Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  I grab him once more, dragging him from the wall and throw him into the middle of the alleyway. I’ve peaked with my adrenaline during many attacks and many kills, but right now, what I’m feeling doesn’t even come close.

  I kick and kick as my rage blinds me. I only step back when my own breath strikes my lungs like tiny flames. I’ve exerted myself to the point of murder once more, and I know this fucker won’t survive the night. I look back down at him on the ground. He’s barely conscious now, and his body shakes as his breathing becomes a struggle.

  What an absolute fucking shame – not.

  He probably thinks I’m done with him by the mere fact I take my sweet time. In fact, I’m reaching into my pocket only to pull my switchblade out, slowly easing the sharpened blade from its hilt, preparing it for its next job.

  As he begins to struggle to use the wall to stand up, I usher my way toward him. In one swift movement, I cross the alleyway and ram my hand, and the knife, into his chest. My direct aim means the blade – while tilted up – enters under his ribcage, angling for his right lung. As if to prove I’m right, I hear the tiniest of exhalations before the alley falls completely silent.

  “You feel that?” I ask him, my tone dripped with gentle ease. “That’s the feeling of my knife slicing straight through your lung.” I indulge in the panic that starts to ooze into his face. “That shortness of breath you’ll start to feel is the air rapidly escaping into your chest cavity.” He leans back, my hand still against his chest, my other hand keeping him pinned against the wall. I wiggle the knife as if to diminish any idea of denial he had in him. “Take a deep breath,” I order him, but he seems to have forgotten how to breathe as he watches me. “Take a fucking deep breath!” I bellow, my rage igniting in my voice as my words ravage the air.

  The stupid bastard actually listens to me! As if doing so will force me to take pity and save his life. As he struggles to inhale a desirable amount of air, he exhales only to try again. His lung contracts around the blade, causing an inability to feel that sufficient amount of oxygen feeding his blood stream.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” I say, finally removing my knife. “You deserve a slower death for what you are.”

  All at once, my rage diminishes, and Ryleigh comes back into my mind. The knife, without cleaning it, goes into my pocket and I leave him to slump against the wall, watching his only lifeline begin to leave his aid. As if I know I’ve done my work, I flee this cunt’s side to go to her. Within seconds, I’m on my knees, pulling her onto my lap. I pull her dress back down over her, grabbing the jacket that now sits on the floor to cover her a little more.

  "It's you," I say, holding onto her body. "I had no idea."

  Her eyes flicker open to look at me as I say that. At first, she looks terrified, but it doesn’t last. The moment she notices me, she calms, but with it come the tears.

  “Cara,” I whisper my nickname for her quietly. “You’ve got to keep your eyes open.”

  “You saved me?” she asks, her tone almost inaudible among the pain she’s exhibiting. “Why would you save me?”

  I watch her brow tug together, confusion taking over. Her questioning causes a pain to radiate from my chest. I vowed to protect her always, but now that I’m finally here, she looks disbelieving that I would stand true to my word. I know she’s hurt and I was almost too late, but I would never have ran after this.

  “Didn’t think you’d play the hero.”

  “I wouldn’t for anyone else, little wolf,” I tell her, starting to move her. I notice her face pales furthermore and I still. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just don’t feel so good,” she murmurs softly to me.

  “Hey,” I say as her eyes close. She fights it, but it’s futile. “Ryleigh, don’t you dare!”

  As her eyes close again, I can’t withstand this. I scoop her up in my arms as I stand and I hold her close to my body, almost possessively. I walk through the alleyway and glass breaks beneath my feet with every heavy step I take.

  “Hey, asshole!” I call out to the doorman. I know him as Zack, but I know he’s a bit of an asshole. “Come and help me.”

  “Boss?” he calls out, running over. “What’s wrong with Ryleigh?”

  “Some cunt was trying to rape her. Now, unlock my car.” My order is acidic to hear, but I don’t care. My acrid tone is the least of my worries. “No one deals with that fucker down in the alleyway, you hear me? I’ll have someone take care of him.”

