The Bad Boy's Palything: A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 6

  Christopher felt it like a punch in the stomach.

  He pulled in breath, trying to focus, trying to breathe through the painful tightening in his chest.

  “How bad?” he choked out.

  A muscle in Alec’s cheek jumped.

  Then, in barely controlled anger, he said, “So bad her face is covered with her own blood.”

  A blind rage like a fire slowly swept over Christopher.

  “But she’s alright,” Alec assured him again. “I swear to you she’s alright. I’ve got people inside the house and they informed me that she’s sleeping in her bedroom.”

  Christopher took several deep breaths and looked out the window. They were nearing his home. The home that was separated by just a mile of thick trees from the Locke estate. He remembered the night April had disappeared. It had been all over the news and her father had promised a very large sum if she was found. No one did. Not even him who exerted a fuck of a lot of time, a lot of money and a lot of his resources despite his grandfather’s wishes.

  It should have been him. It should have been him who found her.

  Yet he fucking failed her.

  shit.

  shit.

  In that moment of absolute anger and despair, Christopher focused all of his attention on saving April. Because God knew that she needed him sane and in control.

  “I need to see her.”

  Alec’s eyes sliced to him. “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Alec asked in disbelief. “Her father would never let you—.”

  “I don’t need her father’s fucking permission.” Christopher was so furious; his voice shook with it. “I’m taking her with me.”

  “What? Skull—.”

  “Don’t fucking argue with me, Alec. Just do what I say.”

  Alec’s mouth got hard. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like his boss being reckless and wasn’t comfortable with Christopher making decisions that would put himself in an unsafe situation. Alec was protective of him and it wasn’t just because it was part of his job description. But knowing that he couldn’t change his mind, he let out an angry exhale through the nose and nodded curtly.

  As soon as they arrived at Christopher’s home, Alec gathered some of their men and quickly planned an extraction. Alec would have wanted Christopher to stay out of the operation but he wasn’t going to be left behind. They broke into the Locke mansion at the dead of the night. Edward Locke had left hours ago for a meeting downtown. Christopher would have loved to have a conversation with him if he hadn’t. While their men took care of the bodyguards patrolling the house, Christopher, followed closely by Alec, went straight to April’s bedroom and kicked the door open.

  Even though Alec had briefed him of her condition, he still wasn’t prepared for this.

  It was dark in the room but the light that streamed into it from the hall made it bright enough for him to see her face clearly. She was lying on her back, a blanket to her chest but her face, fuck, her face. Just from one look and he knew she’d been beaten so severely, he couldn’t understand how she had survived.

  “You said she was alright,” he whispered to Alec.

  A moment of silence, then Alec whispered back, “I meant to say she was still alive.”

  Christopher moved to the bed, close enough to touch her.

  Her face was blotched with purple bruises and her bottom lip was cut and swollen. Even without looking, he knew that he’d find similar marks everywhere on her body. And it took all of his strength not to double over and let it all out in a roar of anguish.

  But she was alive.

  Christopher had to repeat those words over and over again in his mind in an effort to calm down. He lifted his hand and gently caressed her hair.

  She was back in his life again and she was still breathing.

  Every fiber of his body was screaming to release a bellow of pent-up rage.

  Every taut fiber of his being ached with the need to find Edward Locke and put a bullet through his black heart.

  He almost complete lost it and gave in.

  But then his hand grazed her skin and he pulled in a sharp breath.

  “She’s burning with fever,” he gritted out to Alec.

  Alec’s eyes glittered. “We need to leave, sir. Now.”

  Christopher wouldn’t let him touch her. Gently, he lifted April into his arms and held her close. She was light. Too fucking light. Protectiveness burned through him as he carried her out of the house and into the car.

  “Sir?” Alec prompted when Christopher stayed silent.

  Christopher turned his gaze from the blank monitors to a tight-faced Alec.

  Christopher would die first before he’d let anyone hurt April ever again. Now that he found her, he was going to keep her by his side and never let go.

  He fucking wasn’t going to let her leave him anymore.

  “Let the bastard declare war,” he bit out. Anger still vibrated through him, his body humming with pent-up frustration. “Let him. And when he does, I’ll be the one to kill him.”

  The room went wired with his declaration.

  Every man’s jaw was clenched and he could tell they too were struggling to control their anger.

  Alec’s lips pulled tight. His eyes were staring straight ahead at the blank monitors.

  “So be it,” he finally murmured.

