by B L Mute
Simon’s eyes go wide. “Oh, letting your bitch do your fighting? That’s a new low, Hale.” He laughs.
I can see how much it pisses Charlie off to be disregarded only because she’s a female. Her back rises and falls quicker than before, and her hands ball into fists. All of it is so slight, I don’t think anyone would notice, but I do.
“A low?” I question with a laugh. “You haven’t seen what she can do. The only thing low about this”—I motion my hands between the two of them—“is you getting your ass handed to you by a woman.”
Charlie looks at me out of the corner of her eye, and I can see it. The switch. It’s the same switch that flipped when she was with me. Seeing her this way adds clarity to the nickname her dad gave her. She’s beautiful, and fragile in a sense, but if you touch the wrong part of her, she’s deadly.
I wink at her, and that’s all it takes. She catches Simon by surprise. He’s taller than her, even with heels, but not by a lot. She throws her first up and strikes him under his chin, hard, sending his body almost flying back.
As he stumbles and tries to figure out what the fuck is happening, she raises her knee and grabs his shoulders. Before she can connect, he brings his arm up and grabs her wrist, turning it until her back is to him.
“Now, now, monarch, that’s not a very smart move on your end. Do you know who I am, what I can do?” he hisses next to her ear.
I step forward, ready to get his filthy hands off her, but Julius makes it to him before me. He grabs Simon by his greasy hair and yanks it hard until his back arches. “No one fucking touches her!” he roars, and to be honest, it’s chilling.
In my many years of knowing Julius, I’ve only heard him speak a handful of times. To know that he is willing to use his voice when it matters, to protect my most valuable asset at the time, fucking makes me proud.
I sit back and watch, knowing Julius needs this release more than me. When Simon finally lets Charlie go, she stumbles to me with wide eyes, undoubtedly from Julius’s outburst.
I turn her body, keeping her pressed closely to me, and let her watch the events unfold in front of us.
Lucas sits on the couch, still holding the man without a name, while Julius hands Simon his ass.
Julius grabs Simon’s arm and turns it the same way he did to Charlie, only this time, there is a pleasant pop following the motion. Simon howls out in pain, and it does nothing but excite Julius.
When I found him and Lucas on the streets years ago, the same way Cedric found me, I knew they’d be the perfect complement. While Lucas is more vocal and blunt, he is still the more reserved one. He thinks before he acts, even when he’s mad. Julius on the other hand… He is more reserved on a day-to-day basis, but when he gets mad, it’s like unleashing the Devil’s own personal hellhound. He won’t stop until he sees blood or the other person is dead. He has nothing to lose, which makes him perfect for this job.
I watch as the two men go around and round until Simon is finally on his back. Julius leans over him with a bloody nose, then spits. It’s his way of showing Simon he is nothing more than shit on the bottom of his shoes.
Julius backs away and looks at me. I give him an approving nod, then move to send a message of my own to Simon. I don’t make it a full two steps before Charlie halts me and walks to him herself.
She squats down beside him, letting her dress ride up her thighs, showing him the slightest glimpse of pretty pink flesh between her legs.
“You shouldn’t have let this pussy get to your head, Simon. Pathetic, really, that someone who claims to be so big and bad can be so easily irritated by a woman who isn’t scared.”
He looks at her with his crooked and bloody nose, eyes bulging and purple. “Irritated?” He cackles. “Just wait until you’re on the ground with your so-called king. You won’t be so fearless then.”
She raises and sends the point of her heel into his groin. I wince, imagining the pain.
She comes back to my side and stands with her nose in the air, not letting his words affect her.
“You.” I point to the man on the couch. Lucas releases him. “Go ahead and send whoever sent you a message from me.” I pull my 19-11 from my side and pull the hammer back. “One, I don’t fuck with the Morenos.” I aim the gun at Simon. “Two, the cartel isn’t getting my territory.” I pull the trigger, sending a loud bang into the room, echoing off the walls. “And three, if they want me, they can come fucking get me!” I scream the last part.
