Page 101 of Fragile

Swallowing that lump of dread, I couldn’t help but ask the obvious. “Where is your girlfriend?”

He cleared his throat and tugged me closer as a couple passed us on the pavement. The butt of his weapon dug into me again; a warning for me to toe the line. Fear clawed its way around my throat and I felt short of breath. “That wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“Why do you say wasn’t, as in past tense? Did you have her whacked?” My voice shook.

I saw his lip curl in the semblance of a smile as he shot me an incredulous look. “Whacked?”

“Yeah,” I panted.

“So, you think you know who I am?”

“Yes, you’re the mafia.” As I said the words my entire frame tightened in fear, I was so stiff it felt like I could snap.

The stranger must have felt it in my frame as he loosened his death grip on my arm and cooed. “And you’re gutsier than I thought to say that to my face.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t hurt me.”

His lips thinned and his nostrils flared. “As long as you do as I say, you have nothing to worry about.”

When we turned the corner, a young couple were walking along the pavement towards us. My mouth opened automatically to say something but his grip tightened again. “Don’t,” he warned in a gravelly voice.

As my only chance at freedom passed by us none the wiser, we approached a large SUV with blacked-out windows. My chance of escape was slipping with each step and I can honestly say I had never been so afraid in my life. The episode with Simon was nothing compared to this.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he clipped out in a casual tone. Almost like he was considering what tie to wear that day.

The car doors opened and two men dressed in black appeared, one opening the rear door. A sense of panic loomed, the thought of getting in that car feeling like I was signing my own death sentence.

“Please, no,” I cried, trying to pull away, my hair flipping against my face as I glanced up and down the now deserted street. No one to hear my screams.

The weapon which had been held against my body was now shoved into the belt of his jeans. He then grabbed both my arms and yanked me back against his chest. I bit back a growl of frustration.

I turned my head to glance up at him, lines had appeared between his eyebrows. “I won’t hurt you. If you follow my instructions.”

“Please, you’re already hurting me,” I whimpered, his fingers around my arms were painfully tight. As soon as I said those words, he relaxed them and turned me to face him. I squeezed my eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, little fairy,” he said softly. His breath against my face. I could smell the faint tinge of the Whisky he’d ordered earlier and another spirit.

I felt the side of the SUV at my back and I glanced briefly into the vehicle before turning back.

Up close and standing he was massive. My head fell way under his chin and he was huge and rock-like, a tower of strength. If I screamed, he could probably knock me out with one punch. He was so tall and scary-looking, his neck even had tattoos. His goons didn’t look any safer; one was a big hulk of a guy and the other was leaner with a bun in his hair.

“Boss?” the man with the hair-bun questioned, possibly due to the delay of me not getting into the car of doom.

As I stood there, in awe looking up at him, he lifted his hands to his belt and removed the weapon he’d held against my body. It was a gun. A fucking gun and he glanced up and down the street before he raised his hand and pointed it at me. My head swam and I suddenly felt faint as he motioned for me to get into the car with the butt of the weapon.

The dizziness started to escalate.

I winced internally and repeated. “Are you going to kill me?” My stomach squirmed with anxiety.

I watched as he closed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Exhaling sharply, he lowered his hand and then dropped the gun to my knees.

With a blank expression he explained, “No, I am not going to kill you. What do you think I am?” Those unreadable eyes were now on my face.

“A gangster?” I squeaked before I could stop myself. The two men to my left chuckled.

“Exactly and if you know your gangsters, which clearly, you don’t. We find killing boring. It’s too easy and painless. We prefer to maim.”

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