Man of Mystery: A BBW Romantic Suspense (8 page)

The man in black with the zip ties pulls a huge knife from a thigh harness and charges at me. I jump up from the chair, pick it up and fling it in his direction, in an effort to distract him.

The lights are still bothering me, making it hard to see the two men I’m fighting, so I focus on sounds instead. Sometimes it’s easier to visualize a fight with your eyes shut, acting only on instinct. And anyway, if I can’t see properly, neither can they.

Footsteps off to the side remind me that Fletch and who knows how many other people are still around, hiding in the darkness. They’ll have guns, and if I get shot, Tess will die as well.

I dodge the guy in black again, narrowly avoiding his knife and see an opening to punch him swiftly in the throat. He goes down almost instantly, and the large Rambo knife makes an almighty ruckus at it falls to the ground beside him.

The other guy is still doubled up on the floor with both arms wrapped around his abdomen. In just a split second, I reach down, remove one of my shoes, as well as the folding knife. Keeping the knife in my left hand, I fling my shoe hard at the light, blocking my view of where I assume Fletch was. It falls over with a loud clatter and shatters, giving my eyes some relief at last.

I sprint towards the other light and use it to scan our surroundings. I can’t see anyone, especially Fletch. He must have made an exit as soon as I started to resist.

Then a loud whimper makes me turn around towards Tess. She’s no longer alone.

A man - Fletch, presumably - has wrapped his arm around her throat and is holding a gun to her temple. His black fedora hat is obscuring his face; all I can tell is he’s quite unremarkable in terms of build and most likely Caucasian.

“Another move and she’s dead, Agent Everson,” Fletch hisses.

It’s peculiar how his voice remains mostly calm with only subtle undertones revealing how he really feels. I’m sure he’s livid, but he still sounds completely in control of himself.

“Kill her, and you’ll never get your chip,” I respond.

He presses the gun against her head harder, making her cry out. She must be terrified. The realization that all of this is my fault stabs at my insides. Focus!

“It’ll be OK,” I say, to reassure her as well as my own frazzled nerves.

Adrenaline is coursing through me as I grip the knife in my left hand tightly. It’s so small when folded; he probably hasn’t spotted it yet.

I slowly raise my other hand, as though I’m surrendering.

“Wait. I’ll give you the chip, and you give me the girl, OK?”

“No sudden movements!” Fletch warns me.

I fumble with my left shirt pocket, opening the button on the flap and then pretend to reach inside with my left hand. Before he’s able to see what I’m up to, I quickly transfer the knife into my right hand, while continuing to rummage around in the pocket for the non-existent chip. Then I remove my hand, grabbing hold of a bit of fluff from the shirt fabric between my forefinger and thumb and hold it up ahead of me.

This is when the spotlights turn things in my favor. There’s no way he’ll be able to make out what I’ve got in my hand without coming closer.

Fletch looks up, straining to see whether I’ve got what he wants, and relaxes his hold on Tess’s throat.
This is my chance.

Just as I’d practiced in training so many times before, I quickly flip open the knife and throw it straight at him. The sharp blade pierces his eye, making him stumble backward.

He screams. The gun falls to the floor with a loud, echoed clang, and I charge ahead, reaching Tess and Fletch within the blink of an eye. I grab the knife, and force it in further, beyond the crunch of bone, right into his skull. He stops screaming as his limbs start to twitch.

I focus my attention on Tess now, who is softly crying into the black cloth bag.

“Shhh… It’s OK,” I say, while freeing up her face, using the dirty cloth to wipe my bloodstained hand.

Big, tear-stained eyes look up at me, making me melt inside. What is it about this girl that she can make me feel this way? I’ve always liked the company of women, favoring to keep things casual as most guys I know do, but never like this. I’ve never felt
normal
around any of them.

“They thought we worked together. They didn’t believe me when I said that we didn’t. I thought they were going to hurt me if I didn’t tell them anything else. How did they know my name? Who are these people?” Tess rambles, then pauses and simply stares at me in silence for a moment. “I missed you.”

It’s my fault. All of it. I put her life in danger by involving her last week. Although I missed her, I can’t find the words to respond to her, so focus on the task at hand instead.

I lean over behind her chair, pull the knife out of Fletch’s head, and wipe the blood off before using it to cut through Tess’s restraints. She wraps her arms around me tightly as soon as she’s free, clinging on to me for dear life. I may have just rescued her, but her embrace makes me feel like I’m the one being set free. Will I ever get used to how she affects me? I hope not.

“Holy shit, that’s disgusting!” she exclaims, as soon as she spots Fletch’s dead body behind her chair. “People keep dying whenever we’re together!”

I’m not sure why, but something in her tone makes me chuckle. At least, this time she didn’t faint.

“Let’s hope this is the last time that happens,” I remark, though something tells me it’s not. People ending up dead is an occupational hazard I thought I’d gotten used to by now. Her involvement changes everything.

I’m still terrified; my heart is hammering in my throat, and my knees are jelly, and yet I’m thrilled to see Liam again. I just wish it were under different circumstances…

Forcing myself to look away from the horrifying image of the dead guy in the gangster hat on the floor, I instead opt to just look at Liam’s face. He rescued me. Again.

“Where would I be without you? You totally saved me just now,” I mumble, looking into his eyes again.

“Probably at home. Safe,” he remarks dryly.

Fair point.

“At home, bored, more like it,” I respond. Although the entire kidnapping experience was obviously terrifying, part of me is serious about the ‘bored’ remark. I haven’t had this much excitement in my life, ever. And that’s not entirely a bad thing.

“Now what?” I ask, looking around. Everything is as dark as it was before, so I’m still not able to see a thing.

