This chapter is also called everyone needs to stop harassing Courtney before she throat punches you. This chapter took so long because I'm in college and while I love it, I never have time to write. As I'm typing this, I should be writing a 5 page paper, but I'm doing this instead. So, uh, despite my better judgement and the forces of evil pushing me to do so, this is an actual story now. Also, I edited this during class so there might be mistakes still.
"Veras!" The shouting of her name made Courtney jolt in surprise, hitting her elbow on the file cabinet she had been shuffling through. She grinded her teeth together as she rubbed at her throbbing elbow, holding in the shouting of a curse word not meant for the work place. She glanced in the direction that her name had been called, watching grumpily as one of her coworkers made his way towards her.
He was one of those lawyers who looked way too young to be in front of the stand, not to mention he was probably the most soft-spoken, nonconfrontational person she had ever met. She was fairly certain she could halfheartedly raise a fist to him and he would cower in fear. Then again, Courtney was always seen as intimidating, especially to her coworkers. It was not her fault that she was naturally driven! Anyways, he always looked disheveled, and not in an attractive, purposeful way. Nothing like Duncan, a little voice, that she had been trying to beat down and lock away, thought despite her irritation and denial.
Rather, he always looked anxious, like he was always working late into the night on the biggest case of his career. However, that did not stop him from being a sexist dick. The tie of his suit was often loosened in the way that only came across as stress and his hair was always sticking up in all sorts of directions, as if he had been pulling on it in frustration. She had no idea how he had become a lawyer, especially one at the DA's office, but more importantly she wasn't sure how he had been given more cases than her.
He wasn't even more qualified than her, nor had he been at the DA's office much longer than her. Any case Courtney had ever been on, the verdict was guilty. It was no coincidence. It was with her help and her scrutiny over details that won all of those cases. Hell, she had even won her first solo case, which had definitely earned her some brownie points with her boss. She was just hoping that it would tempt him into giving her more cases, more responsibility. Courtney was just desperate to get off probation and show her true worth and what she could do for this office and the city.
"Have you seen the news recently?" her coworker questioned as he finally reached her. Courtney briefly eyed him, eyed the way he leaned casually against the wall beside the file cabinet as he spoke to her. She turned back to her shuffling folders, taking brief note that his tie was indeed loosened and his hair was indeed pointing in every direction. How did this guy even get this job? He was so unprofessional looking. Have some pride in the way you look at work!
"Can't say I have," Courtney replied dully, her eyes on the many of file folders she was riffling through, "I've been sort of busy with work." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod as if he had already known that his eyes looking in less than appropriate places. Gross, Courtney thought to herself with an eye roll, but nonetheless she found herself checking what she was wearing, making sure nothing had risen up and that she didn't look as unprofessional as him. Courtney couldn't even bear the thought of looking so unprofessional in the work place.
"Yeah, I heard you won that first case of yours. Congrats," he said, his eyes trailing down her body, "Still married to the job, I see."
"Thank you. What happened in the news?" Courtney inquired quickly when she saw her coworker open his mouth, seemingly to go in for the kill. He relaxed back against the wall as Courtney's gaze moved to his, waiting for him to spill.
"The Killer Bass Crew got away with a bank heist this week, which isn't very surprising, but they tore off with easily over half a million and went on a huge city-wide police chase," he told her and Courtney felt a knife to her gut. She suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. Hoping her face didn't show her sudden nausea, she turned away, staring intently back at the many of files, shuffling through them as if she had a purpose. "How did you not hear about that?"
"Like I said, I've been fairly busy with the job. Cases won't close themselves," she said, reaching out her arm to wave him off, "Besides, the Bass pull off heists all the time and they definitely bother the police more than they should, sadly there's nothing really crazy about that story."
"That wasn't even the crazy part. The crazy part was that the Screaming Gophers Crew cut off the Bass and they started having a shoot off with each other," her coworker whispered excitedly to her, and Courtney was sure her heart was in her stomach. Heists were normal. Police chases, normal. Gangs fighting and getting into turf wars, normal. Having a full on shoot out during a police chase for no apparent reason, not even close to normal, not even for this city. What the hell was Duncan getting himself into?
"Did the police arrest anyone from the gangs?" Courtney asked and she prayed her voice sounded like normal curiosity and not at all as panicked as she felt.
"No," he said with annoyance and Courtney tried to keep from letting out a breath she didn't know why she was holding, "The Delinquent must have ordered his crew to fall back from the Gophers, because before anyone knew it, he was taking his getaway car and wrecking his way back through the police cars and away from the whole scene." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe it himself. "That Delinquent might be a total psychopath, but if he's one thing it's lucky. The way he tore out in that getaway car, man, it was some skill. He got everything he wanted. He ran away with the money, escaped the police, and escaped the Gophers."
