Chapter 17 #2
“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking rapist pig,” Asher snaps by Mickey’s head, pulling his arms up so Mickey’s rotator cuff pulls. “But just look at his room. It’s incredibly clean, but there’s one drawer open. I don't think it’s much of a coincidence.”
Right as Asher mentions the drawer, Mickey’s jaw muscle clenches.
That’s it. Just one small tell that he lets slip.
I don’t answer, don’t grin. I just turn and walk deeper into his room, pulling at the slightly ajar drawer.
“I’m going to kill you,” Mickey says roughly. “It won’t be today, not tomorrow, but I’m going to kill you. And I’ll make that bitch watch before I kill her too.”
I keep opening the drawer as he spews his tainted venom and just like I thought; there’s Roxie’s sketchbook with a few papers sticking out, right next to a roll of cash. Her money. And under it?
I tighten my fists, my jaw clenching in anger, my chest rising and falling quickly as I try to steady my breathing.
At least three pairs of women’s underwear.
Roxie’s.
When I get myself together, I speak clearly.
The rage I feel is barely contained, but my tone clearly fucking states there will be no discussion.
“From now on, Roxie’s debt is paid. She owes you nothing else and you’re releasing her from whatever leash you think you have on her. She’s mine, mine, do you understand?”
“She’ll owe me for the rest of her life,” Mickey laughs, the sick fuck.
“She’s given you too much. No more.”
Mickey’s eyes narrow before he must see something in me, because he smirks like the devil. He stands as straight as he can in Asher’s hold and chuckles darkly.
“You fucked her,” Mickey says with a laugh. “Did you enjoy my used trash?”
My fist flies out and connects–as hard as I can–with his nose. Asher holds onto him tighter as Mickey tries to fall, and I’m not even satisfied as blood sprays over his shirt and the floor.
He moans in pain, whimpering as his head falls forward. He can’t even take a punch like a man. Jesus Christ.
I wish I felt more satisfied than I do, but instead, I turn and grab everything out of the drawer. Picking up the sketchbook first, I flip through the pages, making sure that the one she was worried about is still there.
I get to almost the last page and there it is. The rough drawing I did under the moonlight of her.
Sighing in relief, I close the book and put it in the back of my waistband so there’s absolutely no way he can pull it from my hands.
I wouldn't put it past him to try and get even no matter what. Making sure my shirt is covering it, I reach back into the drawer and pull out the roll of cash and shake my head. There’s at least two thousand here.
“Her winnings, I take it?” I ask gruffly. Anger doesn’t even cover what I’m feeling anymore really. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, my blood feels like it’s boiling, but my voice is calm and clear.
“They’re mine,” Mickey says, spitting a wad of blood to the side, and I watch as he basically breaks his neck in order not to have any more blood hit the floor of his room. “It’s her fee.”
“She has no more fees. No more debt. Remember?” I tilt my head, daring him to challenge me.
“You know, you two are breaking and entering. Now you’re stealing? I could call the cops!” Mickey yells, the vein in his neck popping with anger.
Asher and I look at each other for a moment before we burst out laughing.
“Sure, Mickey. Sure. Call the cops. I’m sure your boss would be real happy with that. One look at this place and it’s easy to see you’ve got drugs hidden in every nook and cranny.” I point past him to the edge of the couch where there’s a very obvious white powder stuck to the side.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Know this, Mickey Frank,” I grab the underwear in the drawer–intent on giving them to Roxie to burn–before stepping closer shaking my finger in his face menacingly. “The moment you think of coming after Roxie again, I’ll end you.”
He bears his blood-stained teeth at me looking like a crazed animal.
I walk past him, tipping my head to the side, gesturing to Asher that it’s time to go. He releases Mickey with a hard shove and Mickey goes tumbling to the ground.
“You won’t call anyone. You won’t tell anyone we were here. Let it go, Frank, and we can be done with this,” Asher says threateningly, and we turn, walking out of this shithole house.
“You’ll regret this,” Mickey yells after us. “She’ll pay for this, Hernandez. She will.”
I turn to beat his ass, but Asher grabs me by the shoulders and hauls me out the door.
“He’s just trying to rile you up, man. Come on,” he grunts as I involuntarily move back. My eyes lock onto Mickey’s.
It’s like time stands still and I can see every single threat and emotion in his reflective eyes. In those icy grey-blue eyes I see every single word he’s trying not to say.
“I won’t forget this.”
“She’s in trouble now. I’ll make sure she hurts no matter what.”
“You come into my home and disrespect me like this? Death.”
“Just wait, Hernandez. Just wait.”
All those unspoken words speak louder than I thought possible. But it doesn’t scare me. He doesn’t scare me. He can talk a big talk, but ultimately Mickey is a high-level lackey with too much ego, not enough actual power.
I don’t back down, glaring right back at him, to show him that he’s not getting in my head. My lips curl at the edges, slightly tipping up in a menacing grin, answering his threats with my own.
“Neither will I.”
“She’s under my protection now. I’ll lay down my own life before something harms her again.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t come in the middle of the night and slit your throat while you slept. Consider this mercy.”
“Wait until I stop holding back.”