Authors: Karen-Anne Stewart
Her lip trembles, and I almost change my mind. “That’s not the only reason I need you tonight,” she confesses, a glossy sheen of tears glistening in her eyes.
“What is it, Emma? I need you to talk to me.”
“Tonight, before what h-happened, you were about to-” she stops, the tears she’s fighting finally winning, rolling down her face.
“Em, please,” I plead.
“I need you. All of you. Please, just give me one night before you go back to New York. Before you tell me you don’t want to see me again.”
Gripping her arms, I almost fall back to my knees with the realization that she thought I was trying to tell her good-bye. Regret slams into me, churning in my gut at how, with all the shit she’s dealt with tonight, she thought I was going to abandon her, our friendship, and what she doesn’t even know of how I feel for her. “No, Emma. You have it all wrong. I wasn’t trying to tell you that I didn’t want you in my life.”
Despite her attempt to be brave and wiping the tears from her eyes, her bottom lip is still slightly trembling, “Then what were you trying to tell me?”
Opening my mouth, I can’t say the words. Silently cursing my cowardice, I’m a selfish bastard and lie, “I was going to ask you to come to the opening.” It’s not a complete lie, I did want her with me at the opening, but I want so much more than that. Relief fills her eyes, slaying me. I want to tell her that I’ve fallen in love with her, but I’m terrified of what she does to me. She’s both the source of my strength and my weakness. Being with her is the sweetest hell. I need her, but she deserves someone better than me. I will only end up hurting her and I’m too much of a fucking coward to lose her completely from my life. If the only way I can have her is as my friend, then that’s what I’ll have to live with.
I take the t-shirt from the dresser, “I will hold you all night if you want me to, Emma, but that’s all that can happen.”
Emma slips the shirt out of my hand, silently gathering the other items before returning to the bathroom and closing the door. No more words are said when she climbs into bed next to me. As promised, I pull her against my chest, tangling my fingers in her hair as I kiss her forehead and wrap my arms around her back and shoulders, holding her safely until she drifts to sleep.
It’s 2:14 a.m. when Gavin calls. I’m wide awake. Emma’s head is still lying on my chest, her shoulders softly rising and falling as she seems to be sleeping peacefully. That may be the only saving grace for Edwin McDerrit, the dealer who is getting ready to taste the fear of death for what he did to Emma. For the second time tonight, I’ve lied to her. I told her that I would hold her all night, but I have to take care of things now. Asking Gavin to come and stay with Emma while I’m gone, I ease her head from my chest to the pillow. Taking one last look of Edwin’s handiwork before I leave, I pull the cover to Emma’s shoulder, brushing a kiss against her cheek before slipping quietly out of the room.
Gavin arrives twenty minutes later. He nervously paces in front of the door, “You shouldn’t be doing this by yourself, Breck. I’ll go with you.”
“Emma might wake up, and I don’t want her to be alone,” I tell him for the third time since he called with the dealer’s identity and address.
“You can always call the police and let them know where he’s at. They can match his prints to Emma’s belongings, and she’ll ID them easily in a line up,” Gavin delivers his last ditch attempt.
“Give me the phone,” I demand, holding my hand out for the burner I had Gavin obtain so I can call the cops once I’m done with Edwin.
Gavin takes it out of his bag, removing his ball cap and slipping his dark hooded sweatshirt over his head, handing all of the items to me, “You sure you know how to avoid the cameras?”
“I know where the cameras are on the streets,” I tell him, getting irritated with his trying to stall me.
“You used to be the one stopping me from my dumbass decisions,” Gavin lets out a humorless laugh.
“This decision is justified. You know that as much as I do,” I reply angrily.
“I’m not arguing with you there, mate. I’m just saying that this dealer doesn’t give a shit about taking a life. He’ll also be armed and not alone.”
“I know. I don’t give a shit about taking his if it comes to that either,” I snap. “How many did you count?”
Gavin rakes his hand across his brow, “The three of them from earlier.”
