007. THE LESSON

Buzz.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Excuse yourself from your friends and walk towards the employee's only door in front of you.

Rory wanted to ignore his message to make a point. But she was drained from her hours of dancing and her feet needed a rest - being in heels all night was not an enjoyable experience - so, it didn't take much for her drunken mind to follow along.

Getting the attention of her friends, Rory yelled out over the music, "Harry needs to see me for a second. I'll be back in a bit!"

"Okay! We were thinking of getting pizza in like an hour!" Benny called out in response, "Do you want to wait for you?"

The thought of melted cheese caused her to lick her lips. "Yeah. This shouldn't take long."

Pushing her way out of the crowd, she walked towards her instructed spot and met the eyes of a familiar looking guard.

Buzz.

"Say Bambi's Home?" she read the message out loud. "The fuck does that mean?"

The guard opened the door without giving her a response.

Before stepping through, she turned to the man. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Unlikely, Miss."

"Are you sure?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "I'm pretty good with remembering faces and I feel like I've seen yours before."

"Rory," the sound of Harry's voice made her jump. "Stop bothering my staff. Let's go."

She placed her hands on her hips. "Am I not allowed to speak at all now?"

"Thanks, Big Mike," Harry said to the man before taking her hand and pulling her into the hallway.

The door slammed shut. Taking in her new surroundings - a long, drab hallway with fluorescent lighting - she felt the goosebumps appear on her arm. This would be a good place to kill her if that's what he had planned considering she was trapped in what looked like a metal box. 

Would anyone be able to hear her scream over the music? 

Rory swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about how long it would take before someone found her dead body. Well, that was if they ever did find it. 

She glanced down at her hand being held by his. Their fingers were intertwined. That was an odd feeling.

"Why are you holding my hand?"

"So you can't run," he replied flatly, eyes on his phone.

"You should decorate. Get a coat of paint on these walls."

Harry turned his head. "What?"

"This hallway is ugly." She ran her fingers against the metal as they walked. "Just trying to suggest ways you could make your little criminal empire more visually appealing. That's all."

Their walk was abruptly cut short. In one swift move, Rory had her back roughly pressed against the wall by the man who stood in front of her, blocking her escape. "So, now you think I'm a criminal?"

A smirk tugged its way onto her lips. "Don't get a big head. It's probably a side effect from the alcohol I've consumed." Raising her hand to his chest, she looped her finger around the silver chain that hung from his neck. "Why are we standing here?"

"We're waiting."

"For what?"

"Bambi, what did I tell you about that curiosity of yours?"

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and pretended to think. "I don't know. Something about how you like my pussy?"

Ignoring the sounds of her giggling, Harry asked, "What did you tell your friends?"

"That I was going to see you."

"Why didn't you just say you were going to the bathroom?"

Rory shrugged. "Mia would have asked to come. Besides... I am with you. What's the big deal? Are you worried they're going to come looking for me and find me bent over your desk with your cock-"

"Bambi," he warned, "I'm not going to fuck you."

She pouted her lip. "Why not?"

"Because you've been drinking."

"You drink all the time!" she was quick to snap back. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and allowed her eyes to soften. "Please, Harry," she whispered, trailing her fingertips along the skin of his exposed chest. "I've been such a bad girl, Harry. Please punish me."

His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, enjoying the sounds of her begging.

"Punish me." Leaning forward, she pressed her flattened tongue against the skin of his neck and ran it up towards his ear. "You know you want to," she whispered, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw.

"I thought you said we needed to stop kissing."

Rory giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That's not me kissing you. If I wanted to kiss you, I would do this..." She caught him off guard as she pulled him towards her, pressing her lips to his. "But I didn't do that. Did I?"

"I'm not sure," he said, placing a hand on her waist. "I'll think you'll have to show me again."

"This is what I would do to kiss you..." She pressed her lips back to his, pleased by the way he instantly allowed her tongue to tangle with his and the light groan of disappointment that escaped from him when she pulled back. "And this is what I was doing..." Running her tongue along the side of his neck, she kissed and nipped on the lobe of his ear before repeating the action again, and again. "Harry..."

His voice was hoarse as he replied with a faint, "Yes, Bambi?"

"Want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Tell me."

"How good it would feel to get on my knees for you," her hand went to the waistband of his pants, "I'm getting so wet thinking about how you would-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Harry cleared his throat and pulled away from Rory. "No," he said to Colson. "Just give us a second."

In any other situation, Rory would have been pissed by the interruption. But having sex with him wasn't her goal - all she wanted to do was rile his Little Harry up. And by the looks of things, she had succeeded in doing so.

Colson tossed a bottle of water to him. "Take your time."

