|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 6:44:07 GMT
|
|
|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 6:49:27 GMT
April 2016
There was a strange silence that passed as Belinda backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. When the house had disappeared behind them, Aidan glanced over at her. She could see the gears turning in the other woman's head, and that made her uncomfortable.
“You ever think about all that shit that happened with Elsie back in 08?”
The question made Aidan's blood run cold. She must have went pale, too, because she saw the look that Belinda gave her out of the corner of her eye. Neither of them had any use for beating around the bush, so the directness of the question didn't come as a surprise. Nor did the comment that followed.
“I've always known there were things about it you didn't tell me, Aidan.”
There was little point in trying to be delicate about it. If Belinda was asking that question, Aidan already knew what it meant. Some part of her had hoped maybe she was just imagining things these past few weeks, but she should have known better.
“Have you seen him?”
“The other day I think. I hadn't thought about all of that in years. He stopped coming around and everything was done, or so I thought. So come clean. What happened?”
Aidan closed her eyes with a sigh, a hand pressing to her forehead. It had been just long enough that she had started to forget, even with thinking that she had been seeing him. She had almost forced it all back down into the recesses of her mind.
England 2008
“Hey, I'm headed out.”
Aidan forced a smile onto her face as she looked to where Belinda and Elsie were playing cards at the table. The flat was too crowded with the three of them there, but Elsie never complained about sleeping on the couch and Belinda never made a fuss about the extra cooking or laundry. It was Aidan that the arrangements grated on the most. It had been going on for too long now.
She slung her bag up onto her shoulder from the spot where it had been resting by the door. The entire cover story had been formulated over the last week or so. At first she was just going to tell Belinda outright, but something made her change her mind. If something went wrong, she didn't want her best friend to get caught up in it. At least, not anymore than she already was.
“Be careful, A.”
“Don't worry. I'm taking a cab there and back. I'll be fine.”
She zipped up her new leather jacket—she had finally gotten tired of looking at the hole in the front of the old one where “Blake Ross” had tried to stab her—half way and grabbed her keys from the rack on the wall. She blew the traditional trite little kiss at the two of them before closing and locking the door behind her.
She went over the plan in her head on the lift down to the first floor. It was stupid, probably. She knew that, but this shit had to end. They had to go back to living relatively normal lives. Elsie had to go back to being somewhere else. Aidan preferred that it didn't happen because one of them ended up dead.
They had tried to take the proper channels again and again and again. They were met with disbelief and resistance and dismissal even when they had evidence and witnesses. Then, once there was someone that did believe them, Blake Ross was always somehow one step ahead.
Except, Blake Ross didn't exist. After going to check out the address she had found on the ID she stole from “Blake,” and having an extensive conversation with the little old lady living there she had tried to dig up dirt on her son Lucas' friend Richie to no avail. She knew that the man in the picture with the old woman's son was the same one calling himself Blake Ross, but “Richie” had apparently never existed either. Whoever the fucker was, every attempt to find out was met with a dead end.
And that was what had led to this idea; a man who didn't exist couldn't go missing. She had dismissed it at first, because it was crazy. That wasn't a thing people just did, that was movie bullshit and her imagination was a little over active because she had seen Taken. But every day she was trapped at the flat because she was afraid to go out, every day she did go out and was constantly looking over her shoulder, it had sounded a little less crazy.
When Aidan got to the street, she didn't wait for a cab. Instead she headed for the tube where she stashed her bag in one of the lockers so she didn't have to carry it before hopping on the train. She had told Linnie and Elsie that she had a match that night, but it wasn't true. Thankfully neither of them had asked for any details.
It was a restless ride down to the waterfront. Her eyes had constantly scanned the other passengers in the car. The slightest glimpse of spiky brown hair made her double-take. At each stop along the way she braced herself and eyed everyone who got on, but there was no sign of him.
When she got off at the station she checked every last corner there too. She had the feeling like eyes were on her, but that was a constant lately. She never knew whether they were really there or if it was just her nerves.
The night air was cool when she stepped back onto the sidewalk, prompting her to zip her jacket up the rest of the way. Her gloves had been on since before she left the flat and when she slipped her hands into her pockets she felt her fingers bump up against the knife hiding on her right side. She curled it up in her fist for a moment to reassure herself as she headed toward the path along the river.
She strolled for what felt like forever. Occasionally she thought she heard footsteps, but when she looked behind her there was no one there. She passed a few others, usually couples, out for a walk along the Thames, but for the most part the chill air was a deterrent.
There was a dark area head. A few of the lights that usually illuminated the path were out. Her lower lip caught between her teeth. That feeling set into her chest as she stared at the area. It was the sort of place that would make her want to turn back, so she didn't.
A few steps into that darkened pool of shadows brought what she had been waiting for all night. When they rolled to a stop, he was on top of her. His dark eyes that she hated even more because they reminded her of Maureen's, his arguably handsome features, the chipped front tooth that she had broken with her fist weeks ago... it was Blake Ross, in the flesh. Or was it Richie?
“Hello love. I was starting to think we'd never see each other again.”
They traded a few venomous comments, like they had every time he'd caught her off guard before. He loved the cat and mouse, he loved the feeling of being in control. The control faded when her hand struck out and slashed him across the face with the knife.
Time slowed down as they struggled, yet still somehow went by in a flash. She learned what it felt like when a blade went through clothes and flesh and glanced off of bone. Even weakened, the shot that caught her in the ribs almost knocked her down.
He chased her toward the water around the supports of the little structure along the river. In the dark she wasn't even sure what it was. He was so close that his fingers grazed her jacket more than once. Instinct took over and she hit the ground, impact exacerbating the pain in her side and making her see spots, tangling up his feet with hers. The move caught him off guard and his own momentum sent him over. She heard the splash as he tumbled into the river.
Aidan dragged herself across the ground, daring to look over the edge. Seconds stretched out again as she stared into the black water, looking for bubbles or splashing or... anything more than the usually current. No movement, no sound, no nothing.
Hurried footsteps. There was blood on her gloves. She ripped them off and tossed them into the river too. Her mind was already trying to think of somewhere to hide in the dark area under the structure as she forced herself to stand, but it was too late.
The grip on her upper arms was firm but not rough as the large, familiar body turned her around. Constable Bennett. How had he known? How had he found her? It didn't matter.
“What happened?”
The lies rolled off her tongue easily. Half-truths, really. He didn't need to know that she had come here intentionally. Maybe Blake's clothes had absorbed any of the blood, maybe Bennett would believe her when she claimed that she just shoved Blake and he went into the river.
Panic set in when he let her go to go investigate himself. Of course he wasn't going to believe her. The man wasn't stupid. It was his job to investigate. He put it all together and then... what? Ross had come at her first. She had ever right to defend herself, didn't she?
The tears were hot on her face when he came back to her. They flowed even more freely when he spoke. She understood his words perfectly, but not where they were coming from and she couldn't bring herself to believe that they were true. She had to be imagining them when they so perfectly echoed her own thoughts, didn't she?
Her answers were mechanical until his hands took her arms and pulled her closer to him. It made the panic rise again. Her muscles tensed for another fight, but his tone was calm, soothing.
“You're shaking, are you cold?”
“No.”
“Well then, you're probably in shock. Come on. I'll get you some coffee and walk you home.”