  A ring broke the tense silence that followed in the room and one of their men answered his cell phone.

  “Sir?” he called out.

  “What?” Christopher looked at him.

  “She’s awake.”

  Chapter 9

  I didn’t panic.

  Waking up in a strange place with no memory might make a normal girl panic but I wasn’t normal.

  So I didn’t.

  There was an IV drip attached to my arm. It had been a while since I’ve woken up with an IV and I immediately blanked the memories out of my mind as my gaze wandered around the bedroom. I was sure it was a bedroom. Hospital rooms didn’t look like this and I’d been to a lot to know what I mean. Hospitals also had a certain feel and a certain smell and this place, wherever and whatever this was, didn’t have those.

  I didn’t relish the throbbing pain that resonated throughout my body and my head. It declared that I was alive. I didn’t want to be alive.

  Wondering where the hell I was, I didn’t notice her until she spoke.

  “Oh.”

  My eyes went to the side where a dark-skinned woman was sitting, an open book on her palm. She was beautiful, middle-aged and hitting it well.

  “Good,” she smiled at me. Her voice sounded pleasant. “You’re awake.”

  “Where am I?” I asked, my voice hoarse from sleep.

  She rose from the chair and placed the book on it. “I’ll let him explain, dear.”

  Him? Did she mean my father?

  I tried to get up but my body felt heavy, like it would take every effort just to move an inch.

  Where was Rita? And who the heck is this woman?

  “Easy,” she said, laying me down gently. “You’re still weak. Here. Have some water.”

  The woman held a glass up to my mouth but I didn't drink. My head was swimming and my stomach clenched with the need to throw up. I didn’t want to throw up.

  “Take this.”

  This time, I took the pill she gave me and she helped me up as I drank some water. I kept my eyes closed. I still felt sick but the pill was beginning to work and I could feel the pain in my head leaving.

  I felt the woman fuss over me, touching my forehead and checking my vitals as I rested.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  “I think so,” I breathed.

  “Good. Your face is also getting better,” she was saying. “The swelling is almost gone and the bruises are fading. I still can’t believe someone raise his hand against a woman, especially a beautiful woman like you. In my entire career, I’ve seen my fair share of abused women but neve
r such horrible beating like you had. If you tell me who hurt you, I’ll take my scalpel and carve his heart out. He doesn’t need one if he could do such terrible deeds to women.”

  Ah, I thought.

  So she was a doctor.

  “Was I very sick?” I asked curiously, opening my eyes to look at her.

  She scowled. “Very sick. You were very sick that I told him that if your fever didn’t break after 24 hours, we’d have to take you to the hospital. Fortunately, it did.”

  My brows knitted together.

  Him again. Who was this man?

  “Are you hungry?” She put her belongings in a black bag on the table. “You must be. You were out for two days. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  Two days?

  My stomach began to lurch again.

  Not because I lost two days of my life with no memories of them. But because I just had to wake up, didn’t I?

  Damn it.

  I closed my eyes again and let out a shaky exhale.

  Why did I have to wake up?

  “You don’t recall any of it, do you?” I heard her ask.

  “No,” I whispered. My last waking memory was drifting to sleep after Rita went away to get me some medicine.

  “I’m not surprised. Like I said, you were very sick. I’ll come back with some food. Rest for the meantime, alright?”

  She didn’t need my answer. The door opened and closed when she left. And when she did, I opened my eyes and let my gaze roam the bedroom again.

  It was a beautiful room. The bed that I was on was a luxurious queen bed with an enormous upholstered headboard and soft boudoir pillows and beddings. There was tufted bench at the foot of the bed and antique bedside tables. There were also two skirted chairs beside the drawn curtains that probably covered floor-to-ceiling windows. The hardwood flooring, contrasted with cream fixtures, made the room feel cheerful. Like the owner of the house knew that I needed some cheer in my life.

  Too bad.

  I just knew that with Dan’s blood on my hands, I would never be happy ever again.

  I didn’t know why I was brought here. Or what they intended to do to me. However, I didn’t care. I was too tired of caring.

  Whenever I cared too much, people started dying around me.

  Lying on the bed, I wished fervently for my own death.

  But, unfortunately, Mother Nature won in the end.

  It took a lot of energy and effort, but I managed to get up and slide my feet to the side. And my body hurt. Loads. But I had loads of practice of dealing with the pain so I managed to suck it up and stand.

