"'cause i don't wanna lose you"

•••

"Where the hell is that fucker?"

Everyone merely stared at him as he scanned the room, searching for someone to hit. Christopher cursed under his breath, making Andrew turn his head towards the noise.

In an instant, he had his hands grabbing his shirt, staining it with his dark blood, his face close to his.

I knew that look on his face all too well.

"You asshole, I'll make you pay for what you did," Andrew threatened.

"Andrew," I grunted his name as he was about to strike him. He stopped abruptly, his fist lingering in the air a few inches away from Christopher.

Judging by his expression, I could tell Andrew had not realised I was in the room. Or anyone else either. He slowly lowered his hand, easing his hold on the shirt as he gazed at me.

I noticed Andrew was wearing his shoulder holster over his white tank top, two guns dangling limply from it. He also had a sheathed dagger peeking through the opening of his jeans' pocket. Why was he not using his weapons?

His knuckles were as red as the dress I wore the fateful night of the dinner, and it had all been because of me. He was here because I had been daft enough to believe Christopher was kind.

"Sabri-"

"Look who finally decided to show up," Oliver interrupted him. I watched as his body froze at the sound of his old friend's voice; everything became tense. He quickly spun around; his breathing hitched as soon as he realised he was actually there. "I've been waiting for you, Andy."

"Boyd," Andrew gritted his teeth, "Who let you out of prison, huh? I thought you enjoyed it there." He crossed his tattooed arms over his chest as he stared at Oliver, who was smirking.

"I had some business to attend to," he replied, "As you can clearly tell." He motioned towards me, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Oh, Andy, you have no idea." Oliver chuckled and looked at the open door; a man was lying unconscious on the ground, "By the way, did you really kill all of my men on your way up here?"

"They are not dead," Andrew rolled his eyes, "That is your way of dealing with enemies; I only knocked them out."

"And where is the rest of your crew?" he proceeded to question him, "You don't expect me to believe that-"

"I came alone," he finished the sentence, obviously saying what Oliver was thinking.

"You what!?" I suddenly exclaimed, "Are you deranged?" He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets.

He was barmy; his spontaneity was through the roof. He was so vexatious I could kill him.

Or kiss him.

Either option sounded like a good idea.

"Didn't I tell you he would stop at nothing, babe?" Oliver looked at me.

"Woah, who are you calling that?"

"Andy, my friend," he placed his hands on his shoulders, "This is really not a good time for jealousy."

"Get the fuck off of me," Andrew answered, his mouth in a straight line.

"Alright, alright," he stepped back, glimpsing at the open door in exasperation, "We were talking about you before your dramatic entrance."

"I was blinded by rage," he commented, "You sure know about that type of thing, don't you?"

He brought matters of the past into discussion just like I had done. I saw some similarities between us, for example, our desire for revenge.

"Whatever," Oliver brushed him off and pointed behind Andrew, "Remember Christopher?"

"Right, I was about to beat you up."

"Shut up for a minute, will you?"

As the conversation progressed, all I wanted to do was burst out laughing at Andrew's indifference and Oliver's irritation. He was so calm about everything it was hard to believe we were in the middle of a hostage situation.

I noticed how Oliver's attitude changed once Andrew entered the room; he seemed relaxed, and his frown disappeared more often than when I had been alone with him. It made me think he had actually missed his previous companion these past few years.

"If you haven't realised already," Oliver continued, "He works for me, and he was the one who brought Sabrina to me."

Andrew silently glanced at Christopher for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Oliver and muttering a low 'fuck you' in between breaths.

"And I told him to ask you for a hundred million dollars," he ignored Andrew's comment, "Because Sabrina here was quite helpful and gave me the details about your latest heist at The Wynn." He smiled, "Congratulations on such a successful job."

"Thank you, I guess."

"How have you been, huh?"

"Great," Andrew rolled his eyes, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Sabrina and I are going to leave. I'll send you the money." He advanced towards me, but the man who had joined us for the phone call blocked his way. He stared daggers at him, "Theo, move."

What the hell? Did he know him?

"You are not touching her, Andy," Oliver stated behind his back, "Did you really think I would let her go that easily?"

"No, but it was worth trying." Our eyes met, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me.

He winked recklessly, lightly biting his lip before changing his expression as hastily as he had mere seconds ago.

It was definitely a sign that he was not taking this seriously. At all.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Oliver laughed, oblivious to Andrew's playful grin.

"If you say so," Andrew turned to Christopher, "So how are you involved in this shit again?"

He proceeded to tell him everything he had told me: how he met Oliver and his way into this life, as well as his involvement with me. As the story progressed, I observed him as he scowled even more than when he had slammed into the room.

I realised he was confused; he was unaware of my past relationship with Oliver and that it was the single explanation for my connection to this circumstance. We were together while they were not friends, but I did not know they were acquainted at the time.

Feeling the nerves running through my veins, I shuddered at what would be Andrew's reaction when he heard of that part of my past.

