E.W.E.W - L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2018  xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Current Chapter Posted - Sunday, May 20, 2018

** WARNING ** 

The usual sexy stuff between Sam is Anna is present, be aware ;)

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{ Chapter 39 } : The Heavy Guilt of Shameless Sinners

The sins we commit weigh heavily on our mind, yet it is our mind that is weak enough to allow these heavy sins to be committed.

The words I penned in my diary many months ago flashed in front of me, wrapped with a healthy dose of irony and self-hatred.

"He's dead," I echoed more to myself, than to Sam.

I once heard that karma includes bad thoughts. And I'd hoped that Joey and his thugs would stop harassing me. That the torture would end. I wished Connor would just die – wished it aimlessly and half-heartedly. The misery caused by them nearly drove me to the edge; I debated suicide before resorting to drugs to suppress my pain.

I never knew my wish would come true.

My wish was my sin. My mind was weakened by the continuous torture I'd endured by their hands and it had allowed me, even for a split second, to wish for Connor's demise. To allow me to sin.

Careful what you wish for, Anna. My dad used to say. You might just get it...And not want it.

Sam's ragged breath ghosted over my cheek. He held me close, crushing my body to his like feeling the depth of my bones and muscles would bring him a sense of calm. A sense of righteousness. But really, was it so right to feel calm and righteous when everything around us felt like a chaotic blur?

Should we be allowed to feel at peace when it felt like my hands were tainted with blood, regardless of the fact that I hadn't pulled the trigger?

"I need to talk with, Richie. I need to start training for my fight."

His fight. Our fight.

"He's dead," I whispered again, needing to acknowledge the cold hard truth once more.

"And he's not coming back," Sam rumbled, and then kissed my temple and my cheeks. He kissed any expanse of skin that was available for his feasting mouth. "May the Lord forgive me, because I feel no regret over his death. I don't care if that makes me sound horrible."

I didn't care either.

"He's dead, Sam."

It's okay to make mistakes, Anna. Just don't sin. I could see my dad's scolding face.

Henry's thugs had sinned when they killed my father. I didn't kill Connor, but it sure as hell felt like it. Was there really any difference between mistaking and sinning?

"He's dead, baby."

My eyes stung anew. You'd think after everything that unfolded tonight, I'd be too exhausted to cry.

Yet here I was, breaking apart in Sam's arms as he tried to hold me together.

My palm over his thundering heart, I choked. "W-Where's my guilt, Sam?"

The soft scrape of his stubble against my cheek grounded me, keeping me away from my daze. His tempestuous eyes burned fiercely into mine.

"Where's my guilt for all of this? Why do I not feel it? Why do I not feel bad that Danny killed him because of me – because of us?"

The answer was already there, but I needed to hear my guy say it.

Sam slowly tucked a stray strand of my blond hair behind my ear, his own throat trembling with emotion. "Have I told you how you always look so beautiful, even when you cry?"

I was a blubbering mess as I fisted his shirt and spent out years worth of pain.

Sam's banded arms caged me - my sanctuary. A gentle rocking motion swayed us. My shoulders quaked, and his shirt relented to the dampness from my tears.

"You feel no pain because you don't want to, gorgeous. You want to let it out. Your guilt's not here, because he's dead. You finally feel as though he got what he deserved because of your father."

I wailed harder because the worst part was he was right.

Guilt was fucking shameless.

* * *

"What comes next?"

Sam was pacing in the locker room, texting furiously on his phone. He barely paid attention to my blank voice.

I tried a little louder. "Sam. What comes next?"

He seemed to have heard me, as his body pulled taut and came to a stop.

Sam pushed his fingers through his already stressed-mussed hair. As always, this habit of frustration ate at him until the strands were being tugged mercilessly. "They're dumping the body at Henry's doorsteps. Same way they dumped your dad."

I froze. 

"Danny says this is the message they're sending across. Don't fuck with us. Eye for an eye, in other words."

When I didn't say anything, Sam continued.