“...Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence between them as they walked up the path and back toward the streets. She felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Blake Ross was gone, but was Constable Bennett really just going to let it go, ignore what had happened tonight because even he couldn't find out who the man really was? He had been the only one that believed any of them, he had really wanted to help... maybe he was glad to see it over too?
Aidan hadn't even realized the walk had ended until she was sitting down with a coffee cup between her hands. She didn't care how late it was, the drink made her feel a hundred times better. It wasn't as though caffeine actually had the power to keep her awake anymore. She looked up from the cup and across the table to the powerfully built Constable, not knowing what to say.
“Thank you.”
“You've already said that.”
“Well I needed to say it again. This whole thing...”
A look crossed his face that made her pause.
“There is no whole thing, remember? I picked up your case, I wasted my time investigating it, and I never found any evidence of anyone named Blake Ross.”
Aidan nodded in understanding. Part of her wanted to ask about the ID card she had given to him, but she didn't. Instead she bit the inside of her lip and looked toward the ladies' room.
“I'll be right back, I feel like I should clean up a little.”
He didn't object, so she stood up and crossed the little cafe. It was a single-person bathroom, thankfully, and she locked the door behind her. She washed her hands a dozen times or so, imagining blood that wasn't there, before she finally fished her phone out. She hesitated for a long time before she sent the message out to Belinda. She wasn't going to tell her anything at first, or Elsie, but they deserved some kind of relief too. Even if it came from a lie. Her thumbs rapidly typed out the message.
“He came after me, after the show. I'm okay, don't worry. I'm at that little coffee shop we've been to before. Constable Bennett was there and... I don't even know. It all happened so fast. But I think it's over. He ran off, and I don't think he's coming back now that he knows the police know he's real. ...Can you guys come get me?”
Aidan washed her hands one more time before exiting the bathroom. Bennett's face was unreadable when she sat back down across from him. She had a tiny drink from the ceramic cup, the coffee inside was still too hot, and glanced out the window for a moment.
“What happened tonight?”
Her focused switched back to him and for a long while she wasn't sure what to say. The look in his eyes didn't tell her if he was genuinely asking or if he were testing her. Her foot tapped and her fingers fidgeted with the cup while she thought.
“Nothing.”
It must have been the right answer, because he just gave a nod. Then, oddly enough, he started talking to her about random things; what had made him decide to be a Constable, his childhood, how he liked fishing. Eventually she realized that he was trying to make her feel better. It was a nice gesture, and she forced a smile.
He reached across the table after a while and curled his long fingers around her wrist. The way his thumb brushed across her skin sent a strange sensation up her spine. She was blushing before she could stop herself.
“Aidan, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think so. It just needs to set in I guess.”
“Are you going to finish off that coffee?”
“Once it cools down I will, I'm kind of a—”
“Oh my god, Aidan, are you alright?”
She was cut short as she heard Elsie's shrill voice from behind her. She barely had time to stand up before the smaller of the two blonde women was hugging her tightly. Belinda stood behind her, looking concerned, but quiet.
“I'm fine, El, I'm fine.”
Constable Bennett looked put off when she turned her attention back to him, something unreadable in his expression.
“I'm sorry. I asked them to come get me when I was in the bathroom. You've done enough already, I didn't want you to have to take me home too.”
He was quiet for a moment or two, then nodded.
“I'm sure you'll feel better with your friends anyway.”
Aidan felt guilty, though, that she wasn't going to finish off the coffee after all. But maybe that was a good thing, because her stomach was starting to twist into knots now that the adrenaline of the night was wearing off. She tossed some money on the table to cover her drink, not wanting to feel indebted. There was barely time to thank him again before Linnie and Elsie ushered her out into the car. At least they let her buckle her seatbelt on her own, right?
Half the drive home passed in silence before Belinda finally spoke up. The question didn't help the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
“Hey, where's your bag?”
A spike of panic lanced through her chest. She had forgotten all about it when she decided to have Elsie and Linnie come pick her up. She thought quickly, she lied.
“Fuck, I forgot it after the show. I'll go get it in the morning, don't worry about it now. I just want to go home.”
“Fuckinhell, A.”
Not only had Aidan told Belinda what had actually happened that night over the course of the drive, but once they had found a pub and a quiet corner she had gone on to explain the entire mess with Elsie in New York as well. It felt good to get it off of her chest, to share it with someone. At the same time, it only made her worry more.
“And he's still around, somehow. We've both seen him.”
“Yeah.”
She finished off the glass of whiskey that had been in front of her and then set it aside. She probably didn't need anymore. Eventually they would have to head back and she wasn't very good at deflecting questions when she was intoxicated.
“Who have you told?”
“No one. I didn't tell Elsie a goddamn thing that I found out. She can't keep her mouth shut and I just wanted her to forget about it and move on.”
“What about that big Irishman of yours?”
“No, of course not.”
“...Have you looked at him recently, A? That man can protect you.”
“I'm protecting him, Linnie, that's the point. He doesn't need to be a part of another one of my messes. I have put him through enough already. I don't want him to see that my life is even more fucked up than he already knows it is.”
“Well what about your new tag partner?”
“Bryan? Fuck no! Why would I pull him into this? He's had enough trouble of his own and it seems like his life is finally sorting itself out. I can't mess that up again for him.”
“You have to tell someone. You can't handle this mess on your own, and neither can I. My life is sugar and frosting now, I had more than my fill of Blake Ross back then, I am not having him fuck things up for me now.”
Maybe she did want more to drink. Aidan reached over and took Belinda's glass, downing half of it despite the dirty look it earned her. It was stronger than what she usually drank back in the States, and that was just what she needed right now. Liam had already made it clear they were taking several bottles of real Irish Whiskey home with them.
“I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't keep this all from you for shits and giggles. I wanted to protect you and Elsie in case anything ever came of it. I didn't want things falling back on either of you two because of what I did, or what I thought I did. I don't want any of it to get put on Liam or Bryan or you now either.”
“You are one person, A, and you're only human. You can't protect everyone all of the time. And I know you don't want to hear this, but someone has to look out for you too. It may have all started with Elsie, but Blake or whoever made it about you. You pissed him off and you turned into the target.”
“And I should stay the target. He only made sure you saw him to get to me. My life is public, he knew that I was coming here to wrestle and he knew that I wouldn't miss the chance to see you while I was in the UK. He's just trying to tighten the noose. He's not going to come after you.”
She knew the words were hollow when they passed her lips. So did Belinda. Whoever Blake Ross actually was, he would most certainly come after Aidan's friends to get to her if he thought it would work.
He was still playing his game for the moment, still the cat trying to make the mouse run. The problem was... now she knew there had been two cats before, but she didn't know if there still were. Was the mouse running away, or being herded right to where the other was waiting?
“Give me the chance to find a way to tell someone. I won't let anyone happen to you, I swear. I'll die first.”
Aidan looked across the table at Belinda, locking eyes with her. Linnie had been the only one who never looked away first, the woman Aidan considered her one true equal, maybe even her other half in a platonic sort of way. If either of them had a dick, they'd probably have been married a long time ago.
|
|
|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 6:55:44 GMT
April 2016
For every up there had to be a down, didn’t there? You couldn’t reach the plateau and coast for a while. Roller coasters didn’t have plateaus, you just went over the peak and raced down the other side into the next low. Tuesday night had been a low. Thursday night had been a high. Now things were plummeting toward the ground at an alarming speed.
