8. Tessa
8
TESSA
T he next time I woke in the same bed that Romeo held me in, I wasn’t hit with the instant dread and trepidation. I lay there for several minutes, scanning the room that was already becoming so familiar. Not only did I easily recognize these four walls and the sort-of-hideous striped wallpaper that the seventies wanted back, but I also knew I’d be safe behind the closed door.
Romeo had to be near in this old house, and if he wasn’t, he’d come back. He had so far, and I believed him when he said that he wanted to help me. The look in his serious, ice-blue eyes suggested that he wanted to take care of me in every way I needed assistance.
He killed a man—three men—for me.
If that wasn’t an ultimate act of going over the top to see to someone’s needs, I wasn’t sure what else would count. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted those men dead, too stuck in the dismay and pain of what they’d done. But the moment I saw the sign of his wounded knuckles from punching someone, I was struck with a need to inflict pain in kind. Or to know that they’d been taken care of.
Danicia warned me that I would be very tired, exhausted down to my bones no matter how much I rested. The emotional turmoil. The survival instinct and running on fumes. That wasn’t including how fatigued I was on a normal day just from working myself so hard.
I’d never had a chance to sleep in, always expected to do chores and whatever else my mom and dad asked of me. They never let me rest, and they were judgmental when I wanted to be lazy. “Self-care” was a laughable notion to them.
Here, I could just… be. It couldn’t last, but I dared to dream that what those men did to me triggered a turning point in my life.
I yawned as the last threads of sleepiness left me, and I got up to go to the bathroom. On the way there, I spotted the tray of food. A note had been added, and I stared at the sharp penmanship of Romeo’s message.
I’ll be back.
-R
I set the note down, glad that he’d given me an indication of his pending return.
See? He will be back. I didn’t have to worry about being left here or stranded.
Using the shower, I grimaced at the signs of wear and tear in the small room. While my standards were low, really low to the degree that I was super easy to please, I wondered if this huge house was under renovation. As I cleaned up, careful with my wounds, I envisioned how nice this place could look. New paint and hardware. Remove the chipped and stained tiles. A more up-to-date window with a screen. Even the décor. It all needed fixing or replacing, and mentally redecorating and renovating gave me an escape from reality. Once I was done, I applied all the creams that Danicia left. They went a long way in soothing my stinging flesh.
Back in the room, I smiled at the neat pile of clothes left on a chair.
Romeo asked that I come back today and check on your vitals. (All good.) I didn’t want to wake you. You need all the rest you can get. These clothes are extras, in case you need something to change into. If you need ANYTHING, don’t hesitate to call me.
-Danicia
She really went above and beyond. While it should’ve alarmed me that she came in the room without my knowledge, it wasn’t any different than if I’d gone to the hospital and the shift nurse came on a vitals check. I appreciated it, and I hurried to put on the yoga pants and shirt that seemed closest to my size. The garments were a bit baggy, but it was good enough.
I left my room to find Romeo, hoping for a chance to tell him how grateful I was for Danicia’s help. It might not have seemed like a lot to him, but these displays of consideration were extravagant gifts, in my opinion.
“Romeo?”
I knew a guard had to be near. Romeo and Danicia mentioned one being stationed here. It made me curious—again—as to what organization Romeo worked for. A deadly one. But not law enforcement? He had a funny expression on his face when I asked if he was a hitman.
“But isn’t he one?” I whispered to myself as I searched through the house. If he killed three men, he had to have hunted them down quickly, then had the strength and know-how to pull off that feat. That meant he had resources of some kind.
Questions for later. The food on the tray had gone cold while I napped, so after I searched the upstairs levels, I headed down to locate the kitchen. Food would make me more clear-headed, and I doubted my stomach could grumble any louder.
Maybe I could make him lunch. I frowned, glancing at my watch. Uh, maybe an early dinner? I’d been sleeping so much that my routine was all out of whack.
I found the kitchen and cringed at how dirty and cluttered it was. My guesses seemed accurate. This was no ordinary messiness. It was the chaos of construction—or reconstruction. The house had good bones. I was no expert to know what I was talking about, but I noticed the spaciousness. Homes didn’t have such high ceilings like these anymore. And the huge windows let in so much light. Older features like crown moldings and ornate doorframes made me wonder how old this place was, and I smiled at the prospect of seeing it shed its outer shell of neglect and wear and tear to morph into a grand mansion again.
I sighed, looking through the fridge that seemed to have been updated. It wasn’t the right size for the nook it was shoved into, but it was new and functioning, offering the makings for a sandwich, at least.
Maybe he put this in so he can live here while it’s renovated?
Again, I tried to stem my frustration of having so many questions about Romeo. He looked fit and strong enough to make this a DIY effort of renovation, but I still had no clue who the man really was.
Later. Food now, then when he’s back, I’ll ask more.
He’d been so gentle, letting me rest, and so giving to hold me without expecting anything at all. For all I didn’t know about Romeo, I was fully aware of the qualities that I liked in him so far.