"What comes next is...Some people at Danny's heard the gunshots and called the cops. Vasily is headed there right now. The officers who're showing up are on payroll through Danny's uncle. No one's going to say shit. Lac is going to do something about the blood in the parking lot as soon as they dispose of Connor. And...I need to tell Richie the truth. I'm going to fvcking confess and tell him everything. That I need to start fvcking training for a fight."

"I'm sorry," I said desperately.

Sam swung his heavy gaze to mine. Closing the distance between us, he crouched in front of me and held my chin in his hand. "I never want to hear you apologizing for this."

"His blood's on me," I said weakly. It's all over my clothes. It's all over my palms, slowly seeping to the layer beneath – my skin.

Sam circled my fisted palms with his own and kissed me hard on the mouth. He touched his forehead to mine and we breathed in unison. "I never want to hear you apologizing for this night, Anna. I should have protected you better."

My heart hurt. You've protected me more than anyone in my life ever has. I've known you for so little.

The rest was silenced between us with a powerful stare. "Never."

"Do you wonder if thing's would have been simpler if we hadn't met..."

Sam's mouth softened from the hard line it had been set in and slowly spread into something sweet and mischievous. "Dammi un bacio, Tesoro."

This guy. "You're wicked."

"You like me best when I'm this way."

I tried not to smile and failed.

But the thing was, I more than liked him.

Nevertheless, I let my shoulders carry the heavy weight for one more second as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Dammi un bacio, Tesoro," he whispered once more, his hot breath caressing my throat.

As I tilted my head to kiss him, blood and lifeless bodies and the feeling of nearly being violated ripped in front of me and I stopped.

I simply rested my trembling chin on his shoulder.

* * *

"Can you guys lay low for a few days?" Vasily's accented question resonated from behind us, accompanied by the sound of the sad night's howling wind.

Sam paused, jamming the key in the lock. "What do you mean?"

I was waiting at the passenger side of a new car - Vasily had given us the keys to a black conspicuous Mercedes, per Danny's orders. My car's side mirror was broken and there were gunshots marring the side body. Danny said he would take care of it, whatever that meant. I didn't know what I would tell my mom.

My mind was stuck, spiraling into an abyss filled with scary thoughts. I couldn't drive, so I asked Sam. I just wanted to slip inside into the plush leather seats and block out the rest of the world. Curl up in my bed tonight and stare into nothingness. 

"It'll make things simpler. Just a couple of days. Stay out of anyone's view. Ivanov and the rest of us will try to sort things out."

My eyes riveted to the ground near the lamppost. Did Lac really managed to clean out the blood?

I was there not long ago, pinned to the ground with terror rocking through my bloodstream. My gaze catching a frantic-looking Sam, helplessly folded over with a gun digging into the nape of his neck. The sound of gunshots was like constant white noise in my ears.

Now, I was in a different set of clothes with no traces of blood or dead man. You'd think it was all a dream. The change of clothes, courtesy of Danny, smelled too clean. The scent of fresh laundry made me sick.

It was a harsh contrast to the guilty stench running across my skin, clinging like a layer of sweat.

Sam's chin jutted towards Vasily. "We will. Tell Danny to call me when he can."

I watched with a new wave of sickness as Vasily slung the duffel bag stuffed with our old set of clothes over his shoulder. He was going to burn them. There would be no physical trace. But the haunting memories of tonight would stain like a dirty imprint on our soul.

Vasily said they got a hold of the video. Connor and Henry's enforcers were dead.

"Kid," Vasily grunted.

I thought he'd been talking to Sam, until my boyfriend softly uttered my name.

I looked at Vasily.

His mouth was set in a grim line, but his gaze was filled with a deep understanding. "Tonight was a bad scene. But you will be okay."

What was I going to say? Scream that no, it wouldn't be okay. I felt violated. I felt scarred. Is it really going to be okay? I kept my hellish thoughts at bay, long enough to muster a small, "Thanks."

A moment passed between us. Vasily nodded one more time to both Sam and I. "Drive safely. Lac is parked around. He'll follow you until you reach home safely."

"Where's Danny right now?" Sam asked as he unlocked the car door for me. Wordlessly, I slipped inside and put my head against the cold window.

I saw Vasily's wry smile but he didn't say anything. Message received.

