Crashed Into a Gangster

5

Victoria

The following morning, I wake with a start. I flutter my eyes open to see an empty side of my bed. I stretch, an odd and low screech blooming from my mouth.

Getting out of the bed, I glance toward my alarm clock. 8:30 a.m. Finally, I'm off work today so there's no need to rush into the bathroom. Taking my slow and relaxed time, I get into the shower and scrub myself clean.

Once I'm out - the sweet aroma of pancakes and eggs, I gather, circulate the entire upstairs. I slip on jeans and a floral blouse before heading down.

Turning into the kitchen, I spot Jack's back turned while he faces the stovetop. I cock a brow. "Serving breakfast?" I ask, resting a hand on my hip watching him. He turns with a smirk, beginning to make his way toward me.

"Maybe..." he starts. His arms wrap around either side of my waist, pulling me in. I giggle. "But I would very much like a little something more on the side." He bites his lip, that is, before his head dives onto the side of neck sending kisses.

I then place my hands on his broad shoulders, "Jack, we'll continue this later, OK?" I fail at suppressing my grin.
"Look, I'm hungry!" I say, tickled from the feathery kisses.

"Exactly..." he mumbles upon my neck.

I roll my eyes just before he lets lose and steps away, smirking. "Alright, alright." I follow him to the kitchen island. "They're chocolate chip, just the way you like them." I watch him place two pancakes on the plate before me.

I form a grateful smile, "thank you." I say, barely audible. But he hears it from the way he nods in turn, grabbing himself a plate and sitting next to me.

-

"You know what I don't get?" Jack asks beside me. I sound a 'hm' and he adds on.

"How come she doesn't just go for the fugitive? I mean, the kid grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, so what? She could at least give him a chance...you think?"

I perch a brow. "He's not a kid. And I don't know, hun." I lean in to Jack's body and rest my head against his chest.
"I think she should stay with the loving man she has now, you think?" I plaster a smile, and he looks down to peck my lips.

My fiancé's gaze then returns to the television again, before moments pass and his phone rings. Jack pulls his cell from his pocket and stands up from off the couch.

"I've got to take this, babe. It's probably work, I'll be right back." He sends a smile and hurries out the living room, leaving me relaxed on the sofa.

I watch the TV and focus on the blonde chick gossiping with some girl about the fugitive guy. "It's too bad she doesn't see what she already has..." I say to myself, grabbing the remote to turn up the volume.

"Tell me about it." An all too familiar voice sounds from behind me and I quickly turn to see Ann walking past the archway.

"Abby will not take that medicine even if her life depended on it!" I watch my sister plop onto the couch; comfortably filling the space next to me.

"Ever since I picked it up she just refuses to take it." She adds, and I sit up on the couch to sit cross-legged.

"Maybe she just doesn't want to face those nightmares again. It does happen every night, after all." I say.

"But every kid needs sleep, Vic. It's not my fault that Greg and I divorced and our daughter can't stop dreaming of the three of us never seeing each other again. That poor child has already lost too much..."

I frown at her words, then my brows furrow. "How did you get in here, again?"

"I walked in while Jack was taking a phone call. He kinda left the front door wide open - I figured I'd make myself at home!" She winks, and I grin, rolling my eyes playfully.

Ann has been over twice since I last spoke to her on the phone... when I spilled about the gang member. She's been concerned, part of her, I can see it. But it's been two days since, and for myself, there's a difference. That weight I carried for over 48 hours has been lifted. Partially.

I toss one of the plush pillows at her, earning a laugh in return when she tosses it back. I sigh and throw my head back on the larger pillow.

Ann is quiet for a moment, before the silence breaks. "Have you been thinking about it? What happened..." I hear her whisper. It's then when I open my eyes, not realizing I was so relaxed for them to already become so heavy.

"Not as much. Trying not to, anyway." I respond quietly.

"Yeah, same. I mean I wasn't there, but I feel for my older sister. I'm just glad you're still OK. No worries, child." Before I know it she throws her light body weight onto me, embracing me in a struggled hug. I laugh and hug her back.

Shortly after, I hear my younger sister sigh against me. "So what is this, anyway? Gotham, or The O.C.? Because I think I see Ben McKenzie." I watch her narrow her eyes at the TV screen and I smile, before an amused laugh escapes me.

"Not even close, sis. The Bachelor." I answer with a smile.

-

I throw my clean sheets on the bed, straightening them out before I throw the pillows on my mattress. Jack's at work, and so I've spent the last two hours cleaning around the house after Ann left.

A tidy house is one of the most relaxing and satisfied feeling a woman can get, especially living in a place of her own. I breathe smoothly when I lay across the silky sheets.

I'm in a t-shirt and my favorite pajama shorts - feeling the smooth fabric of my bedsheets brush against my skin.

And why is it when I manage to get ever so comfortable, the doorbell rings? I groan, not wanting to move a muscle, but I must.

Do I have to? The doorbell rings again.

I drag myself up and pace out of my bedroom, skipping downstairs and immediately stopping in my tracks once I stand on the last step.

The front door is wide open, the cool breeze flows in and I hurry to shut it. I close the door, and begin to wonder if Jack returned home early... extra extra early...

Wait...

Jack wouldn't ring the doorbell.

Something isn't right. I turn around. With my back now against the door, I gasp quite loudly when I'm suddenly inches away from a familiar face.

My eyes locate the bird tattoo across his neck - just upon his Adams Apple. My eyes flick up to meet the eyes of the gangster.

The gangster's dark brown eyes are already settled on me.

"Hope you're ready, sweetheart. It's time you start working." He begins. My heart begins it's task at hammering against my ribcage at the sight of him.

Something within his irises tell me I don't have another option, nor a say so in the matter. I can see past his shoulder. Behind him lies a bearded man across my kitchen table - the sight of red liquid dripping from his reclined body and onto the dark wooden floor sends a cold chill to course down my back.

The man is bleeding, and he's bleeding bad.

---

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