Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Fury
“ W hat’s up with your face?” asks Nyx, sitting beside me at the kitchen table.
I stare at the text message from Donnie. I’m gripping my phone so tight, the tips of my fingers are white. “I’ve gotta pick Donnie up,” I reply.
“It’s shit you gotta work for him like this,” says Nyx, piling bacon onto his plate. “You’ve done well not to smack him in the face.”
“Just biding my time,” I mutter bitterly.
“Don’t do anything to piss Pres off,” says Grizz. “You did right getting outta there last night. If he’d have caught you with his woman, you’d both be dead now.”
“She ain’t his woman,” I spit.
“She ain’t yours either,” he reminds me. “And until this shit with Donnie is done, you need to stay clear. It’ll cause nothing but trouble.”
The second I heard Donnie shout her name last night, I dashed out the back door. But knowing he spent the night there pisses me off. Grizz pats me on the shoulder. “Look, she’s probably dumped him. Don’t read too much into that text. He could’ve turned up there again this morning, for all you know.”
I nod, standing. “Yeah, probably.”
I arrive at Xanthe’s and knock lightly on the door. Donnie opens it looking freshly showered in a clean suit. “Xanthe,” he calls, “I’m leaving now.”
She appears in the kitchen doorway, and I ball my fists at my sides at seeing her in his shirt. Donnie turns, going to her, and as he embraces her, our eyes connect. Hers are full of regret, and mine probably match my mood . . . angry.
“I’ll wait in the car,” I mutter, spinning on my heel and forcing myself back up the garden path.
I’m waiting a few minutes before Donnie slides into the back seat. “Where to?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.
“The fight club,” he replies, pulling out his mobile. He presses it to his ear as I pull out and head for the club. “Good morning. I’d like to send the biggest bouquet of white roses you can find,” he says into the mobile. “Put them on my account. Mister Donnie Nelson.” I hate that name, and my hands curl tighter around the steering wheel. “Yes, add a note,” he continues. “My everything,” he adds, and I almost roll my eyes. “Forgive me.” He waits a beat before thanking them and disconnecting. “Women,” he says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “They’re so easily upset.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I mutter.
He arches a brow. “You’ve never upset a woman?” He looks amused.
“No. I try not to.”
“We all try,” he says, “but sometimes we slip up. But it’s fine, she’s forgiven me.” I inhale sharply, trying to keep my cool. “Would you go back for her and drive her to the hospital?” he asks.
It’s the first time I haven’t wanted to see her since I first bumped into her. “Sure thing.”
“She’ll protest. Don’t take no for an answer.” I stop outside his club, and he opens the door. “Oh, and Fury, let me know if she texts or calls anyone.”
I frown. “Do you want me to ask her who she’s texting?”
“No. Just observe. Does she look happy texting whoever it is? Is she speaking to a man if she accepts a call?”
I give a stiff nod. “Got it.”
I return to Xanthe’s house and stare at the closed door. By having sex, I’ve opened myself up to her again. Now, I have to face the music.
I get out the car just as her door opens and she steps out. She doesn’t see me right away and walks up the path with her head down, like she’s lost in thought. It’s only when I open the back door that she startles, and then that guilty expression returns. “Get in,” I order.
She looks down the street. “I think I want to walk today.”
“Not an option,” I say firmly.
“Is that an order from him or you?”
I don’t meet her eye, and she sighs heavily, getting into the car. I slam the door and get in the driver’s seat. I start the engine as she puts her seatbelt on. “It wasn’t what it looked like,” she begins.
“I don’t want to know,” I spit.
“We didn’t have sex,” she adds.
I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Stop talking,” I yell, looking at her through the mirror. She presses her lips into a fine line. “I want to rip his head off,” I hiss. “And if you tell me shit I can’t handle, I’ll kill him and then my President will kill me, so stop fucking talking.”
We drive the short journey to the hospital in silence, and when we arrive, I get out and open her door. I don’t look at her as she slides from the vehicle, but she pauses, composing herself. “I tried to end it with him,” she whispers. “You were right. He’s not a nice man.” And before I can respond, she heads off inside.
I stare after her, her words playing on my mind. Then my mobile rings, and I drag myself back into the car before answering.
“Did she call anyone?” asks Donnie.
“No,” I confirm.
“Text?”
“No.”
“Did she say anything?” he demands, reminding me of a lovesick schoolboy.
“No.” I pause before adding, “She looked sad, though. Upset even.”
