He places me down on my feet, and I stumble a bit. “Woah there, tiger. Let’s get you dried and into bed ASAP.”
As Chris gently dries me down with the towel, despite my sleepiness, I cast my eyes on him, unable to look away. What we have… it’s too much. In my darkest thoughts, I have often wondered if what we have will kill us one day. We’re like tainted lovers fighting the whole world, but one day the world will fight back.
Once I’m dry, Chris snuggles me into bed, laying a kiss on my forehead as he sits beside me.
“Do you ever think we’re wrong, you and I?” I ask, those last thoughts still in my head.
“Fate brought us together, Bri. There ain’t nothing fucking wrong with that. We belong together. Just like the stars belong in the sky. Like life, it just… is.”
Closing my eyes, I breathe out a contented sigh. “You’re like a poet and shit.”
Chris chuckles under his breath. “And you’re just too adorable for words.” A tender kiss is placed on my forehead again as the pull to fall asleep consumes me. “Goodnight, beautiful.”
I wake with a start, my head fuzzy and pounding. “Ugh, what the fuck is that?” My body aches, especially round me pelvic area. Did Chris and I have rough sex last night?
I rub my eyes, confusion filling me, and then a hand snakes round mine, making me jump.
“It’s okay, Bri. It’s only me.”
I fully open my eyes, Chris’s bright smile greeting me with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
“Oh, you beauty,” I say, greedily grabbing the mug from his hand. “I ache all over. Why does it feel like I’ve been kicked in the…”
And then it all comes flooding back. The three masked men, the assault, attempted rape—rape that would have been carried out if it wasn’t for my boss.
Work!
“Shit, what time is it?” I have to get to work. My head snaps to the digital clock on the nightstand. It’s after ten!
“Bri, calm the fuck down. You’re not going to work today. I spoke with your boss, and he said he didn’t want you in for the rest of the week. He wants you to rest, and so do I.”
Panic subsiding slightly, I close my eyes, but when I do, all I see are ski masks. All I see are those men taunting me, pulling my jeans down.
Tears begin to well in my eyes, and the mug quakes in my shaking hand.
“Oh, shit. Bri, give me your coffee.” I hand it to him, and within seconds I’m in his arms, his hands caressing my hair as he lands soft kisses on my head. “You’ll never have to go through anything like that ever again. Do you hear me, Bri?” Sniffling, I nod my head into the crook of his neck. “You will get justice for what they did to you. I fucking promise you that.”
I pull back, wiping my runny nose. “How will you ever be able to find them? They all wore ski masks.”
Chris bares his teeth, his jaw tic, tic, ticcing. “You had a name. We’ll go from there. If the Carver family has a Terry working for them, we’ll find out.”
The Carver family runs much of the east end of London. When Chris took over Waltham Forest, Graham Carver (the boss, also known as Frosty because of his white hair and stern appearance) didn’t take too kindly to a newcomer taking over an untapped area. It took Chris weeks of negotiations and promises not to meddle in Carver family affairs. Initially, Frosty agreed, but only if he got a percentage of the cuts earned. Chris, knowing that he’ll only end up walking all over him, stood his ground. This was Chris’s turf, nothing to do with him. Frosty had no interest in Waltham Forest before Chris started becoming known in the area and whispers of him followed.
A year back, Chris was set upon by two men with a baseball bat. Because of his training, he ended up beating the shit out of them, sending them with their tail between their legs and a message to their boss that Chris was not to be messed with. A war of words and even more fights ensued, but Chris never backed down. In the end, Frosty called a truce. There would be peace as long as Chris kept within his area. Ever since then, things have been bitter but civil. I’m guessing something has changed since if Chris believes I was targeted by the Carver family.
“What have you done?” I ask, assuming he must have done something.
Chris sighs, looking away. “We’re not earning enough as quick as I want to in Waltham Forest…”
“Oh, Chris, you promised this shit wouldn’t happen.” And he had. We both agreed that he would do what needs to be done to earn money, but not at the cost of our lives. It’s just not worth it.
“I know,” he says, grabbing both my hands to make me look at him. “We have lots of money, Bri, but not enough to leave here and make a new life. I want to marry you, and we can’t do that here. I’m getting… impatient.”
I almost snap that his impatience nearly got me raped, but I hold my tongue. What happened to me may have nothing to do with the Carver family. Besides, my attack seemed all too… personal.
“Are you certain that Frosty knows what you’re doing?”
“I’ve been careful, so I hadn’t thought so. Still, I can never guarantee anything. It’s not an area of his, so he can go fuck himself.”
I sigh aloud, causing Chris to look up. “It’s not about that, though, is it? It’s about keeping the peace. Just slow the fuck down a little, Chris. Please.”
He squeezes my hands in his. “Okay, okay. I’ll slow things down. But I will tell you one thing for certain. If he ordered this, he’s not going to get away with it. No matter how long it takes to get revenge, I will raise holy hell on the motherfucker.”
My mind doesn’t want to wander back to that attack, but something still feels off about it. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“I think this was personal.”
A deep crease forms in Chris’s forehead. “What do you mean?”
“One of them said I needed to be taught a lesson. It was almost as if I had done something to them.”
“They fucking said that shit to you?”
Squeezing his hand, I pull him closer. “Stay with me on this. Getting angry isn’t going to solve anything. You need to be calm in order to think rationally.” Chris takes in a deep breath, nodding, nothing but pure, heated rage swimming in those blue eyes of his. “The other unusual thing was one of the three men never spoke a word. He was the one who kicked me and pulled my jeans down…” Chris sucks in a breath, his face turning red. He’s about to blow. “I think he didn’t talk from fear that I would recognise his voice, which can only mean one thing.”
Anger is replaced by realisation. “You know him.”
“I could be wrong.” I shrug. “He could just be mute. Does the Carver family have anyone working for them who can’t or won’t speak?”
Chris looks down, his fingers on the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. “I don’t think so. Fuck, whoever it is won’t stay hidden for long. I’m going to make sure we find out who those three are, and believe me, baby. They will live to regret that they ever touched a hair on your head.”
Oh, I have no doubt about that. I secretly want it that way too.
“Drink your coffee and relax for a bit. I’m going to make some breakfast. Scrambled eggs?”