Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (best novels to read txt) 📗

more knowing he felt the same. He looked up at me once more, and I was shocked to see his eyes wet with unshed tears.

I choked back a sob, and without speaking, scooted closer. I held out an arm and he seemed to understand what I was asking. He shifted, letting me wrap both arms around him in a tight embrace. He immediately relaxed against me, and I couldn't help but enjoy the heavy weight of his muscular chest pressed against my body. I let one hand return to his hair, softly running through it in a soothing motion just the way he liked.

25

Johnny's Team

Coming out of the bathroom the next morning, the first thing I heard was the muffled sound of voices.

I froze, standing rooted to the floor with chills running up and down my spine. I tried to listen, to determine where the voices came from. The kitchen was on the other side of the house, and so was the door to the basement. A loud rap on what sounded like glass made me jump. I clamped a hand to my mouth to stop a scream from slipping out. My mind quickly whipped up all sorts of scenarios and I didn't like any of them.

Forcing myself to move, I darted down the corridor. I passed the front door and took the turn to the living room in such a speed I almost slipped and fell, but managed to keep going with only a minor shock. There I grabbed the iron I’d used earlier, hoping it would suffice as a weapon, before charging down the other corridor toward the kitchen. My eyes fell on the door before I came to a halt. It was closed. I proceeded to give the handle a few tugs just in case. It didn't budge.

Another rap echoed through the halls, and someone shouted.

Hesitating, I shuffled toward the door with the iron still in a tight grip, ready to use. When I stepped into the hallway, the door was already opened and three men stood there, staring at me with suspicion clear on their faces.

Shit, my inner voice drawled. They’ll kill you. I raised the iron, ready to strike. 

You won't stand a chance. I didn't want to go out without trying.

"Wait!” One of the men held his hands up in front of him in a calming gesture.

I stopped the iron mid-strike, glaring at them through narrowed eyes.

"Get the hell outta here," I warned. They didn't move.

Seriously, the voice sneered. What did you expect?

"Who the fuck are you?" The tallest one of the trio stepped forward, glaring at me with eyes that made me shiver under his stare. "Where's Johnny?”

"He’s not here," I said, hoping my voice didn't give away the fear.

The men exchanged looks of confusion. "And who are you again?" the third one asked.

"That’s not any of your business."

"What the hell?” the smallest of the guys muttered. "Who's the nut-job?"

I shot him an annoyed look.

"Listen,” he went on. "We just wanna see Johnny, that's all. Where is he?"

"Why?" I asked. "Who are you?"

The tall guy stepped closer, and I tried to hide the urge to run away. His large frame and stern face made me feel like a bug ready to be crushed under the weight of his glare. I gulped, tightening my hold of the iron as much as my sweaty hands allowed.

"Don't come any closer."

"Put that thing down.” He made an impatient flick of his hand toward my weapon. "What have you done to him?"

As I stared up at his intimidating face and steel eyes, I got the feeling that I'd somehow seen him before. I pushed those thoughts aside, swinging the iron toward his large form. It missed, and he backed away.

"All right, all right." The smaller guy held up his hands. "Let's calm down, no one has to get hurt here." He looked at me with caution, like I was some wild animal he was scared to provoke or scare off.

"I ain't gonna let you hurt him again," I said. "You and your filthy friends have done enough."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, sharing a confused look with the guys, who looked equally puzzled.

"Hurt him . . . what are you talking about?" he said. "We're his friends. Who the hell are you?"

I stared at them as realization sunk in, then I lowered the iron.

"Gosh, why didn't you just say that.” I let out a breath as my body relaxed. "I thought you were someone else,” I added. My eyes flickered to the tall guy, and widened with recognition. This was Marc, no doubt about that. I'd seen him by Johnny's side in millions of photos. His name had been mentioned in countless interviews. Until now, I'd never paid much attention to the man’s obvious good looks.

They all stared at me, and I suddenly wished there was a way to rewind the last five minutes. My legs started to tremble, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet their gazes as I stood there wearing nothing but one of Johnny's shirts as a nightgown. I cringed under their stares, feeling my cheeks start to burn.

I forced myself to speak when all I wanted was to crawl into a hole and die.

"I'm Brianna by the way, I'm . . . I'm . . ." I trailed off, not knowing how to explain my relationship with Johnny.  "He's in the bedroom," I said instead, knowing what they must be thinking. I didn't care. I was already too humiliated.

All three ignored me and headed down the corridor, making me realize they knew exactly where they were going. I took that as a good sign, but followed them just in case, carrying the iron with me.

I stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame and studied them in silence. They talked at the same time, and Johnny looked like he’d just woken up. His eyes searched the room, skipping over the men to finally land