When Sam finally settled inside the car and started the engine, he looked over at me with a blank look. "My mom's working double shifts for the next two days at the hospital, so she won't exactly be home. Make some excuse up and tell your mom you're sleeping over at one of your friend's house. I don't want you out of my sight. You're staying over until it's safe."

He grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers forcefully. I didn't reciprocate. I kept staring out the window.

"Tesoro," Sam gave me a nudge, an inch of warmth returning to his tone.

I cleared my throat and responded just as blankly. "Okay."

* * *

Darkness evaded the space between us.

"We should talk," Sam urged softly when we made it back to his place.

I walked forward, forcing him to drop the hand he had on my back. Sam released a martyr sigh. Vexation rolled off him in waves, and I don't know why it hiked up my own irritation.

His mom and mine were working an overnight shift at the hospital. Michael was a Kurt's. I texted my mom I was sleeping over at Layla's and I asked the latter to cover for me if my mom called.  

I surveyed the darkened corridor in which we stood. It was pitch black in his house, yet he didn't bother turning on the light. Seemed as though we both needed to remain in our darkness tonight. Glancing over my shoulder, I could make out Sam's gigantic silhouette as he toed his shoes off.

"What's there to talk about?" 

His shoulders sagged, as if he was exhausted with me. Realizing how harsh that may have come out, I walked in his general direction, pushing his body against the wall.

A sliver of the light snaking from the porch illuminated a quarter of his face. He looked perturbed, his knitted eyebrows resting firmly over those gorgeous, troubled eyes of his.

I smiled sadly, gently running the tips of my nails over the hair near his ear, all the way down to his nape.

His hands automatically cupped my face, pulling me in until our torsos were flattened. "Why are you being like this?"

I gazed into his eyes, watching them cloud over even more.

He blew a breath past his lips. "We need each other tonight, please don't shut me out. I'm still reeling. So are you. But we need to do this together." He pressed a rough kiss to my forehead, barely escaping my hairline. "Especially since we can't talk to anyone else."

I knew what he was saying. I got it.

"Tesoro," he whispered softly. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on your mind right now." Even lower, he mumbled, "Give me a kiss."

Instead I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling his rapid beats beneath my ear, as I lovingly ran my hands up his chest.

"My walls...they have a bad habit, Sam. You know. Of coming up at the worst times. I don't trust easily and sometimes Gabby and Layla fall victim to my occasional bouts. I struggle with talking about my feelings and even with saying what's on my mind. My track record with guys sucks...But with you, it's so different. I talk to you. I tell you things. I...I always look forward to seeing you. To being with you. I can't wait to see what you have to tell me. It's –" It's love. "-It's so valuable to me."

Still holding us together like we were two jagged puzzle pieces, torn apart and finally mended, Sam dropped to the floor, his back taking the brunt of our fall. His legs extended until I could feel them grazing the back of my thighs. I wrapped mine around his waist, keeping my face tucked against his solid chest.

"You're my best friend, Jodanna," he said simply.

"I know."

He waited.

"And you're mine, too."

He smiled in the dark, but it was crestfallen. I kissed one corner of his mouth, then the other.

"I know you want me to lose the guilt. Act as if this isn't my fault. But Sam, this mess started with me and my dad. Now you're all wrapped up in it."

"It's our mess, Anna," Sam repeated, completely jaded. "I played my part in it, too. While you and your dad had your own mess with Joey and Henry Donald, don't forget that I'm the one who took their son out. I started my own war. Somewhere along our paths crossed and it made everything worst."

Sam's head fell back to rest against the wall, and he tucked me closer to his heart. I kissed it over his shirt, remember the word invincible for some reason.

