‘No,’ I say, shaking my head, and he punches me in the face.
The blow stuns me. Colored stars dance across my vision, blinding me and making me wobble, before my brain actually registers the explosion of fierce pain. Blood erupts from my nose, splatters his hand, and pours down the sides of my face. Sick fear spreads in my stomach. I want to vomit or piss myself.
He digs his knee into my chest and taking his mobile out of his pocket, starts taking pictures of me bleeding and pinned under him! Terror is like an enveloping coat of freezing cold leaves. This guy means to kill me. But it is a good thing he does that because it allows me to recover slightly. My brain starts rolling into action again. He is too big for me to push off and his position means I cannot even knee him or do any damage to him with my hands.
My only option is to pretend to become unconscious and find a way to open my purse, which is still hooked to my elbow. I let my head loll to the side. If I can just get inside my purse. He takes his knee off my chest and starts unzipping his pants. I do nothing. I keep my breathing even while my fingers are slowly moving into the flap of my bag. Suddenly he drops over me and like a rabid animal bites hard into my neck. So hard I am no longer able to pretend to be unconscious.
I scream. My hand searches frantically inside my bag. He slaps me hard. I feel a knife at my throat. I close my mouth. I have located my mace. Very stealthily I bring it out and in a flash I spray it into his face. He falls backwards, his hands clawing at his face. I seize the moment, pick myself up, and run screaming toward the building. A man—I have seen him before, he must live in the building too—runs to me. He wants to call the police but I say no. I tell him I am too frightened to call the police. I definitely do not want him to call the police.
‘You’ve been attacked. You must tell the police.’
I look at him. ‘It’s someone I know. An ex. I don’t want to call the police, OK?’
He shakes his head in a disgusted way. Together we go back and get my handbag. I thank him, find my keys and go into my apartment.
Melanie is on the phone ordering a Chinese takeout.
‘Fuck! What happened to you?’
‘One of the customers from the club. Remember that creep I told you about?’
‘That pervert Simon?’
I nod. ‘He took pictures of me with his mobile camera.’
‘What a nasty piece of work?’
I go to the mirror. My nose is bleeding copiously and one side of my face is starting to swell badly.
I hold my head tilted upwards while Melanie applies ice packs that she uses on her feet on my face. ‘It’ll be a bit smelly but you’ll survive,’ she tells me. Then she picks up her phone. ‘I’ve got to tell Brianna. Ban him and warn the other girls. You need to make a police report.’
‘No police. But yes, warn Brianna.’
She comes to sit beside me, her forehead creased with concern. ‘Why no police, Jewel?’
‘I’ve got history. Minor things, but I can’t go to the police.’
‘OK. No problems. No police.’
‘Thanks, Mel.’
Literally a minute after Melanie ends her call, my mobile goes.
‘Jake,’ I say, with a frown.
‘Wow! Brianna was fast,’ Melanie comments.
‘Are you all right?’ Jake barks urgently into my ear.
‘Yeah, minor bruises.’
‘Are you sure it was him?’
‘Yeah, I got a good look at him.’
‘Right. I’ll be there soon. I got something to take care of first. And, Lily…’
‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t go anywhere until I get there, OK?’
‘OK.’
FIFTEEN
Jake
I ring on the little cunt’s bell and wait, nausea clawing at my guts. He put his filthy hands on my woman.
His disembodied voice comes through the intercom. ‘Yeah?’
‘You hurt one of my employees this evening. I’d like to come up and talk to you about it. Discuss some compensation.’ Jesus, I sound calm.
‘What? You’ve got the wrong guy, mate. I’ve been in all day.’ He does offended and indignant very well.
‘Or if you prefer I can go to the police and let them sort it out. You decide.’ I do rational and threatening very well.
For a moment there is silence and I think the coward is going to take his chances with the police, but then the buzzer sounds. First mistake, Motherfucker. I push open the door and run up two flights of stairs to his door. I lean the baseball bat against the wall next to his door, ring his bell, and affect a relaxed pose. He looks at me through the spy hole, then takes his time about opening the door. But he does.