At least, that’s what it felt like to Aidan as she dropped down onto the couch of… whatever this place was that Cyrus had just taken her to. Her fingers were still shaking with adrenaline as she reached up to touch the bleeding spot on her brow bone. Stone buildings were bad for faces, it seemed.
The aches and pains and reality hadn’t yet had time to set in, but there was an anger in her chest, simmering. Because he had stopped her. She could feel the brick in her hand and picture Blake Ross’ body struggling beneath her. A few more seconds and this whole… thing would have been over with a few good cracks.
It was the reason she had been out today. She had told Belinda she was going to tell someone. She chose the one someone she thought might be able to help in this situation, because somewhere inside she finally admitted it had—once again—moved beyond her. Then the moment had come where she could have finished it. Now that moment was gone.
The fight was a blur. All she remembered was that at the end she had the upperhand, and a brick in hand, and she was going to put it through his skull. Until someone stopped her. She shot a glare at Cyrus. He still had no idea what was going on, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t blame him, right?
Her face hurt. Her ribs hurt. Her shoulder hurt. There wasn’t much that didn’t. Part of it was still from Xtra, the rest was from the fight that had just occurred. All she could think about was how she was going to explain the black eye and the cut on her face when she went home.
“I see you still have an urge to make explanations difficult. Are you sure you understood exactly what you were about to do?”
She cut a sideways look toward him as though he’d just asked her what color the sky was. She wiped the blood off of her fingers onto her jeans and then let the rest continue to run down her face. She didn’t want to deal with it right now.
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
Cyrus shook his head, but couldn't hide the smirk on his face. This wasn't the first time he had pulled her off of someone before she could attempt to kill them.
“The result is the same no matter how you do it. At this point you're just wasting time.”
“What are you on about? Could you maybe speak plainly for once?”
“After all this time and you still can't understand me. Thought better of you, I really did.”
Cyrus laughed as he shrugged before looking at her and using his index finger to motion a cut going from one side of his neck to the other.
“Sometimes, it's that easy.”
“And sometimes some asshole stops you in the middle of what you’ve started.”
“Yeah, that asshole who you called, don't forget that. I don't have to be here, but I am.”
“And that—”
Aidan made a gesture in the direction she thought the alley she’d just been dragged into lay.
“—was the reason for the call.”
“To do what exactly? Give you an alibi?”
“No, not an alibi. ...I don’t even know what I was going to say.”
She started to run her fingers through her hair, only to hiss because she accidentally jammed her finger into the cut over her eye. The pain made her tense, the tension made her ribs hurt. She cursed, pressing her fingers gingerly to her side.
“Now I really, really don’t know what I’m going to say.”
Cyrus gave her a look of confusion.
“So, you ask me here for a reason you can no longer explain?”
“Don’t act like it surprises you.”
She rolled her eyes, annoyed at her own words, but she looked over at him. The first question that came to mind was one that she didn’t think she should ask Cyrus, of all people. She bit the inside of her lip and looked away.
“Well, if I'm not needed, I can go. By all means, decorate the alley with his blood. I would suggest a power saw with a fresh blade to make him a puzzle piece, but you have a plan I'm sure.”
The visual, the smell of blood, the adrenaline still in her veins. It didn’t make for a very good combination. She leaned over, despite the pain it caused, until her chest was resting on her knees and the dizziness and sick feeling started to fade.
“Maybe… not exactly what I had in mind.”
And there was that awful sensation and mental bombardment when the adrenaline started to fade. She resisted the urge to let emotion take over, because for fuck’s sake she was tired of breaking down in front of the man. Why was he always there when she was a mess?
“...What am I going to tell him?”
As Cyrus looked on, he began to question his own emotions. A visible display was being presented by Aidan, but he was just as content as if he were an office worker having water cooler conversation. His detachment from emotion in this realm had surely dissipated.
“Whatever you think works, really. Falling down is rubbish, but we are in a place that isn't lacking in combat venues. Anyone can slip down an alley and find themselves in a fight for sport.”
That explanation was a tempting one. Sure, it would make him angry, but…
“I don’t know how much more lying I can get away with. He always knows. ...I took a swing at him on Tuesday night…”
“How did that work for you?”
“You ought to know, you had a little fun with it.”
The annoyance rose and passed quickly. It wasn’t like she had grounds to hold a grudge.
“Slept on the couch for a few days.”
He tried to stifle a laugh, but it wasn't a complete success.
“You really have an art about you.”
“...I know.”
“There's a solution to this that you haven't thought of yet.”
“What’s that?”
“Stop being a lying pain in the ass and just be honest with the man for once.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Or maybe it wasn’t hard enough. She felt that familiar knot rise in her throat, but refused to let it finish forming. Still, she could hear it in her own voice.
“I’m not trying to hide it… I’m trying to protect him from this.”
“I call bullshit, Aidan. He's a grown man, he can make his own decisions. You doing this doesn't make going to him any easier. The size of the shovel you must carry to dig yourself into so many holes is astounding.”
“It’s not about his decisions, goddammit!”
She shoved herself up off of the couch, regretting it immediately, and then curled one hand into a fist in her hair. The other pointed back in the direction of the alley. The calm façade was fading.
“I stabbed that fucker once. I saw him get shot on a different occasion. And there he fucking still is. This isn’t even my goddamn hole! Someone else got me into this!”
...Yet she had felt compelled to get them out. Even when she didn’t actually like Elsie all that much. Because of the lies she had woven eight years ago that she wanted to keep buried.
“I don’t want anyone else getting in the middle of it. ...Especially not him.”
“Having a hard time with my name?”
Aidan felt the ice spike up her spine as she heard Liam’s voice behind her in the direction of the doorway. Cyrus looked up and smiled, almost in a frustrated “What the fuck?” sort of way.
“Jesus Christ, this keeps getting better, doesn't it?”
The moment she heard Liam start to move, Aidan put herself in his path. ...Because she was protecting Cyrus? She didn’t even know. She planted her hands in the center of his powerful chest, but her 145 wasn’t going to stop his 270 any day.
All he had to do was take a step to make her feet slide on the floor. She had taken her shoes off out of habit when she’d entered the room. Now she regretted it. She was going to need every advantage she could get if she had to fight the big man, but she didn’t want to do that. It hurt inside that her mind even thought of where she could kick him to take him down.
“It’s not what you think it is!”
“Not in any fucking way at all. Let him by, stop blocking him.”
Of course Cyrus would have to try to make it worse. She looked over her shoulder to snap at him.
“Shut up!”
“Well, you're in this mess because of what you think you're doing right now.”
She started to snarl something at Cyrus, but Liam caught her chin and looked at her face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he looked over the rapidly forming bruise and the blood. She rapidly searched for some explanation, anything but the truth.
“Aidan, get out of my way before I move you.”
Cyrus looked on, a bit amused by Liam as he stood there. His index finger ran along his right eyebrow as he lowered his head and looked over.
“Just move her already. This is just an unnecessary use of time, and I'd like to hear what you have to say.”
“Oh, I’m not sure ye do.”
