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“Don’t trust Harry Maine.” He cries out.
Cocking my head to one side, I shake my head.
“No, no, no, you see, I said, ‘Next time, when you try and make a quick buck, don’t hitch your wagon to a cunt like Harry Maine’, you’re not very good at this, Alex, and you only have eight fingers left.”
“NO…NO…. NOOOOOO!!!!!!” As the third finger lands on the cold concrete floor, followed by more vomit and other bodily fluids, I shake my head in disapproval.
“I think you need a break. You clearly really have a bad fucking memory” Pushing myself back up, I move back to the workbench, drowning out the retching and sobs coming from behind me.
“She’s just some dumb fucking slut! Let him have her!” he spits out. Clearly, adrenaline is beginning to kick in for him.
Turning on my heels, I stalk over. Leaning forward, I quietly ask. “What was that?”
“If he wants her so fucking bad, let him have the dumb slut! She fucking ..” Before he can finish the sentence, I drive the butcher knife into his throat. His eyes go wide, and his entire body shakes as he struggles for breath. Pushing the knife in further with great force, I feel the blade cutting further through his flesh and windpipe. Studying the sight before me as the life begins to drain from his eyes, I lean in close.
“I didn’t ask for your fucking advice.”
Slowly pulling the blade out, I watch with intent as his face changes from red to purple, blood pooling down his shirt as his pathetic attempts for breath continues. Shaking off the blade, the thick crimson liquid spatters along the floor, and I wait patiently while the warehouse returns to its previous silence.
After a moment, I toss the knife back down onto the bench. Throwing the gloves into the metal drum nearby, I slide my phone from my back pocket. Pushing open the heavy doors, I take in the night sky as the phone rises to my ear.
“Yeah, I’m done.” Before hanging up.
Summer?
Sitting on the sofa, I lean forward. My elbows placed on my thighs; I nervously pick at my thumb with my forefinger. My mind lost in the darkness behind Bhodi’s eyes. A Look I didn’t recognize, a numbness consumed him. I anxiously slide my phone over, but as soon as the screen lights up, there’s no message, no calls, and no word at all about what’s going on.
Detective Wallace eventually tracked me down and berated me for leaving the hospital, nothing to do with the fact he was likely scrolling through Tinder for hours before realizing I hadn’t come back. Using the situation to my advantage, I explained I was in shock and went home as I didn’t feel safe. He must have felt bad after that. He took a small statement and didn’t stay long. However, he did remind me not to go anywhere.
Like I have anywhere to even go.
I sigh. A knot the size of a rock sits in the pit of my stomach. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I force myself from my seat. Aimlessly walking around the vacant apartment, my mind swims through what Bhodi could be doing right now, where he is, and whether he found Alex. Unable to process a reasonable thought, I brace my palms onto the kitchen island. The ongoing chaos feeling like an overwhelming permanent nightmare I’m stuck in.
He's right, I need to stay away from Detective Grey.
Two/Face’s words sting my ears, and guilt consumes me. The fear of what could happen to Bhodi is just like detective Strode. Glancing down at my clothes, my heart sinks. Bunching the stained wool in my fists, I stretch the fabric out and look to the blood which dried hours ago.
Dragging my feet towards the bathroom and flicking the light on, I see the full extent of the dried blood smears that mark my clothes. Frantically pulling my dress over my head, I throw all my clothes into a pile on the floor, the suffocating fabric feeling like a vice wrapped tight around my entire body.
Stepping across the cool tiles, I slide the shower door open. Pulling on the chrome taps, I step back, allowing the water to hit the shower tray. Once the steam appears, I gently run my hand under it, checking the temperature.
Standing under the water, I allow the warmth to engulf my body. Glancing down, I shudder at the water that runs down the plug hole, a gentle shade of pink. Pulling my gaze away, I reach for the soap. Lathering it in my hands, I allow my hands to gently roam my body, trying to remove any trace of the last few hours. Reaching for the shampoo, a click snaps my head toward the bathroom door.
A chill fills the room. Slowly rising my hand to the screen, I wipe away the steam. As the figure appears, I gasp. Sliding the door open, I see the vacant look. Wiping the water from my face, I quietly whisper.
“Bhodi?”
His eyes meet mine, and a chill sweeps over me in an instant. Taking a single step forward, he doesn’t speak. Spotting the blood stains over his clothes, my eyes widen. My heartbeat increasing rapidly, and looking back at him, my brow furrows.
“Whose blood is that?” Keeping my voice low, I move a little closer, but he shrugs. I feel my body pushing me to get even closer. Reaching out, my shaky hand cups his cheek. I watch as he leans into my touch. A moment of warmth flickers across his cold, gorgeous features. But he just shrugs again. The unanswered question lingers in the air.
I continue to search his face, a vulnerability stares back at me. My gaze wanders his frame. Stepping onto my tiptoes, I push his leather jacket from his shoulders. As it hits the floor with a jolt, I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, but it’s too late. I feel his hand snap around my wrist, pulling me closer, our bodies colliding. A gasp escapes me as my body is pressed into his.
Bhodi’s lips crash to mine, his strong hands grip the back of my thighs, while his tongue dominates mine. Lifting me, I wrap my legs around his waist, my already aching core gently rubbing onto the zipper of his jeans. His large erection strained against the denim. I moan, grinding for more friction. The kiss turns frantic. My hands run through his hair as he walks towards the sink. Feeling my ass land on the sink unit, the feel of cool marble against my flesh takes me by surprise.
Releasing me, I pull again at the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling it over his head, throwing it to one side, and frantically kicking away his boots, Bhodi reaches for the belt of his jeans. Taking a step closer, my thighs are spread wide, gently leaning back on my palms as his broad frame moves over my body. My breath catches in my throat; he doesn’t speak, but the once cold look in his eyes is now ablaze. His eyes never leave mine. Pushing his jeans and boxers past his muscular thighs, we both stand naked in the bathroom.
Reaching for my wrist, his fingers lace around my skin, guiding me towards him. Laying the thick hard flesh in my hands, my eyes widen when my fingers wrap around him.
