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who stood over one city,
experiencing something so beautiful together— life in the right
now .

ABBOT
    Six
    S he wasn't safe around me
or in the city.
    I didn't expect an answer so raw
and truthful from a stranger. I supposed it was ideal that she
didn't know me like the locals did, or even suspect what I was
capable of doing. My draw quickly became more than just protecting
her from being kidnapped by the bastards who stalked the streets. I
found myself wanting her, wanting to break her down and build her
back up to be the strong woman that I sensed inside of her. She
might be partially broken, but maybe I could be the man to put her
back together to my liking. Within her, something begged to be
unlocked and set free. Behind the girl who blushed with every look
we exchanged, there was a resilient woman waiting to be freed . . .
and I would find her.
    If she wouldn't have looked at me
like I could save her world, then I possibly could have walked
away. Maybe. But now, it was too late for her and for me. The way
she kept popping up in my space, it was like dangling a piece of
meat in front of a dog.
    On the way back to her hotel, I
saw the black van sweeping the streets. When I made eye contact
with the driver, he rounded the corner, engine sputtering and
spitting as he drove into the distance. The knife tucked in the
back of my pants urged me to let it free and destroy the fucks who
taunted me. I knew the driver saw her, which meant an invisible X
was placed on her back. Since the ante was upped tenfold, I had no
choice. Either I took her, or someone else did.
    Let the fucking games
begin.
    I stood outside of her hotel, and
before she entered, she looked up into my eyes.
    "There is something about you . .
. " she said and then stopped. "It was nice meeting you, Abbot." We
didn't end the night with a kiss but rather with a side hug. It was
so ridiculous, but I allowed it. I wanted to run my fingers through
her hair and force her to look into my eyes and tell me all of her
secrets. I needed to know more about her, what made her tick, and
why the fuck she was so friendly to strangers.
    "Delivered. Safe and sound just
like I promised," I said.
    She stared at me for another
moment, smiled, then walked inside. I balled my hands into fists,
and my knuckles cracked. While my anger raged on, I called a few of
my men and told them the plan. "I've got a new mark, if she doesn't
leave town tomorrow." I didn't wait for them to reply before I
ended the call.
    I searched the city for that
filthy piece-of-shit sweeper who tried to intimidate me. I put a
call out to my men until someone rounded him up and brought him to
me. He would want me to find him first, because I would be quicker
than my men if they found him.
    It took exactly forty-five minutes
before he was located and brought back to the warehouse. Furiously,
I walked back to my flat, grabbed the keys to the Audi, and met
everyone there. Being the leader of the Gang of London was fucking
work, twenty-four hours a day. But what I did bettered the city,
gave me a purpose, and protected those who needed to be saved. In a
city where the police were fucking crooked and the drug lords ran
wild, people like my men and me were necessary, so I've claimed
ownership of the streets. No one fucking crossed me, and those who
were brave enough to push my fucking buttons would be
destroyed.
    I pulled into the back hatch and
slammed the car door behind me. I took the stairs two at a time to
where the driver waited. I knew he would be tied to a chair,
begging to be set free. Or maybe he would be silent. There seemed
to be no middle ground when it came to questioning assholes. They
either acted like giant pussies and cried, or like hard asses and
gave the silent treatment. It took a certain type of person to be
in this business . . . sociopathic, psychotic. I often wondered
what my issues were, and I've almost narrowed them down. I lacked
the emotion that caused fear.
    It was lost within me. It made