Grey Rose

Pistol - 3

- Rose -

I am hot.

So, so, hot. Sweating.

My eyes flicker open slowly, adjusting to the light, and of course, the first damn thing I see is Andrew motherfuckin' Grey. Him...

"Took you long enough to wake up, petit gâteau. Will you tell me where you keep your precious little files now, hmm?"

I had a strong temptation to rip out his so damn good looking dark hazel hair and gouge his golden eyes out of their sockets. Then again, maybe chopping off his arm would be better, or maybe his aquiline nose? Ooh, his leg would be nice, too. A nice trophy for my collection. I snort loudly, and begin coughing. "In your dreams, bitch."

He looks a bit amused. Then I realize that I'm not in the fucking cell anymore...I'm in an actual room, thank God! A room with the disgraceful sight of Andrew Grey in it. But a room nonetheless. I have finally been brought to a proper bed after a week of sleeping on the nasty floor.

Knock.

Grey answers the door, nodding and gesturing, and brings me a heap of clothes. "Here. Put them on and don't say I'm not nice enough. I'm nice enough considering you don't give me the information I want and need."

That's when I realize that I'm completely naked. My cheeks glow bright red.

"Don't worry, I didn't undress you. The doctor did after you hurled everywhere after feeding you something." Damn, he's creepily telepathetic. And he turns around to give me the privacy I need to change.

I examine what he'd brought me. It was a simple wardrobe - a lacy, pale pink bra with matching panties, a simple, oversized white shirt, and a pair of blue jean shorts. I throw them on, noting how well they fit on me. Tapshaw's people must've taken my measurements to the nearest millimeter.

He turns around. "Stay here, and I'll go bring you some breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs sound okay?"

Oh. My. Fucking. God. A meal! Finally!

I nod.

Seconds later, he arrives with an entire cart of food. Woahhh!

"I just ordered the entire menu for convenience," he states dryly. "Pick what you want."

+

I am fed and very content.

"Will you cooperate with me now, Princess?"

I sigh. "Okay, fine, what do you want?"

Grey joins me on the white sofa, his legs touching mine. He is very warm. His amber eyes are shining with something that I am not sure of. "Princess, I know the death of your parents had to do with my family. Did my father kill them?"

My eyes threaten to tear up. I nod, looking far away. "He took us to his warehouse and kept us there for an entire year. I was forbidden to see Mom and Dad. I hadn't known that he'd put them in a chamber with arsenic and poisoned them to death the first night. I was just there. They weren't bad to me, but I was just lonely, so I would often steal stuff from their offices."

Grey looks at me closely. "And did you steal an entire box of my father's files?"

I nod again.

"What about his red flash drive?"

Nod.

"And his special flintlock pistol?"

Nod.

"What about his special 0.5 caliber bullet?"

Nod.

He traces a finger on my knee. Then he forces me to look at him. "And where is all that?"

I stare back at him. "Why should I tell you?"

Click.

"Because I can do this."

Crack.

The glass vase shatters and the bullet lodges itself in the wall.

And he points the gun to my forehead.

Inevitably, tears begin flowing freely down my cheeks. My fists clench, and my airways begin to restrict themselves. NO. Guns scare me...I can't use one, I only carry it around for threats, but it's never loaded. "Please...no," I choke out, my vision getting blurry.

The gun drops to the floor.

Grey takes me in his warm embrace, and strokes my head. "Shhh, princess. Don't cry," he coaxes awkwardly. "There was only one bullet in the thing. I didn't mean to scare you, after that..."

Of course he knew. Kane had nearly killed me once and he'd shot me with a gun through the heart. Celeste had to kill someone to find me a heart transplant. My parents had also been shot by a firing squad before they'd been put in the arsenic chamber. Guns bring bad memories.

I sniffle into his chest, soothing myself with the steady rhythm of his heart.

He pats my head awkwardly.

"So," Grey whispered, "I won't hold up a gun to you as long as you tell me where everything you stole from my father is, Princess. I promise. I really do. Just tell me."

"In my office at my company, there's a bathroom that says 'Do Not Enter' on the door. The passcode to the door is 152074. Everything is there."

He takes out a phone and makes a call. "Quin. Go to Roseanna's office, the bathroom in there, password 152074, get everything and bring it to my office. I'll meet you there after the ceremony." Hangs up. "Good girl, Roseanna. Now you can go back to your cell." He doesn't let go of me yet.

I shake my head. "No! I don't want to go back there!" He's cruel.

His grip around me tightens slightly. "Then you must go with me to the party tonight and I will have no choice but to do some...er...things with you that you may not exactly want."

Fuck him!

Either offering myself to him or rotting in the cell.

Fuck.

"I'd very much rather rot in the cell, thank you."

"Then off you go, back to your cell."

Crack.

Grey's amber eyes widen as he pulls me closer to him. "Shit."

He's been shot.

The assailant is nowhere to be seen.

"Phone. Get my phone, princess."

I take it.

"Password is 616174. Call Kane."

I follow his instructions shakily, as his eyelids droop.

"What's up, Andrew?"

"Please, Kane, he's been shot. He's fading off. Help!" I slur, anxiety filling my veins as Grey leans against me. Kane doesn't answer. I hear the typing of keys. Then a pause.

"Roseanna, I need you to stay put. I'll be there soon." Kane hangs up.

Crack.

Grey's eyes bulge even more, and he coughs up fresh, bright red blood. "Rose," he says, my name a mangled mess on his lips. His grip is becoming limp, and I see that he's been shot once in the chest and once in the stomach. He's not likely to live.

"Shhh, don't talk now. Kane will be here soon," I whisper softly. "It'll be alright." I stroke his messy, hazel hair gently. His hair smells very good - and it's soft as hell. Grey certainly uses lots of conditioner.

"Rose..."

Word Count - 1077