Piano Man (Tom Holland x reader)

Chapter Five

According to Harrison and Tom, the man after me was a hit man named Elias Rigsby, or the Piano Man. He's wanted internationally and is a free agent, so anyone can hire him to kill whoever they please. In the 10 years he has been terrorizing people, there's barely a single trace of him and we were lucky to even know his name. Rigsby was perhaps the deadliest man in the world and he was after me.

After the incident in the office, Tom and I stayed quiet, only talking to each other when necessary, which was unfortunately a lot. It didn't seem to bother him a lot, but since I was closer to being a human being, I felt the exact opposite. I was never quite the fidgeter when I was younger, but now I always need my hands to do something so that I can look down at them when Tom tries to make eye contact. I know it's a sign of submission, but at this point, I really didn't give a shit about what was submissive or not. The man was insane.

Immediately I checked my phone and there it was, a new photo. I opened the message and look at the picture. It was a man with light blond hair and a beer belly, kissing a woman on the cheek. He had a mole above his lip and a scar on his cheek that made him more noticeable. I looked at the photo for a little while longer before I realized I only had 40 minutes to find him.

I pushed my chair back a little too roughly and I ran up the stairs, bursting into Tom's office. He didn't have the chance to say anything before I shoved the phone in his face saying, "Find out who he is."

I sat in his office for about twenty minutes, biting my nails as Tom, Harrison, and some other men scrambled to find out who he was. The minutes were dwindling down and my anxiety was ever growing. Finally, Tom spoke up, "Chester Harris, 29, lives at your old complex. Harrison, take Jacob and Michael with you and find the man." Harrison nodded and left quickly.

"Y/N," Tom said but I didn't budge, my mind was still in Chester and the Piano Man. "Y/N," he said my name a little louder, but I still didn't do anything. A tear slipped down my cheek and I moved to wipe it away and began shaking, something I was trying my hardest not to do.

I finally looked Tom in the eye and he revealed no emotion and I didn't expect him to. "One day he's going to send me my photo. It's going to be me soon," I whispered, not trusting my voice. As much as I hated thinking about it, I really needed to hug someone; I craved a comforting sort of intimacy right now. Tom shook his head, "You're safe here, Y/N. Nobody touches anyone remotely close to me."

"What about Barton? You killed him for a reason, Tom. Someone named Harry. He had to have meant something," I questioned, nervous to his reaction. Surprisingly, Tom sighed and picked up one of the few photos of his family and looked at it. "Barton and Rigsby are well acquainted. Rigsby has done multiple tasks for Barton to keep his hands clean. One of them was someone I cared about and that was the last time someone I loved slipped through my fingers," Tom put the photo down roughly and met my eyes. "Trust me, I'll won't let him get you," there was a soft edge to his voice and I let my guard down a bit. I was warming up to him, whether he knew or not. Even when he's threatening me because I crossed another line, I was beginning to care a little more. Funny, I've only been here a few weeks and I was beginning to have feelings for the mobster.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I choked the words out, not really knowing what to say. I had forgotten that he had lost also, whether if it's because of his own accord or because of someone. My phone buzzed and the two of us perked up. I didn't want to look at it, but I knew I had to. Slowly, I opened my messages and saw the photo of Chester Harris, strangled with a piano string, blood dripping down his neck. Dropping my phone on the floor, I covered my mouth and ran out of the office, desperately seeking solitude.

I rushed into my room and quickly closed the door. Instead of heading to my bed I went straight into my bathroom and threw up, sitting by the toilet and began crying horridly. It was to the point where I was dry heaving and screaming whilst shaking uncontrollably. The body of Chester Harris was etched in my mind with fire and I couldn't smother it. It would only be a matter of time before a piano string would be wrapped around my neck and my family would never hear from me again. Tom would move on as if I was another burden and I would be six feet underground, the life I hadn't started living taken from me so soon.