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Chapter 8 I Took This When I Escaped

  • He plops down where a glass wall would be when the building is finished, his legs dangling off the edge. He reaches in his jacket pocket and grabs a pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds which are his favourites, and he lights one up.
  • He rarely smokes, but once in a while, like now, when his world has been shaken.
  • Justin smokes heavily, in silence, abstracted by his thoughts, a sort of cloud on his level, dark brows.
  • Lately, he's been chain-smoking like a felon. He's not a heavy smoker. Smoking is an outward signal of his inner turmoil or conflict and has less to do with nicotine. Yet he inhales until his lungs fill with the toxic smoke.
  • Feeling like shit (which doesn't happen often), he lets go of the lit cigarette just to see if the ember will outlast the fall. His mind is in turmoil, shambles.
  • Does he regret kissing her? Not all. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Those sweet lips. My, oh my, he could kiss those lips all night long. He wants to finish what he started pretty fucking bad. He never likes leaving anything half-done.
  • But the fact that she is from a rival mafia family and the two families have been caught in gang wars for the past ten years is enough reason for him to hold back his desire for her. Still, he doubts this urge will ever go away unless he's satiated, but that's never going to happen.
  • They say 'Good things come to those who wait'.
  • A man can hope, right?
  • Justin has always been used to getting what he wants. His wealth and power have spoiled him. There is nothing that he wants that he can't possess.
  • He's had a small bit of the forbidden fruit, and fuck was it sweet. He wants more but his hands are tied. He has his family and empire to protect.
  • He wants her, his body wants to claim hers. He belatedly recognizes that fact, and the knowledge panics him.
  • He lights another cigarette and wonders distantly how he would get through the day. It's a problem demanding some ingenuity.
  • Michelle sits at the end of the room, watching Justin as he draws deeply on the long cigarette until his cigarette is gone. The puff of smoke blows around him as he exhales. Then flicking it to the ground below, like it meant nothing. She thinks the man smokes like a freight train.
  • Justin inhales, the smoke entering his body and filling it with poison, all his energy focused on smoking the cigarette. He's peculiarly conscious of the girl sitting next to him, her legs folded against her chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting on her knees. The girl has quite forgotten what one can see in peripheral vision, she's staring and there seems no end to her fascination.
  • She looks him over. He's dressed all in black; black skinny jeans, ripped by the knees, black boots, a black v neck shirt and a black leather jacket.
  • The clothes can't hide his bulging muscles and powerful torso. He's easily the hottest thing to ever walk planet earth and she knows it.
  • Her wet thighs can assert that.
  • Her gaze only breaks when Justin turns his head her way and she focuses all her attention on doodling on the dusty floor. He can't help the assuming grin that spreads across his face.
  • "Adorable." He mumbles.
  • Justin reaches for the pack only to discover that was his last cigarette.
  • Fucking hell.
  • He just smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in under thirty minutes. He must be fucking stressed. He crashes the pack and throws it to the ground, piling it up with the cigarette butts and plays with the lighter instead.
  • They sit in silence for another thirty minutes. No one speaks, what is there to say?
  • With no words being spoken between them, the open space fills with heavy air and very awkward silence, making Michelle squirm with nervousness. The air is brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, she might.
  • She wonders if she should break the ice. But what would she say? However, the option is taken away when she hears his deep voice suddenly asks.
  • "What did those men want from you?" she tenses but doesn't respond, her head still placed on her knees.
  • Justin continues. "Did you perhaps, steal from them?" He knows that's highly unlikely and has only asked to elicit a response from her. It works like a charm and he struggles to hold back a snort.
  • Michelle's head whips up, her look direct, scandalous. Then her brow furrows and looks away again. "I did not." She snarls.
  • "Oh. It looked like they had been searching for something very important. Are you sure you didn't swipe anything by mistake? Frankly speaking, I see little girls like you every day. All the same as the others. Same attitude, same smart mouth, rebellious and thinking joining a gang is cool. They steal, do drugs, y'know, naughty little girls with issues."
  • Michelle's head lifts fractionally. The killing intent in her eyes is generous. She feels a flare of anger within her shouting at him. "I said I did not!"
  • "Hey," he holds his hands up in surrender. "Well, there is no judgement here, sweetheart." A tiny, teasing smile hooks his lips. Something about his arrogance just makes her angrier. She longs to see his cockiness break.
  • Justin finally laughs, the sound low and husky. "It was just an innocent question." Michelle just glares with a promise of future retaliation.
  • She is just so easy to tease and hot-headed. A vicious little hellcat—all teeth and claws. And she wants to use them, trying to claw at him.
  • Michelle glances at the gun and Justin does the same.
  • He picks the gun up and conceals it in the waistband of his jeans. "Relax, I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
  • "Sicko." She mumbles, her scowling expression never faltering.
  • Michelle glances toward the concrete stairs, worrying her bottom lip.
  • "Planning to leave." Justin waves his hand toward the exit. "Go ahead. I'm not holding you here." Michelle is deeply sceptical about what he just said, wondering if she can really leave.
  • She's hesitant, "Can I really leave? And...and you won't stop me?" Justin nods solemnly. "And the gun?"
  • "It's merely for self-defence. I see no threat so I won't use it. Besides, you're carrying one too." Michelle tenses. She thought she had hidden it well. "Though, I don't know why you didn't pull it on me."
  • "It's for self-defence." She mumbles echoing his words. Justin hums in amusement. "How can I trust you?"
  • "You're not dead yet. And I'm giving you a chance to run."
  • Michelle squints at him, "That does mean you won't turn and kill me. Maybe you like it when your victims. The thrill of the chase." His answering grin is dark.
  • "How did you guess?" Michelle visibly blanches at his response.
  • Justin bursts out into a roaring belly laugh.
  • Hearing Justin's laugh ridicule her, inflamed the temperature gauge in Michelle. Stirring the fire of endless hatred, all she can do is glare angrily at him with her eyes wide and as threatening as she can.
  • Considering her display of displeasure is becoming regular, her eye widening exercises to send out death glares have been used at least a few times — the day has not even come to an end yet — and nearly all of them are directed to the one responsible and sitting in front of her.
  • Michelle stands ready to leave.
  • "And how are you going to get back." Justin suddenly says. "Say you somehow find your way to the off-road, which by the way will take you about an hour and a half. Then you will need to find your way to the main highway. That's another two to three hours walk. It would be dusk by then. Then what? You hitchhike. By some unfortunate turn of events, you are picked up the biggest psychopath out there."
  • Justin pauses to fix his gaze directly at her, "That would be an interesting front-page story. Don't you think?"
  • "Aren't you a psychopath yourself?" She grumbles.
  • He flashes her a knowing smile. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't." His words deflate her and she sinks back to the floor. "Good choice." He coos.
  • "Why were those men after you?" Justin just can't get it out of his mind. There is no connection between the Wilson family and the Gray family. Gray doesn't endeavour in drugs and Wilson doesn't endeavour in arms dealing.
  • So why?
  • "I didn't steal anything?" she says brusquely.
  • "I didn't say you did." Justin narrows his eyes. His face losing all expression.
  • Michelle pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze, contemplating what she should say.
  • "Hey. Look at me." He bites out through his teeth. She's hiding something and he wants to know what it is. Justin scrutinizes her, his fixed stare intense. As if through a haze, she meets his intense gaze. "Tell me what you took."
  • Her brow scrunches. She reaches into her pants' pocket. Michelle holds out her hand toward him, slowly she unclenches her fist. Lying on her palm is a blue and white USB flash drive.
  • "I took this with me when I escaped."