“Good, then I’ll only have to go to two places tonight.” Grabbing my gear, I head towards the door, the ball cap on and the hooded sweatshirt pulled over my head.
“Wait, Breck.” Gavin grabs my arm, “I know you don’t like guns, but you need to take this…just in case. It’s clean.” He hands me a .38 from his bag.
Shaking my head, my eyes darken, “You know how I feel about guns.”
Sighing, he places it back in the bag, covering it with a shirt, “Alright, mate. Just stay safe and smart. And, Breck...stay fucking alive.”
Nodding, I head out and drive to a lot several blocks away, walking the rest while ducking my head to be sure to miss the cameras. Slipping the boxing wraps out of my sweatshirt pocket, I carefully place them around my knuckles to try to prevent as much evidence as possible of what I’m about to do. There’s no last minute change of heart, not when thoughts of the marks on Emma sear my brain, getting my head where it needs to be. I’m not a violent person by nature; I know how to leash the rage until it becomes a necessity, and I need to let it flow freely now. I’ve never felt that need stronger than I do tonight.
Covering my hands with black latex gloves, I walk across the dark street to the house on the corner. Dim light shines from behind the old brick ranch. From the way Gavin described the man, he must spend his depraved wealth on clothes and women; he sure as hell doesn’t spend any on his living arrangements. From the little Gavin found out about him, he’s smart and ruthless. The car in the alley was untraceable, most likely stolen, and stripped before adding the desired changes to the interior, including the hidden locks, keeping Emma prisoner as he beat and attempted to rape her. I wonder how many vile crimes he’s committed inside that metal cage, doing every sickening perverse thought in his debased mind. Tonight, I’m just worried about what he did to Emma.
Checking the back door, I find it’s locked, so I slip in between the bushes and the house, checking windows. All are locked. Damn. Their hearing me coming increases the risk of my ending up dead. Taking a minute to clear my mind, I refuse to think of that possibility as I kick in the kitchen door, quickly grabbing a chair and pressing my body against the wall as the first man appears. I don’t know if he’s Davis or Carter, but whichever one he is, he will never be the same as I crash the chair against his mouth and I hear bone crack. Blood pours as he groans in pain, falling to his knees, coughing and spitting out a choking mixture of blood, saliva, and a tooth. I grab the nape of his neck, jerking him up and using him as a human shield when the other one pulls his gun. I haven’t seen Edwin yet, but there aren’t any doors behind me, and I try to keep the layout to my advantage as I wrench the man’s arm behind his back, walking him towards the one with the gun. “Drop it or I’ll break his arm,” I warn.
“Fuck you!”
The sickening sound of bone breaking fills the air again milliseconds before the loud scream.
“Shoot him, Davis,” the man writhing in pain yelps.
So, this piece of shit is Carter, the one Gavin heard Emma telling the police is the man who dragged her to Edwin. Davis aims his gun at my head, and I keep Carter held directly in front of me as I rush him, causing him to stumble backwards from the impact. Not wasting time, I ram Carter’s head into the wall while I kick the gun out of Davis’ hand before cracking his jaw against the side of my heavy boot. Keeping my attention on Davis, I grab Carter, spinning him around and kneeing him savagely in the chin. His head snaps back as his body collides into the wall before sinking to a crumbled heap on the stained carpet below.
Davis is going for the gun as Edwin makes his appearance, the leather strap still tied around his arm. Shit! I wanted him to feel every ounce of pain I’m going to deliver. The heroine will keep him from feeling the full impact, so I’ll have to make sure to damage him enough to feel it long after the effects of his high fade. Stepping on Davis’ wrist, I lean my full weight against his arm as I grab the gun, emptying the clip before sending a sharp kick to his gut.
