"Please..."
"I've always liked red heads too – Boris, wait outside will ya?" Boris nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. They were now alone.
"Please..."
"Save it. No one's comin’ to rescue you, girl."
With that ominous prediction, he advanced.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dallas' car screamed down the highway. His foot was pressed to the floor, steam bellowed out the back of the tail pipe and he dodged through traffic like his life depended on it. Although it wasn't his life he was worried about, but Cleo's.
Dallas couldn't believe how stupid he had been. He knew when Cleo had asked him to go and get the groceries that she would try and escape, he just didn't think she would be able to. The only way out was through the window and not only did that have bars on it, but it was a tight squeeze that he didn't think she'd be able to manage. But he had underestimated her size and commitment to the cause. Plus, leaving her the power drill was a move bordering on idiocy.
He knew exactly where she had gone too, back to her apartment. There was no doubt. Dallas had come across enough liars in his life to know that she was lying through her teeth. She knew exactly why Drax was after her and worse than that, she thought that she could deal with him on her own. Dallas had never met or heard of Drax but he knew his type. Even if she returned whatever she had taken, he would kill her. That was how these guys operated.
There was just one problem though; Dallas had no idea where Cleo lived. When he saw that she had bailed, he instantly pulled out his phone to call Mark, only to stop himself at the last minute from actually dialing. There was no way that he could worry Mark like that. At least not yet. Dallas was pretty sure he could get to Cleo, and get her back to his place, before anyone else could touch her.
All he had to go was find out where she lived -- And he knew just who to ask.
--
The tavern known as The Dirt Pile was a real hell-hole. Located just a mile from Dallas’ place, it was a biker-bar that one simply didn't go into unless they knew how to handle themselves. Fights broke out hourly – often erupting over something as innocent as a shirt that the other didn't like, or a girl the other guy had his eye on. And everyone, and that meant everyone, was packing.
Dallas stormed into The Dirt Pile on a mission. Being early in the night, the tavern was reasonably empty, and the few patrons there paid him little mind. Most were too drunk or stoned to bother, plus his size and the look on his face would have deterred even the most hardened biker from getting in his way.
Through The Dirt Pile he stalked, right to the back where a door with a single bouncer waited. The bouncer was roughly the same size as Dallas and when he saw him coming, he stepped in front of the door to stop Dallas from entering. Dallas, not having the time or inclination to stop, shot his hand out the moment he was within reach. It drove right into the bouncer's neck, and dropped him to the floor.
Dallas, not stopping, simply stepped over the choking bouncer and into the back room.
A thick cloud of smoke hung over the room, smothering the air and blotting out the light. It was a small room, with only a handful of people -- strippers and bikers mainly. At the back of the room was a single table and behind the table was the man that Dallas had come to see.
His name was Hardwire and he was the owner of The Dirt Pile. As well as owning the bar, he was also renowned for his ability to locate anyone and anything, for a price. From weapons to people, if you needed something that couldn't be acquired by legal means, Hardwire was the guy to see.
He was a sniveling coward of a man though. He got by on power. He used his impressive amount of cash to hire people to be his front men. He seldom dealt with the people who hired him face to face. With the frame of an undeveloped teen, he relied on the muscle of his cronies to intimidate others. At that moment he had two with him, both large in stature and mean in appearance. They saw Dallas coming and instantly stepped in to intercept.
"Easy fellas," Hardwire said when he spotted Dallas. "He's a friend. Although I think Clint at the door might have a different opinion of him?"
"Hardwire," Dallas said as he approached the table. "I need information."
"What? No greetings or well wishes? Not even going to ask how my mother is? That's just a little rude --"
"Save it," Dallas said, ignoring the way the two bodyguards flexed beside him. "I need information. Now."
"Ok, Ok. If I know you then I know not to push. Jesus..." Hardwire flipped open his laptop. "What do you need?"
"An address. Nothing illegal, just a friend I'm looking for. I need to know where she lives."
"You disappoint me," Hardwire said. "I was hoping for something with a bit of bite to it. What's her name?"
