Christine could find no sleep- her night with Erik had not turned out the way she'd hoped. Rather than follow the sage advice she'd discovered both in her new book and on several helpful Internet sites, Christine had dissolved into tears and confessed several disjointed insecurities.
Erik could not understand.
He'd suggested therapy, but Christine had balked at the idea- and why not? She'd been to therapy, both before and after her bastard of a stepfather had been brought in for his crimes against her. It did help to talk her problems out, but Christine couldn't see how explaining the way she felt to a complete stranger could be of any real use.
She knew why she felt the way she did, she understood her own motivations and behavior. She knew she was wrong about Erik, and that she had lied to protect herself...it was just a very difficult thing to come to terms with.
Her personal insecurities were strong. Christine knew Erik, and she'd grown to love him; simply, she felt terrified that he might someday soon grow bored or exasperated with her and ask her to leave. She rolled over in bed for the sixth time that night and sighed deeply, thinking that she could save Erik the trouble and leave him.
No, the night had not turned out the way she'd wished at all. The book advised a quiet sit-down and complete honesty of her feelings. Erik wasn't a therapist, but she'd felt confident that he could relate in some way to the abuse she had suffered.
Christine sat up and glanced over at the pups, nestled together in their beds. Snow looked up at her and Christine smiled slightly, wondering if she was out of her mind for even considering going to Erik again.
She shrugged to herself and stepped out of her room, padding quietly down the hall to Erik's. She slipped in the door to find him sprawled on his stomach, his long, bare back facing her. Any reservations she had were forgotten, and Christine carefully climbed into bed with him. She knew he would not hurt her. He loved her.
"Erik," she whispered. "Erik, are you awake?"
She shook him lightly, her hand directly over his tattooed shoulder. He rolled over to face her. "Of course I'm awake. You didn't think I'd be able to sleep, did you?"
Despite everything, Christine smiled at his dry humor. "No."
He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Is everything all right?"
She held his hand against her face, reveling in his warmth. "No, Erik. Everything has gone wrong, can't you feel it? Ever since I had to go back to dancing…"
"Yes. It's been eating away at me, every night. I'd thought after Saturday we might be able to start anew, but-"
Christine moved down so that he could circle his arms around her. "Erik, please. You aren't doing anything wrong, I'm just…there's a lot left over from everything I've been through. I've had to put it off for so long, but it feels like I'm just now starting to get over all that happened."
Erik shifted beneath her. "We both know that this isn't something that you can just get over with, you can't just forget about all of it and go on as if it never happened."
"Why not?"
"You will have just buried your pain, and sooner or later it will rise to the surface. Believe me, I know." He said quietly. Christine sensed a conflict on Erik's mind, but he reluctantly continued. "Not all of my scars were from my mother, or the surgeries that came after…some I did to myself…"
Christine gasped and moved to face him. Erik's room was very dark, but she could feel him, hard and hot beneath her hands. "Erik, why didn't you tell me?"
He stroked her arms. "For the same reasons you haven't told me. I was embarrassed, ashamed…I didn't trust you enough to hear the truth. I'm sorry," he said as he felt her draw back. "I just didn't want to tell you yet,"
Christine kissed his ravaged cheek and brought her arms around him tightly, moving so they laid side by side in his bed, the sheet tangled about their legs. "Erik, what happened to you? Why would you ever hurt yourself?"
He sighed. "I can't even say I was drunk, or that it was an accident. I was angry- no, more than angry, Christine. Furious. Murderous! I could have hurt someone, but thankfully I took out my aggression on myself rather than anyone else. What an idiot I was back then."
Erik shifted Christine closer to him and kissed her lips softly before going on. "It was my first love, or, as close to love as I had ever known at the time. Looking back on it, I was too young to understand the difference between friends and romance. There was a girl. She was older than I was, but she couldn't have been a day over 18. There had been no mask then; she spoke to me as if she couldn't even see the new stitches. Fool that I was, I'd thought her to be in love with me, the way I'd fallen for her."
Christine nuzzled closer, stroking his face. "And she hadn't?"