Edwin stumbles towards me, a gun held in his unsteady hand. There’s nothing between us, nothing I can use as a barrier. Keeping my eye on the weapon, I decide speed is my best option as I weave left then right as he fires a round, the bullet grazing my arm in a river of fire. Throwing the clip from Davis’ gun towards Edwin, his gaze slips, and I attack, grabbing his wrist and striking it against the wall. His gun falls to the floor when I twist his wrist, snapping it loudly before I send my elbow into his jaw. Crying out, he falls backwards, and I take that second to glance back at Carter and Davis. Carter is still rolling around on the floor, coughing up blood, but Davis is on his knees, trying to stand.
Using Edwin as a weapon, I grab his arm, jerking him around and kicking him forcefully in the chest, causing him to projectile backwards, crashing into Davis. A hard kick snaps Edwin’s jaw to the side while I yank Davis to his feet, delivering two brutal blows. He crumbles to the ground, and I grab Edwin’s gun, impaling the steel butt into Davis’ mouth, hearing the cracking sound as it is shoved past his teeth.
I turn my wrath back on Edwin, unleashing the full thrust of my rage as I smash his head against a mirror, before dropping him to the floor on top of the broken glass. I deliver a series of painful kicks to his ribs and abdomen that are just short of lethal. He begs me to stop, so I hit him, my fist crashing against his jaw viciously until it’s broken, knowing he didn’t have any mercy when Emma begged him to stop hurting her.
The only sounds now are his repugnant sputters as I finish what I came to do. Images of Emma’s bruised wrists and marred thigh fuel my resolve as I break the arm he used to restrain her first, then pulling the hand he used to pry her legs apart to try and rape her behind his back, holding it high as I snap the bone in two places. All three are unconscious, but breathing, as I collect the bullet with my blood, cleaning up all evidence of my presence there, and leave. Glancing down the street, I dial 911, then toss the burner phone down the flood drain.
The last stop of the night is just past Emma’s apartment door. I will have to handle this one with more delicacy since there’s a woman in the apartment; I won’t hurt him in front of her. Knocking on the door, I expect her to be the one to answer since he’s probably doped on pain medication from his wounded arm. The plastic bags filled with powder to resemble her choice of poison on the floor does what I planned, enticing her enough to step away from the entrance as I slip from around the corner and inside, locking the door behind me.
James is half lucid when I grab his injured arm, covering his mouth with my left hand before using my right hand like a vise. He kicks and jerks underneath me as I squeeze his injured arm. Leaning my mouth close to his ear, my voice drips with contempt, “If you ever put another woman in danger, including yours, because of your issues, I will come back, and you don’t want that.” Just to prove that he never wants to see me again, I send my fist into his gut, my hand pressing hard against his busted mouth, stifling his pained cries as I deliver a few more reminders of what’s to come if he doesn’t heed my warning.
James is whimpering as I scale the balcony, making my way down the rusted ladder and dropping into the alley below. Seeing the glass scattered on the ground from the window Gavin busted to save Emma, I have to force myself not to climb back upstairs and kill the bastard. Taking a deep breath, I struggle to focus and regain control as I slip off the bloody gloves and place them inside a plastic bag along with the wraps. I shove the bag inside the pocket of the sweatshirt, making one last stop, stripping out of the clothing and burning all of the contents before putting on different clothes and pulling the hood low as I keep my head down on the way back to my car.
Gavin jumps to his feet as soon as I open the door, “I was beginning to lose it, mate.”
“Did Emma wake up?”
“No.” Gavin studies me, “Are you alright?”
I give him a look letting him know that no sane human could ever be ‘alright’ with what I just did. “Go home, Gavin. Thanks for all you’ve done tonight.”
“Take care of Emma. She’s going to need you.” Gavin’s hand stops on the door knob. Looking over his shoulder, he gives me a lopsided grin, “You can bullshit yourself all you want, but I know that that need goes both ways, mate.”
“Go home, Gavin,” my voice is drained. Taking a quick shower, I wipe my hand down the steam covered mirror to inspect my shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only a flesh wound that I’m sure I can easily come up with some form of explanation when Emma sees it tomorrow. I slide back in bed next to her, and her soft body curls against me. Her breath warms my neck. Slipping her fingers through mine, I place her hand over my heart, covering what belongs to her.