Chapter Thirty Seven
My head spun, specks of bright light flashing in the incessant darkness. I couldn’t see, not at first, only hear. Men’s voices. There were more than one. Thick Geordie accents surrounding me. And I was cold. Really cold. Bit by bit the darkness dissolved, a pounding pain in the back of my head replacing it. I blinked. Each movement hurt, but each movement clearing my vision.
Three men. That was how many. One tugged at my arm, pulling a rope around it. I pulled back, trying to break free of the fingers clamped painfully around me. But he was too strong, and I was still too weak, too dazed, my body slow. I threw a leg out, slow and cumbersome and missing completely.
“Get off me!” I managed to say something, to shout. “Get off me!”
But the hands didn’t let go, the rope tied in place. And now panic raced around my system, pumping through my veins, meeting the heavy ache in my head and intensifying tenfold. I struggled again, kicking and wriggling. The man on the other side of me grabbed at my other arm, yanking and pulling, his fingers digging into my skin, holding me tightly.
“Get off me, you ugly fucker,” I growled.
The back of a hand came from nowhere, crashing against the side of my face heavily. My head spun again, a strain down the side of my neck where my face snapped to the side by the blow, and for a moment, I thought I would pass out again.
“For fuck’s sake, you dumb fuck. Now you’ve fucking marked her. This is supposed to look like an overdose. Tie that other fucking arm down.”
The rope secured around my wrist and now my arms were tied tight against the chair. Someone reached for something. A syringe. And it was full of something brown. Something I didn’t want in my veins or anywhere near me. An elastic tie was wrapped around my bicep, pushing my blood into my vein, plump and blue. The needle advanced. The syringe of whatever drug they were going to overdose me with. And there was nothing I could do about it, my arms tied tight, my legs not reaching their targets.
“No! No! No!” I screamed.
I was going to die here in this place. This place filled with coffins. Coffins. Gordon. This was Gordon. It had to be. Fuck. And now I was angry. Not frightened. I wouldn’t let this look like an overdose. I would make sure that it looked suspicious. I struggled again, throwing my weight around the chair, thrashing and kicking. This time my toe connected with a shin.
“Shit,” someone cursed.
I kicked again, rocking my body, launching my toes at all three of the men. It was keeping them back now.
“Fuck’s sake,” one of them shouted. “I’m just gonna hit her with something.”
He turned away, the sound of dragging metal nearby. At least it wouldn’t look like an overdose. The metal clanged suddenly. A grunt and a commotion. And now there were more bodies rushing forward. Arms flailed; bodies entangled. I could see black helmets, black leather and right in the very middle, a man with dark hair piled on top of his head.
He moved beautifully in a well-choreographed dance, ducking and punching, the man he connected with squealing, his hands covering his face and staggering backwards.
“I’ve changed my mind, lads,” he shouted over the commotion. “I want them alive. For now.”
The men in leather worked seamlessly. A body dropped to the floor unconscious, and then another and the leather jackets moved in unison, surrounding the remaining man who held his hands in the air in surrender.
Fury moved out from the group, bounding towards me, warm fingers working over the knots of the blue rope tied round my arms. I glanced up at him, into those rich, dark eyes and for the first time in years, I felt the tears drip down my face. He pulled me to my feet, my legs shaking, shock replacing fear, my body weak, and then he scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing.
“Secure the warehouse and yourselves. I’ll get Heidi safe and then I’ll be back for those fuckers,” Fury instructed as he walked through the building.
I clutched my arms round his neck, savouring the closeness of his body against mine, of the smell of the leather jacket and his spicy-sweet aftershave. I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, letting myself breathe, feeling the cold air fill my lungs. My body shook hard, cold and shock consuming me.
“You’re ok, doll. I got you,” Fury whispered, sliding me into the passenger seat of his truck. “Same hotel as last time?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m at one at the quayside.”
“Don’t feel safe, huh?”
“Definitely not now.”
“You will be. I promise.”
“You’ve promised before.”
“I did. But you wouldn’t let me help you, doll. Will you let me help you now?”
“Yes…” I whispered, feeling the swelling of my throat and the burn of my eyes.
We drove on in silence, the growling exhaust of Fury’s truck the only thing making noise, drowning out the other traffic around us. I was cold. So, so cold. And my chest was heavy, like someone was sitting on it. I tried to slow my breathing, hoping he couldn’t hear how ragged my breath sounds were, hoping that he couldn’t tell I was about to break down in front of him.
Fury weaved through traffic, pulling round cars moving too slowly, overtaking lorries that had stopped on the side of the road to off load deliveries, squeezing the giant truck through gaps it shouldn’t have made it through, like it was his bike. And never once did we slow or loiter, drawing up outside the doors to the hotel that overlooked the River Tyne in record time.
“I’ll watch you in, doll. Then I need to go sort stuff.”
Fury meant people, not stuff, but I wasn’t going to ask questions I didn’t want to know the answers to. Apart from the next one.
“Fury,” I started, faltering, my voice catching, the weakness of it making me cringe.
“Yes, doll?”
“I came to see you because I wanted to say I’m sorry. Sorry for the way I treated you. For just walking out like that.”
“It’s fine, Heidi. It was just sex. You didn’t need to stay.”
“But I should have done, Fury. I should have given us a chance.”
“You should have done.”
“Can I give us that chance now?”
I looked at him, at the eyes of a thousand depths, dark, rich brown, at the dark beard that covered his dimples, dimples I’d missed, dimples I desperately wanted to see again.
“I have to go, doll. Got shit to do.” Fury reached across me, pulling in the door handle and pushing the door to his truck open. “I’ll walk you to your room if you don’t feel safe enough by yourself?”
“No. Thanks. I’ll manage,” I answered, my swelling throat barely able to get those words out, turning and climbing down from the monstrous purple recovery truck. “Fury?” I said weakly, only half turning back to face him.
“Aye?”
“Thank you. For saving me, I mean.”
“You’re welcome, doll.”
I didn’t turn around again. I couldn’t let him see the tears that dripped down my face.