But that was fantasy. You could want the most shameful things in your fantasy, and it was harmless. You knew better than to want it in real life.
At least you could escape from a fantasy.
Where was my escape from this?
Pulling out the steak knife and fork from the napkin sleeve, he began cutting up his steak. I rolled my eyes and gently kicked Nixon’s leg from under the table.
He paused and stared at me. I tilted my head in the waitress’s direction, and he followed. “That’ll be everything,” he stated, dismissively.
“Okay, well, I’ll be around,” she responded, smiling brightly. She inched away from the table, her front still facing him. I watched her from the corner of my eye. When Nixon took a bite of his steak, he paused and turned. She jumped at his stare and took off, disappearing around the corner.
“It seems like most people don’t know whether to be enamoured by you, or scared of you,” I murmured, taking a bite of my cod.
He smirked. “And what are you, Vix? Are you enamoured, or are you scared?”
“I’m neither,” I replied flatly. “You do nothing to me, Nixon.”
“Is that another challenge?”
I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to challenge –”
Suddenly, Nixon flipped the table over. I watched in shock as it came crashing to the ground. My mouth parted just as his body slammed into me. The entire chair fell back, his body shielding me. A loud shot sounded, so close my ears were ringing. As I crashed to the ground – Nixon over me – pain rocketed up my spine. I heard him shouting, but I didn’t hear what he was saying through the ringing. He sounded angry; his entire body shook over me. Then he covered my body with his, covering every inch of me as another shot sounded out from nearby. Screams erupted, followed by chaos.
“Clear it out!” Nixon screamed. “Out! Everyone the fuck out!”
He held me tight while I heard running amongst frightened voices. It took merely minutes of mayhem before the silence crept in. My heart was beating hard as I tried to absorb just what in the fuck happened. Fear swarmed my insides, seizing me in place.
My brain struggled to catch up. Struggled to piece together what happened. One second, I’d been saying something, and the next…
“N-Nixon?” I whispered, trembling.
He’d buried my face into his chest, holding my head in the palm of his hand. His grip around my hair loosened when he heard me. He pulled away, looking down at me with such concern, his hair falling over parts of his forehead in disarray. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asked gravely. At once, he pulled away, looking over my body frantically.
I remained still, too in shock to move. “Just from the fall.”
At once, his face contorted from concern to dark rage. “Shit,” he cursed, angry. “Fuck!”
I jolted from his sudden curses, and he immediately stopped, appearing remorseful.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay, I promise.”
He stood up, forcing me up with him. I was stiff and shaking. He ran his hands up and down my bare arms, wiping away the goosebumps. He caught the look in my eye as he did it, aware that it took us back to a familiar time. To a moment that was equally traumatic. I saw the change in his eyes. It was like he didn’t want to confront it, so he cradled my front to his chest and turned us around. His arm was tightly wrapped around my body when he began to walk, like he was still shielding me from danger. Without moving my head, I looked around the room. It was empty for the most part, except for Tyrone and Doll and…Flynn who was panting heavily feet from where we were. I looked him over, wondering why he looked so winded and…
I gasped at the body at his feet and the pool of blood by what used to be a head.
Oh, my God.
In horror, I spotted a gun in Flynn’s shaky hand and tried to make sense of what happened.
He had killed the man who shot at us.
“Thank you,” Nixon said solemnly. I stilled at the tone of his voice. I’d never heard him so grateful the entire time I’d known him. I looked up at him, at the pale colour of his face.
“Of course,” Flynn replied, eerily calm.
“What in the fuck just happened?” Doll shrieked. “How the fuck did a guy manage a gun in here, Nixon?”
Nixon gritted his teeth. “I’ll kill the idiot that let him through.”
“Was he aiming the gun at you?”
“No.” He held me tighter. “At Vixen.”
Doll turned her sights on me, looking concerned. “Are you alright, Vix?”
It was hard to nod through my shakes, but I managed it. My teeth chattered together. If it weren’t for Nixon holding me upright, I’d have collapsed to the ground in a heap.
“Can we ID the fucker?” Nixon asked, approaching the body. I buried my face into his chest, not wanting to look at the gruesome sight.
“Hard to know,” Flynn muttered. “His head’s blown off. His face is covered in blood and brains.”
“Check his pockets.”
I heard some movement. “His pockets are empty.”
“I’ll have to check surveillance, see where he came from.”
“You got cameras down here?”
Nixon didn’t answer. He wouldn’t tell someone he hardly knew about something that private. I had a feeling he didn’t keep record of anyone coming and going to the basement. What was the point of a private room if it weren’t so private?
“We need to check it now,” Tyrone said from nearby. “What if this fuck didn’t come alone?”
Nixon’s chest moved faster. His heart was beating wildly in my ear. He walked us back and tried pushing me away from his body. I felt a chair on the backs of my legs, and my insides seized in fear. He was trying to sit me down? I shook my head wildly and gripped his shirt tightly.
“No,” I cried. “Nixon, no!”
I couldn’t stand the thought of his body leaving mine. I needed him to act as my shield. I felt safe in his arms, my face hidden from view. I didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable I looked.
“Alright,” he whispered down at me. “I won’t let you go.”
Instead, he sat down on the chair and cradled me in his lap. I kept my face buried in him, inhaling his scent.
“Doll,” he said, “I need you to look the body over and tell me what you see.”
“I heard your men have left their stations,” Tyrone said on a frown. “All of them are scouring the island, looking for possible threats. No one’s behind to monitor the hotel.”
“Then I’ll need you in the surveillance room.”
“On it,” he said, his footsteps scurrying out.
“What do we do about the body?” Flynn asked suddenly.
“The body’s not the issue,” Nixon replied all business-like. “It’s the intent. I can’t figure out why a man wanted to hurt my woman if he’s dead. That’s where Doll comes in.”
It was silent for a few minutes. I heard the heels of Doll moving about, most likely inspecting the body. “Shit clothes, Nixon, but well lived in. He looks like a homeless guy. Flynn, open his mouth for me.”
“I’m not opening his mouth,” Flynn retorted. “You’ve got two hands.”