But Liam did slide his hands under either arm, picking her up bodily and moving her aside as easily as he would have a small child.
“Considering you have no legitimate reason to be mad at me right now, I think I do. Let's see if you can actually converse, or just resort to trying to take my head off like the brute everyone makes you out to be.”
“I could do either, really, given me mood. But why don’t you tell me why my girlfriend’s face looks like that?”
Aidan threw her hands in the air behind the two for a moment before turning away. She wasn’t familiar with the room, at all, but that didn’t stop her from going on a search for something to drink. She didn’t care what time it was.
“Why don't you direct that question to her, seeing as how I discovered her that way? Be productive.”
“Because between the two of ye, I know you’re the one less likely to lie to me about it.”
Cyrus shrugged as he nodded his head.
“Yeah, I can see that reason.”
“Fuck you both.”
“We already addressed that on Twitter. Anyway… Liam, your lady here has taken it upon herself to once again try to protect someone at the expense of her own well-being. This time, she about beat a bloke to death with a brick.”
Cyrus didn't want to, but it was for her own good. For him, the secret keeping was only hurting people. For his part, Liam might have looked slightly impressed. Aidan, though, looked anywhere but at the two.
“There has to be something to fucking drink in here.”
“You could always address this and not resort to your usual drinking to deal.”
“My face is the one that looks like it does, so how about you shove that judgement somewhere pleasurable and just tell me where the liquor is?”
“One, your face is your fault. Two, you called me. Three, there is none.”
Aidan sent a cutting look his way, one that said she didn’t entirely believe him. Still, after a moment more of searching she settled for a little baggie of ice for her face. Her eyes flicked to Liam, quite uneasy at having the two men in the same room together after everything that had transpired between the three of them.
The way Liam looked back at her made her uncomfortable. The way he pointed to the couch when he spoke made her angry.
“Sit down and start talking.”
“Stop treating me like a fucking child.”
“Stop acting like one.”
Cyrus just looked at both of them, his expression vacant.
“I just want to know why I was asked here, and I'll be on my way.”
Aidan finally returned to the couch, leaning back so she could press the ice pack against the side of her face. She took a deep breath as she thought for a few moments, nothing came out. Where was she supposed to start? The beginning, maybe.
It felt like it took forever to recount the entire tale, from the first night all the way back in 2008 when Elsie had shown up at Belinda and Aidan’s flat and announced that she was in trouble. She didn’t leave anything out, from the confrontation where she’d lost control and broken Blake’s front tooth with her fist, to the time he attacked her on the way home from a show and thought he’d stabbed her, to when she’d thought she’d stabbed him and left him for dead in the Thames.
But that wasn’t the end, no. Then she had to talk about New York. She had to tell them about the text from Elsie, how the stupid girl had gotten herself tangled up with a human trafficker. And Aidan had tried to fix it, finding out that it was all related in the process, that Blake was behind it, that he was still alive. That she’d thought he and his brother—the man she had believed was the Constable investigating the incident in England—were killed by rival traffickers because she had pulled some strings and left some clues. That he was still, somehow fucking alive and Cyrus had just stopped her from putting a brick through his skull.
When it was all out, the silence hung.
“Do you ever stop trying to be heroic? I can understand the reasons, sure, but you really have to put an end to things better than that.”
“What was I supposed to do?!”
“Call a government agency would work. Or, seeing as how you felt I deserved a contact for this… just letting me handle it.”
“Was I just supposed to tell them I thought I’d killed someone once and it turned out I didn’t and I’d like them to take care of it? I tried calling you when it was happening in New York, but you didn’t answer your goddamn phone.”
She tried to reign in her accusations.
“The whole point of today, of trying to meet you was to explain everything first. But I wasn’t not going to fight back when he came at me. I don’t even know who he is, or how he seems to know everything about me. But when he started making hint at going after people I know...”
“You have a habit of not getting to my phone in time, don't you?”
Cyrus laughed, knowing she would hate him for it, but he wanted to bring some comedy to the tension.
“You could have explained everything in a message, too. I'd have done a much better job at this, and not even gotten my clothes dirty.”
“I’m aware. You’re god’s gift to everything. I hadn’t forgotten.”
“Well, as long as we are clear on that…”
“You know, if all you want to do is stand there and gloat, I’ll just go back to handling this myself.”
“I'll gloat regardless of whether or not you handle it. What do you think on this matter, Liam?”
Cyrus looked at Liam, hoping he'd have some input on the current predicament. While the big Irishman had remained silent up until now, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been paying attention, or thinking.
“You’re such a pain in the ass, woman.”
“That's what I said. A lot can be avoided by proper communication.”
“Is it so wrong that I didn’t want to bring other people into my goddamn mess? I didn’t want to put the same trouble on someone else’s doorstep that got put on mine.”
“Yet, here we are. The past has a way of creeping back up, and it doesn't just focus on you all the time. Sometimes people remain silent on what they know, but that doesn't mean the information doesn't slip.”
“What the fuck are you talking about now?”
“Y’know, ye could be a little nicer to the man after you asked him here.”
Aidan gave him an incredulous stare.
“Did you… just take his side here?”
“I'm saying that this situation wouldn't have happened if you would have told Liam from the beginning. You can't keep lying through everything and taking it upon yourself to solve the world's problems.”
“What the hell would have changed if I had told him, other than he’d have known I was entirely okay with thinking I’d killed someone? What the hell could he have done about it?”
Aidan’s head snapped to the side as she heard a deep laugh from Liam after the question. Something about it caught her off guard, and she didn’t like the little shrug he gave in response.
“A man his size can do whatever he wants. You seem to discredit him more than think he could be an asset. Also, he could bring you to reality a bit. It would make my presence here unneeded.”
“Reality? She’s not generally a fan.”
The barb stung, but he sat down on the couch beside her. She glared past him at Cyrus, however.
“All I wanted from you was to see if you could figure out who the hell he actually is. ...I was going to handle it from there. The rest of this… wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I can figure out who he is by the end of the night. That doesn't take much effort. However, I think what you do with my information is more of a joint decision now.”
“...What do you mean by that?”
“If you respect this man here, then you should discuss your actions and their consequences with him.”
“We’re a little past discussion. There might be some decisions to be made…”
He looked down at Aidan for a moment. Then, as much as it seemed to pain him, he shot a glance Cyrus’ way.
“But they’re no longer hers to make.”
Cyrus looked at Liam, bewildered.
“What do you mean, mate?”
For a moment Liam considered whether or not he was even going to let Aidan stay to hear what was said. He wasn’t keen on letting her out of his sight, however. In equal parts because of the fight that had just taken place and because of her own penchant for getting herself into trouble.
“Obvious enough, isn’t it?”
“Are you proposing that you and I handle this?”
Aidan was quick to start to protest that notion—rather sure they would kill each other in the process—but Liam silenced her with a pointed glance.
“Up to you on that. If you want to do your thing and walk away after I get the information from you, that’s your business.”
Yes, that was goading.
“...There may still be two of them… I haven’t seen Bennett, or whoever he is, but I’m not going to hold my breath that he isn’t still around too.”
“You both realize the place I am in right now, yeah? I could participate and give in to your obvious prod, or I could give the information and walk… going back to the US so I can focus on starting a family.”
