I'm sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee in front of me. My gun is in pieces on the counter, and I'm cleaning the barrel.
The screen door bangs open, and Jude walks into the kitchen. He looks exhausted, and he's wearing... "Are those chinos?"
He glances down. "Yeah. Don't ask," he grumbles.
His eyes skate over the dismantled gun, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. I shrug. "You know you have issues, right?" he says.
"Um, have you looked in the mirror? This right here..." I wave my finger at him. "Is issues. Have you got... hair gel in your hair?" He swipes his hand roughly through his hair. "I thought I told you not to ask?" He seems agitated about something. "Grumpy," I mumble, turning my attention back to the gun.
He walks behind me and pours a glass of water. I sigh and stand up, moving toward him. He stares down at the glass in his hand and doesn't look up until I'm right in front of him. My eyes hone in on a small bloodied split in his bottom lip.
I grab his chin, turning his face to the side so I can inspect it. "What happened?"
"Again," he growls as he snatches his face from my grasp. "Don't fucking ask me any questions." He tosses the glass in the sink and unbuttons his shirt as he makes his way out of the kitchen.
"Jude!" I shout, chasing after him. "Do not just fucking walk away from me. What happened to your lip?"
He keeps walking, throwing his shirt to the floor before he shoves his way through the bedroom door. I follow him, refusing to let him do this. Something is very wrong, and I want to know what the hell it is. When I walk in he's leaning over the dresser, staring at his reflection.
"Just leave me alone, Tor. I'm not answering your fucking Spanish Inquisition."
"What the hell is wrong with you? You storm in, with a massive fucking bug up your arse, and apparently I'm supposed to deal with your shit?" I snap.
He spins around, his body tense, his tattoos popping against his skin. Glaring at me, he starts to move past me, but I grab him, his arm rigid beneath my fingertips. He could easily break my hold, but he doesn't. His muscles bunch and flex like a coiled snake, and in this mood, that's exactly what he is.
"You want to know what's wrong with me?" His nostrils flare. "To get to Joe, you want to know what I've had to go and do, huh, Tor? Do you really want to fucking know?" This is Jude I'm talking about, a man with few morals and no limitations. If he's this upset over something, then I'm not sure I do want to know. I can see it's troubling him though, so I push forward.
"Tell me," I whisper.
His eyes meet mine, a cold look twisting his features into someone I barely recognise, a stranger I met, what feels like a lifetime ago. He releases a breath. "I just kidnapped a fucking girl."
There's a beat of silence as I absorb what he said. He took a girl, a girl just like me. "Why?" I ask. He must have a reason. He wouldn't just take someone without good reason. I know him.
He breaks free of my hold. "She's Stan's daughter. This is the only way I know I can trust him. The only way I can be sure he will go against everything he's been taught and betray anyone is if I take the one thing that matters more than his own life."
I nod slowly. "Is she hurt?" My voice hitches.
"No."
"Are you going to hurt her?" All I can see is a young girl lying naked on a concrete floor with a two-foot long gash down the centre of her body. An innocent girl just like I once was, an innocent victim.
He won't look at me. "I can't do this with you. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe." He walks out of the room.
I follow him again, this time more determined, but scared for the girl who I now know stands between Jude and Joe.
"Jude!" I call after him, my voice shaking. He halts, and glances over his shoulder at me. I step up behind him and wrap my arms around his thick waist, pressing my forehead between his shoulder blades. My palms lay flat over his defined stomach. I just need to touch him. I need him to remember that I'm not the enemy here. His body is tense, his breaths laboured.
"I understand why..." I start. "Just. Please don't hurt her," I beg, my voice barely rising over the sound of my own strangled breathing.
"I don't want to..." he takes in a shallow breath.
"Please," I whisper so quietly, it's more of a prayer than a request to Jude.
"This is why I didn't say anything to you about it. It's too close to you." He sighs and turns to face me, his hand running along my back. "It was so fucking hard to do, Tor, but I have no other choice." His eyes are full of turmoil, and I can see the pain this causes him. "There is not a line I will not fucking cross to protect you."
I take a deep breath and cup his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his stubble. "I know, and I love you for it, but I need... I need you to promise me that you won't hurt her, Jude. We can't live our lives at the expense of hers. I know you need to her, but just, don't hurt her." My stomach churns uncomfortably for even condoning this in any way. She's a person, not a bargaining chip.
"I'm not gonna let anything happen to her. I don't know what the fuck I'll do if Stan doesn't bring me Joe. We'll be more than fucking fucked."
"Okay. Well, then we try something else, but whatever happens, you let her go, unharmed. Where is she?"
He closes his eyes. "With Rich..."
I take a step back away from him. "Rich? You left her with Rich?" There's an edge of hysteria in my tone. Why the hell would he leave her with him? I lean my forearm against the nearest wall and hunch over, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea hits me.
"Shit," he mumbles, rubbing his hand over my back. "I told him if he didn't touch her I'd pay him a quarter million. That bastard would let his own dick rot off for fucking money. He won't do anything to her."
I shake my head. "Marney. You need to send Marney," I tell him.
"I need Marney with me, Tor. I know you hate Rich, but he won't touch her. You have to trust me."
I turn around, pressing my back to the wall. "It's not you I don't trust." Fuck, I hate the idea of this, but what choice do we have? This is a war we're fighting with Joe.
"It's just for tonight. Joe comes in tomorrow. Twelve hours from now, she'll be free and we'll be gone. Joe will be dead."
"Okay, but you're going to call that spineless shit and you're going to let me talk to him. I'll cut his fucking dick off and feed it to him if he touches her. That's not even a dramatic threat. I mean it," I growl.
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Really?"
"Ask Mussa." His lips pull into a smirk at that comment. "Damn." He places one hand on the wall and leans into me. "You're hot when you get violent." His lips skim up the outside of my throat, stopping just below my ear. My pulse skitters wildly, but I press a hand against his chest, pushing him back.
"Call him. Now."
He smirks. "As you wish."