"What do you want a hundred million dollars for anyway?" he asked Oliver, "I know you are more than well off already."

"I thought you would agree to it for her," he replied, "Although I should have known you wouldn't drop that much money, you never did and never will."

"You are right about that," he stated, "What do you want from me?"

"A hundred million dollars."

"No, you don't," Andrew looked at him, "What do you really want?" After a moment of prolonged staring between the two men, Oliver finally let out a sigh, giving in.

"What do I really want?" he paced the room slowly, "I want her." I remained quiet as they all turned their heads towards me. Andrew merely glared at Oliver.

"Well, you can't have her."

"Aw, bummer, and why is that?"

"Be-"

"Could you stop passing me around like I am a fucking property?" I interrupted, "I am right in front of you, my God."

"What she said," Andrew agreed.

"I would like to hear your answer, Andy," Oliver said, "Not hers."

"Because she is my assistant," he stated after a pause, "And I'm not about to let go of someone as good as her again."

As soon as he said that, I knew he was talking about Elizabeth. She must have meant a lot to him until she fucked everything up. I understood his reason for firing her, but why had he not persisted if he cared that much?

"Why are you so sure about Sabrina?" Oliver inquired.

"I just told you why."

"But that can't be the only reason, Andy," he continued, "Is it because of something else?"

"No." I intently listened as he repeated the same questions he had said to me. I had forgotten about Oliver's manipulation techniques and how much of an expert he was at using them. Andrew denied everything he was asked, but Oliver eventually got him around.

"I already know, Andrew," he said, "Might as well admit it." I stared at Andrew, who looked at me, but he turned towards Oliver just as I nodded.

"Alright," he sighed, "I confess to it, we hooked up a couple of times."

Andrew was correct; under all the layers of feelings, we were only hooking up. It was weird to put it so bluntly.

"It wasn't that difficult, was it?" Oliver laughed. He walked behind me and firmly placed his hands on my shoulders. I watched Andrew's muscles tense following his old friend's movements. Shaking my shoulders, I attempted to loosen his grip on me, but he squeezed harder to spite me.

"You're hurting her," Andrew stated as I winced, "Get off of her." They both gazed at each other, a silent conversation passing between them before Oliver let go.

"What are you waiting for, huh?" he approached him, "Aren't you going to beat us up?" He punched him playfully on the arm. "You know, take her back with you."

Good Lord, he was annoying as fuck.

"No," Andrew replied, "You are going to let her go."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I don't want to threaten you," he overlooked Oliver's question.

"Please," he spread his arms, "Grace us with your threats." He chuckled, "What are you going to do if I don't let her leave?"

"Kill you." Oliver scoffed.

"You don't have it in you," he continued, "I know you enough to remember that."

Oliver was not wrong. Andrew despised the thought of murdering anyone, and, now that I had learnt about his past, I discerned why. I acknowledged he was capable of it if his mind was set on it, but I had never seen that side of him.

He hated having blood on his hands; they were already full of dried stains.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at the two men bickering. Andrew promptly looked around him and, before anyone could stop him, he removed his guns from his holster, aiming it at the others' foreheads.

Immediately, Christopher and Oliver grabbed their respective weapons and pointed them at him. The man, Theo, simply gazed at the scene as I felt my breathing hitch in surprise.

"Try me."

The two words hung in the air for a brief instant as the three men raised their firearms onto each other.

"Are you going to shoot me then? I'm right in front of you."

Since they were all focused on each other, I took the opportunity to slowly untie the rope around my wrists. After moving around unnoticed on the chair through their conversation, the knot had begun to unfasten.

"Shoot me." Andrew's hands were firm in their elevated positions, but I noticed his hesitation. "You can't do it." He suddenly aimed both of his guns at Oliver.

"I can kill you," he stated, "And if that bastard shoots me," He nodded at Christopher, "I know it would have been worth it."

"Damn," Oliver smirked, "You really are in love, aren't you? Willing to die for a woman you met four months ago."

"You said I was dramatic, right?" he shrugged, not denying the claim of love.

"And that indeed you are."

"Well," Christopher suddenly began, "I don't think he would do that if something like this-" He turned his weapon towards me, "Were to happen, would he?"

Andrew gazed at the gun pointed at me before glancing at Christopher. There was so much hatred in his eyes that he would have been dead by now.

"Get that thing away from her, asshole." He ignored him.

"Shoot him, and she dies."

"Then you will die as well," Andrew aimed one of his weapons at Christopher again.

I was quiet as I watched this mayhem unfold in front of me. I was sure Andrew was not about to shoot Oliver, knowing he could kill someone else in the process, but would he care?

He cared about me, but he seemed to care about Boyd's death just as much. I was torn between bracing myself for the bullet dedicated to me and the possibility of Andrew dropping his firearm.

Christopher removed the safety from his gun and grinned at Andrew, "You have ten seconds, or you can kiss her goodbye."