Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) (15 page)

I leave the hospital as quick as I can, find my keys and get to my car. I pull my phone from my pocket, quickly dialling the one person, who right now, will help.

“Leigh?” he asks wearily, it is four AM for god's sake.

“Scott, I need you,” I tell him bluntly. Scott is like me, not in the kink department, there we are on par, but his mind works like mine. He is a psychopath. Watching him obliterate another person is far too arousing for me to be sane.

“Where are you?” he asks without a second thought.

“The hospital. I need you now man,” I plead. I am finding it hard to breathe or to even bloody function. Trying to educate and push my brain into telling my lungs to inhale or my heart to beat is near impossible.

“On my way. Need anything?” he asks me, knowing exactly what I am needing.

“Just my kit,
” I tell
him, referring to the bag that will be in my safe at home.

“On it. Where do you want me to meet you, the hospital or somewhere else?”

“The club, I need a drink and then I need to sate the need.” The den ha
s served me well over the years of my residence there, and right now that’s what I need more than anything. I need to release this tension one way or another.

“Gimmie twenty man, I’ll see you there.” He hangs up and I start my car. I drive through the car park, push my ticket into the machine and drive through the opening barriers. I need something soon; I am shaking and sweating profusely.

My fingers are thrumming against the steering wheel, hard, the repeated pounding of the music playing matching my erratic heartbeat.

I have been strong for far too long, holding back all the bad, so I could give Abbi every ounce of good she deserves. But now I need to release, to explode, discharging this demon
inside of me just a little.

I arrive at the club quickly, park my car on the gravelly car park and get out.

I look to the doors, illuminated with florescent lights, the regular bouncers standing guard preventing unwanted people from entering. I close my door harshly and click the fob to lock the doors.

“Evening Leigh, where’s Abbi tonight?” I have been bringing her here with me for the past three months, the staff and other Dom’s getting used to her presence.

“Not here,” I reply snappily, smiling arrogantly and walking past him.

I ignore anything else he has to say, walking to the lobby desk where the usual little redhead sits looking bored. I know she has a naughty side and I feel bad that she is unable to enjoy the facilities the club has.

“Evening Leighton, where’s your girl?” She looks shocked to see me alone now.

“Not here,” I answer, the same reaction I had given the doorman.

“Anything we can help with tonight?” she asks me, referring to the girls they have available.

“Nope, just having a drink then Scott and I will be leaving.” I sign in and leave the pen atop the visitor’s book.

“He hasn’t come in tonight sir,” she informs me.

“He’s on his way, let him know I’ve arrived and I’ll be at the bar.” I tap the counter before I make my way through the double doors that lead to a fucked-up sanctuary.

I push them open hard, the wood smashing against the walls a little on entry. I inhale sharply, the scent overpowering me. Feminine arousal and sweet sweat fumigating the air.

“Ahhh,” I sigh as I relax and walk towards the bar.

“Leighton Lock, good to see you mate. What can I get you?” Ralph, the old guy who works the bar asks me. He has been pouring drinks for the diverse, sexually deviant people who frequent here for as long as I can remember. He owns the place primarily, looks after the girls like he is their father and accommodates anybody in his club.

“Scotch,” I reply quickly.

“Tough night hey kid?” he asks me kindly as he pours a double shot into a glass.

“Ah-huh.” I nod as I down the warm liquid. I push the glass to him again asking for more.

“Want to talk about it son?” His face is withered, the years of hard work taking its toll. He must be at least in his sixties if not seventy.

“Not really. Just waiting for Scott then we’ve got somewhere to be.” He pushes the glass to me again, once again possessing that needed liquid.

“Okay, just be safe okay kid. No driving,” he instructs me. He has always been a kind man, always looking out for his customers and clients.

“Will do Ralph, have a good one yeah.” I down the liquid and relax as I feel the warmth of my friend behind me.

“What do you need Leigh?” he asks me, his deep voice penetrating my ear drums.

“It, I need it,” I say shakily.

“What’s it Leighton? There are a lot of it’s I can give you. Me? I’ve been needing it for a while and I have had to suffer, so please, do appease me and tell me which it you are referring to.” Snarky son of a bitch.