"Typical day in the city," Courtney spoke with a shrug and she wished she had something more casual to say.
"I suppose," he agreed before turning his attention solely back to her, "You know, if you ever wanted to go out into the city sometime, you'd be a lot safer with me than alone." He took a step closer to her and dragged his fingers up her arm. Courtney took a step back, shutting the file cabinet and grabbing the file she had been looking for.
"Do you really want to sexually harass your lawyer coworker in the workplace?" Courtney questioned with an eyebrow raise and a subtle sneer to her tone, holding the file close to her. He opened his mouth to retort something back, but Courtney swiftly beat him to it. "I'd have your job and a winning judgement before you could even come up with some sexist, women blaming lie." Her coworker backed up slightly when he took in the full look of the raging fire in Courtney's eyes. That woman could make anyone afraid. She was serious and everyone in the office, except the boss man apparently, knew that Courtney could win a case with her eyes closed, especially one of sexual harassment in the workplace. "Walk away and take this as a learning lesson before I report you to HR and file a lawsuit."
The man scurried away as Courtney let out a sigh. She made her way down the hall, heading back to her office—well, her mentor's office that she worked out of. As the anger dissipated out of her, the nausea set in again. She felt like there was a lump in her throat and a knife twisting in her side.
It had been weeks since she had met, and more importantly, last seen the Delinquent. Duncan. By that point she had almost forgotten about the entire thing. She had practically forced the memory of taking care of the criminal out of her mind. She never at all thought about him and every second of their chance encounter. She had succeeded in forgetting about it entirely save for the times she caught sight of the Killer Bass emblem sitting on her bedside table, and it was only during those fleeting moments that Courtney's stomach would fill with hornets. She usually pushed away the feeling before she could ever fully analyze why just the simple remembrance of the Delinquent made her feel so out of control.
Mentioning the Killer Bass Crew, and more specifically their leader, made the memories of that night flood back to the forefront of her mind. She could practically still feel those blue orbs of Duncan's staring at her, watching her every movement as she talked endlessly. She could still hear the softness of his voice as he told her stories of his life and recounted tales of his crew that, despite herself, left her heart pounding and her ears buzzing with excitement. All of it left a bad taste in her mouth and an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Courtney wasn't sure why she was so anxious about the mention of the Killer Bass. It wasn't like she was actually a part of their gang, not that she hadn't been given an offer, and no one knew that she had saved Duncan's life. No one could connect her to them and especially not to their bank heist.
Courtney tried to ignore and swallow down the pesky feeling that maybe she wasn't just concerned with her own self. No, it wasn't that. Courtney was deeply and disturbingly selfish. She only cared about herself and her career. Right? Oh hell, who was she kidding? Everyone knew that Courtney cared deeply about her clients, her cases, justice, and protecting the city. That was anything but selfish.
Courtney raked her fingers through her hair, tugging a little too forcibly. This whole moral standing and confusion was the exact reason Courtney had been trying to force any thought of the Delinquent out of her mind. She wasn't sure who gave him the power, but from the second she decided to help him, he had a way of getting under her skin and wrapping her up in a whirlwind of thoughts, most of which involved her moral standing and the annoyance of wondering why she was so caught up in a criminal.
Just because Courtney wasn't completely selfish, it didn't mean that she cared about what happened to Duncan. She could care less. Hearing of his heists and wrongdoings on the news and feeling anything about it was just her being concerned about her city, or even her own safety. He was a criminal, who knew what he was doing or what he was planning on doing. Courtney doubted his crew even knew what was going through his head half of the time. His choice of life would catch up to him eventually one way or the other, he said so himself. Why would she care if that day was today or twenty years from now? She didn't know him. She had spent not even a full day with him. She didn't care about what he did and if he got caught for it. So what if he was involved in a car chase and was shot at. Just because he stared at her like he knew everything about her didn't mean she should care.
Her phone rang a shrill cry as she jumped out of her thoughts. She grabbed out her phone, taking note of the number that flashed across the screen. She didn't recognize it.
"Hello? Courtney Veras speaking," she answered as she held the phone between her ear and shoulder, shuffling to open the door to her—mentor's—office. She made her way into the office, turning on the light and tossing the files she held onto the desk.
"Do you always answer your phone so professionally?" the caller questioned with amusement, "What era are you living in?"
"Who is this?" Courtney inquired as she grabbed her phone, more attentive on the caller than before.
"Ouch, am I really that forgettable?" the male asked, fake hurt obvious in his voice, "I guess I must have just blended in with all of the criminal gang leaders you meet in an alley and save." Courtney's body automatically stiffened at his words. She had immediately recognized his voice, but she was hoping against hope that she was wrong. She glanced to the door, making sure it was shut before peeking out the blinded, interior window, making sure no one was paying attention to the office.