  I wasn’t wearing the same nightgown, I noticed. I was wearing a silk caftan that I knew from one look that it costed a little fortune. Whoever this man was, he didn’t hesitate on pouring money on me or on the house.

  Brushing the hair out of my face, I turned my head and saw the IV bag hanging on a rack. It was almost empty anyway so I carefully removed the IV drip from my arm and applied pressure on the puncture with a gauze pad from a box that was on the bedside table.

  I tiptoed across the carpet toward what looked like the bathroom. Not knowing what to expect, I took a deep breath before turning on the light. The bathroom was just as beautiful as the bedroom. I just didn’t take time to appreciate it though because my eyes pinpointed on my reflection on the mirror.

  It took me several moments to realize that the girl staring back at me was me.

  I didn’t gasp.

  Or cry.

  I was already used to seeing myself like this. But still, my father had gone way too far this time.

  Most of the swelling on my face had gone down just like the doctor said. The bruises had also begun to fade to a softer purple, ringed with yellow and green. The cut on my lip was healing well too.

  I blanked that all out too. Turning around, I quickly did my business and opened the door.

  Someone was standing outside the bathroom when I swung the door open. A chest greeted me. A massive chest cladded in a light blue dress shirt.

  “You’re finally awake.”

  That voice.

  My head jerked up.

  That face.

  The blood drained from my face and I took a step back.

  Maybe I wasn’t awake. Maybe I was dead. I was in hell. God, I was in hell that was why I was seeing him.

  I stared up at him. Tall. Very Tall with very broad shoulders. Brown hair longer than I remembered, combed neatly over his head. Closely trimmed beard. Brown eyes. Strong jaw and brow, defined cheekbones. He’d always been a handsome boy. But the sight of him was unbelievable.

  The person in front of me was not a boy anymore. He was a man. A full-grown man.

  But what was Christopher Lawrence doing there?

  “What...” My breathing quickened. “Why are you here?”

  “This is my house,” he responded and I felt myself weaken. His voice too had slightly changed. It was deep, very deep and strong. Cultured. Controlled. A voice that I’d never heard before from him. “One of my houses,” he amended.

  Did he just say this was his house?

  I shook my head. The shakes were short, confused and in total denial. Because this couldn’t be his house. There was no way I was in his house—.

  My thoughts screeched into a stop. Because I remembered. My hands began to shake.

  Oh, God.

  I remembered.

  He’d been here. Last night, he’d been here. In the bedroom, holding my hand while I gasped in pain and shivered while battling the fire burning throughout my entire body.

  You’re safe now, April.

  He had told me those words.

  My body began to quake where I stood.

  Not him. Not him please.

  Why did it had to be him?

  “April? Are you alright?”

  He tried to touch me but I took a step back.

  “April.”

  “Get away,” I whispered. I dropped my gaze to my barefoot feet and swallowed. “Get away from me.”

  He didn’t go away.

  “Should I call Martha?” His deep voice was tinged with worry.

  I swallowed again. “What am I doing here?” I blinked at him. “Why have you brought me here?”

  His jaw tensed and anger flashed in his eyes for a brief moment.

  “We’ll talk about it when you’re better, April.”

  I shook my head again. “No. We’ll talk about it now.”

  “You’re swaying where you stand. You’re still not well. Let me help you—.”

  “No,” I snapped, putting a shaky hand up. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.”

  His brows snapped together and his face grew dark at the same time.

  “If you’d rather not have me help you, I can call the doctor,” he muttered slowly at me.

  “No. I’d rather you all leave me alone.”

  I didn’t even realize he had moved until he was already carrying me in his arms. Before I could struggle or protest or even recover from my surprise, he had already crossed the room in big steps and laid me gently on the bed, throwing the sheets back on me.

  Instantly, I laid back and pulled the sheets up high, turning my face in the opposite direction of him.

  “April,” his voice was soft.

  Tears pricked my eyes and I closed my eyes.

  “Go away,” I said, my voice soft too.

  “I’m not going away. Never again.”

  I opened my eyes, turned my head and looked at Christopher. Regardless of what had happened to me, what he’d seen and done, the way I looked, he shouldn’t have done this. And it made me angry that it had to be him. So fucking angry.

  “Take me home.”

  His face tightened. “The hell I will.”

  Managing to get myself up on a forearm, I glowered at him. “Take me home right this instant, Christopher.”

  “To get beaten by your father again?” he asked incredulously. “To get killed? Are you out of your goddamn min
d?”