18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
“He’s one of the good guys. And by that I mean, he does as he’s told. He's one of my best underlings.”
Again, I yell as best I can—thrashing against my bindings.
“Oh, baby.” Curren’s voice sounds like flattery, and he rubs his hands over Issak’s biceps. “I’m impressed. You hacked the government for me?”
As Issak absorbs the praise, Curren turns him around to face me. He wraps one arm around his chest to hug him from behind, then walks him towards me.
“Just look at his face,” Curren gloats, rubbing his temple against Issak’s hair. “There’s so much betrayal there.”
Issak leans back against Curren’s shoulder to look down his nose at me. “He trusted me. I said jump, and he asked how high.”
“You’re so clever. Why don't you tell him exactly what you did to get him here?” Curren burrows his nose into Issak’s neck and grips the bundle of hair that’s tied up at the back of his head. “Or do you wanna save that just for me?”
“I… I… I want to…”
“Shhh.” Curren’s voice calms him. “It’s okay.
Just relax. I’m so proud of you, Marius.
Everything you’ve done. How far you’ve come from where you started.
You’ve done more than I could ever do. And the fact you did it all for me…
I really don’t know how to say thank you…
I loved being your hero. I loved protecting you.
I loved being the shoulder you needed to rest on. And I love that you gave me a purpose.”
Inhaling deeply, then slowly releasing it, Issak’s face relaxes to a state of overwhelming contentment. Rubbing the back of his head against Curren’s shoulder, he smiles and says, “I love you.”
“I know.”
“Tell me you love me back.”
The second Issak's plea has left his lips, Curren’s eyes are like magnets to mine and there’s a fire back inside them.
“I can’t,” he whispers in Issak’s ear. “Because I’ve never been yours.”
Issak’s eyes jolt open, and as he turns around, Curren plunges his knife straight into his heart.
With no time to react, Issak’s eyes bulge.
Then, as swiftly as he drove the knife in, Curren rips it out.
Holding the weight of Issak’s body by his hair, he dangles him in front of my face. He then forces the knife under his ear and up into his brain, tears it back out, reaches around, and slits his throat.
Hot blood sprays against me.
My eyes blink furiously, desperate to maintain contact with Curren’s. But all I see are another man’s dying eyes and an everlasting expression of sorrow.
I turn my head away from the direct stream and try to blow it out of my nose.
“Curren,” I splutter. “Curren.”
With a thud, he tosses Issak’s body beside me where it lands in a crumpled pile. Blood continues to furiously spurt from within his hemorrhaging body, and his short circuiting nerves have him convulsing closer and closer to falling through the floor.
I can't look away—dumbfounded by how quickly it all happened.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Heart. Neck. Throat—gone.
I don’t know which way is up.
What’s truth or fiction.
What’s going to happen to me now.
A hand swipes at my face, then again and again, trying to wipe away the blood.
“Damn it.” Curren drops to his feet. With his knife between his teeth, he rips open his waistcoat and the buttons fly. “I’m sorry,” he tells me, his voice trembling as he drags silk and cotton over my face and neck.
Tossing the waistcoat aside, he tries to pull the tape from over my mouth, but his fingers slip. After wiping his glove on his trousers, he tries again, but curses when he can’t get any grip.
With no hesitation, he unfastens his glove and tears it off. His fingernails scratch against my skin as he picks and picks at the tape until he gains enough purchase to peel it off.
The depth of the breath I suck in widens my eyes, and before I have time to exhale, Curren is forcing my head forward to meet his lips.
Bitter.
Copper.
Issak’s blood is all over both our tongues, and it’s like fuel to an already roaring blaze.
When I try to pull back; to say something—anything, he holds my head firm with his still gloved hand, and reaches behind me. With one smooth slice, my arms separate, and with the tape still stuck to my shirt, I reach for Curren’s hair; his chestnut waves smearing with blood.
"You need to go."
“I’m so sorry.” Curren returns his knife to his ankle holster, then his mouth is back on mine—his bare hand running over my scalp.
“No sorry’s," I mumble because neither of us can bear to tear our mouths away from the other. "But just because you killed for me doesn’t mean you get to disobey my rules.”
“Fucking hell.” Curren pushes his forehead against mine as he stands.
My arms instantly grapple to get his body closer, but he grabs my wrists, and as he climbs onto my lap, he forces me to feel how hard he is.
“I’ve been like this since I stood him in front of you…
I was so excited… I couldn’t wait to kill him for you. ”
Impulsively, I grip him as best I can. “Best not turn it into a habit, though.”
With blood smudged across his chin and cheeks, and sweat trickling from his temples, his expression turns devious. “And why not?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“With our skills and your connections, we could—“
“You’ve forgotten my legs.”
“Can you believe that bastard thought he stood a chance?”
"Curren."
“In what world would he ever be enough?”
“Listen to me."
“I’d never let him touch me… I’d rather die than fuck him.”
"Curren!" I stop him in his tracks by yanking his head backwards. "You forgot my legs."
The typography of his neck, streaked with crimson, dances as he smugly tells me, “No, I haven’t.”
“Curren. You need to cut me out, then leave.”
“I’m not leaving.” He shakes his head and some of the black lines etched into his flesh poke out around his collar.
“Don’t start your puppy bullshit.”
“Then don’t call me a puppy.”
“I’m serious.” From one extreme to the other, I pry his head forward and look him dead in the eye. “You need to get the fuck out of England—I don’t care where.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Meet me in Greece. In two weeks, at the resort we talked about.”
“No.”
“Curren!” I yell, and the echo repeats his name for every floor we are high.
“Jude,” he whispers against my lips.
“Please.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Nothing will happen to me, but I can’t protect you.
This—” I jerk my chin towards Issak, “Can be explained away. I have all the evidence I need, but you’ll muddy that.
I can’t have you taken away from me.” A boiling hot tear runs down my cheek.
"Just now, when I thought you and him were… I was trying to throw myself over the edge.”
Curren removes his second glove and throws it down the hole, like he's telling me he doesn't need them anymore. Grabbing the side of the chair, he pulls it away from the edge, then takes my battered, bruised, and bloody face in his bare hands. “I need you more than I need breath, Jude. There’s no way I was gonna let you leave, even if you wanted to go. You belong to me for as long as I keep living.”
“I've never been a jealous man."
“But I'm one,” he smirks, eyeing my mouth before looking back up. “I’m not willing to share you with anyone. And I can’t promise I’ll be a good boy if anything else tries to come between us… Including your job.”