“Or you could not give the information at all. Do what you have to do, mate. Doesn’t change things for me. You’ve got something you’ve finally decided is worth protecting. So do I.”
“I can’t believe you two are even talking about this.”
“But ye wanted me to sit here and listen to you talking about it and do nothing. Reality, álainn. It’s not all what you think it is.”
Cyrus remained silent for a few lingering moments, thinking to himself as he stared blankly at the floor.
“How about another option… one that I don't usually rely on, but is very effective?”
“I’m listening.”
“I have a cousin. He's a monstrous type, very under the radar, but extremely good at what he does. He'd keep everyone's hands clean, except his own.”
The idea was immediately dismissed, not just by Liam, but also by Aidan. They spoke practically at the same time.
“No.”
“No.”
Liam gave Aidan a look that was meant to remind her he’d taken the decision out of her hands at this point. He look past her to Cyrus.
“I barely trust you, and I certainly don’t trust someone I don’t know. I’m not going to believe it’s done until I see it. If you don’t want a part, that’s fine.”
“You trust me enough to kill with me, though. Fine, have it your way. I'll get the information, and after that, I'll make my decision.”
“Walk away now if ye want to. I won’t hold it against you. It’s not your fight. You’ve got no reason to want to protect her and every reason to go home. So do what you think ye have to. And I’ll do the same.”
Liam pushed himself up off of the couch and then looked down at Aidan. He frowned as he looked her over, glancing toward the door and considering the ramifications of returning to the street with her looking like she did. It wasn’t hard to imagine what people would think.
“We should clean you up.”
“Good idea. I'll head out and get up with my people so I can get this information for you. I'll be back in a bit. If you can decide which of that blood is his, put some in a plastic baggy for me real quick. It'll expedite the process.”
Liam and Aidan both immediately looked down at her bloodied knuckles.
“I think we can manage that.”
“...The brother, he’s a big blonde fucker. Little bit bigger than Blake, actually, about Liam’s size. Good looking, clean cut…”
Her eyes finally drifted over to Cyrus. She felt torn about saying more, especially with an audience.
“Be careful.”
“I haven't lived this long by not being careful.”
“...I have.”
It was a joke. It wasn’t really funny though. She forced a smile anyway.
“Yeah, well, miracles are bound to happen here and there I suppose.”
“...Cyrus, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I never should have called you.”
“I can get the information, and I'll decide after that. It's a lot to consider for me.”
“I never had any intention of asking you for more than the information.”
Cyrus looked away for a few seconds, as if thinking.
“Yeah, I know.”
For a moment Aidan considered saying something else. Liam was already collecting some of the blood off of her hands. Whether it was her own conscience or Liam’s presence that stopped her would remain a mystery. Before she could finish mustering up the breath to speak, Cyrus had the sample in hand and slipped out the door.[/font]
|
|
|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 6:58:31 GMT
April 2016 Aidan's fingers shook as they hovered over the keyboard. She had just parked herself in front of her laptop and had almost been waiting for a message, prepared to let her mind loose on the upcoming Internet Championship match again when the knock came at the door. Everything went cold. She knew what it meant. Her fingers curled around the door handle almost before she remembered crossing the hotel room. She pulled it back and, as expected Cyrus was standing there. The look on his face was impassive, masking anything he might have felt. She tried to force her own features to do the same as she stepped back to let him in. Her hands slipped into the front pockets of her jeans to hide anything that might have betrayed something other than a calm collectedness. She glanced toward the half-closed bedroom door, to where her laptop was sitting at the small dining table, and back to the man in front of her. She tried not to let herself look at the mini fridge. “...Thanks, for this.”“Yeah.”What did you say in this situation? How many people ever even got themselves into this situation. “What did you find?”“Uh uh.”The chiding sound made her brown eyes shift back toward the bedroom where Liam was emerging. “The less you know, the better.”She took a breath, her lips started to part. She wanted to argue. But they had already talked about this and she knew he wasn't going to budge. His words from earlier in the day drifted through her mind. “Stop. Remember all of those times that ye hid things from me and lied to me. Remember the feeling that ye thought you were doing it because you could keep it off of everyone else if they didn't know. You are not the only one who feels that way. This time ye have to take a step back.”He was ready to go, and her heart fluttered painfully in her chest. Aidan would rather have walked out the door to face the unknown a thousand times than have to stand there and watch him do it just once. He would have had an easier time of it, he was the stronger one. “Find anything?”It only grew more awkward and difficult when Liam looked past her to Cyrus, who was still lurking in the doorway. He didn't precisely look like he didn't want to be there, just as though he were ready for it to be done already. She couldn't blame him for that. “Plenty. Interesting trouble you got yourself into.”Cyrus' smirk grated on her. It was less the tease than because he knew what she didn't. She knew plenty about that tangled web, but now he had pieces that she didn't. She needed them if she was ever going to put it all to rest in her mind. “Stay here until I get back, no going out. Not to the pub, not for a walk, not even down the hall to the ice machine. Don't leave this room.”Aidan pulled in a careful breath, withdrawing her hands from her pockets so she could reach for him. He caught her wrists before she could slide her arms around his waist and directed them up around his neck instead. Because he didn't want her to know what he was carrying, she knew that. Heedless of the third person in the room, she kissed him. Her arms tightened across the back of his shoulders. When she stepped back her hands rested on either side of his face and she could only stare because there weren't any words that worked for this. He reached up to brush his thumb across her mostly healed lip. “I'll be fine.”Yeah, he used that phrase she used so often on purpose. “He'll be back. Better to get it over with than drag it out.”She didn't hear any surety in Cyrus' voice. Or was that her imagination? Either way, Liam unwound her arms from his neck and kissed her forehead. When the door swung shut the hotel room became a cell.
The car was quiet in a way it never would have been if Aidan had been there. Liam knew she'd have been tapping one foot anxiously or maybe drumming her fingers against her leg. She'd want the music on. She'd be worrying. She'd be trying to convince him that she could handle it on her own.
For a long time Cyrus had been silent. Finally, he handed over the sealed manila envelope that held what information he had dug up on Blake Ross and Mason Bennett, whoever they actually were. For a few moments Liam held it, then the tucked it away inside his jacket.
“Not going to look at it?”
“Not right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because it doesn't change anything.”
Whoever the two actually were, nothing in that envelope was going to change what they had done eight years ago or what they had been trying to do now. And it wasn't going to change what was about to happen now. It wasn't a decision he had made lightly, but his mind was made up. It was going to complicate things, but complications were better than the alternative.
“You're sure you want to go through with this?”
“Well I don't hear ye offering me other options, which I assume means ye don't think there are any.”
A silence drew out.
“None that I haven't already offered.”
“That bad, eh?”
What was in the envelope, he meant. Cyrus ran a hand slowly over his shaved head. He was thinking, choosing his words carefully.
“It's not good.”
“I already knew that much. I wish she would have told me sooner.”
“She wasn't going to tell you at all.”
“I know.”
“You're not at all angry about that?”
Liam laughed, shaking his head.
“I am, but I've accepted a certain level of frustration when it comes to dealing with that woman.”
“If she had said something sooner, this whole situation might have been resolved differently.”
“Or maybe it was always going to come to this. Could haves and maybes are out the window now.”
“You're set, then?”
“I am.”