"How the hell did you get my number?" Courtney sneered into the phone, trying to hide the panic she was feeling. Duncan couldn't be calling her. Hell, this call alone would forever be in her phone records.
"I used your phone to call my crew, remember?" Duncan said casually into the phone as if it was no big deal at all that he was contacting her.
"You can't be calling me," Courtney spoke, her voice becoming panicky with the thought that the Delinquent just had her number to call whenever. He probably had her saved in his phone as Princess.
"Relax, Princess," he cooed into the phone as Courtney let out a frustrated sigh. She hated when people told her to calm down, it made her anything but calm. She especially hated hearing Duncan telling her to relax, especially when he called her Princess, and especially when the memory of his soothingly soft voice recounting good stories did make her calm down. "Everything's covered, you have nothing to worry about. There won't be any records that I called you, no one can find out where I am, I got all my bases covered. Call it the perks of being a gang leader."
Courtney let out a relieved sigh, glad that no one would ever know the Delinquent was calling her. To the outsider world, Courtney Veras had no connection with the Delinquent. Sadly, Courtney knew the truth. That despite if she wanted it or not, she was connected to Duncan, he had made sure of it.
"Why are you calling me, Duncan?" she questioned almost desperately, "Is this just some twisted call to threaten me and reiterate that if I ever tell anyone who you are you'll have your crew kill me?"
"Do you really think that lowly of me?" Duncan asked, his voice almost sounding hurt over the phone, "You think I'd just threaten you and let my crew just kill you?" The hurt in his voice was nearly impossible to associate with the Delinquent. Courtney was quickly learning that it was hard to identify the Delinquent and Duncan as the same person. The monster she had seen on the news, the one she often heard about during her time in the city, was nothing to what she had seen of Duncan. It was hard to imagine the man who told her a bedtime story as the masked man who went on car chases and shot police officers. But that's exactly who he was.
"I don't know you," she whispered into the phone, her voice so soft and sincere. There was silence on the other side of the line and Courtney had to strain to hear if Duncan was even still on the line.
Across the city, in an undisclosed location, in a Killer Bass hideout, Duncan closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his mohawk. He leaned back onto his bed, moving to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. Duncan had never been in such a situation. He had never before wanted someone to know him, to not fear him. Courtney was something special, something unusual. Not many people, especially a goody-two-shoes, would see someone they recognized as a known criminal, a gang member, and save them. Yet, Courtney did. Duncan had never before so desperately wanted someone to be unafraid of him, wanted them to know who he was behind the persona.
The whispering of his name broke him out of his thoughts as he quietly said, "I'm not calling to threaten you and I would never let my crew hurt you. I was just calling to see how my favorite ADA is doing."
"Your favorite ADA?" Courtney questioned with amusement as she moved to sit in the desk chair. Duncan let out a chuckle, low and breathy.
"You did save my life," Duncan pointed out, "And you didn't turn me into the police."
"I'm sure a lot of people have saved your life."
"You're still my favorite." Courtney bit back a smile as she let out a quiet breathy laugh. Despite Duncan being nowhere near her, she could not give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her smile, and she was definitely going to deny for the rest of her life the fact that he made her blush.
"You know, I heard this crazy rumor about the Delinquent going on a huge police chase after robbing a bank," Courtney said, changing the subject, "Would you happen to have any insider information about that rumor?" Duncan could hear the playfulness in her voice and it made him smile.
"Well, as a close associate to the Delinquent, I can assure you that the rumors are true," he joked back.
"How are you after all that? That getaway car of yours probably had quite a few bullets in it," Courtney said seriously, leaning back in her chair. In the back of her mind, she noted that she might have been too comfortable talking to Duncan, but for now she ignored it.
"I'm fine, Courtney. The police are nothing. I've been dealing with them so long that they are no longer even a threat," Duncan assured her with a chuckle. Running from the police was always his favorite part of any job, but some days he wished it was more of a challenge. He was so accustomed to it, knew the city's layout so well, that he could escape from the police without much thought or challenge. Of course, the challenge usually came in the form of a shootout, but once he escaped that, he was guaranteed to get home free.
"Well, the police weren't exactly what I was talking about. The way the Gophers showed up, guns blazing, sure sounds an awful lot like that beginnings of a gang war," Courtney commented, hoping that Duncan didn't fabricate some idea in his mind that she was concerned. Of course, Duncan being Duncan, that's exactly what he did.
"Are you saying you're worried about me, Princess?" he questioned with a purr as Courtney rolled her eyes. Of course, unbeknownst to her, Duncan wasn't simply just trying to get under her skin. He didn't want to talk about the Screaming Gophers. Since shooting him and the Bass getting their version of revenge, there had been tension between the two groups. He wasn't sure if it could be heading in the direction of a gang war, but it was tense and definitely getting more dangerous.