“Careful,” he almost whispers. “Paying too much close attention to my woman gets my back up.” And then he disconnects.
I throw my phone onto the passenger seat and get back out the car, marching into the hospital. I see Xanthe by the nurse’s station, and her eyes widen in surprise, but I don’t give her a chance to speak before I grab her hand and pull her into a side room. Another nurse rushes after us. “I’ll call security,” she threatens.
“It’s fine,” says Xanthe, giving a reassuring smile. “I know him.” The nurse reluctantly leaves. “You’ll get me fired,” she cries. And then she bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands. My anger instantly melts away, and I drag her into my arms, holding her against my chest and whispering words of comfort into her hair. When she calms, I tip her head back and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “I thought you were still in the house,” she whimpers.
“I heard him come in,” I admit. “I left through the back door.”
“He searched the house,” she whispers, wiping more tears on the sleeves of her cardigan. “He was so angry.”
“He knows about us?”
She shakes her head. “He took me by surprise, and I was rattled. He guessed I’d had someone round and lost his mind.” She cries some more. “And then he wouldn’t leave.”
“Did you ask him to?”
She shoves her hands against my chest, putting space between us. “Of course, I did.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “So, he just refused?”
“He’s fucking mental,” she hisses. “He was talking like we’d just had a little argument, insisting we’d be fine by the morning. I told him it wasn’t going to work out, and he completely ignored me.”
I stare at the floor, lost for words. I don’t know what to tell her because Donnie never does anything he doesn’t want to do. The more she protests, the more he’ll push her. “I told you this would end badly,” I mutter.
More sobs leave her. “Well, thanks, that really helps.”
“You’re gonna have to tell him about us.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you mad?” she cries. “You didn’t see him last night, Reese. He was crazy mad. He’ll kill you and then me.”
I cup her cheek. “I can handle myself, and he won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not risking it. The way he was talking . . .” She shudders. “He’s not right in the head.”
“So, now what?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ll ignore his calls, avoid him, and hope he gets bored.”
I scoff. “He has you picked up for work and taken home. He knows your shift pattern. He got into your house last night.”
“The door was unlocked,” she mutters.
“The door wasn’t unlocked,” I snap. “I locked it, Xanth. He got in anyway, and he’ll continue to turn up unannounced.”
Her body shakes with her crying, and she wraps her arms around herself. “I’ll call the police.”
“And say what? He’ll twist it and make you look like the bad person. Plus, he’s got people high up.”
“So, I’m stuck with him?”
I sigh. “I’ll think of something. Have you got somewhere else you can stay?”
“Not really. I don’t want to drag anyone else into it.”
“Leave early for work to avoid him. Send him a text message telling him it’s over. Be clear. Then you have evidence you’ve told him, just in case by some miracle we can get some kind of restraining order.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“He won’t hurt you, Xanth. I’ll kill him before that happens.”
Xanthe
I follow Fury’s advice, leaving work half an hour early. Instead of going straight home, I call Jorja and arrange to meet her for dinner.
The second she lays eyes on me, she’s out of her chair and enveloping me in a hug. “What’s wrong?”
We sit down, and with a sad smile, I say, “I can’t cry anymore. My face is a mess.”
“Didn’t things go well with Donnie?”
I shake my head. “Fury was right—he’s a nutter.”
I fill her in, and she stares open-mouthed. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”
“Fury said to try to avoid him, but how long can I do that for, realistically?”
“And why can’t you just report him to the police?”
I shrug. “Fury reckons he’s got people high up.” I bury my face, groaning into my hands. “Who the hell is he anyway? I mean, people high up? What does that even mean?”
She smiles sympathetically. “You hear stories, don’t you, about men like that? Maybe he’s in some kind of mafia?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, how else do you explain it?”
I stare out the window. “I don’t know. I need to send him a text, but I’m scared he’ll be waiting for me at home.”
“Stay at mine?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to drag anyone into it, especially if he is nuts.”
“Okay, well, send the text now, and I’ll drive past your house a few times to see if he’s waiting.”
I pull out my phone and type a text out.
Me: I’ve spent the day thinking about last night. I’ve had a great time with you, but it’s just not working out for me. I don’t want to see you again. Please respect that.
I turn the phone to Jorja, and she nods, so I send it. “I feel sick,” I mutter.
“Look, he’s not the first nutter you’ve met, right? Men can be intimidating and crazy, but they soon get bored. Once he realises you’re not entertaining him, he’ll back off.”