‘I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong guy,’ he says strongly.
I shove him hard and he flies backwards and lands sprawled in his corridor. His eyes widen with terror as he sees me casually retrieve the baseball bat from its place. I come in and kick the door closed. Shame. He has cream carpets.
He starts moving backwards. ‘It wasn’t me. You’re making a big mistake,’ he whimpers like a fucking pussy.
I throw him a ball gag. He doesn’t catch it. It bounces off his body and falls on the floor. ‘Put it on.’
‘I’m not going to put it on. I’m innocent. I want the police here. Now.’ His voice trembles with fear.
I lift the baseball bat and strike him in the gut. He doubles over in agony, staggers back two steps and drops to his knees clutching his stomach. Then he starts blubbering like a fucking two-year-old brat!
‘Not so big and strong now, eh?’
‘You got the wrong guy,’ he sobs.
‘Yeah? Put the gag on or I’ll crush your skull with one blow. A beating or a quick death. Choose.’
He is struggling to breathe through the pain. He takes wet-sounding breaths. The ones people take when they are dying. It sounds like a rattle. But he is not dying. Not by a long shot. Oh no. Death would be too easy. I watch him put the gag on with shaking hands. Cowards never fail to fascinate me. Fucking idiot! Why would you put something on that is meant to silence you?
A savage growl tears from my throat. The rage in the sound surprises me. I thought I was through with all that years ago. I haven’t swung a baseball bat in ten years and yet here I am. For her.
Using my foot I push him to the floor.
Then I lift the bat high over my head and bring it crashing down on his kneecap. The shocking pain makes his eyes bulge and roll upwards. I think he might pass out, but fortunately he doesn’t. Cold sweat pours out of his skin as his hands rush to hold the smashed bone. I pick up the bat and shatter the other kneecap. He spasms with shock.
After that I rain his body with blows. Each one precise and destined not to kill but to maim permanently. Finally I am done. I stand over him. He is lying on his side: alive, but only just. His breathing is shallow and his eyes are half-closed. I use the tip of my shoe to tip his inert body on his back. A groan escapes his bleeding mouth. Two of his teeth are lying on the carpet.
‘This is just a little warning. Open your fucking mouth and heavy comes next,’ I say mildly.
I take a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe his blood off the bat. How strange! So many years since I did something like this and I still carry a pristine white handkerchief on my person and a baseball bat in the boot of my car.
Calmly, I walk out of his flat. There is a phone box around the corner. I get into it and call nine-nine-nine. I change my accent to a Cockney one and tell them a man is dying in his flat.
‘Looks like he’s been beaten bad. Get an ambulance, man.’
I ring off and look at my hands. Dead steady. I feel ice cold. I get into my car and drive to Lily’s apartment.
Melanie opens the door.
I go through and come to a dead stop. My hands start shaking. Tears sting my eyes. Shit. I haven’t cried since I was fifteen years old, when I saw my father fall down dead at my feet.
Hell! This hurts so ba
d I want to bellow.
She stops too and we stare at each other. Both shocked. Her by my reaction, me by her appearance. Minor bruises! Fucking hell. Her face is so swollen and blue-black I can hardly recognize her. Then I start advancing on her. My gait is that of an angry bear. I want to be normal but I can’t be. The raw fury simmering inside me is making me shake.
I reach her and she touches the blood splatters on my clothes. Then she looks up into my eyes—hers are huge pools of fear. I see her eyes change, widen. I am alien to her. In her nice candy-floss world what I did to her attacker is wrong. ‘What have you done?’
‘Gangster rules,’ I say harshly.
‘Is he dead?’
‘No, but he’s wishing he was.’ Tears are slipping down my face. I just can’t help it. My mate has been badly injured.
‘What is it?’ she whispers.
‘You need to go to a hospital.’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.’
