On the Run

Zayn stumbled up to the door, gripping his side, gritting his teeth, and trying not to pass out as he flimsily smacked against the wood. He bit his lip, ashamed of himself. His first solo job and he blew it. Sure, he’d killed the guy, but he let that bastard bury a bullet in his side, and Zayn knew the hospital wasn’t an option. He started to lose hope, not knowing if he had the strength left to knock again before the door was opened.

He sucked in his breath as he saw the angel before him, her brown hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head as she took in the dying boy before her. Zayn cursed himself, having forgotten that Louis lived with his sister, the one he was forbidden from ever seeing. “Rory.” He choked out her name painfully and that was all the girl needed.

“Get inside.” She said simply, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the lavish apartment that took up the entire top floor of their building, the lights of Las Vegas casting a warm glow on the floors. She put one of his arms around her, obviously not caring that her shirt was going to be covered in blood as she shut the front door and led him into the bedroom. She set him down on the mattress, pulling his shirt off over his head as he bit back a hiss of pain. Her eyes quickly found the gunshot and she ran into the bathroom, grabbing a towel before pressing it tightly to the handsome boy’s side. He bit back a groan of agony, writhing on the bed as she looked him over. “Hold this.” She said, grabbing his blood stained hand and pressing it to the wound before vanishing into the bathroom once more.

He pressed down, biting his lip and pressing his head back into the mattress, praying for Rory to hurry up. Finally she heard his prayers and came zooming back in, sitting down by his wounded side with a small white box. She gingerly pulled his hand away and felt along his back for an exit wound. He could help but shiver, feeling her warm hands on his skin, but tried to restrain himself. He knew Louis’ one rule was that if Zayn so much as looked at his sister in a way Louis didn’t like, then Zayn would be the next body dumped in the river. So he pressed his free hand to his face as she continued to run her smooth, delicate fingers over his back. “Bad news.” She said, her voice losing its harsh, demanding tone that she got from her brother and instead turning sympathetic.

“I’m going to die?”

“No, I’ll take you to the hospital before that happens.” Her bright blue eyes met his intensely. “But there’s no exit wound, so I have to pull the bullet out.”

“Fuck.” He growled, knowing from experience how much it was going to hurt.

“Just grit your teeth, I’ve done this before.” She said, opening the box and pulling out a pair of tweezers. She looked at Zayn, biting her plump lower lip before her eyes fell to her work. She moved her fingers to his side, just below the gunshot to hold him still as she started to dip the small tool into his wound. He gritted his teeth so hard he was sure they would chip as he heard them hit something metal, the bullet. She looked at him, offering her free hand which he gladly took. “On the count of three. One…” She then ripped the bullet out, causing Zayn to nearly crush her hand as he writhed in pain.

“You said three!” He said, breathless from the pain.

“I got it out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and half of me with it.” He grumbled. She simply chuckled, pulling a needle and surgical thread out of the box and threading the needle. Once she was done she turned back to Zayn.

“This is going to hurt, a lot.”

“Do it.” He said simply. She nodded and pulled her hand from his, placing it on his stomach to steady herself as the needle slowly moved into his skin. He bit his hand, keeping in his cries of pain as she quickly stitched him up so well he knew she must have done this before. He thought of her brother, the scars all over his body, and wondered how many of them Rory had taken care of. Finally, after what seemed like a painful eternity, she tied off the stitches and turned to Zayn.

“There, you should be good now.”

“Thank God.” He muttered. He could tell Rory was still looking at him as his gaze moved over to meet hers.

“You’re covered in blood. We’re going to have to torch your clothes and get you something else to wear.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” He noted, slowly starting to sit up only to collapse back down from the pain.

“Louis’ has had to have me stitch him up a time or two. And you’re going to have to stay there or you’re going to pull your stitches out and I’ll have to start all over.” Zayn bit his lip.

“Where is Louis?”

“Some job in L.A. He won’t be back for a few days.”

“Why didn’t he tell me? Have me watch out for you until he gets back?” He asked. He knew the answer, but wanted to see what she’d say. Rory simply chuckled as she started unbuttoning Zayn’s blood soaked pants.

“He’s convinced that every single guy he works with wants to sleep with me.”

“Including me?” Zayn asked. Her eyes flicked back to his as she pulled his pants off, setting them on the bloody sheets.

“Especially you.” She answered, smirking at him slightly. “Now move over, I need the bedspread.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked. She narrowed her eyes and Zayn simply nodded to his boxers, which here also soaked in blood. She pressed her lips together, blushing before she tugged them off, quickly covering his manhood with a pillow. She then hastily pulled off the sheets and headed for the bathroom again when Zayn stopped her. “Rory.” He said.

“Yeah?” She turned and he smirked at her, biting his lower lip and watching the shiver it sent through her. “You’ve got something on your shirt.”