  He nods, numbly getting my keys from my pocket to unlock the car and open the door. Gently, I slip Ryleigh into the passenger seat, quickly securing her seat belt. I linger, pushing her hair out of her face. I take in the sight of her and I wish I hadn’t let things spiral to this point. She wouldn’t have been working if I had just fucking manned up. If I had confronted her properly, we would have been ticking along perfectly. I step back, grabbing the door to close her into the sanctity of the car.

  “I’ll call Jackson on the way to my apartment to let him know what’s happened. If I find out any of you dealt with that cunt down there, you’ll have me to answer to, and I won’t be dishing out a fucking sweet punishment.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  “Good. You can go back to the door,” I tell him, unwilling to offer any reward of my gracious attitude. “He’ll be dealt with.”

  I don’t wait for a farewell; I rush to the driver’s side and kick-start the engine almost immediately. I take one last look at Ryleigh before I put my foot on the accelerator.

  ***

  I’ve stared at Ryleigh for far too long. I made the right phone calls, dealt with business, and resumed my place beside her. The apartment has long since fallen silent.

  My eyes flutter over to look at Ryleigh. She’s still unconscious, and she hasn’t shown any signs of waking up. I should’ve taken her to the hospital, but the questions that would’ve been asked, the investigation that would have sparked, wasn’t something I could contend with, not while I had blood on my hands.

  So I called the only people I could – Barney, so he could clean up; Jackson and Jodi to get here; and Bayli, our mob doctor. After I had found blood on me, I found Ryleigh’s head to be bleeding. Bayli told me that Ryleigh probably had a concussion but would be with me as soon as she could escape the hospital.

  So, here I sit – a hollow man – while I watch the woman who causes me to rethink my every move lie insentient and still before me. But it’s in this silence, with her so lifeless, that I find myself able to confront those things I’ve tried to quell.

  “You deserve so much more than me as a hero,” I murmur softly, speaking to the silence. “Fuck, you deserve so much more in life than you’ve been given.” I thrust my hands upwards, threading my fingers through my disheveled hair. “I’m no one’s hero, Ryleigh. You just got lucky that I gave a fucking damn tonight.”

  I sit back, allowing myself to take note of her entirely. She causes a stir within me that I’ve never encountered. It’s a foreign feeling, but I enjoy the ebb of it. It’s given me a cause, a reason to protect myself more. She’s given me something and I can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

  “What are you doing to me, Miss Turner?” I ask, my voice echoing into the silence. Again, my hands course up into my hair, dragging back down to cover my face. “I never knew what it was to feel until there was you. I don’t mean just any sort of feeling, but I mean that soul-crushing, potentially devastating feeling. You force me to feel it all.” I pause for a moment, sinking into my thoughts to acquaint myself with them. “And that terrifies me far more than anything else I’ve had to deal with in my life. I knew you’d be trouble, but I thought I could withstand whatever you gave, but you’ve annihilated me. You never saw any obstacle while running at me. You just ran with full force.”

  She was beating every sliver of sin from me without even knowing – only to replace it with a beating heart, a thing called love, and a carnal desire that I only felt for her. I was becoming a changed man, but
I wasn’t ready to accept him. I couldn’t indulge him or dote on the idea. Instead, I squandered the notion and reminded myself of who I was and what my plans were in this life.

  But right here, right now, in this apartment, I can’t withhold my confessional. Instead, I start to admit more, but it’s with just cause.

  After I’ve said this once, I’ll never fucking say it again.