Even the killing part? I cringed a bit as I set out the layers I’d want to make this sandwich complete, but as I turned to put the deli meat into the fridge, I froze.
Outside the windows I’d been admiring, a man crept along a row of hedges.
Fuck! Panic filled me so quickly, I was even faster to hold in a shriek. I’d been pushed onto this adrenaline rush so often lately that I was becoming used to managing it.
Fear didn’t root me in place as I stayed paralyzed and unmoving. If I could see him—and the second guy behind him—they could see me. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I held my breath and watched as they snuck along.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I refused to lose my cool to terror, but I was frightened by their presence. Both of them looked tall, muscled, and grungy in bandanas, leather biker cuts, and raggedy jeans. These were no random trespassers, but members of a motorcycle gang.
What the hell are they doing here?
The Devil’s Brothers MC was a collection of assholes on bikes. The little I knew of them didn’t make me comfortable. They were rumored to traffic women and kids. They were always armed and looking so sinister to use their guns whenever they pleased.
Nina’s brother Ricky once bet with the leader, Reaper, at the Hound and Tea’s private gambling rooms. Because of that bet, Nina decided to be a Mafia boss’s fake girlfriend. The last I’d heard from her was how much she seriously wanted the older man.
Why are they here? What are they doing? I wasn’t informed of where the bikers usually terrorized people, but I couldn’t understand what they’d want here .
Did they see this place looking like a dump and think it’s a vacant home to squat in?
Are they just trespassing and looking around for something to do?
I didn’t know, but when one stood and held up a knife that dripped with blood, my heart raced faster. Air couldn’t enter my lungs fast enough.
That was fresh blood. It was still dripping, and I didn’t want to know what or who they’d killed or hurt.
How is this my life? Why is this happening? Questions flogged my mind, but I didn’t let them keep me locked up. Without moving all of my body, I extended my arm slowly and steadily. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the hilt of a steak knife wedged in the knife block, I pulled it out and held it tightly.
Keeping my eyes on the men, I inched back toward the wall.
Can they see me in here? Are the windows actually dirty enough that they’re not so clear?
Breathing through my nose, I strained not to make a sound. Not to make a big move. If they happened to turn and look through these windows instead of creeping closer to the ones that lined the rear wall of the dining room, I’d be spotted.
Where’s the guard? Is there a guard? Where is Romeo?
A silly thought of Shakespeare’s famous line rang through my mind.
Where art thou, Romeo? Come on. Focus, Tess!
My thoughts were already scattering from yet another hit of anxiety and panic. I couldn’t let myself get hysterical, not now. I had to stay focused, and I tried my best to hide.
Other than that stupid joke, I kept all my attention on the two bikers. If I could reach the wall and sink lower, they wouldn’t be able to see me through the windows at all. Then I could crawl back upstairs and lock myself in a room on the highest floor. This knife was the best I could think of as a weapon, but I almost whimpered in my mind at the wishful prayer of Romeo returning soon. He was a killer. He’d know how to defend himself and me in this situation that made no sense.
Already, I’d identified him as a figure of safety, and it was too ironic that he was likely a bad man according to society.
My heel pressed against the wall, and I shook with a deeper breath of relief.
Okay. I’ve got to be back far enough.
Ever so slowly, watching the men stomping through the overgrown jungle of weeds outside, I dipped toward the floor.
There. I was down, on my knees, ignoring the aches and stings of putting pressure on the skin I’d cut open and bruised when I fell last night. I had to deal with it, and I did, biting the inside of my cheek to distract myself from the pain. I hunched over to crawl away, tucking out of a sight.
A crash sounded outside, and I flinched. Frozen again, I held my breath. My muscles tensed, but I refused to budge. Distant curses reached me, and I thought I heard one biker berating the other for knocking something over.
Okay. Good. It’s all good. They’re out there. I’m in here, and I’ll be safe if I hide. Until Romeo comes back.
Moving over the floor, I tried to reach the stairs. It was a vulnerable pass, exposed between the kitchen and the stairwell. This house was so big, this foyer was so wide, I’d have to sacrifice being more visible to reach the stairs and go up.
Go, Tess. Go. You can do this. He’ll be back. He said he’d be back. So just hang on until ? —
I was halfway to the stairs when someone pounded on the door.
Fuck!
No!
I scrambled upright, torn with the urgency to run up the stairs or hook the deadbolt on the door.
The doorknob twisted, and as I heard the metal of the door’s hardware click, I pushed to stand. Then I lunged at the door, hoping my awkward hold on this puny steak knife would maim whoever was breaking in. Romeo wouldn’t knock. It had to be one of the bikers, coming to hurt me with the bloody blade I saw.
As the door flung open, I screamed and lifted the steak knife.
A slim arm raised to deflect my strike as I braced to slam my hand down. I’d sink this weapon into whoever dared to threaten me. No matter how hard I’d have to fight.
But a familiar voice yelled out.
The face staring back at me wasn’t one of the bikers.
Nina stood there, wide-eyed and terrified as she crouched from my coming hit. “Don’t!”