by W Winters
Time ticks slowly, with Seth shifting behind me and Declan staring at Daniel, who’s waiting for Carter’s final decision. Tick, tick, tick. It’s too slow.
“Take the cash, leave the safe empty and open. Wipe for prints.” Carter gives the order and I walk from the open window to Daniel, feeling the cold gust of wind at my back carrying Romano’s muffled screams.
“You all right?” I ask him lowly so it’s just between the two of us, and he nods although he can’t look me in the eyes, he can’t look away from Romano.
“Who gets to do it?” he asks me although his voice is coarse and he has to clear it. “Who gets to do the honors?”
“You can if you want.” I give it to him. I’ll suffer the rest of my life, hating that Tyler died in my place. Whether Romano breathes again, whether I kill him, none of it will change that. But at least now everyone will know. And that’s something.
“It was supposed to be you,” he reminds me, as if there’s any way I could forget.
“I know, but doing this isn’t going to bring Tyler back.” Daniel’s expression wavers, the hardness falls for a moment and he nods again. I watch as the cords in his neck tense.
“If we’re doing this, it has to be done clean,” Declan speaks up. I’m not sure if he disagrees and thinks we should go the safe route, or if he’s simply covering our bases.
“We’re always clean,” Seth answers him.
“Let the feds see,” I tell Declan. “Let everyone know.” I pat Daniel on the back and then look Carter in the eyes as I say, “No one takes from us and gets away with it.”
“It’s settled then,” Carter agrees. “And the men that came back with him? What about them?”
“Make it clean,” Declan repeats to Carter, the undertone of his voice harsh. Romano’s cries can still be heard and I kick the chair just slightly, sending him rolling backward again.
“There’s no deal to offer any of Romano’s men, no loose ends,” Seth says and nods.
I wait until Seth lifts his eyes to mine. “Go through every part of this town. Every asshole who ever got a paycheck from him. Find them in their homes, at the bar. I don’t care if they’re balls deep in the back room of a strip joint. Find them, kill them.”
“They die tonight,” Carter talks as he walks to where I was, no doubt judging what it’ll take to make sure Romano’s impaled. It won’t take much at all. It’s just outside the window. “There aren’t many left. We already have locations on most of them.”
“They’ll scatter like roaches if we wait until tomorrow and the FBI doesn’t know yet, but the moment they find Romano, they’ll be everywhere. So we end it tonight,” Daniel agrees, walking to Romano and turning the chair. He has to crouch down to be at his eye level. “Wipe them all out.”
“Start with him,” I speak to Daniel, and he looks over his shoulder at me. His lips are pressed in a straight line, with a grim look covering his face.
“End it,” I tell him. Carter steps to the side, and we all wait.
Pushing the gagged, screaming man with a bright red face to the window, Daniel looks out onto the road – a backroad that will be empty until the morning.
The gag comes off first, bringing a stream of Italian profanity from the dried throat of this dead fuck. Romano pulls on the ropes, fighting as best he can against them. It’s foolish really, he should wait until we untie him for his best chance, but he doesn’t, knowing his end is coming.
Seth’s the one to cut the rope at his feet; one quick swipe and the nylon threads are released. Romano attempts to run, still bound to the back of the heavy leather chair and he falls hard on his side, seething in pain. The crack of his skull hitting the floor ricochets in the room.
With Carter holding his left side and me holding his right, Seth cuts the binds and helps us hold him up, holding him steady and restraining him as he tries to run and fight. I can’t breathe. My muscles are too coiled as Romano struggles with the last bit of strength he has left in him.
Backing him up to the window, I stare at Daniel’s face. I expect anger, I expect hate, but agony is all that’s on his face. It’s still not enough; being the one to end Romano… it’s not enough. It won’t bring Tyler back.
We release our hold as Romano falls backward from the force of the shove Daniel gives him in his chest. Romano’s arms whip out to grab onto whatever he can, but there’s nothing there, nothing that can keep him upright. His scream dulls as he falls the four stories and then it’s silenced.
Staring down at him and the scene, I no longer see Tyler. The street’s empty. All I see is a man who killed all his life, a man impaled with the life draining from him slowly.
Turning to Seth, I tell him, “Check that he’s dead, then find the rest.”
Bethany
It’s been quiet the last few days. Too quiet.
The ominous feeling that settles in when you know things won’t last… that’s in the air. I’ve been breathing it in and suffocating from it. Jase is being careful with me and both of us are feeling bad for the other one.
It’s easy to give someone sympathy, it’s easy to love them. Accepting their love though, accepting it in the way they’re able to give… that’s the difficult part, because that’s where you get hurt.
I forgive him, but I’m waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
Jase is just waiting, on edge and waiting for something… I don’t know what.
The other end of the line goes to voicemail. So I dial the number again, stretching at the end of the sofa. Jase’s non-office is now my hideaway. The smell of old books and leather is too much to resist.
Ring. Ring.
On the second ring, it picks up and I recognize the voice instantly.
“Laura,” I say and my gut falls. I wasn’t expecting her to answer. “I didn’t know you were working day shifts this week.”
Animosity and betrayal stir in my stomach. More than that though, I miss her.
