by S. J. Smith
“Heath, where is the warehouse?” I asked. “Can you give me an address?”
He did, though I barely made out the numbers. I knew the side of area. It was certainly not a place you wanted to visit at night. All the same, I definitely could not leave Heath there.
“All right,” I said, “hang tight. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
As I drove to the location Heath had given me, I prayed desperately to whoever was listening that, when I arrived, I wouldn’t find a corpse bled out in front of the warehouse where Heath should have been.
When I pulled up in front of a dark, tattered building, I did indeed find a body. But, luckily, it was breathing.
Heath looked up at me with two black eyes a split lip and what looked like a few bruised ribs. His bright red bike was splayed out next to him lying on the side of the building.
“What happened!?” I said running up to him.
“Had another run in,” he breathed.
“With the same guys?” I asked.
He nodded.
“What about the guys at your club?” I asked. “Where were they?”
He shook his head before clutching his side and grimacing in pain.
“Okay,” I said, “Okay, we’re going to have to get you into my car. Can you walk?”
He nodded and I helped him up gingerly, all but supporting his entire weight, as he limped his way to the front seat of my car.
“My bike—” he began as I slipped him into the front seat.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll get it.”
He nodded slowly and leaned his head back against the passenger seat as I closed the door and moved to his red motorcycle in the alleyway.
I had inherited my parent’s old van, which I still used to go to work. I never desired anything more modern or feminine, and it got me where I wanted to go, so I never thought about changing it.
Among some other junk, my stepdad had left an old door in the back from when he’d replaced one at home ages ago. He didn’t get rid of it, and I never bothered to take it out. I didn’t really know where I was supposed to put it. Now I was glad I hadn’t taken it out.
I made a makeshift ramp with the door. I lifted Heath’s bike up onto its wheels. Now I am not a weak woman; most nurses aren’t. But that bike was heavy. I didn’t know how I would roll it up that door into the van.
I heaved that bike. It was so heavy and I didn’t know how I could do it. I thought I might have to ride it up. But I thought about Heath, injured, and feeling of urgency came over me. I almost bust a vein but I somehow got that bike into the van, and lay it down there. I put the door back in, which was not exactly light, either.
Once we and the bike were safely in the car, I drove away from the spot as quickly as I possibly could.
All the way home, I kept looking at Heath out of the corner of my eye. I mentally assessed the wounds on his face and arms. He had stopped clutching at his ribs and was now only rubbing them tenderly.
From what I could tell, there didn’t seem to be much lasting damage. A few scrapes that we could take care of quickly and one black eye.
I pulled up in my driveway and opened the garage. As soon as I got out, I rolled his bike from the back seat and onto the garage pavement.
“Careful with Ruby,” Heath said in a raspy, groggy voice. I smiled and rolled my eyes.
“It is so weird that you named your motorcycle,” I said as I gently laid ‘Ruby’ against the side wall of the garage.
“It’s not that weird. I mean a lot of guys name their—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I said grimacing at the image.
“I was going to say cars but, whatever floats your boat, I guess,” I turned back to him and he was smiling. True, it was a little weak, but, all the same, it was clear that he’d gotten a little of his old swagger back.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s get you inside.”
I carried Heath through the garage door and towards the couch. I sat him down and examined his injuries more thoroughly as I got my medical kit.
“So, what happened this time?” I asked as I took out an alcohol swab and began dabbing a cut just above his eye.
“I thought the guys would help me but, it turns out, they blame me for the deal going south,” Heath said thickly. “I’m out.”
“Did they do this to you?” I asked moving the swab to another scrape just above his cheek.
He shook his head no.
“Being out of the club just means I don’t have their protection anymore. The guys from last night found me,” he said.
“You’re lucky to be alive then,” I told him honestly, “I thought you said they wanted to kill you.”
“That was before they realized I’d taken what they wanted,” Heath told me. I stopped padding, sat back and looked at him.
“What did you take?” I asked hesitantly.
“Well, technically, the drugs never changed hands before they started shooting,” he said, “so, I kept the cocaine on me. I thought it would make for good leverage. Turns out I was right.”
I stared at him dumbfounded for a moment.
“So...let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re telling me you stole cocaine from a violent drug gang and you were hiding it in my house?”
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” Heath said in a louder voice than he had used since I found him beaten up by the warehouse, “I knew you’d freak out!”
“You knew I’d freak out?!” I asked, now standing from my seat on the couch. “I’ve got news for you Heath, any normal person would freak out about this! I’m now an accessory to a crime!”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You didn’t know about it so you can’t be an accessory.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll sound believable in court,” I said sarcastically. My brain buzzing, I began to pace fervently up and down the living room floor. “And what if these guys come back for you, huh? What if they decide to kill you for good measure?”
“They won’t do that for at least a day,” Heath said, “and by then I’ll be long gone.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because,” Heath said with an exasperated-sounding sigh, “I sent them on a wild goose chase.”