Aw, Cheese was also a little good assistant, Rory thought to herself.

But as Harry unscrewed the cap and held it up to her lips, she realized it was for her. 

"I'm not thirsty... for water, that is."

"Drink," his voice returned to its normal, cold tone.

Fun Harry was gone. Now it was back to Mr. Angry Pants.

Taking a sip from the bottle, she was disappointed when there was no praise received for her following her order. Instead, her hand returned to his and she was led to the end of the hall.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, but Rory was too drunk to attempt sneaking a glance at the code he punched in.

"How big is this fucking place?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling and down the hallway they had come from. Rory wasn't allowed to let her eyes explore for long as suddenly her arm was tugged forward and she stood in an elevator. "Did you guys paint the door a different colour tonight?" She gasped. "Wait, did you get more security tonight because of me? Aw, you guys! That's adorable!"

"Fucking hell. Does she ever shut up?" Colson chided under his breath, pressing a button on the panel. "She's even worse drunk."

Rory smiled. "Thank you, Cheese. Oh... cheese. Is there food where we're going?"

"Why'd you let her drink so much?" Colson directed his question to Harry, ignoring the drunk blabbering girl.

"I thought she had more of a brain to know better. I didn't realize I had to monitor her alcohol intake all night - I'm not her father."

"Father," she repeated with a giggle. "Daddy Harry. Is this your way of telling me you have a daddy kink?"

"Rory?"

She batted her lashes at him. "Yes, daddy? I mean," she cleared her throat, "Yes, Harry?"

"Drink your water and shut up."

Rory wasn't as drunk as they assumed. She could still walk in a straight line, form a proper sentence, and had a general idea of what was going on - even if her vision did go blurry here and there. But she was far more sober than she had been in the past. If they thought she was too drunk, they might have looser lips around her. And that just increased her chances to overhear something important.

The elevator came to a sudden stop and the doors opened. It took Rory a second to realize they had taken a trip underground and not gone up as she assumed. Maybe she was a little too drunk.

She pouted. There was no hand holding as they exited the elevator. Her hand was feeling so lonely, she would even accept taking Cheese's just to be able to touch someone. And as they stood outside another steel door and waited for Harry to type in his code, Rory tapped her foot impatiently.

The movement of her foot made her realize how uncomfortable her heels were. Placing a hand on Colson's shoulder, she began to take them off.

Trying to shrug off her touch, he snapped, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"My feet hurt!" she whined. "Am I about to walk into an orgy?"

Colson narrowed his eyes. "Why the fuck do you keep talking?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was a crime to wonder where I was being taken."

"It's not. But it is a crime to steal from people," he spat. "Remember? That fun reason why you're here in the first place and why we have to suffer through your horrible presence?"

"My horrible presence?" she exclaimed with a sarcastic laugh. "Watching paint dry is more enjoyable than having a conversation with you!"

As the door opened, Harry glared at the two standing behind him. "That's enough!" he barked. "Both of you. God fucking dammit."

"You made daddy angry," she whispered to Colson, once Harry was out of earshot.

"Yeah, well, when you make me angry, you won't be able to fuck your way out of getting killed," he quickly shot back. "Got it?"

Rory raised a brow. "This is the pleasant version of you? Wow. Aren't I lucky?"

Not wanting to suffer through another scolding, Rory remained silent as she walked into the dark room.

A light switch was turned on behind her. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the flickering light that illuminated the space, Rory attempted to make sense of the sight in front of her.

Tarp was laid out on the floor and was draped on the wall. She would have thought they truly were about to kill her if it wasn't for the person she had never seen before. The older man sat on a chair - not by choice. His arms were bound behind his back and his legs were fastened securely to the chair, ensuring he had nowhere to go.

Duct tape covered his mouth, muffling the panicked yells and pleas Rory could hear him release. His eyes were wide when he saw her as if silently praying her scared expression meant she wasn't one of them - like she would be able to help him.

Blood and bruises were scattered across his face. His grey hair was flattened with sweat. She watched as the red marks ran down his skin. All the damage done to him was fresh.

"W-what is going on?" she stuttered, unable to take her eyes off the bloodied man.

Harry turned his back to her, staying silent as he gathered items off the table. She couldn't see what he was doing, but the light clanks of metal made her chest tighten.

Dallas leaned against the wall, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. "Colt, heads up," he called, tossing the carton to him. 

Rory watched as the two both lit up. While Colson let out a disinterested yawn and looked down at his phone, Dallas smugly smoked. Her eyes went to his hands, noticing the split skin and red marks across his knuckle.

This was Dallas in work mode. 

You're lucky Boss told me that I'm not allowed to touch you.

Dallas caused that man to look the way he was. And if he wanted to, he could have done that to her.  