"What? No, of course not," Courtney shrieked out in outrage, "I just don't need you showing up at my door with a bullet wound."
"Who said I'd come to you for help?" Duncan questioned and Courtney just knew he was smirking, "It's cute that you want to take care of me, but I've got it taken care of." Courtney rolled her eyes, trying to come up with the best argument as to why she would never want to take care of him.
"I don't want to take care of you! I'd shut the door right in your face. You got one favor from me and I'm most definitely not doing you anymore, especially not now that I know how annoying you truly are!"
"Sure, Princess," he said smugly with an unbelieving shrug.
"You believe it!" Courtney shrieked into the phone and was even more irritated by the chuckle Duncan let out. Man, he was right, messing with her was fun. "I'm serious, you mongrel."
"Insulting," he teased and Courtney resisted the urge to shriek bloody murder into the phone, or throw her phone. She opened her mouth to throw out a plethora of insults, but was stopped by the office door opening.
"Veras, I have great news!" her mentor, Chris McLean, announced as he entered the room. The man moved to shut the door and Courtney heard the beginning of Duncan speaking before she hung up, throwing her phone down on the desk as if it was toxic. "Did I interrupt something?" Chris eyed her phone as she gave him a forced smile.
"No, of course not," she spoke sweetly, "Just arguing with a telemarketer."
"Right," Chris drawled out, eyeing her suspiciously. Chris McLean was the man who taught her everything she knew. He was an amazing lawyer and had been involved in many of famous cases. He was an unforgiving lawyer and very cunning in his tactics. Despite being an amazing, well respected lawyer, he was sort of a pain in the ass to deal with. Courtney respected him, to an extent, and she had learned so much being brought under his wing, but he was a bit too eccentric for her tastes. He was definitely not the kind of personality she would spend time with outside of work.
"What's your great news?" Courtney questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Right, you have just been given another solo case," he told her, his original excitement returning as he handed her a case folder. She took it eagerly, flipping through it to get the gist of it for the time being.
"This is a murder case," Courtney deadpanned as she looked up at him in confusion, "Just a few weeks ago no one around here trusted me enough to read a case file on my own, and now I'm being given a murder case to present on my own."
"Why can't you ever just be happy with what you're given?" Chris sighed out.
"Because it doesn't make any sense."
"You did good on that petty theft case," Chris commented as Courtney sent him a glare, "Okay look, you've been proving yourself around here, and you're doing good. You've won every case you've been on. This murder case is a test."
"A test for what? Getting off probation?" Courtney questioned as Chris glanced around the room, as if he was suspicious of someone eavesdropping, before leaning in.
"This case is difficult, really difficult. It's not impossible, but it's going to take someone really good. If you prosecute this case, they're considering putting you on a huge case, a case that will make your career, and not as some sit in or assistant, but as a major player" Chris whispered to her.
Courtney blinked at him. Once. Twice. This was what she had been waiting for. A chance to prove herself. This was a make or break moment. One case was standing in front of her and what Chris was calling the case that'll make her career. She didn't give a damn if the case was impossible, she was going to get a guilty verdict. She was putting her whole career, her getting off of probation, her proving herself, her pride, everything on making this case a success so she could get to that huge, career making case.
"I won't let you down," she spoke firmly as Chris gave her a smile and a nod.
"Never thought you would," Chris said as he watched her flip open her new case file, "I'm heading down to the courthouse." He reached across the desk and took the files that she had grabbed earlier as Courtney glanced back up.
"Do I need to go—"
"No, stay here, look over your case," Chris said with a wave as he headed for the door, files in hand, "Just make sure you lock everything up when you're done for the day." Courtney gave him a smile of appreciation right as her phone rang. She rolled her eyes when she saw that it was the same number as before. "I'll let you get back to your booty call." Did Courtney mention that he was also inappropriate?
"It's not a boo—"
"See you later, Veras!" Chris said as he left his office, shutting the door behind him. Courtney let out a frustrated sigh before answering her phone despite her better judgement.
"Did you hang up on me?" Duncan questioned before Courtney could even get out a greeting. Courtney rolled her eyes as Duncan continued ranting, mostly playfully, into her ear about the utter disrespect and how wrong it was to hang up on a friend. As if she would ever consider Duncan a friend.
"Duncan, you can't be calling me right now," Courtney interrupted him during one of his breathing pauses.
"Are you just saying that because it's me?"
"No, I'm saying that because I'm at work, and more specifically I'm at the DA's office where they would be more than happy to throw you in prison for the rest of your days," Courtney spoke softly, flipping through the file.
"Good to know you care," Duncan joked.
"I don't want to go to prison," Courtney said absentmindedly, reading over the defendant's police record, "And I especially don't want to go to prison because of you."