"Cleo Austin."
"Austin... Austin... oh yeah, the cop's sister, right? Here she is. Wow... hot. Very hot. Now I see why you're in such a hurry," he said as he taped away at his laptop, licking his lips as he did. "Ooaa nice place too. Good neighborhood."
"The address, Hardwire. Now." Again, the two body guards flexed, one even taking a step in closer to Dallas.
"First, Dallas, there is the issue of payment. I like you, but I still need to get --"
"Not today. I need this, now."
"I believe you. And you best believe that I need pay --"
Dallas’ fist shot out, and gripped Hardwire’s shirt, lifting him from his chair. "I. Said. Not. Today."
It happened quickly. The bodyguard next to Dallas took a step in and went to grab Dallas' shoulder. In a blink, Dallas let go of Hardwire, grabbed the bodyguard’s arm, snapped it in half and slammed his head on the table. The second body guard then went for his gun, but before he was able to pull it, Dallas drove his foot into the guard's kneecap, breaking it. He then palmed him in the nose, sending him to the ground -- out cold.
The rest of the room, the few who occupied it, stopped what they were doing, frozen. Hardwire's eyes were open in shock as he looked from his unconscious bodyguards to the determined face of Dallas.
"So, the address then..." Hardwire finally said.
"The address," Dallas concurred. He hadn't so much as broken a sweat.
--
When Dallas pulled up out the front of Cleo's apartment block, the first thing he noticed was the old beater of a car, parked across the road from the entrance. He wouldn't have taken note either if it hadn’t stood out so obviously in such a nice neighborhood.
As he made his way towards the front door of the lobby, he pulled out his picks. Just one of the talents he had become proficient at in the military. You just never knew when a skill would come in handy.
He took the stairs up to Cleo’s floor. Silently walking down the corridor to her door, he hoped fervently that he would find her in her apartment, thinking she had outsmarted him.
The door to her apartment was closed but not locked. The hair on the back of Dallas’ neck started to tingle. He didn’t think she would be stupid enough to leave her door unlocked with the events that had been happening around her. The apartment was near pitch black as Dallas entered it. He could see that the apartment had been ransacked. Fuck. Dallas ignored the mess as he crept in the direction he thought Cleo's bedroom to be. When he reached the corridor, Dallas pulled up suddenly. A very large shadow was clearly visible down at the end -- someone was guarding Cleo's door. Or something, judging from the size of the shadow it cast.
Deciding on a new route, Dallas turned and headed for the kitchen. Once inside, he pulled a metal pot from off the rack and dropped it on the ground. In the silence, the rattling of the pot sounded like a hammer smacking an anvil. As the sound rang out and then died down, it was replaced by that of footsteps, hurrying down the corridor.
Dallas stepped to the side of the kitchen, hiding behind the wall as a massive body hurried into the kitchen. The man was bigger than Dallas was, and wider too. Not fat, but bulky. He stumbled in front of where Dallas hid, his eyes falling on the pot on the ground.
Dallas didn’t waste any time. He systematically drove his foot into the back of the large man's knee, forcing him to fall forward. The moment he did, Dallas grabbed him by the top of the head and slammed it with all his strength into the kitchen's bench top. The noise was terrific and the force of the blow should have been enough to knock him out cold. But it didn't. Somehow, the large man simply stumbled forward, shaking his head as he did.
He spotted Dallas, let off a roar and charged for him. It was a cramped space and Dallas was unable to move out of the way. Because of this, the large man was able to plow into Dallas, throwing him against the wall. His body crumpled as it connected with the woodwork, and he slid to the floor. The large man, seeing his advantage, took a confident step toward Dallas. But, as he did, Dallas drove his foot into the large man's ankle, breaking it. The large man crashed to the ground. This time, Dallas didn't take any chances. He scrambled onto the man's back, wrapped his arms around his head and snapped his neck. Clean.
His back ached and his head throbbed, but Dallas had managed to take the man down. With some difficulty, he pushed himself back to his feet, preparing himself to head for the bedroom and --
CRASH!