Erik shook his head. "No. I'd picked a few flowers and written her a love letter- trying to be romantic, the way I'd seen men behave in films. The girl, her name was Kaitlyn, came looking for me the next day. I'll give her credit that she was wonderful about it all- she told me that I was just too young, but that I'd grow up someday and make a girl feel very special, and that we would still be friends."
"Sounds like an easy letdown," Christine said, idly stroking his chest.
"It was, but it was a rejection all the same. I wasn't able to understand. I went after her , to convince her that I could take her out on a date- ridiculous, as I think I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. I followed her back to her house, just in time to see her leave with the boyfriend she'd never told me about. Even today I'm amazed at my own anger. It was rage, pure and simple. I hated myself for loving Kaitlyn, for being rejected and betrayed by her, for being so ugly that she hadn't given me the chance…"
"And you attacked yourself?" Christine asked quietly.
She felt him nod against her. "Yes. Self-destructive little bastard that I was, I didn't care about the stitches I ripped open, or the new scars sure to occur at my own hand…my foster parents and Kaitlyn's mother could hear me screaming, they restrained me- I don't know what happened after that, only that I woke up in another hospital with even more stitches."
"That's terrible, Erik."
"It was, in a way. I was ashamed at becoming so out of control, and to make amends to myself I vowed never to lose my temper in such a way again. I concentrated everything I had on school, to the exclusion of all else. I worked hard, with only two goals in mind: to make as much money as I could and to earn the respect of everyone I met. I refused to let anyone think of me as the crazed, scarred freak I was that day." The shame at revealing his past violent temper could be heard in his voice.
Christine stroked his face, unbothered by his scars. She wished that she could heal him in the way that he had helped to heal her. "You succeeded in life, Erik. You've earned everything you have, I've never met anyone like you before."
He laughed softly. "Why are we talking about me? It's you that came in to talk, and somehow you managed to have me spill my life."
Christine nodded against him. "I only came in to tell you that I was sorry the evening turned out the way it did, and that you were right. I don't care about what your friends think of me being with you. I only care about you- I know how hard you've worked to have everything, to get this far in life. The last thing I want to do is make things more difficult for you. After everything you've done for me, I shouldn't be giving you this much trouble."
Erik shifted against her. "You make it sound as if you owe it to me not to have any difficulties at all." He said, his arms tightening around her.
"A mistress is meant to relieve your problems, not add to them." Christine said softly.
"You'd been listening to Claudette for too long. A mistress is many things to a man, but she isn't an emotionless servant; I never wanted you here as some sort of blank robot, with your only function being to make me happy. I prefer you as you are. I know you're going through a great deal right now, love, but I promise that it will be over soon."
The certainty in his voice was unnerving. "What have you got planned, Erik?"
"It might be better that you don't know." He said evasively. Glancing at his alarm clock, Erik said, "May I ask why you felt like chatting me up at nearly 2 AM?"
Christine rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. "I just wanted to explain to you what I was feeling,"
"Please do,"
"I'm not afraid of you, Erik. I'm afraid of getting hurt; even though I believe you when you tell me you would never intentionally hurt me, subconsciously I'm still wary. I'm trying to let myself trust you, please believe me. I want to be with you in every way, I just don't want to disappoint you…"
Erik drew her closer, kissing her into silence. "You could never disappoint me, Christine."
12 PM
Diamond did not take the stage as expected the next day.
After checking his e-mail on the ever-present laptop, Erik had insisted that she have the day off, nearly commanding her to stay away from the club. As Christine watched, he went ahead to inform May that her star performer was feeling slightly under the weather. A white lie, yes, but Erik felt no need to tell the truth to that drug-running cow.
May had taken the news in stride. "Fine, fine, Erik. Tell her she's missing out on some fine tips, though. I have some friends here from out of town- deep pockets!"
He rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she can manage. Goodbye May." And then disconnected before turning to Christine. "I'm going to run a few errands, Christine. You can do what you want with the day. I might be a while, but if all goes well none of this will take too long."
Christine frowned slightly at his nervous behavior, but nodded her assent.
What are you doing, Erik...?