"I wouldn't let you go to prison," Duncan sighed out in disappointment as if he couldn't believe she would doubt him.
"What are you going to do break me out?" she mumbled out, "Then I'd be stuck on the run with you, which is the last thing I want."
"Why do you sound like your heart isn't really in this back and forth?" Duncan questioned, "I'm giving you my all here, sweetheart."
"Sorry," Courtney apologized, briefly forgetting that she was talking to someone she never wanted to apologize to, "I just got a really big case. I'm kind of distracted by it."
"Didn't you get a really big case the day we met?"
"This is a murder trial. Everything rides on this case."
Duncan smiled to himself at the sense of pride she held in her voice. He could practically see the determination in her eyes.
"As riveting as this conversation has been, I really do need to go," Courtney said sweetly, her voice taking on what Duncan swore was an apologetic tone.
"Yeah, yeah. Go save the city, Princess."
"Go tear up the city, Delinquent."
"Don't tempt me."
Courtney let out a sigh as her heels clicked against the floor, the belling ringing gently as she pulled open the door. It felt as if everyone's eyes suddenly turned to her, watching as she made her way to the bar. She didn't really belong there, well, at least she didn't look like she belonged there. Still dressed in her work clothes, the bar didn't seem to be her forte, but after her day she really needed a drink stronger than wine.
The Boathouse was one of the few bars in the city that wasn't openly affiliated with a gang. It was also one of the few places where someone would actually be kicked out for causing trouble. The few times Courtney had come there when her alcohol stash was too depleted or when she needed something stronger, she enjoyed. She felt safe—as safe as the city could get—there. She never thought she would openly get stabbed or carried away by some drunk guy. Of course, said men still watched her and tried to talk to her, but Courtney could manage that, especially when she sat at the bar where the bartender was constantly keeping an eye on her.
Courtney took a seat at the bar, keeping her bag in grasp.
"Tequila, please," she said as she shuffled through her bag briefly to pull out her card. Before she knew it, she was casually sipping on her drink, mind focused more on identifying the bottles on the wall behind the bar than anything else.
Out of the corner of her she noticed a body move to sit in the stool next to her, making she shift away slightly. She was the only person sitting at that side of the bar, so no one needed to sit directly beside her. She chose to ignore it, focusing on trying to read the far away labels of the bottles. Oooh, Kahlúa, she mused to herself right as the person beside her moved to face her.
"You seem awfully lonely over here," the man, who seemed to be at the very least tipsy, said, "You seem like you could use some company."
"I'm fine, really," Courtney assured the man, turning to once again face the infinite supply of alcohol.
"Let me get you another drink," the man once again spoke up, "What are you drinking?"
"I'm fine, really, I still have half of my drink left," Courtney said.
"Come on, another drink wouldn't hurt," he said as he went to place his hand over her's. The brunette moved her hand and drink away quickly, tempted to move over to another stool.
"Thank you for the offer, but I really have to decline," Courtney spoke politely, hoping the man would take the hint and she wouldn't have to pepper spray him.
"Well, if you don't feel like a drink, how bout we get out of here," the man suggested as he shifted closer to her despite her obvious discomfort and uninterest. He reached out a hand and placed it on her knee, trailing his hand up her thigh. Okay, new booth it is then, Courtney thought to herself as she quickly knocked the man's hand away and got out of her seat.
In her rush, her feet got caught on the stool's leg. She stumbled backwards for a second before fully gathering her things and turning to walk to a new booth. Right as she turned around and right as the man began to protest, she ran directly into someone, spilling the rest of her drink over herself. Fuck.
"I think the nice lady here would prefer if you left her alone," the person she ran into said as she glanced up into brilliant blue eyes. In that moment she wasn't sure if the universe was conspiring against her or was giving her a gift. Her now stalker, forever attached to her, was her saving grace. People feared Duncan, even without knowing he was the Delinquent, he was fairly intimidating. No one would mess with her while he was looming over.
Duncan stared down the tipsy man, not even attempting to meet Courtney's gaze despite the want to. He hadn't seen the woman who saved his life in person in a number of weeks now. He wanted nothing more than to look into those dark brown, almost onyx eyes of her's. The last time he saw her, he had been a bit disassociated from reality with a gunshot wound, but he had tried to memorize every detail of her. Of course, once he got back home to the Killer Bass's hideout, he properly researched into her, but it wasn't the same. Knowing she was an only child, of a very successful businessman and doctor, who graduated top of her class at some prestigious law school was nothing compared to being able to see her in person.
"I think you need to mind your own business," the man said as he stood up from his bar stool. Duncan stepped in front of Courtney, leaving her staring at the spot he was previously in bewilderment.