Lucas and Julius laugh as the man with no name runs from the room and down the stairs. I look out of the glass and see him run for the door that leads outside. Luckily, all of the partygoers have no clue what just conspired. Between the soundproof walls and glass and the loud music, they’re clueless.
I chuckle and turn my attention back to Charlie. Her mouth gapes open as she looks at Simon’s head blow all over the floor. Her hand comes to her mouth and covers it before her eyes lock to me again.
“You killed him,” she murmurs.
“I did.” I place my gun back in its holster and button my suit jacket.
She stares at me with a vacant face. No emotion, no expression, no nothing.
“I don’t play games, Monkshood. I did what had to be done.”
I don’t even remember the ride home. I feel like someone else is going through the motions for me. Like I am a puppet and they’re pulling the strings to make one foot go in front of the other as I walk inside the house.
Lucas disappears almost immediately once he breaks the threshold. Julius looks to Teddy with concern splashed all over his face.
“Leave him. You know how he gets,” Teddy reassures him.
He nods and turns to leave, but I reach for him, catching the cuff of his blood-soaked suit. “Thank you.”
I’m not sure a thank-you is even in order. I could have handled Simon on my own, but Julius didn’t give me a chance. He saw Simon grab me and without a second thought rushed him. He did what he did for me—at least that’s what I’m trying to make my mind believe. Maybe he thinks I’m weak and needed saving, that’s why he did it. That’s why Teddy did what he did too, but we know that the furthest thing from the truth. Simon would still be dead even if he never touched me. As Teddy said, he did what he had to do.
Julius nods at me with soft eyes before disappearing the same way Lucas did.
I stand in the doorway, the cold night air biting at my exposed skin, not knowing what to do. I knew these men were killers. I knew they were bad, but seeing it makes it more real than repeating it to myself in my head.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Shock is a funny thing and allows you to forget the simplest of motions, like talking, breathing, walking. I try to croak out a word, any word, but it’s useless. Nothing comes from my mouth other than air. I reach for my neck, almost as if touching it will magically make my vocal cords work, but again, nothing.
Tears invade my vision and fall to my cheeks, and for once I don’t stop them. I sob silently in the doorway for a moment before Teddy places a hand on my back and hooks the other behind my knees. He carries me the rest of the way through the door and up the staircase to the right.
All the important things are downstairs. Kitchen, library, gym, all the rooms. I’ve never been upstairs and not sure what’s waiting for me, but I don’t fight him. When we make it to the top, I expect him to set me down, but he doesn’t. He keeps his pace until he’s in front of a set of double wooden doors.
He leans and flicks the thin golden handle with his fingers, still cupping my back, and walks us through the doors. The layout is pretty similar to my own, but it’s bigger and more vacant. A California king bed sits directly in the middle of the room covered with black satin sheets. Thin, black curtains drape the windows, pushing out any light there may be from the moon, and two dark wood nightstands stand on either side of it. That’s it. There is nothing else in this room. No TV, no closet, no dresser. It’s absent of everything, including the door that once separated
it from the bathroom.
Teddy walks to the bathroom and finally sets me down. I don’t make any motion to move; my feet are glued to the spot they hit on the floor.
The bathroom is pretty basic too. There is a toilet tucked into the far-left corner, a single standing sink with no mirror above it, and a huge freestanding, oval-shaped bathtub big enough to fit four men sits alone without a shower.
Without speaking, Teddy slides the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders and lets it fall. It slides off effortlessly, bunching around my feet. He stoops in front of me and gently lifts one foot. I don’t make any attempt to move. He takes off my shoe, then repeats the motion with the other. Moving his hand up my leg, he undoes the buckles belonging to my holster, then gently sets it on the floor.