“Bethany?” She sounds surprised to hear my voice.
“I just wanted to call about Michelle, the pregnant patient with pica on floor two, and maybe talk to Aiden…” I trail off, waiting for Laura to tell me she’ll get him. After a few seconds of silence and then the way she says my name, I know that’s not going to happen.
“Bethany,” she says but I can already tell there’s too much sympathy in her tone. “Michelle died two days ago. I’m sorry. I thought Aiden called.”
The leather turns hot under my tight grip. I can barely breathe. When I worked in pediatrics before this for my internship, death was common. It was so common I’d check the paper for the obituaries before coming into work so I’d be prepared. It’s also why I left. At the center, it rarely happens, but now it feels like death’s following me everywhere.
“Beth? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” I answer her although my body’s still tense and it hurts to swallow.
“You weren’t answering my texts and I know you’re mad, but I thought you knew. I swear. I’m so sorry.”
“How did it happen?”
“Magnets. They obstructed her bowels,” Laura answers.
“If I’d been working--”
“Don’t think like that.”
“I had a rapport with her.” I can’t even say her name as tears prick my eyes. She was young and beautiful. Before getting pregnant, she was healthy. If only, if only. I think it too much now. Every day I wonder ‘what if’ in all aspects of my life. It’s not a healthy way to live.
“She wasn’t well and…” Laura stops when she hears my quick inhale. I’m not crying, but I’m damn close to it.
“There was nothing any of us could have done. The behavioral approach was working and she was released. Her husband checked her out… it happened in her home.”
With a hand over my heated face, I focus on calming down, but it takes a long moment. Struggling not to lose it, I debate on simply hanging up.
“I’m sorry,” Laura tells me again and I don’t k
now what to reply. It’s not okay, but that’s the answer we’re supposed to give, isn’t it? That or thank you, but there’s nothing to be thankful for right now.
“You need to come back to work,” Laura tells me when the silence stretches.
“Everything’s changed.”
My voice is tight when I answer her. “I want to come back.” Focusing on breathing, I try to calm down. “I can’t believe she’s dead. It feels like I was just with her.”
“Tragedy happens.” Seconds pass as I try to accept it, staring at the unlit fireplace.
“You should come back.” I’m grateful for Laura’s distraction as she adds, “Aiden’s gone for three days and he told me to schedule you for next week. So you’re on.”
My eyes lift to the bookshelves, feeling wider, more alert. “I can come back to work?”
“We need you. There’s so much that’s happened.”
The way she says it makes my heart still and I can feel a deep crease settle between my brow as I ask, “What? What happened?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone; just start back on Monday.”
A cold prick flows over my skin, knowing something’s wrong, but not knowing what. “Okay.” I take a moment, which feels awkward and tense, but I make sure Laura knows I’m genuine when I tell her, “Thank you.”
“Are we okay?” she asks me softly. I can practically see her nervously wrapping her finger around the phone cord in the office like she does. It’s a habit I picked up from her.
I answer her honestly, “I don’t understand why you did it. Why you called him and didn’t tell me.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“You could tell me,” I offer her. “Really, if you’d told me no, or if you told me you called him before he showed up…”
“I… I can’t tell you right now, but soon? I can tell you soon, if you want.”
“I want to know. I do.”
“And then we’ll be okay?” she asks me as if that’s all she wants.
“Yeah,” I answer her even though I don’t know if it’s truthful. I don’t know why so many people are hiding secrets. Or why each one hurts more than the last.
When I hang up the phone with her, I hear the front door close from all the way down the long hall. Jase is home and it surprises me how much I want to go to him, how much I want him to hold me like he does every time he gets back and just before he leaves.
I wait for him, holding my breath at first, but I can’t hear where he’s going or what he’s doing. Leaving my phone on the glass table, I pick my book back up, although my gaze flicks to the open door.
Bethany
He’s been quiet, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s anything but. I can feel the tension crackle and it promises that if I follow him, I’ll be given everything I could possibly want in this moment. And so I do. The second he looks at me, I close my book and leave it there to go to him.
“Come on,” he commands but it’s soft and low, pleading almost. My heart yearns to follow him quickly; to show him I accept his demands.
“I don’t want this distance between us anymore.” Jase’s voice is calming and deep.
“I don’t either,” I admit to him and reach out to take his hand when he offers it. There’s something about the roughness along his knuckles and the warmth of his skin that’s soothing. His touch consoles a part of me that’s desperate to heal.
“Trust works both ways,” Jase tells me as I gauge the changes in the fire room. Everything’s been moved out, most notably the chaise and the wooden bench. In place of the plush white rug is a black blanket, large and heavy. The room’s barren, but still beautiful, with the crystal fireplace and lit chandeliers.
“Both ways,” I repeat, registering his words and wondering what he has planned.
He said he found a solution to our problem. Funny how a man’s solution involves sex… or so I assume. To be honest though, I need this.
I need him like this. I close my eyes knowing we need this.
“Strip here.” He gives me orders as he places a handful of things in the middle of the blanket.