"You should leave," Duncan warned lowly. The man seemed to not be backing down from Duncan, so he once again took a step forward threateningly, pulling out his switchblade. "Before I make you." The switchblade looked freshly sharpened to a deadly point, and from what the standbys—witnesses—could tell, it was well used. Duncan held the switchblade firmly in his grasp, prepared to attack if he needed to. He wasn't playing any childish games. He wasn't waving his weapon around threateningly, he wasn't giving some lengthy threats. He was sure and ready to attack at the blink of an eye, absolutely dangerous.
"Chuck, stop causing trouble," the bartender called out from the other side of the bar.
"Yeah, Chuck," Duncan drawled out sarcastically, but somehow it was still completely threatening, "Stop causing trouble." The man, Chuck, backed away slowly, his hands thrown up in a surrender.
"Sorry man, I didn't realize she was taken," he apologized, backing away the entire time as he did.
"Well, remember it for next time," Duncan warned lowly, "And warn everyone else not to mess with her either, unless they want to deal with me." Chuck backed up the entire length of the building, escaping from the bar through the front door, giving a panicked nod to Duncan as he went.
"Don't hit on any women!" Courtney shouted after him after a moment of thought. Duncan wasn't her boyfriend, nor her keeper, nor did he speak for her. She was grateful—a gross thought—that Duncan had seemingly come out of nowhere and helped her out, but she didn't want people just avoiding her because they were afraid of Duncan. She needed people to be afraid of her, to cower away even when Duncan wasn't around.
Duncan turned to give her his full attention, their eyes meeting again for the first time in weeks. God, my memory doesn't do her justice, Duncan thought to himself as he took her in. She wearing her business attire—hot—and boy, did she look good. She had that sort of powerful, classy, but sexy look going on.
Courtney raised a brow at him as she too took him in for the first time without him bleeding out everywhere. He was taller than her, she didn't realize that the night she met him. The height difference was only by a few inches, but it was enough to irritate Courtney to no end.
Duncan fought back a smile as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You just attracted all sorts of unwanted attention, don't you Princess?" he breathed out. Courtney chuckled, glancing down for a second before meeting his gaze again.
"Must be that kind of luck that keeps me finding criminals in alleys," she teased as bit too easily for comfort, "I pull them in, then I just can't get them to stop calling or running into me." Duncan smiled brightly at her, laugh hanging off of his lips as he shook his head and turned away from her to the bar.
"Can we get the lady something to dry off with?" he asked the bartender, who gave him a stiff nod. Courtney glanced down at her blouse, remembering that she spilt half a glass of tequila on herself.
"Can I get you a replacement drink?" Duncan questioned as he handed her a clean dishtowel.
"I suppose I do owe you some company for threatening the town for me," Courtney said sarcastically as she dabbed at the wet spots on her clothes.
"Two bourbons," Duncan said over to the bartender as Courtney grinned. She threw the dishtowel back on the counter, dried the best she could get, before raising a brow at him. "You seem like a classic kind of gal," Duncan said as a way of explanation, giving a shrug.
Two glasses were placed in front of them on the counter as Duncan took them in hand before leading Courtney to an isolated booth, hand hovering by her lower back despite having a glass in hand.
Courtney slid into the booth carefully, trying to keep her skirt from rising up too much. She smoothed down her skirt, crossing her ankles, before settling into a perfectly straight posture, the typical Courtney business stance. The brunette relaxed slightly in relief when Duncan slid into the seat across from her and not beside her like she was expecting.
Duncan easily, and too smoothly for comfort, let Courtney's glass glide across the table and settle directly in front of her. She took the glass in hand, carefully bringing the glass up to her lips. She tried to ignore Duncan's eyes staring unwavering at her, even as he too drank. Instead, she focused on the quietness the bar had been smothered in once Duncan had entered and confronted Chuck. It was like everyone was nosey to see what the short-fused man would do next, like they were trying to strain their ears to hear their conversation. Maybe they all knew Duncan was someone in the city to fear. No one so openly confronted people in this city, especially someone they did not know. For Duncan to do so without so much as a wavering in confidence said a lot about who he was. His confidence meant he would win and anyone who wanted to test that would be nothing but sorry.
"Do you ever just relax?" Duncan questioned suddenly as she snapped her attention back to him.
"What are you talking about?" Courtney snapped, resisting the urge to squirm in her seat as he continued to stare at her like he knew everything about her. He probably does by this point, she reminded herself. He was the big, bad, scary leader of the Killer Bass. If he wanted information he would get it, and it seemed like Duncan was interested enough in her to get information.
"You're all stiff. You're sitting in a bar with a gang leader and you're sitting like you're in some kind of business meeting," Duncan explained as he settled back casually to improve his point. Courtney glanced around, making sure no one heard his very loud mention of being a gang leader. "And you're acting all paranoid. Relax Princess, no one's listening, and if they were, they'd be taken care of."
