Ruby Laswell x Ghost (Vol. 2-4) Shattered Souls/Bandaged Bruises/Sinful Souls

2.

"Where is Makarov?" Another punch from Ghost lands in the man's face as Gaz and Price guard the doorstep inconspicuously.

"And why would I tell some lousy American Brits?" The Russian spats out blood onto the ground.

"Because we aren't afraid to torture you until you do tell," Soap kneels down in the man's face; he could be intimidating when he truly wanted to be. "I don't think you want to fuck around and find out, mate."

"And what leads you to think I know Vladimir Makarov." He smirks as his bloody teeth showcase.

"Because this bar is the only bar associated with Makarov's name. We know he is affiliated here." Soap glares.

I stand in the corner, watching everything play out. I wanted to hit him myself, but I couldn't risk getting the blood on me when I leave the bar.

Another punch follows, landed by a tired whimpering. "Makarov," Ghost demands. No response. "Alright, then-" Ghost brings out his handgun, my eyes widening as he puts it to the man's temple. "I will allow you to tell me no one more time."

"Makarov is north!" The man looks to me, spitting out another wad of blood mixed with spit. "You tricked me, you fucking cunt!" The man slurs towards me.

"Where north!" Ghost grips the man's shirt, bringing him up to his face.

"Moscow!" He harshly whispers in Ghost's face.

Instead of letting go, Ghost's grip remains tight on the man's shirt.

"Ghost, let's go." Soap taps him, but Ghost doesn't waver. Instead, the gun stays pressed to the man's temple.

"Ghost." I say urgently. "Come on, now. We need to go. We don't need brain matter all over the place."

Ghost slowly turns his head to me, immediately dropping the man slack onto the couch. "You breathe one word and we will murder you in cold blood," Ghost warns. "And I will make sure it's me who finishes it after I torture the living hell out of you."

My eyes widen as I hear Ghost spit venom at a complete and total stranger; whether or not the man was bad, Ghost had never been this brutal in front of me yet. We walk out of the room, all of us going our separate ways to gather our belongings, ditch the clothing, then meet up at the truck.

"Holy shit," Gaz breathes. "That was fucking stressful, don't you think?" He says as we get into the car.

"You're telling me,' I groan as I look outside the window in front of me.

"You did great, Laswell. We wouldn't have been able to do it without you," Price praises.

"Agreed. I didn't feel like finding a gay bar, honestly.." Soap wanders. I slowly look to him along with Ghost, Gaz, and Price, furrowing my eyebrows as I try not to let out a small laugh.

"What?! Would you all enjoy seeing me in a banana hammock or something?" Soap asks with a shrug.

"Definitely not," Ghost says.

"Typical Johnny MacTavish," I say shaking my head. "Hey- how did you et your name anyways, Soap?" I ask.

He immediately looks away, his face red. "Let's uh.. not discuss that, yeah? An embarrassing story for another day."

We finally arrive back to the bunker, exhausted yet feeling accomplished. My face was still covered in makeup, and I just knew I had to wash it off as soon as I could. I walk to the bathroom, throwing a pair of sweats and a baggy tee over my shoulder. I needed a shower honestly, there was no coming back from the $1,000 stench of death perfume I put on.

I open the door, turning on the faucet and looking in the mirror. I trace my abdomen, frowning. There were now three total scars. One stab wound, one gunshot to the stomach, and a burn. I looked like a solider- but I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel insecure. I then trace up to my collar bone where I had been stabbed another time, and two faint scratches on my neck from a woman who went feral on me. I was like a voodoo doll, if that made any sense.

I look at the steam emitting from the shower, putting my foot in and entering pure bliss. It felt refreshing, to say the least. Even though I showered at my apartment out of boredom, it didn't feel the same.

My mind reverts to the images in my head from tonight. Ghost's blatant jealousy, the way he almost beat that man to death and then almost killed him all because he called me a cunt. Apparently, Simon Riley wasn't the one to piss off.

I duck my head under the steaming water, feeling the water run down to my feet. There was always something about boiling showers that made me feel encased in a box. It made me feel safe and at ease; that was, until I stepped out. But unfortunately in the military, hot water was very limited.

I bend over, turning off the faucet and step out, immediately wrapping a towel around my cold body. I finally couldn't smell the perfume on me anymore, at the very least.

I hear a click and turn around, seeing the door knob jiggle. I step back against the counter, making sure to cover myself.

"Hey, asshole I'm in here!" I yell.

And in comes Simon Riley, with his expected unusual appearances. I look down, then up at my towel which just stopped at my thighs.

"Are you insane?" I ask as I shove my wet hair over my shoulder covering my scars. I notice his eyes looking directly there, then at my face. "Can't you see I'm just getting out?"

"I just saw you in something way more revealing I'd say," Ghost says as he clicks the door behind him.

"So you just waltz in here like it's nothing?" I ask.

"You were right," he looks away. "I did get jealous; but I wasn't upset seeing you in what you wore." He says as his eyes examines me.

"Well that's something you'll never see again," I respond as I lean over to grab my clothes off of the counter. Instead of finishing my task, however, I pause and look directly at Ghost.

"What are we, Ghost? I'm tired of this teenage fallacy we are both living." I wrap the towel around me tighter as I cross my arms.

He looks down towards my cleavage, then up to my face. "What do you want it to be, Laswell." He says as he adjusts his position.

I look down to the ground, trying to dig around for my deep rooted and conflicted feelings. Of course I cared about Simon. I craved him. Every second of the day, every time he looked at me. Every time he threatened to kill someone because of me. He occupied my thoughts, day in and night out.

"Well you're the one giving the mixed signals, Riley." I retort as I stick out my bottom lip.

"Am I?" He asks standoffish. He steps towards me, his finger running alongside my neck leaving static to travel down my legs. He looks down at me, his demeanor dominant.

"You are," I respond. I try to stand my ground.

"I haven't seen you in almost a year, Laswell. If I didn't feel anything would I be here right now doing this." He says monotonously as his finger traces the top of the towel that only slightly covered my cleavage.

I swallow, unable to answer. He leans down, his breath exploring my neck. "Exactly." He says as his nose rubs my skin. I could tell there was a tinge of a smirk behind his words.

And just like that, be turns and leaves the room, leaving my body hot and tingling yet again.

He was trying to make me fight for it, for him. But I knew he would be the first to crack at that game.