2:30 PM
Erik stood, looking out to the city from the large windows of his Manhattan offices. He hadn't been in the last few days, as he was dealing with several different issues, nearly all of them involving Christine in some way or another.
He'd had Maron scouring his contacts throughout Europe- Italy and France especially- in the hunt for a pair of earrings worthy of being seen on Christine when he took her dancing again. Erik wasn't especially picky over the details of what a woman wore, but when it came to Christine, it had to be nothing but the best.
In addition to the earrings, Erik's assistants had been busy arranging reservations at chic restaurants, purchasing tickets to museums, art galleries, concerts and exclusive clubs. As he had been alerted by e-mail that morning, things were moving delightfully ahead of schedule- Erik knew Christine would be in the mood to celebrate their freedom once everything was over, and he aimed to be prepared.
"So we're all in place?" Erik asked, turning to face his new companion.
"Yes, sir. The feed has been brought to the attention of both the agents and the officers working the case. My men have reported that the subject's associates have not left the premises yet, and appear unlikely to do so."
Erik blinked at the man. "Unlikely to leave, eh? I'm not surprised, I'm sure May is throwing them quite the party."
"That's one way of putting it, sir. One of my men reported in only minutes ago that a great deal of food and liquor has been taken to the VIP lounge area of the club."
Erik nodded. "Everything hand-delivered by topless women, I'm sure."
The man made no response, confirming Erik's thought.
He gestured for the man to take a seat, and Erik offered him a drink. "I'm on duty, sir. Also, I don't recommend that you drink now, either. If you're still intent to go on as planned, that is."
Erik looked at the whiskey bottle for a moment, and then thought of Christine. He set the bottle and empty glass aside. "I do plan to go ahead with it- I am responsible for so much of this. It was I who invested in the business side of her operation, secondly funding this mess. It's been going on for months, right in front of me, and I was too damn stupid to see it. No. I have to do this. Can I have the leader's name again, please? His thugs do not interest me."
The man nodded, curtly. "Yes, sir. Salvador Torres, the ringleader of the operation. He and May have been involved for years, not only as business partners but on a personal level as well. The details we could get ahold of are sketchy, but we believe that it was Torres behind the idea of using the women here as the carriers."
Erik nodded, remembering the file that had been sent to his e-mail just that morning. "The more I hear about him, the more eager I am to tear the damn place apart." He muttered.
The man smiled slightly, understanding Erik's restlessness. "You'll have your chance."
He glanced up, shaken that he'd said that out loud. He returned the man's slight smile. "You're right of course. I suppose that is why you are the best in the business."
Again, the man was silent, confirming his thought, which satisfied Erik very much.
4:45 PM
"May, hello," Erik greeted her once he stepped into her office.
Caught off guard, May scrambled to arrange a small stack of financial spreadsheets on the surface of her desk. "Oh, Erik, good…good…"
"It's afternoon, May. Almost evening, actually. Near five." He informed her. "It's already dark outside."
The gaunt woman before him seemed confused for a moment, her eyes puffy and unfocused. "Five, right. All right, five…I think I was supposed to- Erik, would you like a drink?" She asked, her speech slightly erratic.
Erik, nonchalant, took a seat across from her. "Yes, a whiskey if you have it please." May shakily stood up from her chair and moved to the small liquor cabinet on the counter that ran the far wall of her office. He watched her with cold, bright eyes as she poured the drink, sloshing some of it onto the floor and seeming not even to notice. "Are you all right, May? You seem a bit…shaken, I think, and your eyes are red. Having you been crying?"
She shook her head and handed him the glass. "N-no, it's all right."
"And those friends you mentioned? The ones from out of town?"
She blinked a few times, seemingly trying to clear her head. Thin, frustrated fingers speared through her newly dyed hair. Jet black this time. Erik thought it fitting. "They're doing fine." She blinked again, motioning to one of the security screens mounted on her desk. "Your girl is earning her keep with them in the VIP room as we speak."
The cool, unaffected eyes of Erik widened. "What? She's down there?" He demanded, surprised.
