Fury - Page 86

“They will write off your debt. I’ll make sure of that. And then you can get yourself a regular job. Do some graft for a change. If I see you anywhere near Heidi, you won’t live to see another day.”

Chapter Thirty Nine

My body shook, no matter what I did to stop it. A hot shower. A glass of gin. Five cigarettes. Nothing stopped my flesh from convulsing. I poured another drink, the neck of the clear bottle chinking off the lip of the tumbler, the sound tinkling in the room’s silence. Night had surrounded the hotel, a deep red sunset followed by thick darkness. Ever creeping darkness, like it was gathering around me, crushing me, suffocating me.

My heart pounded again, thundering in my chest, each beat pulling my ribs tighter, squeezing. I sank to the floor at the foot of the bed, staring out the windows I hadn’t blocked with the curtains. And I sobbed again, fresh tears flowing over the salty tracks left by the last lot. The tumbler pushed against my lips, my hand suddenly convulsing, splashing my face with the neat gin. Gin that burned my throat, stripping the top layer of cells off my palette.

Three big bangs at the door. I jumped. My heart stopped and started again. Casting a glance over my shoulder, all I could do was sit and look at it. Not able to get off my arse or onto my feet. The bangs came again, heavier and more urgent. I pulled at the duvet on the edge of the bed, wrapping the end around me protectively like it would muffle the sounds and send the person assaulting the hotel door away.

I hadn’t ordered room service, not since the bottle of gin. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I didn’t want to see anyone. I just wanted to sit here, till the gin washed away my memories, the feel of a needle against my skin, of my helpless arms pinned to a chair, of the men whose faces were covered in black. The balaclavas were all I could see every time I closed my eyes.

Another knock. A voice.

“Heidi. Heidi, it’s me. Let me in, doll.”

His voice. My heart fluttered, just enough to stutter the incessant thumping.

“Heidi. Let me in, please,” he said again.

I nodded. Even though he couldn’t see me unwrapping the duvet, draining the last of the gin in the tumbler and gagging as it burnt my throat and my tongue and my cheeks. My legs shook, like they were just columns of jelly, but slowly, shakily, I walked across the room. The chain rattled loudly as I slid it off, the lock turning, clunking in the frame like a heavy iron bolt. I tugged at the door, my arms too weak to pull it open very far, the heavy fire door sticking slightly on the carpet.

Fury stood on the other side, strands of hair dangling loose from the ponytail, dropping down his face. His t-shirt was ripped across the middle, the black material giving way to the bronzed tone of his skin underneath. I should have asked him if he was ok. If he was hurt. But instead, I stood there, gazing up at him, tears filling my eyes, clouding my vision, my body still shaking.

“Doll,” he whispered, stepping towards me. “Fuck. Look at you.”

I felt my bottom lip tremble, and the arms and hands that had never stopped shaking in the last few hours kicked up a notch. And then I felt his arms around me, his skin warm against mine, his body hard and strong, the embrace enveloping every inch of me. His scent was warm, familiar. Safe. I felt safe. Safe to let go of the terror that had plagued me, safe to let go of the anxiety and uncertainty, safe to admit I’d nearly been killed today and had no fucking life to show for it. That when my life flashed before my eyes, there were no memories of note. Only him. His smell, his voice, his flesh.

I sobbed. Wracking, shaking sobs into his chest. Fury didn’t move from me, didn’t say anything. He stroked my hair. His hand smoothing it continuously, his other holding me into him, holding me up.

I don’t know how long I stood in his arms. But eventually the sobs turned to hiccups, and my eyes were as dry as a desert, despite the tears I’d spilled into Fury’s chest. And now I was so tired. Fury coaxed me backwards a step, my legs wobbling, someone pulling the bones out of them altogether, and I faltered. His hands scooped around the back of my legs, lifting, picking me up and pulling me into his chest. And now I was warm, nestled against him, safe in those big arms. Taking the few steps towards the window, where the small settee looked out over the River Tyne, he carefully set me down.

Fury dropped to his knees, nestling between my legs, placing his hands on either side of my face and tilting it up to meet his gaze. His eyes were soft. Still dark, still deep with richness, flooded with concern, searching mine for answers to questions I didn’t know. His eyes roamed my face, brushing away the streaks of tears with the tip of his thumb. And then, gripping my face just a little harder, not enough to make me wince, but enough to inhale, he pushed his lips against mine. They were soft, tentative, gentle caresses, a little flick of his tongue, tasting, not eating me alive. A little pluck of my bottom lip, still gentle, slow. Different. It was like we’d never kissed before, and it was forbidden, and that one of us would pull away at any second.

I kissed back, feeling the heat of his mouth against mine, the chill that had set into my bones after he’d rescued me from the warehouse ebbing away, each brush of his lips and swish of his tongue making it retreat further. A ball of warmth settled in my chest, radiating outwards. And my body, which shook relentlessly, and my mind which had been swirling around like the drum of a washing machine, slowly, slowly became still.

Fury pulled away, his face not moving far, placing his forehead to mine and now we sat our eyes closed, listening to each other breathe. His breaths were slow and long, mine still erratic, an involuntary sob pulling at my chest every few seconds. But my heart was slowing, the pulsing against my ribs no longer hurting as it retreated deep inside my flesh.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Hmmm?” Fury asked, as if I’d pulled his mind from somewhere else.

“Thank you for saving me, Fury.”

“I’m sorry you needed to be saved.”

“I’m scared, Fury.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about. Not anymore.”

“They’ll come for me again.”

“They won’t, doll. No one will touch you ever again.”

“How do you know, Fury?” I searched his face, but there wasn’t a hint of arrogance. Just sincerity.

“I’ve made sure they can never hurt you again.”

I pulled backwards slightly, like having more space to look at him would confirm what I thought he was saying to me. But I couldn’t tell. His face was steady, his gaze unwavering. But I had to know. I had to know whether these men would come back for me, that whatever Fury had said to them would scare them off.