the comforts of a normal life, who wouldn’t want that? He arrived dressed in a flowing shirt and pants that were embroidered with magnificent colors. Blue like the sky and red like the sunset. He truly resembled royalty as he walked among us. I didn’t push past the other girls, nor did I shout at him to attract his attention. I simply stared at him as he passed and he looked back at me.
I was young, I had only just turned eighteen, and I had never once considered the possibility of love. Still, when our eyes met, I was convinced that I had felt it. It was a rumbling in your stomach, but not the kind you heard when you went to sleep hungry. No, it was more like sparks of fire dancing around inside of you.
My heart raced, but for once it wasn’t because I was scared. On the contrary, I was excited. He walked over to me and smiled with perfect white teeth. His hand came down and gently touched mine. I felt like lightning was shooting through me. I was convinced that this was the love so many people strived for in their lives.
He took me with him, and we went back to his home. It was magnificent, the largest building I had ever laid eyes upon. There was a fountain in the front courtyard that flowed with fresh clean water. I remember trying to drink it, but the prince stopped me. I was embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to care.
We went inside and I marveled at the lush carpets, the intricate art that hung upon the walls, and the priceless vases and sculptures that were spread throughout the house. I took a shower for the first time in my life and it was magnificent. I could change the temperature of the water whenever I wanted. When I was cleaned up, that night I was served a meal fit for a princess. It was hard to believe that any of this was real. It all seemed too good to be true.
That’s because it was.
I lived the greatest years of my life in that house. I had grown from a scrawny and emaciated girl into a black and big beautiful woman. Then in one night it was all taken from me. I didn’t know much about my husband, all I knew was that he cared for me, and I in turn cared for him. He was clearly rich and powerful, but that was the extent of my knowledge.
I was sleeping comfortably in a bed with silk sheets when I heard a furious pounding on the front door. My eyes shot open as my husband climbed out of bed.
“Who could that be?” I asked.
“Stay here,” he said.
I watched him walk over to the wardrobe in the corner. He had a key for it that he kept around his neck for safekeeping. I had never seen him open it before. He took the key off, unlocked it, and threw open the doors. Inside was a plethora of weapons. Everything from pistols, to assault rifles, to shotguns and grenades. He pulled out one of the assault rifles and went to work checking the clip. He held it in one hand as he picked up one of the grenades.
He set everything down on his desk beside the wardrobe as the pounding on the front door resumed downstairs. He pulled a pistol from the arsenal, checked the clip, and then walked over to me.
“You don’t know how to use this, I’m sure, but you’re going to need it.”
I was terrified, my heart was thundering my chest as I took the gun with shaking hands. This was fear, an emotion I was more than acquainted with.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
He picked up his rifle and the grenade.
“Point and shoot, love point and shoot.”
He walked out of the bedroom and I sat on the bed with the gun in my hand. He had turned the safety off before he handed it to me. It was ready to take lives, all I had to do was pull the trigger.
A deafening explosion came from downstairs. I fell back against the headboard of the bed as the sound of gunfire came from downstairs. There were several pops, followed by the repeating tap of an assault rifle
. The exchange continued for some time as I sat perfectly still staring at the open doorway. Fear had paralyzed me, my legs were like stone.
The gunfire stopped. The silence was almost worse than the noise.
“Come on out! We know you’re up there!” a man shouted.
My hands gripped the gun tightly. I lifted it up and aimed it at the open doorway. The barrel shook as I tried to hold it steady. I heard the footsteps of someone coming to get me. Several men filled the doorway. I froze, I couldn’t pull the trigger. One of the men walked over and pulled the gun out of my hands.
“Well, I suppose Mawimbi won the bet,” one said.
They all laughed as if it didn’t matter. Something hard struck me across the back of my head, and everything went black.
When I woke up again, I was in a room with no windows and only one door. It smelled horrific. It was also pitch black and I was laying on a thin mattress. Before I moved I heard someone else stir in the room. Metal clanged together and echoed through the space.
“Who is that?” I asked.
When I tried to stand up, I felt a cold metal cuff around my right ankle. It was attached to a chain that didn’t afford me enough slack to stand on my feet. I could barely climb onto my knees.
I heard another chain, and then another. No one spoke, though, but I could feel their eyes on me.
“Where am I? Please, someone answer me!”
No one answered.
A loud grinding noise came from the door to the room. A moment later it swung open and light poured through. I had to shield my eyes, but for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of the other people in the room.
Three others in total, all women. They seemed to be African like me, but judging by their bodies, they had been here for a long time. I saw the rusty chains that held us down and the stained mattresses.
A large man stood in the doorway with four plates stacked atop one another. He walked inside and set them down just within the reach of a woman.