“It seems strange that Fletch would have only two guards here. We’d better make ourselves scarce before reinforcements arrive,” Liam says.

I let go of him and take another look around the darkness. He takes my hand and points towards God knows what to our left.

“The exit is that way; follow me.”

I do so without protest, eager to get out of this horrible place.

“What did the creepy guy want from you? I hope I didn’t get you in trouble?” I ask, as we rush through the blackness and straight towards hopefully a door. My eyes are starting to adjust to the lack of light, but I still can’t make out much around us.

As soon as we reach a wall, Liam starts to tap his hand along its width to find the way.

“Are you sure it’s this side?” I wonder out loud.

The creak of a doorknob being turned breaks the silence, removing the need for him to respond.

“My car is outside,” Liam says, while gesturing at me to exit before him.

He places his hand on my shoulder as soon as we’re outside. Dusk has already set in, and the streetlights provide an eerie orange glow outside the strange, overgrown compound we’ve found ourselves on.

We head straight towards the main gate, which looks impossibly tall. It’s secured with a large chain and lock. He can’t possibly expect me to climb over?

I swallow my concerns when he offers me his hands as a step up.

“Don’t worry. It’s easier than it looks; just put your toes in the gaps and hold on properly,” he says.

Somehow - I don’t know how - I manage to make it all the way to the top. He climbs up after me and swings his leg over the top, offering me his hand to help me do the same and head back down. Amazing. I would have never thought I could do this!

“What’s funny?” he asks, when we find ourselves safely back on the ground at the other side of the gate.

“Nothing.” I look over at him as he scans the surrounding roadside for any sign of danger.

So focused, so determined. The slight crease between his eyebrows makes him look so serious.

I’ve always scoffed at movies relying on creating a damsel in distress scenario to make the hero seem more impressive, but even I have to admit it’s very sexy to get rescued. Or perhaps that’s just because I already like him.

He looks different today, not in a suit but wearing normal clothes. Black jeans and a fitted dark grey t-shirt. Very simple, but oh so hot anyway.

“My car is just over there,” he says, nodding at the unassuming black sedan parked up on the side of the road.

We rush over while he continues to keep a look out all around us. Then he gets into the car as soon as I’m in, turns the key, and speeds off. It doesn’t seem to matter where he’s taking me, so I don’t even ask. All I want to do now is to just sit in the passenger seat next to him, my hand on his thigh. He holds on to it, in between gear changes. Neither of us seem to feel the need to talk, but the silence isn’t awkward.

After spending the best part of ten minutes just getting my heart rate under control, I do at last start paying attention to our surroundings. The route looks familiar; we’re getting close to my neighborhood.

When he turns into my road, I finally do decide to ask; mainly because the prospect of him just leaving me at home and vanishing without a trace is getting me anxious all over again.

“You’re dropping me at home?”

Liam pulls into an empty parking space outside my building and turns to face me. His expression is quite cold, practical. Even though we’re sitting next to each other in a confined space, still he feels miles away.

“After the day you’ve had, perhaps you should rest,” he says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. He’s right, probably, but I feel anything but logical.

“You realize they picked me up outside my local Chinese joint, right? And they knew my name. What if there are more of these people out there? They could just turn up at my house.”

I wet my lips nervously, anxious for him to change his mind. I desperately need him to stay. And it’s only partially because I’m worried someone will come for me again.

He considers my justification for a moment, looks out the window as if to check the area for any threats, then focuses on me again. His eyes linger on mine, then on my lips for a bit. The tension between us is suddenly too much to bear, rendering me breathless.

“I suppose it would be safer for you not to be alone. Would it be OK for me to come up?”

I try not to make my relief known, but I’m sure it’s written on my face anyway.

“That would be great.” I smile at him, and he seems to relax a little at last.

We exit the car and head up to my apartment. I try not to consider how much of a mess it is inside.
How does it matter? He’s already seen the chaos that is my home when he dropped me off last week.
By the time I unlock the front door, my idle concerns make way for excitement. It’s been a while since I’ve invited a guy home with me and what a catch he is.

I look over at his face as I push the door open. He’s staring at me, rather than at everything else around us. Something about him has changed. He’s open again, available. Gone is the cold, business-like Liam who had taken over earlier to get us out of trouble. The man I see following me inside my living room is all warm, hot even. His eyes betray the passion that had haunted me for the better part of a week after our first night together.

Earlier, it had seemed like he wanted to keep things professional, but now his defenses are down again.

As the door squeaks shut behind us, he cups my face and presses his lips against mine, taking my breath away all over again.

“Did you mean that earlier?” he asks.

“What?” I breathe.

“That you missed me?” He looks concerned, like he’s not at all sure how I feel about him. It’s endearing. “I was being serious; no need to laugh at me,” he says, while maintaining eye contact.

I only stop grinning when he lifts me up into his arms, effortlessly. This will never get old. I wrap my arms around him and nibble on his neck as he carries me into the bedroom.

“It’s just funny, because normally that’s the type of question I’d ask,” I explain, looking into his eyes as he lays me down on my pillows.

“It’s a pertinent question.” He gets onto the bed half on top of me without ever breaking eye contact.

“It is.”

He pauses for a moment, waiting for me to say something more, but the sight of him so near me is so distracting, the right words don’t come to me just yet. Then, he looks down at what I’m wearing. I wait for a remark, but it’s not forthcoming.

I gasp when he tears my clothes off me. Normally I’d be annoyed, but the outfit was already ruined after my earlier ordeal in the van anyway. And I’ve never had a man tear my clothes off before; that’s the sort of thing that happens to perfect-looking people in movies and romance novels, not to girls like me. Only, right now, it
is
happening to me.