Gangster's Girl (Complete)

Chapter 3 - Part 2

In the dark, the nightmares took hold, and I was up shivering, trying to figure out how Angel was going to get me out of this big mess because from where I stood, there was no way out.

I'd heard frightening stories about the Vincent brothers and I knew for sure I didn't want to get tangled up with that. They were evil men who did evil things.

Who exchanged people for monetary debt? It was barbaric and archaic.

Eventually, tired of trying to get some sleep and knowing I would not get any, I got up and showered. I found all my old clothes in the walk-in wardrobe. It felt like going back two years as I browsed through my clothes and I also found some boxes filled with my personal stuff. It took be back to a time before Angel had sent me into exile. I didn't know how all my old stuff had ended up at Angel's. It was something I planned on asking him. At least I had clothes, even if they were a little big.

When I had left the small town I had been living in the last two years, I had left everything behind. The life I had led had been a lie, under an assumed name. I didn't want any part of it.

I pulled on a shirt and shorts before I headed downstairs. My mom had always made me warm milk when I hadn't been able to sleep and after the day I had something nostalgic was just what I needed, even if I wasn't so sure it would work.

The house was silent. The light in Angel's study was still on. I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to see him when I was feeling as vulnerable as I was. The only way I could usually deal with him. The anger I felt for him was my protection against him. Without it, I had to face that I might not always hate him as much as I wanted to.

Throughout our childhood, he had been an annoyance, a stupid boy that knew nothing. But as we had gotten older, as Angel had matured, I had looked at him differently. When he turned sixteen, my heart had fluttered at the sight of him and that's when I had developed a crush on him. His brooding good looks had made my knees weak, and I hadn't been able to fight it.

It had taken me two years before I felt confident to make a move. I had built up the courage with alcohol, which had not been my best decision making. I had gone to his bedroom, lay seductively on his bed, and waited for him.

In my daydreams, he would see me and it would be love at first sight. It was my thirst for fairytales that had played it out in my head so many times I had believed it to be a reality.

It had horrified him to find me waiting for him invitingly, dressed in lingerie I had nervously bought the day before. He had turned me down flat. Confidence shattered and feelings crushed. I had fled his room.

I had barely looked at him after that. Every time I remembered my drunken proposition, I wanted to die of embarrassment at my immature attempt at seduction.

But I still found him attractive no matter how much I didn't want to, and it scared me. How could I still look at him like that when he had treated me so terribly? Was I destined to become my mother? Could I control the outcome? Was it inbuilt in me, right down to my DNA, to feel something for someone who would treat me as bad as my father had treated my mother?

I didn't immediately believe Angel would cheat like my father did, but he was very dominant and I didn't want to play the role of the submissive partner. I wanted to be an equal, not something to be owned. But it wasn't like he was interested in me like that at all, and he had used every chance to show me that.

After the incident, he had paraded every girl he had been with in front of me to push the point home that he had no interest in me in that way. It had hurt so badly, but I have never shown it. The girls had been beautiful and sophisticated; I had felt like a troll in comparison.

In the kitchen, I warmed up some milk a little and sat at the table with my thoughts about my mother wading through better memories from my childhood. I yawned, but I knew I would just toss and turn if I went back up to bed, so I took my slightly warm drink and went to the living room to find something to keep my mind off what was really bugging me.

There was nothing on the TV but the background noise took my mind off my thoughts of what the Vincents would do to me if they got me.

"You okay?" a voice interrupted me. Angel stood in the doorway. His collar undone and his sleeves rolled up. He was strikingly good looking. Midnight black hair with dark eyelashes to bring out his dark blue eyes that sometimes, especially when he was angry, looked like dark sapphires. Physically, I couldn't fault him on anything. In fact, it was hard to find anything wrong with him until he opened his mouth. He looked effortlessly handsome, and I hated how he looked this good with no effort. Whereas I probably looked every inch, the sleepless night I was having. I glimpsed the dark hair on his chest. I swallowed and nodded.

"Nothing like scary gangsters after me to keep me up all night long." I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. How did he expect me to sleep when there was so much at stake, like my life? It wasn't even like I had brought this on myself. My only mistake was being the daughter of a father who didn't give a shit.

"Now you understand why I didn't want to tell you before." He joined me on the sofa.

I nodded, cradling the warmth of the cup of milk.

"How did you plan my death?" I asked, curious to know how he had pulled it off.

"The less you know, the better."

It was like trying to draw blood from a stone with him and I didn't have the patience for it.

"Why won't you tell me anything?" It was beyond frustrating.

"In my world, it's better to only know what you have to."

I rolled my eyes. He was always so careful about everything; it was annoying. A man in his position had to be careful, but he took it to a whole new level.

"What happened to my father's house?" I asked, changing the subject to hopefully one he would answer my questions without reserve.

"He sold it."

It felt like I had no roots in a town I had spent almost my entire life. I felt a loss for something I couldn't explain.

Angel studied me, but I refused to show what was going on inside.

"I have a question."

He nodded.

"Why do you have all of my stuff I left at my house?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"It does." I gave him a side glance.

"I didn't want him to throw your stuff out."

So he had kept them. Knowing that did something strange in my chest.

"If I didn't know you better, I might believe you actually care, Angel." But I knew better than to believe that.

He scoffed at me. "Don't interpret my acts of kindness as something else, Kira. I don't want any repeat drunken propositions."

His dig hit me straight in the chest, bringing up the old feelings of embarrassment and resentment. The warm milk from my cup hit him in the face before I even realized what I had done. I shot up and stood back, afraid I had pushed him too far this time. The empty cup in my tight grip.

"Get out before I do something I'm going to regret." His threat was low, but it didn't make it less frightening. I got out there as quick as I could, hating that I had lashed out without even thinking. He made me do stupid things, things I wouldn't normally do.

He brought out the temperamental, angry, insecure person out in me.

I made one stop in the kitchen to get rid of the cup before I dashed upstairs to my room. I locked it just in case his anger didn't wear off.

Feeling out of sorts, because that had been so out of character for me. I was used to the digs and the undercurrent of contempt between us, but I had never physically lashed out at him like that. I wasn't completely to blame. He shouldn't have made the comment about a vulnerable moment in my life where I had made a mistake. I didn't need any reminding of it.

When I thought about, I totally believed he deserved it. Why say something like that? It was a low blow.