I stand and turn around sharply, my hand wrapping the width of his strong neck and squeezing. His eyes pop a little, those hazel globes drowning me. “Talk to me like that again I will slit your fucking throat.” I push him back and he stumbles a little.

“Jeez, what the fuck caused you to be so moody?” I chuckle at his referral to my temper. It wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen; I have knocked every one of my men out at least once, Scott more as he can be an irritating prick.

“I told Abbi some things about me tonight, and well, we kind of ended.” I lower my head and pinch my eyes between my fingers trying to stop tears from falling. I have to be strong right now, I can’t break down and cry.

“What the fuck Leighton? What did you tell her that would make her leave?” he asks me, shocked. He comes to me, standing face to face with me.

“Things that none of you know,” I reply simply.

“Like what? We know everything there is to know about you mate.” He rounds me and sits on one of the bar stools, signalling Ralph for two drinks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it to be honest.” I nod my thanks to the old man as he passes me my third drink of the night.

“Tough shit buddy, I think you need to talk about It.” He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.

“Fuck it,” I say simply, turning to face him. “I told her how I much I needed to kill people, how much my body craved the blood and adrenaline taking a life gave me. She told me her heart was breaking and then cried. I told her I’d always love her but I couldn’t change this part of me.”

“Firstly, Leighton, we knew you loved doing this, it was evident in your eyes and the stiffening of your fucking cock every time you killed someone. But I don’t understand why Abbi would tell you to go.” He shakes his head trying to arrange his thoughts.

“She didn’t tell me to go; I decided to go because it was clear in her fucking eyes she didn’t want me anymore, that I disgusted her. Jesus, I fucking disgust myself, and right now all I really want to fucking do is kill someone, even as my wife lay heartbroken in hospital, all I really want this second is to slit somebody's fucking throat. So please, help me sate this need and then maybe I might be able to breathe again and think rationally.” I exhale hard.

“You mother fucking crazy asshole. Why did you walk you dickhead? You just don’t see it do you; you don’t see how much she loves you. She would fucking die for you Leighton, knowing this about you isn’t going to change a thing, she’ll still be there supporting you throughout everything. But, you complete prick, you may have fucked your marriage up yourself by walking away. What you need to do right now is go back there and sort this out before it’s too late.”

“No, Scott. What I need to do is hurt something, because if I go back there before I have had my fix, I will be in too much of a state of anger to deal with anything. So please, be a friend and help me.” I beg him, my eyes pleading with his.

“Help you kill somebody because you need to? I understand doing it because we’ve got a job Leigh, or because someone deserves it, like Abbi’s dad, but just to sate you’re fucking needs? That’s fucked up on a whole other level.”

“You don’t think I know that, you don’t think I’ve struggled with this for longer than I’ve fucking known you, you prick? I don’t want to be like this, to need these things, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t sleep, breathe or survive unless I do something, and soon.” I grab his arm, crying out for his help.

“This is wrong on so many levels mate. You need help, real help,” he informs me and I laugh sadistically.

“And what, say to the therapist, ‘Hey, Doc, I like to kill and mutilate people because I get off on it, help me’? She’d call the police and have me locked up in a nut house until I was deemed fit for the public, and then I’d serve my life behind bars. Not happening, I couldn’t leave Abbi alone like that,” I tell him, clenching the glass so tight in my hand I think it might bust.

“What, like you just done now, leaving her frightened and scared, alone in a fucking hospital? So fucking manly of you Leighton.” He turns his head in disgust and I fucking snap.

I stand from my stool, pushing it back across the bar, the metal clashing with the oak wood. My hand is once again around his throat squeezing far too hard. I lift him from his chair, his feet hovering from the floor a little. “You do not talk to me like that Scott; I pay your fucking wages. You do not get to judge me and you do not get to tell me what I should be doing.” I continue to grip his neck, my fingers whitening from the constriction. His eyes are bulging and turning red, his hand grasping and fighting with my own for release. I can’t stop myself. The part of me I have warned Abbi about is on the surface and begging for freedom. I know nobody will understand how potent the demon is, how can they? I am killing my friend without any second thought to it.

