Gun Fight

Alicia's POV

I never counted on being stuck in a tense situation with two devilishly handsome mysterious men in the damn bathroom to occur in my life. 

Or ever.

Acker looked like he just stepped right out of some movie, and I could hardly take my eyes off of him.

Wait…

I paused in my flustered act over the presence of the man I spent a night with a week ago and realized what he had said.

Mikael? Did he mean… the man that was currently pinning me to the wall of the restroom? Was that Mikael? 

‘They knew each other,’ I realised.

“Acker Madden,” the man I now knew as Mikael, spoke with hints of familiarity in his voice, a smirk on his lips. He was undoubtedly the very image of an Adonis, and I would have swooned if it wasn’t such a strange, difficult situation I was in, stuck between him and a hard place. Literally.

If Daya were here, she would FREAK the hell out. 

“How has it been? I thought you’d stay in London for the summer,” Mikael continued as though I wasn’t there, even though I felt his hand pinning me to the wall.

Acker looked unperturbed by the man’s words. In fact I could have sworn his eyes narrowed at Mikael.

They must have been very familiar with each other, I thought. It was as though they were bantering without caring who was in the room with them.

“Remind me why I should divulge my travel plans to you of all people, Mikael. After all, I don’t care about you or your men. Leave me to my business, and leave the girl as well.”

It was then that Mikael seemed to remember I was still his captive and he looked at me briefly, before glancing back at Acker.

“Her? I never knew you would pick a dancer for your woman,” Mikael’s tone was light. “You always like the innocent ones.”

I decided to speak up, my face reddened. This whole misunderstanding again! It was getting me into trouble. What about me looked like I knew anyone here, much less WORKED in a club?

 “I’m not a dancer!” I protested, spluttering. Both sets of eyes turned to me, fixated on my face.

“There,” Acker’s British burr was calm and dripping with honey as he didn’t remove his eyes from my face. “She isn’t a dancer. And yes, she is mine.”

I noticed Mikael’s face twitch, and then he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Regardless of whether she’s your woman or not, she owes ME. I don’t let women slap me for free, no matter who she belongs to.”

“Slap you?” Acker seemed to ask me that question silently and I felt the need to defend myself.

“I— He MOLESTED me!” I yelled out. “I just want to go home. I don’t want any trouble!”

To my surprise, both men chuckled at the same time.

“She’s quite the fiery one, isn’t she?” Mikael remarked, even as his grip loosened on me. I stepped away from him, eyeing the door, calculating my chances. Said chances were impossibly low.

There were two men, one of them practically blocking the exit. Even if I tried to run, there was no way I would make it in time.

“She can be a handful,” Acker responded to his remark. “I came here looking for her because she fled from me.”

The reference to the night I spent with Acker three days ago made my heart begin to pound louder in my chest.

Though every inch of my body was poised to run, I somehow didn’t feel any fear. It was shocking, considering my instincts long honed in the orphanage and my less than stellar childhood always kept me out of trouble. It never failed me before.

It was those instincts that kept me safe, making me hide at the slightest threat of danger and forcing me to run before things could get complicated.  Yet at this moment, I felt something completely different. Assurance. A strange shift in protection and the knowledge that both of these men wouldn’t hurt me.

Why?

Before any more words could be said however, there was an instant flurry of activity. I froze upon hearing a loud bang in the distance and the music in the distance stopped at once. Silence filled the air and it was like a signal, as both men stilled as well and exchanged glances.

“One of yours?” Acker asked Mikael, who sneered at him.

“I was about to ask you the fucking same. Damned capone, starting trouble,” Mikael said then began to speak in a stream of  language I didn't understand. Was that French? Italian?

“Boss!”