Chapter Two - My name is Lilly Daniels
1326 Words
The man that steps out of the shadows is probably the most ruggedly handsome man I have ever seen. He has on a simple black short sleeved shirt, his biceps stretching the material up his arms, thick veins curling down to huge hands. Dark pants that highlights his hips, and long legs.
His hair is darker than midnight, cut short and styled in a wavy manner. And his eyes, my God. They are sea coloured, greys intertwining with blues and dark brown, and they hold as much storm as the sea at midnight. Hard and cold.
He doesn't look like the typical Japanese man. I have seen a handful, and I can tell the difference immediately. But I can also tell he is not white. I can't figure out his race, like that is what is most important right now. There is something about his sea coloured eyes, his jet black hair and chiselled chin that sets him apart from any man I have ever come across. The dark wildness in those deep intense eyes of his makes me feel like running away. Far far away. And yet, it pulls me. Against all logic, I get the unbelievable urge to drown in his eyes and never come up for air.
When he opens his mouth, the Japanese words that flow out are perfect. The accent flawless. Cold and dangerous. A chill runs down my spine and it is not because of the gun pressing against my pulse.
The tall stranger trains his gun on the small space past my face where the assailant holding me captive is trying to disappear behind my five foot seven inches, hundred and thirty pounds frame. I can tell he is not succeeding due to how much wriggling he is doing behind me.
The tall dangerous looking stranger speaks again, his tone cold and calculating. I have no idea what he is saying. My eyes go crossed as I try to focus on anything other than the dead end of the gun barrel pointing at me.
The man behind me growls a response, his gun pushing deeper into my skin, the pressure makes me bend and wriggle, trying to find some balance or comfort. I find none. My mouth goes dry and I can't continue being quiet. I need to let them know I am American! They can't hurt me. I am just an unfortunate bystander.
"I am..." I try, trailing off with a croak when the gun pushes into my skin hard, the man behind me hissing harshly in my ear, breath stale with the smell of m*******a. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. The tall man in front of me is not looking at me. His eyes and gun is focused on the man behind me.
I raise my hands up, they are trembling terribly, but I keep them up. We might not speak the same language, but this is an universal gesture. Right?
Wrong.
The man behind me starts dragging me back. Roughly. Forcefully. The tall dark man with the brutally handsome face follows us, step for step, his gun leading the way. He is still not looking at me.
I don't think about what might happen if he shoots. I don't know a lot about guns and shooting but I know I would die if either one of them shoots. The thought makes my stomach heave. My mind goes blank and my body lax as I let myself be dragged back, roughly towards the entrance of the alleyway.
The man behind me says something with a cold sneer. The tone sounds victorious. The words clipped and proud sounding. We are close to the entrance and the guy is gloating.
A murderous flash goes past the sea coloured eyes of the tall man following us. Then for the first time, his eyes move to my face, cold hard mesmerising eyes bore into me with pure dark vehemence and I lose my breath. This was a dangerous man and in the depth of those dark stormy sea coloured eyes, I watch him decide to shoot. My eyes widen in pleading horror and I shake my head as hard as I can with a gun pressing into my neck, tears springing to my wide eyes.
He hesitates, and in that split second, the man holding me captive hurls me forward into him, I hear a screech of car tires. Everything happens too fast and in slow motion at the same time. One second I am off my balance, careening forward from the violent push, straight into the tall stranger.
I collide into him and lose my breath, I might as well have been hurled straight into a wall. Strong arms encircles my waist, holding me steady against his body, his arm jerks as he fires shot after shot at the car driving off in a cloud of smoke.
In the chaos of the moment, I end up leaning against this tall stranger with the implacable features, my hand resting on his chest and my face pressed into the nook of his neck. He works out. And he works out hard and consistently. I can tell by how hard he is everywhere. Lean perfectly cut muscles stretching throughout his frame. He is also tense, like a cord snapped tight.
He smells like danger. Like money, a lot of it, and hard raw masculinity. I can't describe it better than that. Heat surges through me at the closeness of our bodies. My face and neck grows hot. I know I should let him go, move away from this dangerous man with his gun and dark stormy eyes, but I am finding it really hard to move a muscle. My brain feels like it has gone on vacation. There is too much to deal with at the moment.
Silence descends around us, the car and its screeching tires already gone from view, then he turns to me, slowly rotating his neck, I try to move then, our faces suddenly too close, but his hold around my waist keeps me securely in place, against his hard body. I try to swallow but I can't. He is too close and his eyes are too intense, too wild, too dangerous. As much as I want to drown in them, I also want to run away.
"What is your name?" His voice is low and I am still too focused on how close I am pressed against this tall dark stranger to realise he just spoke English without the hint of an accent.
I blink up at him, dumbfounded. I try to move again, pushing against his chest, he only holds me tighter, his strong arm around my waist, hand splayed over my hips, it is an intimate way to be held and my skin tingles with pleasure against my common sense.
He tilts his head slightly, his brutally handsome face coming closer, I know I should move back, but I can't move, I just watch him inch closer and closer, a mixture of horror and anticipation swirling in my bloodstream.
Then he lifts his other hand still holding the gun, he brings it to my face and my blood runs cold. He uses the deadly weapon to trail a cold path from my chin down to my neck, then up again, slowly, wordlessly, agonisingly to rest at my temple.
"I asked you a question." His voice is cold. It sends a chill down my spine.
"Lilly. My name is Lilly Daniels." I gasp. The pressure of the gun at my temple is like a time bomb. I can't blink. I can't think. Dark terror seizes me, looking up into his deep dark fathomless eyes, I see nothing but danger. For the second time since I stumbled into him tonight, I remind myself that this is a very dangerous man with a lot of power.
"Lilly." He sighs my name, "Tell me. How much were you paid?"
- Writer