“You...what?” I stopped pacing, “so...you...you didn’t give them the coke?”
“Of course not,” he said, “I’m not an idiot. I knew they’d kill me as soon as they got their hands on it.”
“So where is it?” I asked.
He looked at me and pursed his lips together. Then he looked back down at the ground.
“It might be best if you don’t know,” he said. He avoided my eyes by staring at everything in the room as though he was trying to memorize it. That was when I realized exactly what he’d done.
“Oh, my god,” I said quietly, “you hid it in the house, didn’t you? It’s still here?!”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but, it’s...it’s close by. That’s all you should know.”
My mouth opened once, twice, three times trying to think of something to say to him. Anything that would express how disappointed and terrified I was.
But I knew why he didn’t want me to know where the contraband was currently hidden. Not because he knew I would be angry with him, but so that I would be safe.
If the cops asked me what I knew, I could say with certainty that I didn’t know where the drugs were and I didn’t know that he had them when he came to me for help. If these other men came looking for him, I could tell them the same thing. By not giving me all the details, he was trying to protect me.
But, that meant there was no one to protect him. He could run away in the morning and try to hide from these men all he liked but, without his gang to protect him, he was a sitting duck. It was only a matter of time before he was found and killed.
I knew then that there was only one thing for Heath to do.
“You have to go to the police,” I told him fi
nally.
“Kayla, I told you—” Heath began, but I wasn’t having any of it now.
“No, Heath,” I said. “There is no other option now. Your buddies aren’t going to help you out. Besides, you’ve got the drugs. Take them to the cops and they’ll be thrilled. They’ll probably cut you a great deal!”
“I can’t,” Heath said. “I just can’t do that to my—”
“So-called friends who abandoned you?” I said. “No. If they won’t help you, why should you help them?”
To my surprise, Heath didn’t argue. He just sat back and stared at me wide eyed before his face broke into a smile.
“Hey,” he said finally, “do you have any idea how sexy you are when you’re mad at me.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d heard that line a million times before.
“Don’t change the subject,” I said.
“I’m not,” Heath answered. “You’re so sexy that I’m willing to say yes to you. I’ll go to the police in the morning.”
“You will?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he answered. “You’ve got a point, anyway. The Mats dumped me as soon as I made one mistake. I was never far up. I should have known they were just using me as cannon fodder anyway.”
I stared at him for a moment. His smile was gone. He looked back down at the floor, hands folded.
I moved my medical bag back over to the couch, took out my alcohol swabs and began dabbing at the spot near his cheek.
He winced and tried to pull away as soon as the liquid stung the spot.
“Don’t be such a baby,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“You could’ve warned me,” he said.
“When I lifted the swab to your cheek, what did you think I was going to do?” I asked.
He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. A smirk crossed his lips.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked.
I felt heat race up my cheeks as I looked into his eyes. I should have rolled my eyes. I should have given him a sharp reply and moved my hand away.
But, in that moment, I couldn’t move, I could hardly breathe.
As though in slow motion, I saw my hand move to his cheek. He cupped my face in his hand and pulled my lips towards his.
We kissed and I felt like I was falling. I wrapped my arms around him as my stomach swooped up into my chest, as though I was tumbling one hundred stories to the ground.
He grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. Before I knew it, my body was flush against his. I was almost in his lap, kissing him as passionately as he had kissed me.
I felt his hand move from my shoulders up underneath my shirt. I felt his hand move to my bra and fondle my breasts over the cloth. I felt him growing harder beneath me through his jeans.
I let out a low moan into his mouth.
This, apparently, was too much for him. Quickly, roughly, he moved his hands to my shirt and lifted his mouth from mine to tug the fabric over my head.
Just as quickly, he reached behind me and unsnapped my bra. Immediately, his mouth moved to suckle my bare breasts as his hands began to unbutton my jeans.
I gasped as his tongue played against my nipple and moved my hands to his shirt. I lifted it to feel the warm skin of his bare chest beneath my fingers.
I felt his hands finally undo the button and zipper of my pants. I shifted to allow him to pull the jeans from my legs. As soon as I was free I moved to tug his tight, white shirt over his shoulders.
The moment I did, he let out a grunt of pain and I pulled back.
I looked at him as he raised a hand to the arm that was still bandaged from the day before.
“Stupid arm,” he said apologetically wincing.
“We should probably be doing this in the bedroom then,” I said. “After all, you need bed rest to recover.”
With a mischievous smirk, I took his hand and pulled him willingly from the couch.
“Is that what we’re calling this?” he asked. “Bed rest?”
“What else would we call it?” I replied as we neared my room and I opened the door.
“I could think of a few things,” he muttered quietly before kissing me again.
He moved me backward, his arms firmly around my middle. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell we’d entered the bedroom. All the same, I gasped when my legs reached the bed.
