Chapter 49 Rí – Briar
Rí
brIAR
Now
I haven’t seen Koen since our little stand-off outside of the Conservatory days ago.
Realizing he’s even more unhinged than I thought, I gave in. Freezing my ass off on that goddamn bike all the way home.
The Chinese food was waiting for me when I got there, and Koen took his leave. But not before giving me one last order to eat.
Fucking prick.
If I hadn’t been on the verge of my stomach eating itself, I would’ve left the food on the counter, untouched. But your girl is a sucker for some good Chinese takeout, and Koen called the good place, ordering up enough Lo Mein and Teriyaki sticks to last me a week.
I was greeted once again this morning by Mac, who drove me to rehearsals, and sat outside again all day keeping watch.
It’s after dark when I decide to brave the night, surprised to find Mac waiting for me outside in the SUV.
I felt sure it would be Koen finally, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since Monday night, even checking my messages again to be sure.
I quickly bury the spike of disappointment his absence brings on the ride home.
Good riddance, honestly. Maybe he decided I’m just not worth the trouble, and I only have another week of free rides back and forth to dance to worry about now.
Giovanni’s not thrilled about it, wanting constant updates, but I can’t exactly work over the mafia boss if he’s not around, can I?
I get home, eating some of the leftover Chinese food, before taking a shower and throwing on some dance shorts and an oversized t-shirt to sleep in.
Even after putting in extra hours at the studio today, I feel restless.
It’s pretty late by the time I finish everything, but I already know I’m not going to be able to sleep, so I try turning on the TV.
After spending about a half-hour watching streaming previews with still no idea what to watch, I shut it off.
I pick up the book I left cracked on the arm of the sofa, only to drop it back there a few minutes later. My mind too keyed up to focus.
I check my phone again. I said goodnight to Remi at the studio and she’s likely been asleep for hours now, so there’s nothing from Lily. Still no text from Koen, and Gio’s finally left me alone. Dropping the phone on my bed, I wander over to the window, looking down into the dark alleyway.
For weeks, I’ve felt like I’ve had eyes on me, an inexplicable feeling that I’m not alone, but not tonight.
Tonight, I feel more alone than I ever have.
The apartment is quiet, cold, and dark without Lily and Remi here.
I wrap my arms around myself, making the decision to go to bed.
I’d rather go to sleep than feel this sorry for myself.
I toss and turn for hours. At some point it starts to rain, the droplets careening off the window, falling hard on the ceiling above.
Usually I love the sound of the rain, not rain machines—ew—but actual, real life rain.
It’s soothing. But tonight, every single drop that hits the glass is like a stone to my brain.
The sound is driving me crazy. I lay there, my arms hugging the pillow, eyes closed, reminding myself that studies show even resting with your eyes closed is still better than just staying up.
I don’t know how to explain it, but I sense him before I see him.
My eyes fly open just as a large shadow moves across my window five stories up. I push myself up on my elbows, my heart hammering as I watch the dark shadow, tall with broad shoulders, make its way across the narrow bridge of the fire escape and stop at the window that leads into my bedroom.
His hood is up, and through the wet glass, I see him pull out a knife.
I should scream—should grab my phone or make a run for it, but I don’t. My fist tightens around my blankets as he slips the blade through the crack in the metal, running it up, and with the smallest click, flicks up the latch.
My eyebrows rise when he pushes the glass in, opening the window and climbing inside with an ease and grace I wouldn’t have guessed from a man of his size.
He’s soaked. Water drips from his hood, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes.
Reaching up, he pushes his hair out of his face, freezing when he finds me looking at him.
“I have a front door,” I sigh with a defeated huff.
“I know,” Koen says, his voice quiet.
“What are you doing here?” I’m exhausted, and if he thinks we’re going in on yet another battle of wills, I’m just going to tell him to shove it.
“I don’t want to stay outside tonight,” he shrugs, taking a step closer, turning and closing the window behind him, reaching up and resetting the latch.
My brow furrows in confusion. “Stay outside? Why would you—” My breath catches, fisting the blankets in my hand harder when I realize. Koen’s been outside—watching? I didn’t imagine someone out there watching me. It was him.