"I fucked up on my part by taking their son out. Look, the truth is, I was offered a large sum of money two years ago if I would lose the fight against Baxton or even if I forfeited before the fight began. I think his coach knew Baxton wasn't going to win that night. He'd been pumped with lord knows what. High as a kite, there was no way he'd win against me. Yes, Baxton was older than I was, maybe even stronger, but not that night. I had my pride, too, you know? I don't even know why they set up a twenty-one-year-old Baxton with a seventeen-year-old boy. I knocked him out cold that night, knowing it was going to be easy and won a lot of money. Not as much as his people were offering me. But pride and respect go hand-in-hand in my world; I wasn't letting anyone buy me out so Baxton could remain in his rank. It shook things up. I never walked away unscathed from that fight – these people kept a radar on me. I should have shut the fuck up and listened to Richie when he came panicking in the locker rooms, telling me to drop the fight, take the money and keep my silence. I didn't realize the breadth of abilities these people possessed. I certainly wasn't looking to get mixed into whoever these fucking people were."

I did understand. In other words, Sam's mess and mine just caught up, intertwined, and created a bigger fuckery. Then we met each other and became us.

Touching his cheek, I forced him to meet my eyes. Wanting him to see that I got it. I got this fight and what it was for.

"Yet here you are, still acting like it's all your fault." His mouth twisted cynically, and I hated that sight. Such a beautiful mouth should never harbor such an ugly smile.

So, I confessed, "Our mess, baby."

"Good girl." Approval inched upon his face and he raised an eyebrow. "Now, let me get you upstairs in my bed where I can get a closer look at your bruised jaw. I'll get you some ice."

"And I have to check your ribs to see how they're healing. Not to mention your black eye and split lip. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm ugly, baby?"

I got up from his lap and held my hands out for him. He took them, weaving our fingers together.

With a small wink, I stole one of his lines, "You're never anything but hot, beer boy."

Then I pulled him up and we made our way upstairs to his room.

* * * 

I couldn't scrub the grime off my body.

Two days later, and I still couldn't get it off.

My face still hurt like hell, especially my jaw. The spot where I'd been punched was prominent and bluish.

For two days, Sam had been a saint. So sweet and patient. Letting me be quiet and on my own. Letting me ignore him like he wasn't hurting. Letting me use his state-of-the art shower in the basement.

It was magnificent, really. Water trickled from the rain forest ceiling shower. The tiles were bronze, and the glass enclosure had my fingerprints. It was heavenly, yet my muscles remained tense under the force of the water – it was icy and seeped deep into every fiber, numbing me.

Tilting my head back, I allowed the cold, cold water to wash away another layer of shampoo and body gel. Sudsy remains pooled at my feet, before disappearing into the drain.

My skin was pink and inflamed after I'd vigorously went at it with a loofah.

Every time I closed my eyes, I'd hear nothing but the loud popping sound of gunfire ricocheting in my head. See nothing but the man's body folding in half, his blood splattering all over my midriff. There was something so eerily disturbing about the heavy weight of a lifeless head sitting on your torso.

I shuddered again. The thoughts just wouldn't block themselves, and I was helpless against the painful memories. My teeth were clenched with such a ferocity that irritated my jaw even more.

I was tainted. Not clean. There was still blood. Physically, it wasn't there. But I felt it. That was the only reason I reached for the loofah one more time.

The door to the standing shower slammed open with a decisive thud.

The sound echoed louder than the gunfire in my mind. I didn't have to know that it was Sam. I could feel his presence.

I chanced a glance over my shoulder, but the moment his gaze, so tumultuous, grazed mine, I had a little trouble breathing.

Behind me, fuming lightly, he stood tall in all his six feet four glory.

My, God. I couldn't help but marvel every time I saw him.

His arms braced on either side of the door, he was a picture worth a thousand words. His muscles flexed with exertion and his knuckles were so white, I'd through the structure would crumble under strain.

I knew he'd already showered upstairs, because his white cotton tee was dotted with water droplets and his hair – that gorgeous mop of dark golden – was wet and clung to his skull.

There was something so utterly masculine about this guy. So expressive. Even when he wasn't speaking, his eyes and body did all the talking, projected all the thoughts and emotions his words failed to convey.

Right now, that body and eyes were telling me he was ready to pounce his prey, barely in check of his own nature.

When I licked my lips, his guzzling eyes tracked the movement slowly, almost drinking it in. Memorizing it. Those same eyes lost track as they fell upon my naked body.

Oh.

Sam's cheeks hollowed and a light flush, from frustration or lust – maybe a bit of both – tinged his face. But it was the rough, thickened voice