Page 55 of Take A Chance

The man lunged at me again, knife raised, but my reflexes had already kicked in and I moved back quickly. His blade sliced through my side, but he stumbled forward, his momentum pushing him toward the wall. I slammed my fist into his face, and he staggered backward. He tried to swing the blade again, but I dodged it and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard until he dropped the knife to the ground.

He tried to break away from me, but I held firm and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt with my other hand. With one swift motion, I spun him around so that he was facing away from me and put him in a headlock before slamming his body against the alley wall. He grunted in pain as he hit the plaster with force and dropped to the ground like a ragdoll.

I had to recover, catching my breath and he popped to his feet then lunged at me again, this time both hands outstretched for my neck. I stepped back, and his hands struck air. He was getting frustrated, and I could see it in his eyes. I flew forward, smashing my elbow into his stomach as he stumbled back. He fell to the ground, gasping for air, and I stepped up over him, pinning his arms down with my feet.

“You’re done here. Amelia is staying with me."

I looked down at him as he lay there on the ground. It was a fight I never wanted but knew would happen eventually the minute I learned who she was.

He spat in my face and laughed. "You're a dead man, Emmerson." He drove his head upward, smashing into my face, and I fell to the side, covering my nose. For a moment I saw stars, blinking hard to make my eyes work again. Then I felt his foot connect with my gut, forcing air up out of my lungs. He laughed again and walked away from me, but I knew he'd be back, so I forced myself off the ground.

"You're going to regret this," I told him, leaning on the dumpster.

He ran toward me, knife ready, and I knew this was my last chance. I lunged to the side, avoiding his blade, and then brought my leg up in a swift kick that sent him flying backward. He crashed onto the ground and dropped his knife. I pounced on him before he had a chance to recover and pinned him to the ground with one hand gripping his shirt collar.

“You need to tell Bonetti that he can’t have Amelia back, not now, not ever. She’s mine, do you understand? Mine.” I looked him square in the eyes as he nodded slowly in agreement. This time, it was my turn to smirk. “Consider yourself lucky that you still get a chance at life."

I grabbed his jacket lapels and slammed him into the ground, his head connecting with the pavement. He cried out in pain, and I rolled to the side, exhausted and panting for breath. He was out cold, and I was bleeding. I touched my side and winced. The cut was deep, but not bad enough to kill me.

I staggered into the apartment after pushing past my guards who all wanted to fuss over me. Paul called Garrett out and left me to bleed on my carpet. I slumped down by the door, and when it clicked shut, Emma came out of the bedroom. Her eyes were wide with fright and puffy from crying, and she raced to my side.

“Oh, my God, Blake, what happened?”

I had to have looked awful. I felt blood trickling from my nose, probably broken. The guy had gotten in a few good punches, and my ribs were sore, but the worst was the stream of blood leaking from my gut, just below my ribs on the right side. His blade had clipped me good, leaving a long gash through my shirt and skin.

“I forgot dinner,” I mumbled, but she didn't laugh. She was hysterical, rushing for a hand towel and pressing it into the cut. “Ouch,” I hissed, sucking in a breath.

“What happened? Tell me now!”

I couldn’t tell if her bedside manner was rough because she was scared or if she was punishing me for whatever ill-conceived plan she thought I had perpetuated. All I could do was take it, grimacing and biting my tongue to not frighten her further.

“I got attacked, okay?”

“By who? My father’s men?” Her hands pressed the towel into my side, and I reached up with blood-stained hands to wipe her tears away.

“I sent a message, okay? You’re safe with me.”

“This doesn’t look safe, Blake!” Her hands trembled, and I caught them, squeezing them.

“Look at me...” I gripped her hands tighter, but she tried to wrestle away. “Look at me!” I shouted, my voice louder than her sobs. Her eyes turned up to mine.

“Blake, who are you?” she asked, searching me with her gaze.

“Emma, don’t ask that.” I pushed myself up, sitting taller against the wall. I could feel the blood caked to my side, making the shirt cling to me, and I knew I needed to get out of the soiled garment before it dried to my wound, but this came first.

“No, I can’t do this, Blake. Something is wrong. You’re different. It feels dangerous, like you’re not who you said you were.” I saw the fear in her eyes and knew my past had come back to haunt me. She was terrified, and I’d done it.

“Help me,” I told her, rising. She stood next to me, and I draped my arm over her shoulder. She offered enough support to help me limp my way to the bathroom, then she helped me undress. In the light I noticed the cut was worse than I initially thought, probably needed stitches, but I wasn’t going to a hospital. I wasn’t leaving her alone again.

She sat on the toilet, using a warm washcloth to wipe the blood from my side. I winced each time she touched me but held still for her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she worked, and I thought of how to tell her my story, what had happened. Who I was. I didn’t want her to run away from me, and telling her the truth would mean a risk, but she had to know. When I started speaking, her actions slowed, but she didn’t draw away.

“I had a few run-ins.” I winced as she brushed the wound, but more so because I had already told a lie, so I corrected myself. “More than a few... I did a lot of business with the Russians, money laundering, munitions trafficking.” She stayed quiet as I continued. “When Katelyn’s mother played me, I sent her away. I told people it was because she threatened to bankrupt me with her spending, but it wasn’t that. She was a plant, sent to spy on me and get at my weak spots. The Bratva wanted me backed into a corner, and I refused to play ball. I sent her away, gave her what she needed to get away, and she left.”

“But Katelyn...” she whispered, taking a step back.

“Is just like you. Daughter of a mafia family. Her mother is in the wind, hopefully safe somewhere now. I never wished her ill will. It wasn’t her plot.” I clasped Emma’s hand in mine and brought it to my lips. “I forced her to leave to keep her safe, but I’m not losing you. You got that? You’re mine, and even if I have to bring down the Italians and the Russians at the same time, I’m keeping you.”

“Oh, Blake,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing. It forced my head into her chest and my nose got a stabbing pain. I yelped, and she pulled away. “God, I’m so sorry.”

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