“She means that much to you?”
Liam took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to say. The fact of the matter was that he didn't really like Cyrus Riddle all that much. Parts of him still hated the man. But he knew capability when it was in front of him.
“She means everything to me. I know that you don't care about her anymore—”
“I do. Just differently.”
“Well if ye feel half as much for that blonde as I feel for Aidan, then ye understand.”
Cyrus was quiet, his face an emotionless mask, but Liam knew that he understood perfectly. There was really no way to make what came next sound any less dire than it was.
“If it comes to it… Make sure she’s okay.”
“I will.”
There was nothing left to say. Liam pushed open the door after checking up and down the street. The light was on above. They’d seen the two go in earlier. The question was; had the two seen them? What exactly was he about to walk into? It didn’t matter, because he was walking in, one way or the other.
The door finally opened. Aidan sprung off of the couch and made a beeline for her over-sized Irishman. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he stiff-armed her as gently as her velocity would allow, his fingertips trying to touch her shoulder as little as possible.
“Let me clean up first.”
He means get rid of the evidence. She tried to shake the thought out of her mind, but... it was true. A knot formed in her throat, but she nodded as much as she could manage. Her eyes never left him as he disappeared into the bedroom, then the bathroom. Her heart skipped a beat at the blood she could see on the back of his shirt.
The wait while he showered seemed to drag out forever. As much as she wanted to get herself another drink, she refused. He'd had enough already and if he needed her, she needed her head clear. There was nothing that could stop her from pacing, however. She wore a path in the carpet between the couch and coffee table.
When he came out she suddenly couldn't move. She just stared. Who knew how long they both stood there looking at each other. Her eyes finally dropped down to his hand where he was holding their first aid kit and a torn up shirt. She already understood; they couldn't risk the blood on the hotel towels.
He moved and she sat down on the couch, pushing the coffee table forward with her foot. He sat down between her feet and she got a good look at the wound on the back of his shoulder. She was hardly an expert, but she was positive that he had been stabbed. She couldn't tell how deeply.
He opened up the first aid kit and handed her the smaller suture kit that was inside. She was the one that had kept it in there, in all honesty. So far she was sure that she was the only one to have used it, once on her own knuckle when they were apart and once on Bryan Williams back when she was living in Atlantic City with—
No. She wasn't going to start thinking about that.
“Do you want a drink first?”
“It's still numb right now. Go ahead.”
She had learned to give stitches from Belinda, back when small companies didn't have a dedicated medical staff. It had made her squeamish at first, but now the sensation of pushing a needle through human flesh hardly bothered her. It almost felt good, being able to do something for Liam, something she knew that he couldn't do for himself, at least not this time.
“What happened?”
He made a little sound. It was a laugh, but he wasn't amused.
“Some day I'll tell ye, but not tonight. Not tomorrow, not while we're still in the UK. Not when we touch down back in the States. Just someday. And I need ye not to ask.”
She knew he knew just how difficult that would be for her. She almost wondered if it wasn't some kind of test. But that didn't seem like him.
“Okay.”
When she focused on the work of stitching him up, it went by quickly, and silently. Despite that she knew it had to hurt, he didn't so much as grunt until she was snipping off the extra thread. Even after, he didn't have anything to say.
But she did.
Aidan leaned forward, careful to make sure that her body only touched the opposite shoulder. Her arms wrapped across his collarbone. A few tears hit his neck before she pressed her forehead against it. She didn't mind if he got to see or feel her shake.
“Liam O'Shea... you know I love you, right?”
He didn't turn and kiss her on the temple like she was hoping. He just leaned his head down against hers. After a moment he gave her leg a little squeeze.
“I know ye do.” |
|
|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 7:05:09 GMT
London, England
April 2016
Aidan had told Liam she was going to spend a little more time with Belinda. The guilt at lying to him was heavy in her chest. The worst part was wanting to tell him the truth, but feeling like she was in way, way too deep now. This was years' worth of tangled webs, knots formed before she had ever met him. It was trouble that she didn't want him to have to deal with.
And if he had known just who she was going to see... that would only have made things worse. The two men were never going to like each other. Maybe they'd be able to be civil for her sake, but that was as good as it was going to get. Frankly she didn't want to put things on Cyrus' plate either, but she knew he had skills she needed and he was the only one she knew that did.
She had the taxi drop her off a few blocks from the address he had given her, just as a precaution. Once she had started walking, though, she questioned the decision. The area was lightly populated, quiet. Doubtless he had chosen it for that reason. The business that needed discussing wasn't exactly coffee shop material.
She spied the number on the side of the building up ahead. It looked serviceable enough, not like somewhere creepy and rundown. The nervousness rose with every step closer she took. She had... fifty feet to get it all together, if that. She needed to be able to explain everything clearly, and not like the jumbled mess that was in her head.
Taking a deep breath to try to slow her mind down, she shot a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed. The vice grip on the back of her neck came from the other direction. She barely got her hands up in time to cushion the impact against the side of the building. Her face still caught the brick.
Hot blood spilled down from over her eye instantly. It was all but ignored as she pivoted and threw her arms up. The incoming shot glanced off her left forearm and she threw a jab into his face. She didn't have to look to know who it would be. She wasn't even surprised to see “Blake Ross” standing in front of her, leering past the split lip she had just given him.
“Hello, love. I really have missed you. You've got this fire about you that's hard to resist.”
Was that another tooth fragment he spit out? She really hoped it was. She was making him a little less pretty with each encounter. Five or six more and she might maim him permanently.
He lashed out with a punch. She sidestepped and grabbed his upper arm for control with one hand while she drove her elbow into his chest. He threw his whole body forward and knocked her into the wall. The elbow she gave to his face wasn't enough to get him to let go. He had her by the back of the jacket and shoved her over at the same time he threw his knee up into her midsection.
Aidan hit the concrete hard but she was already rolling away when his boot glanced off of her ribs. It still sent a hot wave of pain through her side, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Before she could get up he grabbed her hair and snapped her head back into the side of the dumpster that blocked off the back of the alley. The world tilted. Little white spots floated across her vision.
When his knee came she was ready, though, catching his leg and driving her elbow into the inside of the joint. She was on top of him as soon as he went down, throwing her fist into his face as many times as she could before he tossed her off of him. There was no time before he was the one on top. How was such a big son of a bitch so fast?
His nose was gushing and her knuckles were torn up, but it didn't stop either of them. His hand closed on her throat while his knee pinned one arm down. He caught the punch from the left easily. He sat far enough forward that she couldn't throw her legs up and catch his throat either.
“Now there we go. I like you much better like this.”
His thumb brushed across the scar on her jaw slowly until it annoyed her into pulling her head away, making him sneer.
“How'd you get that one?”
“Go fuck yourself. Preferably with barbed wire.”
Tightening his grip on her throat he pulled her head up a few inches and then smacked it back down against the concrete.
“So defiant, even when you're helpless. I enjoy that about you. Not quite as much as I've enjoyed watching you look over your shoulder for months, however. I really wish I could have seen the look on your pretty face when you realized your favorite Constable was my little brother. Wide-eyed, lips open just a little, neck all tense... I bet it was breathtaking. Just like you are right now.”
He was right. She hadn’t known that he’d known she was there that night by the East River.