  “You told me you could learn to love me, and I know I could do the same. I have already done the same. In just the past few weeks, you’ve brought more to my life than any amount of bloodshed could. I never knew I had a heart capable of caring, but you’ve shown I can care and protect for someone who isn’t blood or isn’t dragged into this life.” My eyes soften upon her still face. "Everything I touch turns to dust, but you… you turned to gold." I gulp deeply as my admittance pours from my lips so effortlessly. “But we can’t do romance when I’m playing a bigger game than the one to do with your heart, Ryleigh.” My comment comes with a sigh full of condemnation. “My life is a mess, and I have no time for dating or for showing you what you deserve. I wish I could say I want to learn to love you so wholeheartedly it hurts, but right now, I can only continue to drag you down to hell with me and hope you still love me. That’s all I’m capable of.”

  I sit, with bated breath, hoping she’ll wake up and stop me from continuing, but she doesn’t as much as move. Instead, I fight myself to leave her side – to forget all I’m saying – but a voice within tells me to confess everything and then I can give myself closure.

  “How do I give you love when I know that love either burns bright or leaves scars? I can tell you now my sort of love will leave all manner of scarring and you'll forever see yourself as a monster. I don’t want that for you. I don’t see that sort of defamation written in your stars. It’s not something I can imagine. I want you at my will, sure. I want you by my side, of course, I do. But I don’t want you to carry the weight of my world on top of what you already carry. I’ve seen that over the past few days, Ryleigh. You offer such a fearless guise that we never speculate the girl under it. I see her now, and I could be the one who destroys her. For once, I can say that isn’t what I’m after.” I hang my head. “I don’t know what I’m after anymore where you’re concerned because the lines are all too fucking blurred.” I take a slow breath, allowing it to burn in my lungs before I exhale. “Give me the patience to set you free, Ryleigh. Until then, I can’t let you go. I’m a greedy fucking bastard and you’re proof of that.” I look at my damaged hands as they sit within one another. “I’ll drag you down with me, and then I’ll cut every tie. That was our promise to one another. That’s what I’ll keep.”

  I look up finally, watching her peaceful face. What I would give to have the courage to say that to her while she was awake. I shake my head, disappointed in my cowardice, and decide to clean my knuckles up before she finally wakes. I walk into the kitchen, subconsciously going straight for the large bottle of Macallan whiskey I have stocked away. I unscrew the cap, tossing it onto the counter as I grab one of the towels from the side. I head back, resuming my spot beside her on the coffee table.

  I pour the whiskey onto the towel, dousing it before running it across my cut knuckles. The alcohol bleeds into the open wounds, stinging each one. I sit back, allowing the liquor to work its way into the cuts and I take a swig from the bottle. I could say my life’s a complete fuck-up, but how can I? I finally serve a purpose. She could very well be the death of me, but I couldn’t think of a more splendid way to leave this world. The thought alone has me guzzling another mouthful, trying in vain to force my thoughts to stop.

  “Dante?”

  Her voice is dry, meek, but it’s clearer than it was earlier and startles me all the same.

  “You’re awake?!” I exclaim, dropping the towel onto the floor. I practically scramble to her side, nearly knocking over the full bottle of whiskey. “Fuck,” I mutter as I sit calmly down onto the coffee table beside her. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess,” she comments, pushing herself up a little. “My head hurts.”

  “I thought it would,” I confess, trying to keep my voice calm. I’m still raging over what has happened, but for her I need to be calm. “You have quite the cut. I have a doctor friend coming over to check on you. You were out for a while.”

  “How long?” she questions, looking at me, her brow furrowing. “Where am I?”

  “You’ve been out just over an hour and you’re at my apartment,” I tell her, trying to give her all the details at once. “I didn’t know anywhere else to take you, and I didn’t trust any other bastard to look after you.”

  “Oh,” she muses, taking it all in. “Did he...” she trails off, forcing herself to form words. “Did he rape me?”

  “It was close,” I admit, solemnly.

  “Okay,” she whispers, looking away to roll her eyes. “I guess I owe you a thank you?” she questions, looking over at me. “You saved me.”

  “I was just in the right place at the right time,” I admit with a shrug. “I didn’t know it was you, but when I did, I went crazy.”

