Читать книгу A Man's Black Heart - Nuria Farai - Страница 9

Chapter 4

A s he walked into the night, he thought he might suffer a stroke. Dead at twenty-eight. Of course, he had been in danger of imminent death at many times in his life. But to die from a brain failure was something unexpected. He almost walked into a street lantern. It was now night, and only late commuters were still on the street. He could not believe what he had done, although, by his standards, it wasn’t really much. He had not hurt her physically, he had neither abused nor yelled at her. He had only been cruel with his words. Yes, he was a bastard - in more than one way. It was only logical she should be treated thus by him, because love and hope had long, long time ago abandoned him. In fact, since the day he was born, almost his entire existence on planet Earth had been deprived of love. But for his sister. She loved him, although they both took care not to show much of it. But it was there. Now, of course, her affections were directed towards her husband. And soon, to her children. What did it matter. He had never known anyone else’s love. His mother had been led to believe he had died after birth. And his father, too. He had never really felt sad in life, because it was not an emotion that anyone showed him in his infancy. He did see someone cry, of course, but he never truly understood, why. He only cried from pain, or once, from rage. And that woman - Louisa - would not make him start! He was Ryker Black, a cruel, emotionally independent master of the underworld, and he justified himself to no-one. If he told her he did not love her, he was free to do it. No-one could force him to live up to his heart. A horrible thought struck him, and he stopped in his tracks. What if he became like his father? A weak man, who had suffered cruelly under an unhappy love, and, more importantly, had made his children bear the brunt. All his sufferings as a child were due to the man’s determination not to live with his mistress, and to remain with his wife. Alas, enough! He must end this useless flow of thoughts at once! What was done, was done.

He continued to walk, and then he suddenly met Billy Knight on the street. „Sir!“, the later beamed. Of course, he had reinstated him as his whiskey seller the minute she had left his office. The man all but hugged him under the very street lamp, for all to see. „I thank you so much.“ „It’s Miss Arnheim“, he mumbled defensively. „Ms. Arnheim. We all pray for her. She is the sweetest girl - well, a striking woman, really. Colin loves her. We shall miss her so much. But then, it’s always the best, isn’t it.“ He sadly shook his head. „What do you mean?“ Ryker demanded gruffly, his voice like a saw. Mr. Knight looked up. „You don’t know?“ „I do not repeat myself“, he said, suddenly intent on violence. Mr. Knight gulped. „She is dying.“ And Ryker did have his stroke. In a way. The skies literally opened, or rather, the air around him dissolved, and he knew with absolute certainty, same as he knew how to kill a man, that she was the one person he needed to be with. Right now, and in this life. The very air whispered her name, the lantern’s light reminded him of her hair, her scent was still on him. His damn cock was still slick with her. „Why?“ „Because she has this strange illness … anemia, I think they call it. It is now very critical, the doctor says. Of course, she won’t hear of it, the little warrior. She told the children, however, because she wanted them to get used to the idea she wasn’t always going to be there. And that she expected top work from them all at school, at work, and with themselves, in dealing with others, etc. They do whatever she asks. How do we live without her?“ Ryker stared at him. „I don’t think that is possible“, he said, and he felt like a damn fool in front of Billy, despite telling the truth. Billy nodded, all astonishment, but agreeing, and then Ryker wheeled around, and ran. He ran like the wind, his feet pounding on the pavement. He felt like the boy who had run so many times, from a person who wanted to beat him, from the police or the angry mob, or from other boys. He was fast, and now he was just as desperate as he had been then. Only, now he was running towards death and pain, not from it, and he was running towards another human being, as he had always run away from them.