Game Of Bliss

(38)

Malachi was outraged. Why was it always Florence? Kimber tries to shoot Tommy, Flo ends up with a bullet in her shoulder. Her brothers fuck off Sabini by getting into a brawl at his club, Flo gets stabbed.

He'd fucking warned them. He'd warned them so many times. And now the woman he loved was crying in his arms, a knife stuck in her leg.

When Malachi had broken free from Sabinis men's grasp, he didn't expect the other one to stab Florence, he expected maybe a slap, nothing that would cause too much damage. He knows he shouldn't blame himself. Florence would tell him not to blame himself. So would Polly. They're correct, Mal didn't stab her however it was his actions that lead to the person stabbing her. He blamed himself as much as he blamed the brothers for fucking about at Sabinis club.

"Polly! Open up!" Malachi shouts, he didn't really have a fuck who he woke up at this time, he needed somewhere to see to Florence's wound.

"What the fuck happened to you two?" Polly asks, opening her front door, gesturing for Malachi to carry Florence inside, "she's losing a lot of blood, Pol."

"Place her down on the table," Polly instructs, going through her kitchen drawers to find a bandage.

"I'm bleeding, Pol," Florence mutters, "it'll stain the wood."

"I could not give less of a shit about my table right now," Polly responds, lifting Florence's dress above the wound, tying the bandage around her upper thigh above the knife.

Malachi found a bottle of whiskey from a shelf, passing it to Flo, "drink up."

Florence takes a large gulp, passing the bottle to Polly, and then clutching onto Malachi's hands, biting down on her bottom lip so hard she drew blood as Polly doused the area around the knife with the whiskey.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch," Polly warns.

"Just get it out of me," Florence replies, taking deep breaths, letting out a piercing scream when Polly pulls the knife from her thigh, dousing it in whiskey once more, before wrapping a bandage around her leg.

"I'll leave this top one on for another half hour just to reduce the blood flow," Polly says.

Florence was still breathing heavily, her eyes clenched shut, tears streaming down her face, still holding onto Malachi's hand.

"You can stay here tonight," Polly says, "there's no way you're going back outside."

"Will you clean his face?" Florence says, moving one of her hands to caress Malachi's face, "check his ribs aswell."

"Flo, I'm fine," Malachi replies, kissing her palm.

"Pol, take care of him," Florence insists, "I'm fine now, no more knife."

"You don't look too great," Polly inputs, glancing at the cuts and bruises on Malachi's face.

"I've looked a lot worse," Malachi shrugs.

"You've also looked a lot better," Florence remarks, "now take your top off so Polly can examine your ribs."

"Yes ma'am," Malachi laughs, shrugging off his jacket, turning away from the two women placing it on the back of a chair before unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt, placing them atop of his jacket. And then reaching for the hem of his undershirt, lifting it over his head. Mal looks down at his torso, you could see the imprint of shoes against his skin.

"Let us see," Polly says.

"Fucking hell, Malachi," Florence gasps, as her boyfriend turns around, cuts, bruises and indents extremely visible against his fair skin, pretty much from the waistline of his trousers, to his hairline. He was covered in blood, a mixture of his own, and Sabinis men's.