I have never experienced this fierce need to protect before. Ever. The way I feel shocks me to the core. This is not me. I’m tough. I’m in and I’m out. I don’t trust anyone. In this business you can’t. A king is never killed by his enemy but by his courtiers. They are the only ones who can get close enough to poison the wine, stick the blade in. I’m not saying, ‘Et tu, Brutus,’ to anyone. The easy way—never let anyone get close.
Except her.
She opens her arms. Her lower face is too swollen for her to smile but I see it in her eyes, a smile of comfort as it is I who have been attacked and am in pain. The tears fall faster as I catch her to my body and hold her tight. She’s still here. She’s still mine. I squeeze my eyes shut. And then I lift her into my arms.
‘I can walk,’ she whispers.
But I don’t put her down. I turn around with her in my arms and Melanie wordlessly opens the front door. I walk out with my baby in my arms.
I could have lost her. But I didn’t. Never again will I be so careless with her.
I put her on my bed and she looks up at me drowsily. The stress has worn her out. She looks so small and defenseless in my bed. Her fingers are curled into a light fist. I circle the wrist, shocked at the fragility of the bones in her hand. Gently I rub my thumb along the pulse leaping on the pale underside of it. Her vulnerability terrifies me. Scares me. Makes me feel weak.
‘Sleepy?’
‘Hmmm…’ she hums.
I sense her slipping away, drifting into dreamscapes where I will not be. I pull her closer toward me. When she is awake there is always a part of her that remains aloof and watching. She is like a forest. Deep and dark. You can lie or howl in it. She murmurs something that I don’t catch, and snuggles in, accidentally scrapes her face against my forearm, and winces.
My breath catches. I can’t bear to watch her in pain.
She is wearing cotton pajamas. An erotic seduction it is not. It is so demure it makes her seem a child. I guess this must be what fathers feel when they watch their daughters sleep—absurdly protective. The collar of her top shifts and my heart fucking stops. I stare in horror at her neck.
Fucking bastard bit her.
Bit her so fucking hard he broke her skin. That piece of shit marked my woman! I ease myself out of the bed carefully and pad into the living room. The rage is nauseating and gut-churning. It is so all encompassing I can’t even think straight. I want to go back to his fucking poky little flat and finish the job, but he won’t be there. He’ll be behind glass in Intensive Care by now. I go to the bar and pour myself a large measure of Jack Daniel’s. I drain it in one swallow and slam the glass on the bar surface, so hard the noise reverberates like a gunshot. I press my palms to my temples.
‘Stop. Just stop,’ I tell myself.
But the desire to go out and bash his sick head in is so strong I have to physically fight myself. I stride out to the balcony. It could rain anytime. I throw my head back and take large gulps of air. I feel like a volcano about to erupt. I would have loved to go out running. A couple of miles and some of this pent-up energy would’ve been gone, but I can’t leave her alone.
‘He’s not worth going to prison for. I have already broken his legs and hands in at least a few places and smashed his kneecaps. Not to mention the shitbag’s ribs and jaw.’
I reach into my pocket and retrieve his mobile phone. Before I click into his photo file I take a deep breath. Then I press the button. The shock of seeing her pinned on the ground, her eyes full of fear and horror is harder to take than I had anticipated. I stare at it hard. And yet she didn’t want to call the police!
My fists clench hard as I force myself to calm down. ‘Let it be. Leave it be.’
Eventually my pulse returns to normal, the boiling rage goes. In its place comes guilt. I shouldn’t have left her alone and unprotected. I should have protected her better. That was my job.
I take the battery out of the phone and toss them both into my safe. I very much doubt it, he is a little coward, but I might still need it. Chance favors the prepared mind.
I go back to the bedroom and stand over her. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow, her lip is split, her face is swollen and bruised. How strange that the split, the swelling and the bruise have only made her more precious and intriguing. She moves, dislodging the sheet down to her waist and exposing a small strip of skin between her pajama top and bottom. It is milky white and flawless and it gives me great pleasure to claim ownership of it.