  “You killed him,” she assumes, and I needn’t answer as she catches the look on my face. “Thank you.”

  “It was no problem.”

  She gives me a wry smile as she sits herself up properly, pulling her legs up to her chest. The blanket I had laid over her moves with her body, wrapping closer around her. She now becomes somber and silent as we sit with one another. I watch her as she starts to fight for strength, trying to will the tears away, but she’s failing as her lip starts to quiver.

  “You don’t have to be strong here,” I tell her, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch her.

  “Yes, I do.”

  There’s the proof she never heard a word I told her. If she had, she wouldn’t be building up walls for me to break down all over again.

  “You don’t have to be strong here,” I reiterate, leaning forward. “I know I’ve treated you horribly, Ryleigh, but all cards are off the table. After what you’ve been through today, you don’t need to fight the world by yourself.”

  “It’s just another day,” she admits, and I sit a little straighter at the sound of that. “You don’t need to worry yourself, Dante. I know I must be causing you more problems than I’m worth.” She begins to turn to me, moving her entire body sluggishly. “I’ll get going.”

  “Slow down,” I say, rushing to stop her from moving too much. “You’re injured.”

  “I’m fine,” she admonishes, fighting me away. “I’ll call a cab from outside and I’ll leave you be. I’ll be fine once I’m back home.”

  I can see she’s trying her hardest not to break. All she wants is to get out from underneath my scrutinizing watch. I don’t want to imprison her, but I cannot let her leave. Not when I know she’s not okay and especially not after what I witnessed.

  “I’ll turn the shower on. You can spend as long as you want in there, Ryleigh.” I stand now, looking down on her. “You are not leaving me yet, not until the doctor has a chance to check you over.”

  I leave her be, marching across the vast space of my apartment, and flick the light on for the bathroom. I enter, not even looking behind me, and head straight for the shower. I lean in, turning the knobs until the water begins to run the perfect temperature. I walk through the bathroom, preparing to leave. As I do, I find Ryleigh behind me, the blanket wrapped closely around her body.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” I tell her but don’t quite move out of the way. “Leave the door unlocked. I just need to grab a towel and some clean clothes, but I’ll let you have some peace.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers, before slipping away from in front of me and rushing into the room.

  I sigh heavily, putting both hands on my head. I can understand why she’s being like she is. The girl who just woke up isn’t the Ryleigh who followed me to the fight club all those weeks ago. She’s been cast aside for the girl who woke up.

 
I begin to retreat to the main living area, picking up the discarded towel and open bottle of whiskey. I decide to leave Ryleigh alone and take my time to clean and dress my knuckles. That fucker’s face caused quite the damage. I guess I deserve it after he got what he deserved.

  I start to get agitated. I begin to pace, sporadically looking at the clock. I know that Jackson and Jodi will be here soon, but I really want to have some alone time with Ryleigh. I want to make sure she’s okay before I bombard her with people. Deciding she’s had long enough under the water, I grab a clean towel and head back to the bathroom. But I still, unwilling to just barge in. The asshole in me wants to, but I can’t. I stand before the door, watching the white panels of the wooden door that separate us, and I can hear her cries behind the door. I press my forehead against it, unable to do anything. I feel so fucking helpless. I’m never the helpless one. I’m treading dangerous water, and I’m not in the least bit worried about drowning.

  I place a hand against the door, allowing her sobs to sink into my mind.

  My beautifully strong, resilient little wolf is not as she seems. I knew this from the beginning. It was a side of her I wished to play with most, but she was so intense that nothing ever penetrated her guise. She did me proud on many occasions, but now, because of some bastard, she’s been broken down to this.

  I never could have broken her when she handed herself so willingly.

  That was the crux of all of this.

  We were a willing partnership. She gave as much as I did. We built our relationship on the grounds of honesty, laced with understanding. I could never break her how I wanted to because she freely allowed me to toy with her in any way I wished.