He looks up to me while he’s still perched on the floor. His blue eyes bore into mine. I can see the apology in them, but he won’t speak the words. He breaks away and stands, then walks to the tub and turns the water on. I watch as he rolls his sleeves to test the water with his wrist. When he’s satisfied with the temperature, he walks back to me and lightly grabs my hand. He leads me to the tub and holds me as I step in.
He slips to the floor beside the tub and just watches me for a while. I just sit there, motionless, void of all emotion.
“Monkshood?”
I can hear him, but my mouth doesn’t want to answer. I drag my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on top.
He reaches out, sweeping the hair from my face, and I flinch. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his face completely melt. “I would never hurt you,” he whispers, and I know he’s telling the truth.
My heart stirs at his confession while my mind screams. How can I want the same hands that are painted from murder to touch me, to hold me, to comfort me? I turn my head, letting my cheek rest on my knee so I can study him.
The cut along his face is almost healed. A frown rests on his lips, replacing his usual hard line, and his eyes, the eyes I remember, are there. Like a punch to the gut, I finally remember where I’ve seen them. The same sad expression depicted all over his face shone bright in his eyes the first time I saw them.
“I remember you,” I squeak, thankful my voice is willing to work.
His anguished eyes light up the slightest bit. “Oh yeah?”
“You were watching me. I was seventeen.”
He smiles sadly. “I’ve watched you a lot, Monkshood.”
I turn a bit and adjust my head to look at him head-on. “But this is the first time I had seen you, or part of you.” I look down, embarrassed it never clicked before.
When I was seventeen, my mother died. I never cared about her because I never knew her, but my dad still dragged me to her funeral. My mom was nothing more than a junkie. I’m sure before all of the drugs she was beautiful, but seeing her lying in a casket, I had a different opinion of her. She was encased in loads of makeup, which appeared to be a failed attempt to try and cover the marks all over her face, from picking, no doubt. She definitely didn’t depict beauty.
I remember I cried that day. Not for me, but for my dad. He’d always hoped my mom would come back to us. She had played the role of an informant. A washed-up junkie looking for any way to get a fix, and the department offered to pay her. My dad, being the big-hearted fool he was, fell for her, and a short time later, I was conceived. He threw her in rehab and hoped she would stay, but she was only there long enough to carry me. As soon as I was born, she fled, returning to her life on the streets.
I never met her and feel as though I was better off as a result. My dad, however, was a different story. No matter how much time passed, his feelings never died for her. He spent a lot of my life looking for her, hoping he could find her to help her, but he never made it. She overdosed before he ever got the chance. He loved her so much in life, and even more in death.
Seeing them lower her body into the ground, my dad sobbed. I stood by his side with tears streaming down my cheeks. Not because I was heartbroken at the loss of someone I did not know, but because my dad was hurting, and catching sight of him in pain killed me.
I moved to the back and watched from a distance as he said his goodbyes. As everyone thinned out, my dad was the only one left. I just stood there, embracing him from afar, knowing he needed this moment with her. He needed to say goodbye. As I watched him, I envisioned the love story that never was, but then I had a burning feeling of being watched. I turned around and saw a man staring at me from within the cracked window of a dark-colored SUV. Those sad blue eyes stayed on me and never moved until we left. I never saw the man again, until now.
“It was my mom’s funeral. Eight years ago.”
He nods like he knows the exact day. “It was a few months before that, that Cedric had died, and your dad approached me.”
I let out a small laugh. “You’ve been watching me for eight years?”
He stands and kicks off his shoes. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he lets it fall to the floor. He slips his holster off, letting it glide down the back of his arms. The one thing he always has on him, his constant, falls to the floor with a thump, still holstered in the leather, and he doesn’t even bat an eye. He slips into the tub behind me, still fully clothed in his slacks and button-up. “I have.”
I turn in his hold. “Why?”
“Because you fascinate me. You were only meant to be used as leverage against your father had he tried anything suspicious, but he never did. You started to grow on me. The way you move, the way you carry yourself. Everything about you screams beauty and dominance all at once. I’ve wanted you to be mine for a long time now, Monkshood.”
