My dark secret

Chapter 15

Hello, lovely readers. This chapter has a trigger warning as things get a bit violent. Hope it's not too bad though.

kisses!

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Tom

"We have a meeting with the Russians before lunch," Damian tells us. "Kyle and Mike, you two are with me."

They nod in acknowledgment.

"Son, you're in charge of keeping the peace here while I'm gone. Hopefully this afternoon Catherine will be able to go home."

"I'll take her," I say.

"No, you're already on morning shift. Pete can take her."

"I don't care. Pete can do the night shift."

He shakes his head. "Fine, but don't fuck up. Her agent says the police are close to finding out who is sending the letters. We don't want her dying on our watch."

She's not dying, not while I'm still standing.

"She'll be pleased to hear that," I say.

"All right, everyone knows what they have to do," Damian says, dismissing us. "Tom, a word?"

They filter out, giving me the side-eye.

"Yes, Prez?"

"How are things going with Catherine?"

"Good." I keep my voice steady.

He looks at me as he strokes his beard in thought. "I've seen you with her, son."

I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off before I can say anything.

"I'm not stupid, I was your age once. Get your head straight. She's just another job. Besides, have you seen her? She could never be a part of this life."

Weirdly, I don't find it hard to imagine her as another member of our family.

"I know you don't like to, but listen to me on this," he says. "Do your job and don't fuck it up."

He gestures to dismiss me and I leave, slamming the door a bit harder than necessary behind me.

Catherine

These people could never be writers. Barely twenty-four hours locked up here and people are already fighting. No wonder Tom complained so much at the beginning.

Yet another brawl breaks out and Tom runs over to put out the fire.

"Bikers are meant for the open air," Pete says, sipping his beer next to me as if nothing were happening.

"I'm just glad they weren't guarding me. They would have gone crazy."

Pete chuckles just as someone punches Tom in the face. I wince. That must of hurt.

Suddenly, he's no longer putting out the fire, he's very much adding gasoline to it. Mothers usher the kids out of the hall as the fight spreads. I look to the exit but Pete puts his hand on mine.

"I wouldn't do that," he says.

He's right. The fight is blocking the exit. There's no way out.

"Isn't Damian going to be pissed?"

Pete chuckles. "Damien is well aware of what happens. One time we had a lock down that lasted nearly two weeks. But hey, I became a dab hand at stitching people up. So you know, silver lining and all."

I smile despite myself.

Suddenly, there's a loud crack as someone breaks a pool cue over someone's back.

Meanwhile, Pete carries on calmly drinking his beer.

In front of us, a man gets punch in the face, the blood splatter almost reaching our shoes. Bach paces around us nervously, ready to protect me in a second's notice.

"Have you got a steady hand?"

"More or less," I reply.

"Good, you can be my nurse when they've all finished messing around."

I see a bottle come sailing towards me through the air and I move just in time for it to skim past my head.

"How rude," I remark.

Pete laughs as I take a sip of my beer.

"What the hell is going on?" Damien bellows, making me jump.

Slowly, fights stop and people turn to look at the president, looking a bit sheepish.

"Tom? I thought I left you in charge?"

Tom raises his hands in defeat. "I tried! It just got out of control."

Damian glowers at everyone in the hall. "There are kids here!"

The men start shuffling awkwardly.

"Get yourselves cleaned up!" He storms to the meeting room. "Tom!"

"That's our cue," Pete tells me, slipping down from his stool.

I follow him to the storage room to where they keep the first aid kit.

"Here, you're going to need these," he says, passing me a pair of rubber gloves. "Don't worry. I don't think they did too much damage."

I smile. I am loving this! I am getting so much material for my stories.

We set up shop in one of the corners of the hall. Everyone takes care of their own scratches and bruises. Only the ones that need more help come over to us. I spend most of my time pulling bits of glass out of people. Dave, the one who was hit with the pool cue, had some nasty splinters in his back that I managed to pull out.

"Catherine," Tom calls from across the room. He jerks his head in the direction of the sleeping rooms and disappears down the corridor.

"I'll see what he needs," I tell Pete before I go after Tom.

I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees.

"Oh, my God," are you okay?" I ask as soon as I see his bloodied knuckles.

His lips twitch into a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, fine."

"Is anything else hurt?" I ask, pushing him back onto the bed and pulling his shirt up to inspect him for injuries, still in Nurse mode.

He grabs my wrists and pulls me down on top of him. "I'm fine."

I remember the first punch I saw him get. "What about your face?"

His hands slide down my sides, hook themselves behind my knees as he pulls me so that I'm straddling him. "I'm fine," he repeats.

"So, what did you want?"

"I wanted to tell you we can go home now." He kisses my collar bone. "Now, you only have to worry about crazy fans trying killing you."

I laugh but it quickly turns into a moan when he bites the sensitive spot on my neck.

Days of sexual frustration take over my body. I mindlessly grind on him and he aggressively grips my knees.

"Maybe we should leave here," he says and I nod.