May nodded. "Yep, Diamond came in about an hour ago. Apparently one of my associates saw her the other day and when he asked about her, he simply had to meet her. One call was all it took to get her to come in to work. You might want to be a little more generous, Erik."
He swallowed painfully- fury and frustration battled within him. Christine was in danger!
"I am generous…" he said absently, his mind solely on the girl.
May retook her seat behind the desk, reaching into one of the bottom drawers. "You can't be too generous, Erik. Otherwise, why does she keep coming back to give all these men the ride of their lives?" She asked, sounding suddenly far too confident in herself.
Erik held his drink and got up, rising to pace like a caged lion. This wasn't supposed to happen, Christine was never meant to be here!
"Stop pacing, Erik. I've had enough of this," May said, her voice strong.
"Enough of what, May?" Erik demanded.
"Enough of your charade. I have to say, you pulled off quite the little show, but you're forgetting that from here I can see everything," May said, turning the security monitor towards him. Rather than focusing on the other dimensions of the club, the footage was concentrated on one particular area, the time set only minutes before Erik had entered the office.
On the screen he saw himself adjusting the wire he'd been fitted with by the agent that had been in his office earlier that day. May might have thought she had him trapped, but it was Erik that held all the cards- he always had. Even now, confident as she was that she had caught Erik, she had no idea that he'd been deliberately fidgeting with the wire, knowing that she would be paralyzed by the cold hand of fear.
That's what Erik wanted, for May to be as terrified and helpless as she'd made Christine feel that first night she had forced her to Erik's loft.
"How long has this been going on, Erik?" May demanded.
Erik glared at her. "Not long. Only a week or so. How long have you been using this place as a damn drug warehouse?"
May sighed. "I've been to jail before, Erik."
"County jail, May. It'll be federal prison this time," Erik countered. "Your luck has run out. We were only too happy to help the feds bring you down. All these little drop-in visits of mine? I've planted cameras and audio recorders. They finally had what they needed once they saw the footage of what you and your associate friends were up to. It's the end of the line, May."
May stood up from the desk, bringing a pistol up with her. She pointed it straight between Erik's eyes. "Then I'd better go out with a b-argh!"
May's parting line was cut short as Erik hurled his whiskey glass at her, burning her eyes with the alcohol and bloodying her lip by force of the glass. She weilded the gun blindly, a shot rang out, shattering the mirrored wall above the club. Dancers and waitresses screamed, and police officers swarmed the club from every entrance.
By the time May had regained her vision, she was surrounded by narcotics agents and officers of the NYPD.
Erik slipped through the employee entrance of the club with the silent grace of a shadow- even as he walked away, he could hear May screaming protests at the officers. Screeching, really. He didn't care about any of that, his role in the sting operation was over now. He only had one thing left on his mind, Christine.
His walk through the hidden tunnel stopped before the VIP area, his eyes burning at the sight that met him.
The men were there, May's "associates" who'd only just arrived the day before, expecting to collect on their investments. Greasy bastards.
He saw them all standing with their guns drawn, tense and waiting for officers to storm the room. Erik glared. There was no way out of the room, the officers and agents all knew it thanks to the blueprints of the building Erik had been happy to provide.
Erik started as he saw a slim, familiar shape close to the lead man, Salvador. His fingers were twined into Christine's hair, forcing her head back, she was standing in front of him, clad only in a scant pair of panties. He felt his stomach twist and his chest tighten with rage. Christine was being used as a shield!
Suddenly, Erik felt all the anger and frustration he'd been holding at bay sweep over him, enveloping his clever mind with blind fury, the demand to make that man pay for dare touching what was his.
Everything else seemed to fall away.
Erik couldn't think, he could only move, rushing forward, through the mirrored wall, straight toward Salvador. He could not see, everything was red. He could only feel the man's neck under his hands as he wrapped his fingers around his throat and began to squeeze…
Distantly, Erik could hear Christine screaming. More glass was shattering, somewhere. Men were shouting. Gunshots rang out.
Erik heard himself hiss as a sharp, brutal pain tore through him, and the room began to tilt. Then, there was nothing.