I watch the easy rhythm of her breath going in and out. It is strangely seductive and I watch her for a long, long time. Part of me is shocked by the strength of the emotion I feel. Part of me is in awe of it. I never thought I would ever feel this way for a woman. The signs are all there.
I watch her slip into a restless dream. She turns and tosses. I reach out and slot my finger inside her loosely curled fist. She makes an odd sound and tightens her grip. And then, while still deep in her dream, she says the oddest thing. Something I never in my wildest dreams thought I would hear from her lips.
SIXTEEN
Lily
I wake up with my head throbbing and my body aching. I stretch and wince and then realize that I am in Jake’s bed. He is sitting at the foot of the bed watching me.
‘Good morning,’ he says softly.
I groan a reply.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Worse than yesterday.’
He stands up and comes to my side. ‘Need some help getting out of bed?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I reply, but he bends down and gently lifts away my upper body, and puts pillows under my back.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says so close to my ear, I am filled with the fresh scent of him.
‘Have you been awake long?’
‘About an hour. I’ve got to go soon, but I wanted to get some food into you before I leave. Alicia will be around later with some magazines and if there is a book you want she can get it from the bookstore. Just call her.’
‘Am I going to be staying here tonight?’
His jaw tightens. I recognize it. He is about to impose his will on me again. ‘I’ve moved all your stuff here. You’ll be staying here from now on.’
‘What?’
‘It’s not open to discussion, Lily. You’re staying here.’
I lift my hands in disbelief. ‘It’s impossible.’
‘Impossible is a dare.’
‘Jake, you can’t do things like this. You can’t just move my stuff in here and tell me I’m going to be living here from now on. You have to ask me and I have to agree.’
‘Asking would imply a choice.’
I give a gasp of laughter. ‘Yes, that’s right. At least give a girl the illusion of choice.’
He folds his arms across his wide chest. ‘Would you like to move in here?’
‘I’ll stay here for a few days and then we’ll talk about it.’
‘See why asking is stupid?’
�
��I’m not a child, Jake. You can’t decide for me.’
He walks up to me. ‘Don’t you get it? I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know you are safe.’
I look into his face and I know he is telling the truth. ‘It could have happened to anyone,’ I say quietly.
‘It didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to you.’
‘I don’t think he will be in any fit state to come back after last night, will he?’
‘I protect what’s mine, Lily.’ No remorse. His face is icy calm.
I sigh. My head is throbbing and I simply don’t have the energy to fight with him. ‘OK, OK, let’s talk about it when I’m better.’
‘Want some breakfast?’
‘Yeah, I do. I want some ice cream.’
‘For breakfast?’
‘I was always allowed to eat ice cream when I was feeling poorly,’ I say without thinking and realize what I have said.
In the morning light his eyes are suddenly sparkling emeralds. Impenetrable. But what comes out of his mouth is mild and friendly. ‘What flavor?’
‘I like pistachio and vanilla, but I’ll have whatever is in your freezer.’
He only has cookies and cream so I have a bowl of that. He watches me eat and then he has to leave. ‘I’ll be back at lunchtime,’ he says, and kisses me lightly on the cheek that is not swollen and throbbing.
When I hear the door shut I slowly get out of bed and limp into the spare bedroom where I know my things will have been put temporarily. I see my guitar propped up against a cupboard. I fetch it and sitting on the bed I strum it. I’m a mess inside. I’ve got all kinds of crazy emotions. Maybe I am still in shock about what happened to me yesterday, but I feel totally numb. No emotions at all. All I can remember is Jake, blood splattered with helpless tears pouring down his face. I think of the last time I cried and cried and could not stop. My fingers start moving on the strings. My mouth opens and words come out.
Strumming my pain with his fingers.
Always the same song. Always the same sadness.
Killing me softly with his song. Killing me softly.
I forget my surroundings and go back into that place where everything is right in the world. My parents have gone to the movies. I can hear my brother downstairs eating jam sandwiches and making a mess of the kitchen. It is raining outside and I am lying on my bed, my palms folded under my head, looking at the lightning flashes in the sky.
You Don't Know Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 26