The pain was instant. The pot Dallas had used to create the diversion came down on his head, dropping him instantly. His vision swam. Fighting to remain conscious, Dallas turned and saw another thug, this one heavily muscled, standing over him.
“Sven!" The man yelled, spotting his large friend lying dead on the ground. "You'll die for that!"
"I'll make sure to say hi to Sven for you," Dallas said as he tried to push himself up.
"You..." The large man was shaking with rage as he stalked over to Dallas, a gun pointed at him. Apparently he no longer cared if a gunshot was heard throughout the building. He aimed it at Dallas' head. “I’ll make you beg,” he vowed, again glancing with murderous eyes towards his dead friend.
He aimed the gun. He cocked it. He was about to pull the trigger when --
"Noooo!" The scream came from a few feet behind him and down the hall as a small body launched itself on the large man's back. It was Cleo. She wrapped her hands around the man's face. She hammered on his head, she scratched his eyes, she did anything she could to try and stop him from shooting.
For a moment, Dallas’ heart stopped. The guy still had a gun- and now he pointed it backwards, towards Cleo’s head. Before he could pull the trigger, Dallas snapped his foot forward, aiming for the guy’s elbow joint. He knew he was six inches too far away to do more damage, but he had to change the direction of the shot that Dallas knew would be coming.
Letting off a scream of his own, the large man was forced to pull up and throw Cleo from him -- which he did with force. She flew from his back and crashed into the same wall that had taken the force of Dallas’ impact only a few moments earlier. The thud of her body slamming against the drywall ran through the kitchen as she slid to the floor, crumpling into a pile.
It was this sight which ignited a fire in the belly of Dallas.
He roared, charging the guy without even thinking about the gun that the thug still held. Just before impact, the cretin got off a shot, but Dallas was on him an instant later. He wrestled the guy for the weapon, both of them having a tight grip on the pistol. Slowly, Dallas turned the gun, pointing it at the behemoth’s chest. Then he squeezed the man’s hands, slowly forcing the trigger to fire.
The man dropped like a ton of bricks, dying almost instantly.
Unfortunately, the wild shot had ended up ripping through the muscle and tissue of Dallas’ bicep.
It hadn’t hurt, not at first anyway. But as the adrenaline of the fight left him, his body allowed the pain to slam into him. He hissed sharply. Glancing down, he saw that the wound wasn’t deep enough to take him out of commission.
He quickly turned to assess Cleo. Oddly enough, up until a few moments ago, Dallas had had little pity for Cleo. She was an annoyance more than anything. The only reason he had been as worried for her as he was, was because of her brother and how much Dallas cared for him. But seeing her thrown like that, seeing her broken and treated in that manner, it sent a shock through Dallas' body.
For a moment he forgot about the wound in his arm. For a moment, that moment, all that mattered was Cleo. He rushed to her side.
CHAPTER SIX
For a moment, the briefest of time periods, she thought that Dallas was dead. Her heart had stopped when she heard the two shots being fired. He had saved her life at the risk of his own, and now he could be dead. Cleo was too scared to open her eyes. It was too much, she was literally screwing up everything in her life – and people were getting hurt! Stan might have led a risky lifestyle, but he hadn’t deserved to die – especially not in the horrific way they had killed him. And Dallas. He had just been trying to help her brother, and now she may have gotten him killed too. And she had treated him horribly! If he died, Cleo knew she would never forgive herself.
Then she heard someone hiss in pain. She should look. She really should, but her head was still swimming from the impact of hitting the wall, and to be honest, if it was one of the thugs that was still alive, she didn’t think she had the fight left in her to get away. Her ears were ringing and she was so dizzy. Do it, Cleo! You have to at least find out if Dallas is still alive!
And then she heard him. “Cleo! Talk to me, Cleo!” And the next thing she knew, Dallas’ hands were on her, shaking her gently.
She cracked her eyes open, slowly raising them upwards so she could look at his beautiful face. The world began to spin crazily. Her eyes must have rolled back into her head because Dallas suddenly sounded even more frantic.