He moves closer, stepping into the warm glow from the light outside, his body is stiff, and he’s moving weirdly, holding one arm tucked into his side.
“I—Wait, are you bleeding?”
Without thinking, I push off the blankets, rushing toward him.
He is bleeding. Crimson rivulets drip from his fingertips, his hand falling uselessly to his side.
I notice the blood is coming from inside the sleeve of his hoodie.
His other hand is holding that arm tightly, applying pressure to somewhere on his upper arm.
“Did you get shot?” My eyes widen as I get closer, my hands going instinctively to where the blood is still soaking through his sweatshirt..
“It’s fine,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulder in an attempt to shake me off, only to wince, a flash of pain appearing on his face before he schools it back into a frown.
“It’s not fine. Sit down.” I attack the other side of him, nudging him toward my bed. My room isn’t very big, so it’s only a foot away. To my surprise, he lets me guide him there, sinking down to the mattress with a slight groan of pain.
“Can I—?” My hands hover over him, pointing to where his hand is wrapped tight around the blood soaked fabric, hoping he’ll let me take a look. He stares at me for a long second, an unreadable expression on his face, before he dips his chin, shifting over to make space for me on the bed.
I sink down next to him, realizing I can’t see anything through his clothes. I reach down, hooking my fingertips under the hem of his hoodie. “We have to take this off.”
His eyes slide to mine, and he nods silently, helping me pull the sweatshirt off of him.
I frown at the blood soaked gray tee underneath.
“You don’t own any color?” I say without thinking, and his gaze meets mine, sharing a look while my question goes unanswered.
My attention snaps to the blood gushing out of his arm.
“Holy shit! You actually did get shot!” I don’t know what I expected, but the sight of the real live gunshot wound takes me aback, and I feel the blood rush out of my face, leaving my head a little dizzy.
“It’s just a graze.”
“A graze? You have a hole in your arm!”
“It went clean through,” Koen says, shifting his weight on my mattress. “I just need to sleep it off.”
My mouth falls open. “You want to sleep off a gunshot wound? Mister ‘you didn’t clean your wounds properly’ wants to sleep off his own?” I shake my head at him, and the corner of his mouth ticks up, amused.
“You need to go the hospital.”
He stiffens and his eyes go hard. “No hospital.”
“But…” My eyes drop to the literal gun shot wound in his arm.
“No hospital,” he growls, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I feel his eyes track me all the way out of the bedroom, and again when I return, bringing with me the first aid kit from the bathroom and some warm, damp towels.
Settling back down on the bed, I start to wipe away the blood. I’m no med student but I’ve watched enough television to know we have to clean it or it could get infected. They usually end up having to stitch the wound closed too, but I shake away the thought. One thing at a time.
“Can you take off your shirt?”
He nods, reaching back over his shoulder with his good arm, and ripping off the gray t-shirt—saturated in blood—with one hand, and holy hell, I forget how to breathe.
His muscles are larger, thicker since the last time I saw them, water coats his skin, the wet sheen highlighting the deep contours of his body.
My fingers twitch to roam over his defined abdomen, to feel the ripples beneath my touch.
He’s covered in dark ink. Only black, shaded with gray. There’s hardly any skin visible on his right arm, the ink spreading over his chest. My heart stutters at the familiar hawk he has flying over his heart, but it stops entirely at the small red rose just above it.
A single splash of color amongst nothing but dark ink.
He still has it.
My eyes pull to his. He catches me looking, and a soft smile appears on his lips.
And for a moment, he’s not the hardened mafia boss controlling me for his own gain, or the violent and dangerous father of my child I need to run from.
For a moment, he’s just Koen. Hard eyes soften when they look at me, all his defenses; his barbed wire and guns have been ordered to stand down.
Right here is the guy who took me to a midnight firework show, dared me to get my first tattoo, and who made me come for the first time.
Rí.
His throat clears and I’m snapped from my train of thought, seeing the blood and remembering I’m supposed to be doing something. I move slowly, lifting one of the damp towels to start cleaning away some of the blood.
Koen sits very still.
“What happened?” I ask softly, wondering if he’ll tell me.