His words stab at my heart and make my stomach dip. I rest my head against his chest and sob. Men like Teddy don’t love, and to hear him admit in his own way that he loves me hurts. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I’m not sure I can love a killer.
The last few weeks have passed in silence. Not a peep from anyone. The other families, the cartel, even Teddy and the twins have all been quiet. After what Teddy did at the club, he’s kept his distance. At first, I thought it’s what I needed. I needed time to process and figure out what to do, but as the time has gone on, I’ve realized I don’t need time at all.
When Teddy basically told me he loved me, I didn’t respond. I stayed quiet and let my thoughts eat me alive. He’s a killer, a cold-blooded killer with no regard for human life, but I knew that coming into this. The Mafia isn’t composed of pansy-ass men who get off on flowers and rainbows. No, they’re savage, lethal, a strong force to be reckoned with.
I was brought up to believe the justice system is in place for a reason. But the more I think about it, the more I realize maybe I’m not so different from the men here after all. When my dad’s murderer is found, I wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger, and maybe that’s how Teddy is. He sees the bigger picture. Some people just don’t deserve to live, and some people have to die in order to send a message. It’s a justice system all its own. One that you can’t find in any law book, yet one that he follows to maintain order, because some monsters are worse than the ones I live with, the ones I’ve come to love.
I peek my head out of my door and can hear hushed whispers coming from the kitchen. It feels like something is going on, and no one wants me in the loop. When I pass Lucas in the hall, he doesn’t have a smart remark like usual. Julius is always quiet, and I haven’t heard him speak again since that night, but he won’t look me in my eyes. And Teddy… He’s avoiding me like the plague.
All I want him to do is talk to me. Hold me. Anything would be better at this point than radio silence. I think they all feel they’re doing it for my benefit. Trying to give me distance to breathe. Either that or they’re waiting to see if I try and run so they can kill me too.
I close my door and walk back to my bed. I lie down and pull the covers completely over me to try and fall back asleep since I have nothing better to do. Just as I’m finally comfortable, so
meone knocks on my door quietly. I’m sure it’s Carl. He’s been bringing me food and asking if I need anything like clockwork three times a day.
“Come in,” I shout, only loud enough for him to hear.
The door creaks open and Teddy walks in, closing it behind him. My heart beats hard from within my chest, and my cheeks burn. I lean onto my elbow and take him all in. For once he isn’t in a suit. He has on dark-washed jeans and a tight white tee that shows off his perfectly symmetrical abs, and the fabric struggles to make it around the thickest part of his strong arms. The look is complemented by a pair of basic black runners.
“What do you want?” I try to sound unfazed, but my voice comes out almost desperate. For weeks this is all I’ve wanted, but now that he’s here, anger is threatening to explode. He just left me to my own demise in a vulnerable time.
He steps closer until he’s at the foot of my bed and sits. “We need to talk.”
The way he says it has my head ringing every alarm bell it has. Fear starts to weasel its way into my bones, and a shudder runs down my spine. I sit up completely, placing my back to my headboard. “You’re kicking me out.” I bite my lip, trying to conceal my hurt.
Teddy tilts his head and reaches for me, tugging my lip with his thumb. He traces the seam softly with longing in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave, but I won’t force you to stay. If you want to go, the door is there, but it won’t be done by my hand.”
I glare into his eyes. The blue reminds me of the ocean. Beautiful and tranquil on the outside, but deep down, monsters and darkness lurk below the surface. “Tell me why I’m here, Teddy, and don’t give me the bullshit excuse of you wanting me to be your bodyguard.”
He scrubs his hand down his face, letting his fingers linger over the swollen pink scar I gave him. “I need you.” He sounds almost pained saying the words.
“Need me how?”
I want him to tell me he needs me in the way I need him. Not for any reason involving the Mafia, but because he loves me so much, so passionately, that he can’t function when I’m not around.