"You bring me no comfort," Courtney mumbled into her drink with a heavy sigh. The last thing she needed was for someone to hear that she was associating, mostly against her will, with a criminal. Not only would her reputation be ruined, something very important to Courtney, but she would be an accessory! She did not want to be arrested ever, but she most definitely did not want to go to prison because of Duncan. "And for your information, I do relax. It's just hard to do when I'm sitting at the same table as a criminal. Plus, I value good posture." Duncan smiled behind his glass, nodding silently in agreement. God, did she want to punch him in the face. His stupid, smug, "I-know-everything-I'm-the-big-bad-wolf" face.
Their table fell into a silence as the bar seemed to slowly resume its usual quiet clatter. Courtney trailed her finger around the rim of her glass, quietly thinking about where her life was going if she kept attracting the attention of the Delinquent. Her life was going down the gutter, that was for certain. I should've just left him to die in that damn alley, she thought bitterly to herself. She glared over at him angrily, but his focus was somewhere else.
He was surveying the bar, watching as a pack of men walked in. They all were built muscle upon muscle and were probably more steroid than men. They looked like the ones to cause trouble for the hell of it. She could practically hear them bragging like they were in some gang, like they were something to be feared. Duncan probably shot guys like them for fun. Courtney felt the stench of cigarette smoke hit her even from as far away as they were. She turned away from the smell and watched Duncan once again.
His gaze followed the men as they bombarded the bar with yelling and cheers. His grip on his glass tightened and Courtney was certain he was capable of shattering the glass in his grasp. He was on edge, his gaze jumping around like he was on the lookout for something.
"Duncan?" she questioned quietly, her hand reaching out to brush against his. All of a sudden, he was back, smiling at her like he had never looked away. He took her hand gentle in his and Courtney all of a sudden got déjà vu of being in high school on her first date. A time of passing glances filled with nervous energy and of fingers barely brushing against each other. A part of her felt like pulling her hand away, like she had to escape his criminal touch. Another part of her relished in the softness of his touch, of hands so strong and rough being so soft against her skin. She relished in the softness of his face as he looked at her, like he had looked at her thousands of times before. "You went kind of on edge there."
"Sorry," he said softly, running his thumb along her knuckles, "Guys like that," he gestured with his head to the bar to point out the men who were now chugging down pint glasses of beer before slamming them down on the bar top, "They're nothing but trouble. Especially for girls—sorry, women—like you."
"So, it's me that you're concerned about," Courtney questioned with a tease. Duncan caught the look and gave a good-hearted eye roll. Duncan wasn't on edge because he was concerned about himself. Duncan knew, or at least was confident enough to pretend, that he could take down anyone in the bar. However, he was concerned more with Courtney and if anyone would mess with her.
"I can't have anything happening to you. Who else would find me bleeding out in an alley and bandage me up?" Duncan questioned jokingly. Behind the joke was a quiet feeling of worry.
Courtney nodded quietly, her hand still grasped in his. A part of her itched to tell him that she could take care of herself, that she had survived plenty of years without anyone's help. However, her usual defense was caught in her throat as Duncan turned her hand and ran his fingers along her palm. There was something so human about seeing him in this light. He wasn't the Delinquent, he wasn't the criminal mastermind running the Killer Bass. At that moment, he was just a man sitting quietly in a bar without a woman he had met and, sadly for Courtney, had their lives intertwined. He was just an average man concerned about the safety of a woman.
Duncan wasn't being a pain in the ass, at least not yet. He wasn't pushing her buttons or making her question her morals, at least not intentional. Maybe she was being a bit too standoffish with him. Maybe he just wanted a second of pretending he was a normal civilian who wasn't on a time limit, who wouldn't one day be taken out.
"What are you even doing here?" Courtney asked quietly, drink in hand. Just treat him like one of your friends. Pretend he's just a guy you met and you're having a simple conversation, Courtney advised herself.
"Defending you apparently," he answered with a smug grin, like he was proud of himself for saving her, like she'd never live it down.
"That wasn't my fault," Courtney growled out, narrowing her eyes at him.
"I know, you can't help how beautiful you are, but that skirt you're wearing isn't helping your case. Those damn legs of yours just go on for miles." Courtney's eyes narrowed threateningly as she snatched her hand away from him. The only shock he allowed himself to show was a slow blink as he watched her.
"Why do you have to be so damn difficult? I'm trying to give you a chance here, and you feel the need to push my buttons," Courtney snapped at him as he laughed lightly.
"You make it too easy, Princess. Your buttons are like those big red buttons you see in cartoons that are labeled don't touch. It's impossible not to press them," Duncan breathed out in a strained chuckle.