“Cleo, say something, god dammit!” Then the world tilted again, but this time it was because Dallas was lifting her in his arms. He gently laid her down on the couch. He brushed the hair back from her face and looked into her eyes.
“Just tell me you’re okay.” He ran his hands down her arms and across her abdomen, searching for injuries. His hands were so gentle and she began to relax a little. For the first time since the ordeal had begun, she began to feel safe.
“I’m okay. Really,” She assured him when he looked doubtful. “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”
She tried to sit up. Dallas put one hand under her head, and slowly lifted her into a sitting position.
“Look at me,” he said, his face a few inches from hers. Cleo knew he was only checking her pupils, but the intensity in his eyes made her breath hitch. Wow. He was even better looking close up. And wasn’t that just the stupidest thought she had had in her life?? How could she think of attraction at a time like this??
--
“Sorry, honey, but we need to get out of here. Someone heard those shots, and called the cops – guaranteed.” He tucked an arm under her legs and one around her shoulders to lift her.
“I can walk,” she assured him quickly as she gingerly came to her feet. “Um, what about the bad guys? Are they….dead?” She really, really didn’t want to look around to see for herself.
“Yeah, they’re done,” Dallas said with a reassuring hand on her back. “Thanks for the distraction by the way.”
“He was going to…..to…..shoot you. You would have died,” she muttered softly. “How could I have made such a mess of everything?”
“Look, let’s get back to my place, and then we can talk, ok?” He gently wrapped his arm around her to lead her to the door.
Cleo glanced back quickly. “I….I just need…...something…..” She stammered, as she tried to pull away from him. “I’ll be right back.”
But Dallas held tight, his look incredulous. “What could you possibly need? We need to get out of here now, Cleo!” But Cleo wrenched out of his arm and darted into the bedroom. She was already on her way back, carrying a black backpack, before he got halfway down the hall.
Dallas stopped dead in his tracks. “What is that?” he demanded quietly.
“It’s nothing…really. Just my stuff.�
� Cleo said, while trying to tuck the backpack behind her legs as she passed him in the hallway.
Dallas’ arm shot out to grab her before she could get by. “What the fuck is in the bag, Cleo?” he growled. He squeezed her arm tightly, making her flinch. “Don’t tell me you really stole from this drug dealer. Don’t tell me that you deserve all…this.” He demanded, looking back at the carnage in her apartment.
“I didn’t! I didn’t steal anything!” Cleo shot back. “Look, I’ll tell you about it after we get to your place. But I need to bring this with us. It’s important.” And she walked past him towards the door of the apartment.
Fuck, Dallas thought. This may have changed everything.
Just before she walked out the door, Dallas hissed at her, “Hold up, let me clear the hallway before you go out there – Drax could have more guys in the building or on their way.”
Cleo froze. Somehow she had momentarily forgotten what was going on in her life. Dallas brushed past her on his way into the hall. She put her hand on his shoulder to stop him, wanting to apologize and….assure him, that she wasn’t that kind of person, that she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.
He hissed. She pulled her hand back, startled by his reaction. Blood. So much blood that it had soaked her hand. She looked closely at his long sleeved black shirt and realized the whole left side was bloodied.
“Oh. My. God.” Cleo whispered, “You’re hurt. Really hurt. There’s so much blood, Dallas. Wh…what…happened? Did you get sho—,” she couldn’t even finish the word. Her head started to spin again. She grasped his shoulders as her world started to tilt.
“Cleo! Look at me. I’m okay, I promise,” he assured her as he grabbed her arms to keep her upright. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. If he was anything like her brother, she knew he would say that even if he had been shot straight through the heart. These guys were so stubborn. Her doubt must have shown in her eyes, because he moved his face right in front of hers, nose to nose, and said again, “I’m okay.” And then, for some reason, maybe trying to prove his point, he leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips. She was so startled that she didn’t even have time to react. “Stay here,” he whispered as he turned and slipped out the door to check the hallway leading to the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
Protect Her Page 4
