Bad Boy Addict

❁ 03. 레드벨벳 'Bad Boy' ❁

Both of his palms face forward, taking a cautionary step back. Raising one hand to his black hair, he combs his slick locks out of his eyes. They're magnificently bright gray, contrasting against his faint umber skin complexion. We're close in shade, but I'm much deeper in color. Maybe if I didn't have guns pointing at his head, I'd consider him attractive enough to hold my attention.

      Get your hormones in check, Jinnah, my thoughts snap. Have your eyes set on priorities, not penises.

      "I'm not going to do anything to you," he promises. That's when I realize he has an accent. I can't quite pinpoint where he's from, but I know he's not American. The conviction in his voice wavers, but I believe him—for the most part. I watch his Adam's apple bob nervously as he keeps his gaze glued at the ends of my barrels. "Just...please lower the weapons."

      Slowly, I let them drop to my waist, but I don't fully release them from my hands. I won't let go of them until I'm safely in my home, far away from this factory and the men in this building. "What's the fastest route of here?"

      "You can't leave—"

      I raise my weapons back to where they were before, aiming them at his head. Using my thumb, I removed the safety off the pistol in my hand.

      "Whoa, whoa," he yells, shielding part of his face. "I thought we agreed to lowering the weapons."

      "Tell me how to get out of here first."

      "I can't."

       "Why not?" I spat. "Is it because of whoever the hell you were on the phone with?"

        I remember when he walked into the room, he said something about how he contacted a man called "the top boss" and how he said he was on his way.

      "I don't have any interest in meeting this 'top boss' person. I want out." I begin to take a step forward—and in sync with my movement, he starts shuffling backwards, avoiding touching his chest with the end of my riffle. We remain like this, walking in a straight line out of the room, until we're in the hallway with his back against the wall and the barrel of the riffle right below his throat.

       "This isn't a good idea," he muses, "I'm not the one you should be threatening."

       "I don't know who to trust. Anyone associated to these monsters can't be good people."

       "Good people do bad things all the time, Ms. Ibrahim."

       I roll my eyes. "I liked it better when you called me Kim Possible."

       With us this close, I start to take note of the beads of sweat forming at the top of his thick brows. Moisture trail the side of his face and a stammer takes over his voice as I press harder into him. "I'll call you whatever you want me to if—"

       "Hey! How did you get out?!" a holler down the hall catches us both off guard. I don't get a chance to see if it's Christopher who has noticed us or one of his minions because before I know it, bullets are blazing in the air. I duck down to the floor. Before the door, there's a set of wooden barrels, I crawl to them so that I can have some form of protection from the sailing bullets coming our way. At the sound of him reloading, I pop up off the floor and set my eyes on my target, striking him square in the chest.

     "Good," my father's voice rings in my head, resurfacing that dark memory. "Always aim for the head and chest. Never the limbs unless you want them to be hurt, but not dead."

       "But I don't want them to be dead, aabe."

      "These types of people you want dead, Jinnah." My lungs inflate, and I exhale rapidly, hoping that the memory will leave me as fast as the air does.