“Hey, mate, let him go.” I feel a strong grip on my arm pulling my hand away from Scott. “I said let the fuck go.” His tone is darker than anything I have ever heard, even from myself. His grip tightens and my body triggers back into reality, my hand letting go instantly.

“Shit,” I say as I watch Scott fall to the floor, all blood having nearly left his head. He is struggling to breathe, huge gasps coming from him, his eyes streaming.

Scott is strong, but he is nothing in power and height, in comparison to me. “Leigh just go mate, you need to sleep,” Scott tells me from his perch on the floor, a girl now at his side trying to calm him.

I am a shit fucking friend.

“I’m sorry mate. I told you, I needed it.” I confirm my previous statement and turn to leave.

I walk from the bar, out of the double doors and through the lobby. “Off already Leighton?” the doorman asks and I ignore him as I carry on walking. I am practically running, trying to get away.

I click the fob and swing my car door open. I feel a hand grasp my arm and swing me around harshly. “What the fuck are you on mate?” the guy who had stopped me earlier asks. “You nearly killed your friend back there.”

“Fuck off
mate,
” I snap at him trying to turn again, but his strength outweighs mine a thousand to one.

“Ha,” he laughs once, sadistically. “Chill it mate, you aint such a big boy next to me. Now tell me, how long you been feeling these feelings for?” The look he gives me, tells me he knows how I am feeling, but I believe there is nobody on this god forsaken planet that will understand me.

“Who cares?” I shrug my shoulders.

“I do, I can help you,” he tells me and I scoff.

“I know how you’re feeling mate, I know how you can’t sleep at night until you feel sated, how the feel of somebody's pulse fading beneath your hand gets you off, how you only feel calm knowing somebody left this world because of you. You can’t live that way,” he informs me and I turn and hold my fists tight, my level of agitation rising.

“How the fuck would you know, how could you even tell that?”

“Your eyes kid, your eyes tell it all. I was you five years ago. You have to learn to control it.” I bite my lip hard, blood filling my mouth.

“How the fuck do I do that huh, how do I stop it when it’s all I want right now? You’re standing here but all I can see is your body on the floor right there, your throat open and your chest presenting a nice round hole from my gun. You tell me, MR FUCKING KNOW IT ALL, HOW THE FUCK I’M SUPPOSED TO LIVE WITH MYSELF AFTER TELLING MY WIFE I WANT TO KILL PEOPLE.” He smiles at me and I can’t stop my fist as I pull it back and smash it into his cheek.

“I’ll let you have that one kid, but try it again and you’ll lose your fucking arm.” He stands up straight and gets into my face. “Now, breathe deep and control it. Close your eyes and take a minute to yourself,” he tells me and I do as he orders.

I close my eyes shut, relax my hands and breathe deeply, in and out. All I can see is my daughter, beginning to walk, strong and bold. I’m not there; Abbi is with another man, another man holding my Melissa, telling her he loves her and is proud of her. I can see another man putting my son to bed at night, reading him stories and helping with his homework. I am breaking apart rapidly and I can’t control the sobs that erupt from my chest.

“Fuck.” I cry out loudly, pulling at my hair and slapping the side of my head. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.” I continue to cry. I can’t bear to see those images, to know that if I continue this way I will lose the people that mean the most to me.

“Come here mate,” the guy says softly and pulls me into him. He holds me tightly and firmly as I cry into his chest. I cry like a fucking baby, my heart broken, my spirit shattered and my life in pieces.

“Fix me, please,” I beg him as my tears soak his tight t-shirt.

“I’d be honoured, but first you need to tell me your name,” he suggests.

“Leighton, Leighton Lock,” I say as I raise my head from him and wipe the remnants of my tears away. I am ashamed that I have cracked in front of a complete stranger.

“Please to meet you Leighton, I’m Marcus. And kid, please don’t swing for me again because I will break your arm.” He smiles widely and puts his hand out for me to shake.

I place my palm to his and acknowledge the journey I am about take.