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rory found the courage to speak again. "Harry?" she asked, hearing the tremble in her tone. "Why am I here?"

Green eyes that used to read her apart were now filled with a darkness that terrified her. Rory didn't understand how she could look and see a version of him one minute, and yet a completely unrecognizable person the next.

As Harry stepped away from the table, she saw what had kept him occupied since entering the room clutched in his hand. A gun. It looked exactly like the one he pulled out on her the night they met. The one she convinced herself was fake.

Rory never imagined the sound of a gun being cocked would instantly sober her.

A twisted grin appeared as his glance remained on her. His arm raised, pointing the weapon at the man.

It all happened so fast.

The sound of the trigger being pulled. The bullet hitting him right between the eyes. The scream that left her lips as she pressed her hands against her ears and fell to the ground. 

This wasn't happening. This was a joke. A sick, twisted, fucking joke. That man only a few feet in front of her wasn't bleeding out. No, of course, he wasn't. Because if he was bleeding out, that would mean he had actually been shot. 

Rory felt uneasy hearing his footsteps approach.

"Get up, Rory."

Her ears were ringing. Bile was creeping its way up the back of her throat.

"For fuck's sake." His hand snaked its way into her hair, causing a cry of pain to leave her lips as she was pulled back to her feet. "All done. See?"

Harry spoke as if he didn't just shoot someone in front of her.

His relaxed demeanour over the entire situation made her more fearful of him than the act itself.

She swallowed. "W-what did he do?"

His twisted grin remained as he answered, "Nothing. He was a nice man and a good customer too. Always paid on time... never missed."

"Sometimes he was early!" Dallas chimed in.

"Ah, yes. That is a good point." Harry nodded in agreement with his friend. "Lovely wife. Two cute kids."

She didn't want to look at him, but she had no other choice. It was either Harry or the dead guy. And looking at the dead guy made her want to throw up. "Why the fuck did you kill him then?"

"Language," he scolded, swiping his index finger across the skin of her cheek. "And, because someone thought we weren't serious."

The red, fresh blood from his recent victim was now on his skin. Rory watched as he raised his hand to his mouth and licked his finger clean.

Harry leaned forward, savouring the frightened look she wore. "That man was purely used as an example. How does it feel, Rory? To know that because of you he won't turn to his wife tonight? That his two adorable children won't wake up to see their father?"

Her eyes fell to her arms. Marks of red were splattered across her. Hands trembling in front of her, she refused to look back at him, realizing what was painted across her skin. 

She had blood on her. 

The blood of an innocent man. A man that always paid on time and who never missed. Who had a wife and two kids. 

Rory was the reason that man was now dead.

"You have one week to give me everything back."

"Everything?" she repeated. "You said it just had to be the locket!"

"Well, that was before you wasted my time." He placed two fingers under her chin, his thumb reaching up to lightly graze her full bottom lip. "Now I want it all."

"How the fudge," she ignored the pressing urge to roll her eyes, "am I supposed to get all that to you in a week?"

"That's not my problem. But unless you want to end up like our good friend, Mr. Jefferson, I suggest you figure something out. And quick." Abandoning his touch, he took a step back. "Come on, Bambi. Cheer up. Go enjoy the rest of your night with your friends. No one likes to see a pretty girl with a sad face during a big night out."

"Are you fucking insane? I'm not going back out there! You just shot someone!"

"To be frank with you, sweetheart, I don't give a shit what you do or where you go." He walked towards a table on the side as he spoke and picked up a folder. "Just remember that within one week, your payment is due in full. Oh, and don't be a fucking idiot and go open your mouth about what happened. I know you have some brains in that pretty little head of yours. Besides, if you do tell anyone, I will know. And these lovely people," he opened the file, sifting through various images, "Will suffer your consequences."

The only people left in Rory's life were in that file. Including the ones that made sure she was alive to begin with. Her foster mother Helen and the three kids she had staying at her house. The neighbour, who all the kids on the street referred to as Uncle Hank, and the person Rory still called for advice from time to time. Benny and Mia, her two best friends and the very same people she had arrived with and introduced Harry to.

Rory's mouth ran dry. She felt sick to her stomach.

Harry had just shot someone in front of her.

And now, he was threatening to kill the only people she had left.

All over a stupid fucking locket. And a bunch of money she had no idea how she would get back in time.

"That feeling you have, Bambi," he whispered, taunting her with his tone as he stepped towards her, "The one that twists in your stomach... that makes your throat want to close up... your lungs tighten into a knot..." Harry dipped his head forward. "That, my stupid little Bambi, is your lesson." 

and I oop- 

also can someone pls tell my brain to sleep more than 4 hours at night?! I. AM. TIRED.