I gasped again when Heath, almost roughly, pushed me back onto the bed. He then grabbed my panties and pulled them down my legs.
When I heard them gently fall to the floor, Heath stood there for a moment. Staring at my naked body, which, I have to say, I’ve never been particularly proud of. My skin’s always been too pale, my hair too light, my breasts lopsided and my hips too wide. No size zero, like I said.
For half a second, I thought he would walk away thoroughly unimpressed and say ‘forget it’.
That’s why my heart melted when I heard his next words.
“Holy shit are you beautiful,” he whispered.
My eyes widened and my heart stopped. No man had ever called me beautiful before. They never used that word for me.
“You don’t know that, do you?” he asked correctly reading the surprise on my face as he took off his shirt revealing perfect, hard, tight abs. “You really have no idea how gorgeous you are.”
He unbuttoned and slid his pants off his hips and his boxers with them.
He moved to the bed and began to crawl towards me. I felt his hand move down my body to touch my center, just where I’d been dying to be touched by him for so long.
I moaned and he let out a satisfied chuckle before moving his lips to my ear.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, “how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you here. Like this. Writhing and hot and wet and desperate for me.”
Unable to bear it any longer, I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved my lips hungrily, desperately to his.
We didn’t speak the rest of the night. Instead, I writhed and screamed in pleasure underneath him. He in turn kissed and licked and suckled every part of me he could find. And, when he finally pressed into me, all the tension, all the fear, all the frustration I had felt seemed to melt away.
When he cried out and released into me, I could feel the tension release in him too. It was like a breath of fresh air for both of us. All our anxieties were shoved aside by this one desperate act.
When he rolled over next to me, I wondered if he would stay. I wanted him to, but I knew I couldn’t push him.
I thought about all Heath’s past girlfriends, if you could call them that. None of them lasted more than a month or two, and he’d always been very casual about leaving them behind. Would it be like that with me?
As we lay there, spent and exhausted, I clearly pictured Heath getting up, apologizing quickly for losing control and fleeing out to the living room. I almost expected it.
That was why I was surprised, shocked even, to feel him roll back to me and curl his arm around my waist.
He pulled me into his chest like I was his lifeline like he never wanted to let me go.
I felt him nuzzle into my hair before his lips reached my ear once more.
“I love you, Kayla,” he whispered gently. I paused for a moment as my heart seemed to soar in my chest.
“I love you too,” I said clearly. Though I barely got the words out before I felt him begin to breathe with sleep. Even now, I’m not sure if he heard me then. But, that didn’t matter.
What mattered is that I knew the words were true. Both for him and for me.
And, I knew that, no matter what happened next, no matter what other stupid thing he got himself into, I would be right there by his side.
Thoughts of love were still in my head when I drifted off to sleep. These were pushed out immediately as I woke to the feeling of harsh, cold steel against my scalp.
I blinked my eyes and looked up at my side of the bed. There, a large man with a shaved head was holding a gun to me. I opened my
mouth automatically. I meant to scream. But the large man beat me to it.
“Scream and you’re dead,” he told me.
*****
“You’d better wake your boyfriend, sweetheart,” the large man told me. I didn’t hesitate to obey. I turned towards Heath and shook his uninjured arm gently.
“Heath,” I said in a shaky whisper, “Heath, wake up!”
I didn’t dare turn back to look at the gun I knew was still poised on me. I felt its presence. I didn’t need to see it.
Heath turned slightly in his sleep and muttered “What is it?”
Before opening his eyes and seeing the large man and gun still pointed at my head. He scrambled to sit up beneath the covers.
“Mornin’, Heath,” the large man said. “Bunsun’s just outside the door.”
“Look, man, you don’t have to—”
“Thought you’d send us on a fuckin’ wild goose chase huh Heath?” the large man said, interrupting Heath. “Bet you think you’re pretty funny, huh? We’ll see who’s laughin’ when your little girlfriend gets her head blown off.
“Leave her alone,” Heath said throwing the covers off and standing up. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
Clad only in his boxers and a white undershirt, he began striding towards the large man who immediately turned his gun from me to him.
“One more step and you both die,” the man said.
Heath stopped where he was, glanced at me and put his arms up in a sign of surrender.
“All right, All right man, I’m not moving,” Heath said, “just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Funny,” the large man said, “maybe that’s advice you should’ve followed. Where’s the coke?”
“It’s here,” Heath said. I stared at him.
“Where?” the large man asked.
“Garage,” he said. “With my bike. I can show you.”
Heath slowly began putting his shirt on over his boxers. As he did, the man turned to me.
“She’s coming with us,” he said.
Heath immediately turned around.
“She doesn’t need to-”
“I’ll decide what needs to fuckin’ happen here,” the man said sharply, still pointing his gun at Heath. He then turned back to me and prodded my side with the gun.