A candle, a lighter, a bottle of ethanol, some sort of white cloth, and the weighted blanket. Tremors of pleasure send a warmth flowing through me, meeting at my core and heating instantly.
By the time I’ve stripped to nothing, he’s done the same. The light from the fire emphasizes every etched muscle in his taut skin. His cock is already rigid and my bottom lip drops at the thought of being at this man’s mercy.
A deep, rough chuckle whips my eyes from his length to his gaze. “Ever needy and greedy, aren’t you?” he teases me and that’s when I see the glimmer of light that reflects off the blade. The tension rises, stifling me, wrapping its way around me… and I love it. I crave it. It does nothing but ignite a fire inside of me.
My feet patter on the slick black blanket beneath us as I make my way to him, tucking my hair behind my ear as I prepare to drop to my knees in front of him. I want to please him, to prove to him that I still desire him, that there’s still a roaring fire between us. I don’t get a chance to though.
Catching my elbow, Jase stops me and instead puts his hand on mine, pulling my fingers back and making me hold my hand out flat. He’s silent as he gives me the knife.
“It’s heavy,” I comment weakly as he sits cross-legged and I do the same in front of him. The heat from the fire is the only thing that keeps the chills of the cool air away. My heart races as I glance at the small silvery scar still on his chest.
“I want us both to play,” he tells me, wrapping my hand around the handle of the blade and then bringing it to his chest. “First you need to shave me.”
The command is simple although my gaze shifts from the small smattering of hair on his chest to his eyes. Scooting closer to him, I watch the way his throat dips, the way the cords tighten as I prepare for the first stroke.
Before I can press the blade to his skin, he lays a hand on each of my hips, holding me steady. The warmth of the fire is nothing compared to his touch. With every small exhale, I drag the blade down carefully, feeling it nick each hair along his chest. Breathing in, I then drag the blade over his skin, blowing softly across it as I go and gently bring the back of my fingers across his body to check on the smoothness of it.
“Don’t leave any behind,” he tells me, sitting upright and still not moving.
“Does it hurt at all?” I ask him, running my fingers over what I’ve just done and then moving the blade to a patch of fuzz on his upper pec by his shoulder.
“You’re only shaving me,” he answers with a handsome grin, mocking me.
“I mean the scar. Where I cut you before,” I whisper, not looking into his eyes and then grabbing the cloth next to Jase to wipe the blade clean.
“No,” he answers and then takes the knife from me. “It feels like a memory that fate made happen.”
He does the same to me, shaving away the little bits of hair, making sure there’s nothing between us that the fire would catch.
“You first,” he tells me and he tips the bottle of ethanol, the cloth pressed against the opening. The smell of alcohol hits me as he wets the rag. “Where you put it, the fire will catch, but do it quickly.” Before relaxing his shoulders and sitting back, he lights the candle. “Use this for the flame but hold it upright to keep the wax from dripping.”
I’ve paid attention and I’ve seen what he does. Nodding, I know exactly what he’s said and why it works, but still I hesitate, holding the rag in my hand and staring at his chest.
“What if I hurt you?”
“The blanket’s fireproof and I can lie down, Bethany. I’m here, and you’re more than capable.”
I remember what it’s like, the memory of the fire tickling then blazing. Heating my skin before vanishing and leaving me breathless and hungry for more. I can give that to him. The very idea of it makes me eager to do it.
Reaching out, I wipe the damp cloth against his sk
in in a small motion, not covering much area at all. My pulse is fast and my hand trembles slightly. I can’t help it; the only thing that keeps me composed is the intimacy of the moment and his touch steadying me.
“A cross?” he questions and I let my lips kick up as I pick up the candle. “Over your heart,” I answer him in a whisper as I lift the flame. It catches quicker than I anticipate, blazing in a short burst and vanishing as my heart races.
Releasing my shock in a single breath I look to Jase whose eyes are wide with desire as his chest rises higher. “Again,” he commands in a deep groan. This time when I get closer to him, he grips my wrist holding the cloth out and tells me, “Use more and in a different spot. When it lights, press your body against mine and feel the aftershocks of the fire.”
He takes his time, moving my hair behind me and telling me to braid it and be careful. Playing with fire is something we’ve always been warned not to do, and maybe that’s why it’s so exciting.
I do as he says, wondering what type of pleasure or pain it’ll bring. I’m too slow the first time, too slow to feel anything but the heat of his chest where the reddened skin felt the kiss of fire. Still, with my body pressed against his and feeling the rumble of desire against his chest, it’s erotic, it’s forbidden and I want more of it.
“Fire needs fuel to stay alive. It has to breathe, but you can smother it. It needs to move, but you can deny it.” His words are mesmerizing, and the feel of dulled flames extinguished as I press my body against his is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s gone too fast.
Taking my hand, he runs the rag over my breasts before I can run it down his body. I light him first and as I lean, the fire catches against my skin. As my head falls back, Jase presses his body to mine, gripping the hair at the base of my skull and pulling it back as his teeth scrape against my neck.
He takes control then, laying me down and playing with me, toying with the fire between us.
It’s a dangerous game to play with fire, but I feel like he’s made the rules. I feel invincible with him, like nothing matters except for what he tells me in that moment.