“He had quite the thing for you, you know? I can’t tell you how many times I had to listen to him go on and on about what it was going to be like when he finally got to slip it up inside of you. It started to get on my nerves, really. I told him he was already following you, he should just pick his moment and do it, but he always had these silly ideas about asking you out instead.
“At least until you tried to kill me. Then he wanted to gut you nice and slow while you screamed. I always liked him better when he was angry. That’s how I talked him into coming to New York in the first place. But I didn't count on you learning a few new tricks over the years. Getting Sala to show up? Smart move.”
She felt the surprise on her face even though she tried to hide it. It was getting harder to struggle by the second as she fought to breathe.
“Oh you didn't know I figured that out? See, the romance is still there love. After all this time I can still surprise you. You should know by now, I’m always watching.”
Aidan tried to yank her arm from under his knee, scraping herself up on the pavement. His grip on her throat tightened until she stopped fighting.
“Everything that is Aidan Carlisle, what you put out there for the public to see and all the sordid details you've buried... You don't have any secrets from me. I know all about your Mick fucktoy, his dead mother, and all his Paddy trash brothers. I bet I know things about him you don't know yet.
“Who do you think really put him in that cast? I didn't have to take the swing, I just pulled the strings. Lucky for you I chose the wrong puppet. It was supposed to be much, much worse. Because even though you cheated on him with that bald bloke you were going to meet today you never ever lost your feelings the Sid.”
She was surprised at the savage sound that escaped her own throat as she tried to throw another punch. “Blake” just laughed and twisted her arm until she screamed and he could trap it under his other knee. With one hand free, he ran his bloody thumb across her lips, infuriatingly gently.
“You're an open book, Aidan love, my own personal drama unfolding page by page and whatever pace I choose. So, tell me, how did he like that red number you picked up at the mall in Florida?”
“Fuck you, you son of a bitch!”
She started struggling again, but he just tightened his grip until she couldn't drawn any breath at all.
“Is it a special color for the two of you? Does he get a little extra when you wear red? You ever let him take a belt to that perfect skin of yours? Or does he do that when you step out of line? Would you like to know what kind of man his father was to his mother? Because I can tell you.”
He cackled when she tried to keep fighting, unable to breathe or move anything but her legs.
“I know everything, Aidan. I know about your gay brother Scott, I know about the baby Paul has on the way. I know that you’re talking to Daddy again. I know about your old partner, that great big bitch, and where she lives. I know about your current partner and the shiny new girlfriend he can’t stop drooling over. Maybe I’ll pay them all a little visit after this, one by one just to let them know what happened to you. Should I start with the Mick or Bryan and the blonde minger he likes so much?”
That was the last bit she needed. Putting pain aside, she found the strength to wrench her arm out from under his leg and grab one of the bricks that had fallen out of the wall. It clipped him on the jaw when she swung, enough to put him off balance and let her shove him off. She sucked in a deep breath to stop the aching in her lungs, then she was back on top and she hit him again. His eyes rolled for a moment, having trouble focusing when he looked back up at her.
It might have been mostly healed, but the bullet wound in his shoulder from January was still apparently sensitive, because he screamed when she jammed her fingers into it. For a moment she mused about how the blood pouring down the side of his face came from his brow bone, just like her own. Then she drew her hand back as far as she could, grip white knuckled on the bloody brick.
“This is the end of it, right now. There’s going to be nothing left of your face by the time I stop. No leaving without being sure you're gone for good. And you’d better hope that brother of yours is already dead, because I’ll do even worse to him.”
For a split second she caught something in his eye. She couldn't even feel bad about the way her lips twisted into a smirk, about the glee she felt knowing she had something to hold over him in his last few seconds. There was no remorse, no hesitation.
“Oh, that bothers you, doesn't it? You get a little protective? Well so do I, and you threatened the wrong people. All you had to do was go on pretending you were dead. You could have stayed away from my people and out of my world and we'd all have had our twisted little happy ever afters. Now I'm just going to leave you here in this alley with the rest of the garbage and go back to my Mick fucktoy.”
She swung down as hard as she could. But she never felt the impact radiate up her arm from her hand. She felt her shoulders crank back and the pressure on the nape of her neck. She felt the full nelson hold lift her off of him and felt her foot miss when she tried to kick him in the temple. She knew the body behind her well.
“NO! God dammit get off of me!”
“Blake” was already bolting.
Atlantic City, New Jersey
May, 2016 Aidan opened her eyes slowly as the dream faded away. It was still dark in the room. Morning hadn't crept in quiet yet. After a few more moments she could feel Liam's eyes on her. She realized he was holding her hand as this thumb brushed across her skin. “...Was it bad?”She knew he knew she'd been dreaming. The only question was whether or not she was thrashing and how badly. “Ye weren't talking in your sleep this time.”She rolled onto her side and threw her arm over his shoulder to squeeze herself against him. She pressed her face into his thick neck and let the words come out in whatever order they would. It was too early for restraint. “I'm so sorry... For everything I've done to you. Every time I hurt you and when I cheated on you—”“You didn't cheat on me.”“No, don't make excuses for me. I don't deserve them. I told you I needed space because I knew what I was going to do. It's the same thing. I have hurt you, again and again, and I need to apologize to you.”He took a deep breath, but he didn't sigh. It wasn't a conversation anyone wanted to have first thing in the morning. “I've forgiven you, Aidan. Can we just leave it at that? It's the past, we're here.”She didn't want to leave it at that, but she also didn't want to talk about it. “I told you I wouldn't ask you... but after the other day... I need to know, Liam. Are you sure, a hundred percent certain that they're gone?”A long silence passed. It drew out so much that she was starting to wonder if he was mad at her for asking. Just when she was about to speak again, he laid on his back and pulled her on top of him, holding her in place with both arms. “Are ye sure that ye want to know this?”The question made her pause, but she already knew the answer. “Yes.”
London, England
2016
Liam pushed the car door shut quietly as he kept his eyes on the lit up window above. A single breath evened out his heartbeat before he strode to the front door of the building, leaving Cyrus Riddle behind in the car. He didn't need the man to go with him, he only needed someone that could go back to Aidan if things didn't go as planned. The two of them trying to do the same thing would probably just end up in a dick swinging contest anyway, and he didn't want to embarrass the Englishman.
He crept up the stairs slowly, eyes always focused upward and his back aimed at the wall so no one could come sneaking up on him. He operated with the mindset that they knew he was coming, because that was the safest bet, but the way the stairs groaned with each booted step annoyed him. He felt like the whole world knew he was there.
The hallway floor was much quieter when he had ascended the appropriate number of flights. It was dim, but not dark, with ever other light seeming to be out or flickering. Whoever lived in 603 was watching some awful British comedy.
He stopped outside the door. Last chance to change his mind. But he wasn't going to change his mind. He took another calming breath as he put his back to the wall. Leaning forward slightly for the right angle, he drove his foot back into the door just beneath the handle. The frame splintered and broke open with the one solid mule kick.
The cursing from inside was instant, but quieted quickly. They expected him to step in, but he wasn't about to put himself in the fatal funnel without any backup. Instead, he listened, counting the steps he heard coming in his direction. The barrel of the Walther PPQ came into view a second before the arm attached to it.