“I hope so,” I say, but I have a bad feeling.
Once we’ve eaten dinner, Jorja drives me home. We slow outside, and I check the cars parked around the street, making sure they’re empty. “I’ll come in for a coffee,” she says, parking up.
Inside, the place is dark, and I sigh with relief, turning on the lights. “Keep the bolt locked when you’re home alone,” she says, sliding it into place. “And the windows.”
“Maybe Fury got it wrong,” I say. “Maybe he didn’t lock the door at all and just thought he did.”
She nods. “Yeah, but still, lock up properly just in case.”
“Jorja, do you think he’ll get bored?”
She forces a smile, which I know confirms my own fears, but she nods. “Definitely.”
It’s the middle of the night when I hear a distant banging. I open my eyes and check the clock, groaning when it reads two-thirty. The banging comes again, this time louder, and I sit up, frowning.
My heartrate doubles as I climb out of bed and pull the curtain back slightly so I can peek outside. Two men are holding another man up. He looks hurt, so I open my window. “What’s going on?” I ask.
The two men look up, and I recognise one as Chevy. “He needs help,” he tells me.
“No. Take him to a hospital,” I snap.
“He won’t make it,” he yells. “Open the fucking door, now.”
“No,” I snap. “I’m not involved with your boss anymore, so find someone else.”
“Don’t you follow some code of practise?” he snaps.
“I’m not allowed to treat patients like this.”
“Then make an exception, because if he dies, I’ll tell the police you refused to help.”
I growl in frustration and slam the window closed, grabbing my robe and rushing downstairs. I unlock the door, and they bustle in past me, heading straight for the kitchen. Chevy swipes the leftover mugs from the table, sending them crashing to the floor, then he helps his friend onto the surface.
“What happened?” I ask, lifting the man’s shirt slightly to see blood.
“He got stabbed.”
“Chevy, he might have serious internal bleeding. He needs a doctor.”
“I have one coming, but until he gets here, you will keep him alive.”
“It’s not something I can promise,” I snap, grabbing some scissors and cutting the man’s T-shirt away. There’s a deep wound to his side, and I gently press his stomach to feel for internal swelling that could indicate a bleed. “How much blood has he lost?”
“A lot,” Chevy confirms.
I grab my first aid kit and pull out all the padded dressing, using them to apply pressure against the wound. “He’ll probably need blood.”
“The doctor’s sorting that.”
I frown. “How?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head.” He stares down at his phone then heads to the back door, pulling it open. Fury enters, and the first thing I notice is that he’s covered in blood. His jeans are soaked, and there are splatters on his shirt and face. He avoids my eyes, and before I can ask what the hell is going on, a doctor enters, filling me with relief.
Fury places a box down while the doctor places his bag on the table and retrieves some gloves. He proceeds to check the patient over. “We’ll need to get inside,” he states, looking at me.
“Huh?”
“It’s possible the knife wound has perforated the liver.”
I shake my head. “I’m not a scrub nurse,” I say meekly. “He needs to go to hospital.”
“I thought you said she was fine with all this?” the doctor snaps, glaring at Chevy.
Chevy grabs me by the upper arm and shoves me from the room, closing the door. “Now, listen very carefully,” he hisses. “You’re going to go in there and help. I don’t care what you have to do but do it.”
“I can’t,” I cry. “I’ll get into trouble.”
“There’s no choice,” he snaps.
The door opens, and Fury looks back and forth between us. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I say. “I can’t do this.”
He glances at Chevy. “Let me talk to her.”
Chevy rolls his eyes in irritation and goes back into the kitchen. Fury closes the door. “What are you doing here?” I hiss. “Why are you covered in blood?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“I can’t keep doing this, Reese. He can’t keep sending people my way to be patched-up.”
“Listen, until I figure a way out, you have to do this.”
I scowl. “I don’t have to do anything. I’m calling an ambulance and the police.”
“That will land you in deeper waters. Plus . . .” he pauses, rubbing a hand over his forehead.
“What?” I growl, sensing it’s not good news.
“He’s going to keep using you. Chevy said he’s got shit on you now, and he’ll use that to make you do what he wants.”
I stare wide-eyed. “What shit?”
“I don’t know. Can you think of anything?”
I shake my head, fighting the tears that are threatening to fall again. “Why is he doing this to me?”
“I’m guessing his ego is bruised. I’ll think of something.” He presses a chaste kiss to my head before heading back into the kitchen, leaving me to follow.