"Children have more self-control than you," Courtney deadpanned as Duncan shrugged half-heartedly. Duncan watched her glare at him from across the table, her glass clutched tightly in one hand even as she crossed her arms moodily. So, the princess has the same kind of short temper as me, Duncan thought to himself a thrill moving through him. She was just so easy to piss off.
"Relax, Princess. I'm not stalking you. I was in the area getting some business squared away and I just decided to stop by a bar," Duncan explained coolly.
"And it just so happened to be the bar I was in?" Courtney questioned with a raised brow, testing to see if he was lying about stalking her.
"Fate just wants us together," he said smoothly as Courtney rolled her eyes. As stupid as it sounded, Courtney was beginning to wonder if the universe was making some kind of cruel joke on her, like Duncan was her karma for some horrible wrongdoing.
"What kind of business would you be doing in an area like this?" Courtney questioned, getting as far away from the topic of her Duncan-karma as possible. The Boathouse might have been a relatively safe bar, but the city was still the city, and the neighborhoods surrounding The Boathouse were not the kindest around. These were one of the sketchier places in the city, and Courtney could only imagine the kind of business Duncan could be getting himself into around these parts.
"You don't want to know," Duncan dismissed as Courtney's mind hyper sped into the millions of possible scenarios. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Maybe he was in the area to canvas a business he was going to rob. Maybe he was in the area because he was finishing off a person who had betrayed him. "Hey, drama princess?" Courtney jumped slightly at his voice, turning her attention to him once again where he was staring at her with a raised brow. Her thoughts must have been written on her face as Duncan rolled his eyes. "I was meeting with some businessmen about the Bass running drugs for them. It's the standard stuff, nothing too crazy."
"Nothing too crazy," Courtney mocked quietly with an eye roll. Only to Duncan, top dog in the gang world, would think running drugs for people was "nothing too crazy". Duncan glared at her before reaching out and taking her glass from her.
"I'm taking you home," Duncan told her sternly.
"I'm not drunk," Courtney snapped at him in irritation, glancing around the bar when she realized how loud she was talking.
"I know you're not drunk, Princess, but you're starting to seem like you're enjoying spending time with me—"
"In your dreams," Courtney growled out as Duncan smirked.
"And what wonderful dreams those are, but your enjoyment is starting to freak me out. So, let's get you home."
"I am perfectly capable of walking myself home," Courtney snapped at him when he got up from the booth and extended a hand to help her up, "I can take care of myself just fine."
"I know," he said gently, and Courtney actually believed he was being sincere. She didn't hear any mockery in his words, no sarcastic bite. "Let me walk you home anyway."
Courtney eyed Duncan's extended hand for a second too long before letting out a sigh. To hell with it. If he wanted to walk her home so damn bad then let him. Besides, though Courtney would never admit it, mostly due to her pride, she would feel a lot safer if Duncan was walking her home through the mean streets of the city.
She took his hand and he hoisted her up with only the smallest of smiles etched onto his face. Duncan led her out the door and was presently surprised when he released her hand once outside.
"Come on, Princess, let's get a move on. We don't have all day here."
"And welcome home," Duncan announced as they reached the front of her apartment building. Duncan had spent a better part of the walk to her apartment acting like some cheesy tour guide. Despite the fact that a lot of the "attractions" he had pointed out were places he had been in a shootout with the cops or had robbed, it was actually kind of sweet. Duncan might have been a scary story told to the people of the city, a big bad wolf to fear and avoid, but underneath that legend he was soft, and he was an absolute dork.
"Thanks for walking me home," Courtney spoke softly as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "And thanks for the exclusive Killer Bass tour."
"I gotta brag to someone other than my crew," Duncan chuckled out before taking a step forward, closer to her, "Any chance I can get an invite back into your apartment?" He grabbed her hand softly in his and Courtney felt a smirk working its way onto her face.
"Not unless you're bleeding to death again."
"So, you would save me?" Duncan questioned cockily as Courtney rolled her eyes and moved to head into her building. "Wait, wait, Princess." He stopped her easily, mostly due to the fact that he was still holding her hand. His gaze fell to their interlocked hands where Duncan had moved to grasp her one small hand in both of his. "That pin I gave you, that offer to join the Bass, that was real. It was a genuine offer."
Courtney blinked at him, watching as he trailed his fingers on the back of her hand, distracting her easily.
"Duncan, I—"
"I know you're not ready for it yet," Duncan interrupted her, "I just want you to know it was real." Duncan leaned forward and presses a brief, gentle kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, Courtney."
And he was gone before she could say any more. Courtney let out a sigh before turning to head into her building, fingers brushing lightly against her cheek.
Do you guys get it? The Boathouse. Because like you know, Duncney, the fish cabin. I'm clever. By the way, I have a total drama sideblog on tumblr! So it's all tdi related. courtofswans
thanks for reading 3 i hope you enjoyed
comments make me a happy writer :)