Page 4 of B.D.E
I wasn’t close enough to the kitchen to grab a knife, so I quickly scooped up my fallen clipboard, clutching it tight like a damn weapon as I stepped from behind the romance shelf, heading slowly to the back. As I moved past the stairs, I heard another grunt coming from behind the counter closest to the back door. My dumb ass should’ve run upstairs and grabbed my phone but curiosity got the best of me, so I kept moving closer to where the sound was coming from. As I came around the counter, I froze. There was a man slumped against the shelves; tall, built and dressed in black. He looked like he was barely holding himself up but even in his current state, I could tell that he was built… strong and solid.
“Who—who are you?” I questioned, as I watched his chest rise and fall. I looked him over, waiting for him to answer me and I noticed the blood, so much blood, soaking into his shirt and dripping on the floor beneath him. And somehow, even as he laid there bleeding out, he still looked dangerous as hell. He lifted his head slowly, as his eyes landed on me. I instantly felt like heat was dragging over my skin, slow and heavy. I was scared out of my mind. But my body didn’t care. It was reacting to him like it had a mind of its own, like it already knew trouble when it saw it… and didn’t want to run.
“Shit, your bleeding,” I said, snapping out of the daze he’d put me in.
Ivy, this man is laying here bleeding and you’re lusting over him? Girl, help that man!
I dropped to my knees beside him and began trying to find where all the blood was coming from. He grunted again and that’s when I noticed that the pain was coming from his side since he had one of his hands pressed there and it was covered in blood. I was so caught up in his appearance and the shape he wasin that I hadn’t noticed that his other hand housed a gun, which stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Don’t call nobody,” he grunted.
I stared silently for a second, trying to figure out what to do. For whatever reason, he didn’t want me to call for help but from the sight of all the blood he was losing, he needed immediate assistance.
Ivy, the man has a gun for God’s sake, he has to be a criminal.
“I—what? You need a?—”
“No cops and no fucking ambulance! Just… let me sit!” he yelled out, causing me to jump.
I sighed and nodded but kept quiet as I put my hands near his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. If he didn’t want to seek medical attention for whatever reason, the least I could do was patch him up and possible stop the bleeding so that his stubborn ass wouldn’t die right here on my floor. His chest heaved and his eyes were now closed again. Then, he slumped forward and went still.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I gently nudged his shoulder. “Hey. Hey, stay with me. Please don’t die here,” I whimpered.
I knew I should’ve run upstairs to get my phone and called for help, but the moment I looked at him, really looked at him, something shifted. He was beautiful, in a rough way. He had a strong jaw line, full lips that were parted and thick lashes. His braids were long and neat, even soaked in sweat and blood at the ends of them. His tattoos peaked out from his sleeves and collar. His body—God, he looked like sin in human form; broken dangerous and beautiful. I’d read about men who looked like him in my urban romance books but never had I come face to face with one.
Sure, I’d been around plenty of men while attending secondary school as well as college, but it was only in passing.A few male customers would come in just for coffee, my homemade muffins and treats that I made daily and make small talk but that was it.I was drawn to this man though. In ways that I couldn’t explain and damn sure didn’t understand. I was no longer afraid either and that terrified me more than the blood on the floor.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself, swallowing hard as I pushed up from the floor. “Okay, don’t die. Just… don’t die.”
I rushed to grab the first aid kit that was under the sink in the kitchen, my hands shaking the whole time. I snatched a clean towel, a bottle of water, some gloves and whatever else I could find. My brain was spinning but I moved on instinct, trying to save this man. He was to fine to die right here, right now. I knew I had to do whatever I could to help him and worry about the consequences later. By the time I got back to him, he still hadn’t moved from that spot. I dropped down next to him and got to work, whispering the only prayer I remember from childhood as I peeled back his shirt and tried to stop the bleeding. From the looks of the hole in his side, he had to have gotten shot. Maybe even been in a shoot-out.
Ivy, calm down, this ain’t one of those street lit books you be reading. Focus, this man is dying!
What the hell had I just gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 4
Ghost
I wokeup slow as the weight of my body started dragging me back to consciousness. The nagging pain shot up my side, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the scent of cinnamon and vanilla in the air. I blinked a couple of times, trying to clear the haze, and slowly the room came into focus. I could feel the stitches in my side, sloppy ones at that but at least somebody actually gave a fuck enough not to let me bleed out. The smell in the room and the warm feeling, alone, let me know that it belonged to somebody who actually lived here. A shelf stacked with books sat crooked in the corner, with papers shoved between them like she couldn’t decide what to read next. There was a futon folded up against the wall, and the bed I was laid up in had a quilt with little flowers stitched in. Some real soft shit.
I turned my head and noticed her standing in the doorway looking nervous. That same nervous energy she had last night when she witnessed me bleeding out on her floor. She was wearing big ass glasses, wild curls all over her head and a pair of soft ass, pretty eyes. She was the kind of woman that had no fucking idea how fine she was, and that shit made her even finer. Thick and curvy like she was poured into that body justbe fucked out of it, and soft in all the places I liked to grip and bite. Her hips filled out those loose lounge pants like they were stitched into her skin and those lips… they were plush and bare, screaming to be sucked. I could tell she was trying her hardest not to stare too hard at me but was failing miserably.
I shifted in the bed, clenching my jaw as the pain flared up my side.
She gasped. “Your awake.”
Her voice was sweet, nervous even. Like she didn’t know what to say to a nigga like me. I gave her a slow once-over, dragging my eyes from her pretty face to the way her shirt clung to the swell of her body.
“Specs,” I rasped.
She blinked, taken off guard. “That’s not my name.”
“I ain’t ask you that.”
A flicker of attitude crossed her face, fast. Like she regretted it as soon as it showed but I’d already seen the shit. She was innocent but not stupid. She stepped into the room, careful, like she was approaching a caged animal. Her fingers fidgeted in front of her as she continued watching me like she was trying to find her words.
“You… need anything?” she finally asked.