Rory looked down, realizing her once grey tee shirt was now half red and sighed. She smirked right back at Zayn before pulling it off over her head and walking into the bathroom, adding her top to the pile. He bit his lip harshly, with Louis gone someone needed to stay here and look after Rory; besides, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon. He smiled, grabbing the blanket she had left and using it to cover his lower half, waiting for her to return.

Finally she came back, still in just her bra and jeans, with a wet wash cloth in one hand and a small bowl in the other. She walked over to the bed and sat down beside Zayn, pulling the sheet down far enough to expose his stitches. She then placed the wash cloth against his tanned skin, slowly starting to wipe away his blood. He couldn’t help but choke back a groan as her hand sunk lower and lower. “So,” She said, either oblivious to his reaction or ignoring it, “How long have you been working with my brother? I’ve seen you around a lot, but you’re always leaving.”

“It’s been almost a year now.” He said, unable to look away from her hand as it moved lower and lower. He looked up to see her eyes glancing over his other scars as she continued to wash the blood off him. “Why do you ask?” She shrugged before her blue eyes locked on his.

“Just wondering how many times I could have done this for you already.” She said simply. She then wiped away the last drop of blood and was about to go put the bowl away when Zayn grabbed her wrist. He motioned for her to hand over the water and she obeyed. He then took the wash cloth, wiping away the small traces of his blood that had gotten on her stomach. He smiled when he heard her breath catch in her throat.

“You know, when I started working with your brother he gave me one rule.” He said, unable to look away from her naked skin.

“And what rule was that?” She asked, her eyes staying locked on his as he set down the supplies and pulled her so she was straddling his chest.

“That if I so much as touched you I’d end up in a body bag.” He whispered, running his calloused, rough fingers over her soft stomach. She shuddered at his touch, her eyes darkening.

“He’s so overprotective.” She whispered.

“Well, luckily there is a solution.” She raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to continue. He pulled her body even closer, starting to cover her exposed stomach with soft kisses. She let out a small whimper, her hands falling to tangle in Zayn’s raven hair. “We don’t let Louis find out.” He murmured against her skin. Within seconds the two of them had gotten off her pants, bra, and panties as Zayn pulled her down into his arms and rolled on top of her. He stared into her blue eyes, knowing that they were the same eyes of his boss, the man he was supposed to listen to and respect above all else. But as he crashed his lips to those of the beautiful woman under him Zayn honestly didn’t give a fuck.

Honey brown eyes opened, looking around the cold jail cell as Zayn let out a soft sigh. Remembering that night with Rory, and the ones that followed, were what was keeping him sane in this God awful place. Even if the nights they got to spend together were few and far between, they were some of the best of his life. She was what kept him from becoming cold, unfeeling and hard. She kept him human, and he could never thank her enough for that. He missed her so much, her feathery brown hair, her sparkling blue eyes, and her laugh. But every little detail, as lovely as it was, was just another reminder that she was apart from him, waiting for him to come home.

He’d begged her to move on with her life, trying to tell her that they would most likely never be together again, but she’d refused to listen. In spite of his situation Zayn chuckled at that. Rory was just as stubborn as her older brother, neither of them ever budging on their side of an argument. Zayn’s eyes then moved up to the bunk above his in the dark, cold room and listened to Louis’ soft snoring. Zayn licked his chapped lips, knowing that if Louis ever found out about him and Rory, Zayn was as good as dead.

He sighed, wishing that Louis could somehow know that Zayn treated her like a princess. He loved her more than words could even express, she was his world, and he would never do anything to put her in danger. He knew Louis was just trying to protect her, but in all honesty, Louis put her in more danger just by sticking around. They lived in the same apartment so Louis could watch her at all times, but at the same time it would be easy for someone to grab her when Louis wasn’t around. A rival hit man could just follow Louis home, wait until he was gone, and grab Rory to use against him.

That’s when Zayn’s stomach dropped. He shot out of bed and ran to the window, looking out into the dark night. Rory was completely alone in that apartment, and images of her being murdered or raped were racing through his mind. He smacked the bars, cursing the day his father ever started gambling. If it hadn’t been for that old geezer then Zayn wouldn’t be here. He could be with Rory without Louis objecting, he could keep her safe, even if it killed him.

But that was all a fantasy now. The reality was that he was stuck in this damn prison and he wouldn’t know until the sentencing tomorrow whether or not Rory was safe, alive, and still wanted to see him. It was breaking his heart, thinking of her all alone without him to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her. He, as well as Louis and the others knew they would get life for the robbery; they would spend the rest of their existence behind these bars. The only time he’d be able to see Rory was during visitation hours, and that was only if Louis wasn’t seeing someone at the same time. He wanted to hold her in his arms, memorize the way they fit together so he could think back on it when he was alone. Finally, with a small sigh, he pressed his forehead to the bars, begging the sun to rise so he could see her one last time.