Surprise, a pressure point, and inexperience on the opposite end made it surprisingly easy to twist the arm up and put the man's own gun to his head. With a human shield, he finally stepped into the flat, pushing the damaged door shut with his foot. He looked across the room at a heavily bruised and scraped face and knew he had the brother.
“Well look at you, Mickey. Our girl finally figured out she was in a battle she couldn't win and cried for help, did she?”
Liam didn't respond to the goading, just steered his shield deeper into the room without ever taking his eyes off of “Blake Ross.”
“Did you actually come up alone? I gave you a little more credit than that, I really did, given your... background. You've got to know you aren't walking out of here in one piece. Two of us and one of you, even if my brother is a useless piece of shit.”
“Hey fuck you.”
“Mason” shut up quickly when the barrel pressed harder into his temple. For all his size, he was obviously much less of a factor than his brother was. Blake slowly moved toward the coffee table, picking up a sizable hunting knife which he gave a little wave.
“You could do me a favor and just get rid of him, then we can settle this between the two of us. A little dark like our girl likes. She's got a thing for knives. Part of her charm.”
“She's my girl.”
“Don't be selfish now, Mickey. I've known her longer than you have. She and I? We've gone round and round. It's gotta count for something.”
He was trying to buy himself time, clearly. Trying to get under Liam's skin, to goad him, was a play to make him make a mistake. There was no room for mistakes.
“Aidan, or do you call her December? Maybe Emmy? She's got quite the temper, doesn't she? Got all fired up when I started talking about you and her. I think she might actually have a soft spot for you and not just be using you for whatever it is you do between her legs. ...Does she wax, or shave, by the way? I've never got a close enough look.”
Mason grunted as the press of the PPQ against his temple became painful.
“How about you, Mickey, how's your temper?”
“Why don't you stop talking to the fucker and do something you asshole?!”
“Shut up, little brother, you got yourself there, now deal with it.”
Liam chuckled as he addressed Mason, taking his turn to goad the two.
“You're going to die first, blondie. He really doesn't need you for this. He'd rather have you out of the way, in case you hadn't caught on.”
“Hey, shut your mouth. We're talking about you and our girl here. Leave my useless brother out of it before I get bored and cut this little meeting short. Because you know when I'm done here, I'm going for her. Don't think for a second that I don't know exactly where she is right now.
“I'm going to watch her cry when she realizes neither you nor the bald fuck downstairs are coming to save her. When she can't cry anymore she's going to be a good girl—because when you're gone it's going to break everything inside of her and she won't even fight—and she's going to go all the way to Ireland with me. I'm going to kill your father in front of her. I'm going to kill any of your brothers that happen to be there too.
“Then I'm going to take her back to that bed you two have been sharing and I'm going to have my way with her while she whimpers for you. You know the sound I'm talking about, we've both heard it. I've been thinking about exactly what I'm going to do to her for eight years, so believe me when I tell you it will not be brief, and she will not enjoy it. Hell, if he's still alive I'll even give my brother his turn. That will be considerably shorter, but just as effective.”
“God dammit shut the fuck up and kill him already!”
“And then... I'm not going to kill her, Mickey. I'm going to give her this knife—this one here—the same one I'm going to kill you with, and I'm going to watch her kill herself. You know she'll do it, I can see it in your eyes. How's that do you? Got your blood boiling now?”
It did. But it wasn't going to make him lose control. Mason was getting squirrely. He was forgetting about the position he was in and thinking more about wanting to kick his brother's ass for not helping him. The moment the burly blonde started to struggle Liam whipped his arm forward. There was barely room for both of their fingers inside the guard, but it was Mason's against the trigger when Liam squeezed.
Blake's face went white as the realization set in. He looked down at the hole in his chest and the blood pouring out of it. He touched it, like he wasn't sure it was real. Then he lunged forward with the knife.
Liam shoved Mason right into him, hearing the gasp of shock as the blade hit home. Stomach wound; nasty, painful. There was a moment of remorse on Blake's face, just a moment, before pulled the knife back out.
“You motherfucker! That's my baby brother!”
He flew across the space between them as Mason hit the floor. The first swing of the knife was clumsy, and easily deflected. Desperation made him unpredictable and the punch to the ribs hit home. Then the blade buried in the back of Liam's shoulder with a lance of white hot pain.
Blake tried to rip it right back out, but Liam didn't let him. Ross snatched up a kitchen knife from the counter instead and came at him again, but he was slow—dying—from the gunshot. Liam wrestled an arm across his neck and spun around as he heard the scraping on the floor, just in time for Blake to take a second bullet, and Mason's eyes to go wide as he missed his intended target.
“That's your baby brother. Now he's shot ye twice. You're going to die, you know that. But ye get to choose whether or not ye take him down with you.”
Liam's grip stayed tight on the hand that the knife was still in, keeping it fully extended. A kick to the hand sent the gun out of reach and broke several of Mason's fingers. Then he kicked out the back of one of Blake's knees and dropped him to kneel right in front of Mason.
“So, what's it gonna be? Ye going to make him pay for all the fuck ups that got you here? Ye going to end him quick or let him suffer? Or am I going make the decision after ye finish bleeding out?”
The look on Mason's face was frozen there as the gush of blood poured over the back of Blake's hand. Eyes wide, mouth agape like a fish. He had two, maybe three gurgling breaths before he was done. Blake lasted quite a bit longer as he laid there. He didn't try to get back up, didn't try to go for the gun, but the sneer never left his face.
“Well played, Mickey.”
With every inch the pool of blood spread, Liam stepped back to be sure he wasn't going to leave a trail, but he stayed until he was absolutely sure. It wasn't until he got back out to the car that he finally reached up and pulled the knife out of the back of his own shoulder. The blade had kept him from bleeding until then, now the blood started to flow.
There was already a plastic garbage bag covering the seat. It was a “borrowed” car anyway. Both would get disposed of properly, along with the knife somewhere far, far from here. The pain didn't even matter.
“Done?”
“Done.”
Atlantic City, New Jersey
May, 2016 Liam's eyes hadn't left Aidan as he recounted the tale, even when she had closed her own. He had made her wait until evening when they got back, rather than darken the whole day with it. She had been surprisingly patient. Now she was quiet. She was shaking even though she was curled up against him under the blanket. He felt some anxiety of his own as the silence in the room continued. Her fingers resting over his heart made it beat faster than any memory of the night in London did. “I'm certain, álainn. Ye can stop worrying about it.”She nodded, but didn't speak. Quiet wasn't usually her thing. It was making him uncomfortable. There were a lot of reasons he hadn't wanted to tell her. This was one of them. “Are ye ever going to look at me the same way again?”“...No.”He hadn't expected that answer. It hurt more than any punch ever would, but he tried to keep that to himself. It was good that he did. “I'm going to look at you more. I'm going to look at you longer. I'm going to wonder how the hell I ever ended up with someone I don't even remotely deserve. And I'm always going to know what you did for me.”“I told you, you'll never be safer than you are with me. You can relax. You can sleep. You can be as fearless right here as you are in the ring.”“There's just one more thing...”“What's that?”“Who are you? Where did you learn that stuff?”He kissed the top of her head, right next to where the staples used to be in her scalp. “I promise I'll tell you, but that's for another night.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 6, 2016 7:27:27 GMT
|
|
