Chapter 8
It’s been a few days since the Sai brothers invaded my bar. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn’t, so I relax. I don’t know what they want, but they won’t get it from me. They might be fun to play with, but that’s all.
I have much more important things to deal with, like avoiding the punch heading my way.
I manage it at the last second, and the boxer across from me stumbles back when I kick him. “Focus, Bex!” Reacher barks.
Groaning, I pull my gloves off and lean into the ropes. “Why do I have to train the newbies?”
“Because you lost the bet,” he reminds me, his arms crossed. “Plus, I trained you, so you train them. It’s a fair turnaround.”
“I have other things to do,” I begin.
“I don’t care,” he snaps, the only person besides Taylor who would dare to talk to me like that. Maybe it’s because he’s too old to care whether he lives or dies. “Now get your ass back in there before I let all of them in to beat your ass.”
Sighing, I pull my gloves on and turn as a new fighter advances on me. He’s brutal and fierce, and he’s trying to prove himself, but he picked the wrong person to challenge.
I let him tire himself out. His swings are forceful, but his footwork is sloppy, and I dance around him as the crowd grows. He’s going to be a champion, but they all know me, and the bets taking place in our audience only annoy him.
He thinks he’s too good for me, so I play with him. I land a few soft hits and dance out of reach. “You’re too big. You can’t move, can you? If you’re going to let a little girl beat you, I might as well bend you over and make you my bitch.”
His eyes narrow and he snarls, exposing his mouth guard as he lunges for me again.
Laughing, I dodge his feral attack, which only angers him more.
I roll under a brutal grab and punch that probably would have broken my neck, then I taunt him until his face is red and covered in sweat. He looks like he’s ready to murder me.
This is fun . . . until my phone rings.
I decide to stop toying with him and end it.
I pull back my fist and slam it into his head the next time he comes at me.
He goes down for the count within a second, and I pull off my gloves as the spectators cheer and hand over their bets.
I skip to my bag and pull my cell out, grabbing a wad of cash since I bet too.
“Yo?” I answer, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I count to make sure it’s the right amount.
“Bex.” The sob makes the blood freeze in my veins. “Bexley—hel—”
Taylor’s voice ends in a scream, and my heart stops as a soft, maniacal chuckle sounds. “If you ever want to see your friend again, I suggest you find us.” The line goes dead.
I am out of the door in an instant, ignoring everyone’s worried looks and yells.
I race home faster than I’ve ever driven, my heart pounding in fear. Our front door is closed, and a bad feeling builds within me. Pulling my gun out, I slide along the wall and crouch to avoid the window, then I peek in before crouching again, but I saw six guys waiting for me.
Idiots.
Since they probably expect me to come through the front or back doors, I go to the side of the house and put my gun away, then I hook my hand in a pipe and scale it.
It’s something I practiced and perfected.
There are ridges on it to assist in a quick escape, but to everyone else, it looks like nothing but a pipe.
Once I reach the slightly lower roof over the bathroom, I flip over and hang down so I can grab the ledge and drop to it. I press against the glass there as I slow my heart and balance on the three-inch ledge. Sliding down, I carefully open the window.
I drop silently onto the bathmat and listen.
When there’s no noise, I redraw my weapon and move to the door, twisting the knob.
I swing it open soundlessly—I only oiled it the other week, so there’s no squeak, which I’m thankful for as I crouch walk along the corridor to the top of the stairs and peek over.
Two men are sitting on our sofa like nothing is happening, flipping through our magazines.
One is smoking in my house, and the disrespect pisses me off more.
One is at the back door, and there are two more at the front.
Furniture is overturned and a lamp is shattered, indicating there was a struggle. Taylor’s bag sits forgotten by the front door, where they obviously snatched her. I take it all in within seconds.
I could play it safe and try to speak to them, but they came into my house and touched my friend.
They are smoking in my fucking living room, and that one bastard has his feet up on my table.
It’s just rude, and I hate rude people.
Standing, I take aim as I whistle. They turn to me. “Waiting for me, idiots?” I call as they fumble for their weapons.
Too late.
I don’t even give them time to speak. I fire rapidly as I descend the stairs, my boots loud, bullets ripping through my living room and their bodies.
By the time my feet hit the bottom step, they are all dead.
Taylor is going to be so mad, but as I look around, I don’t care.
Walking over to Taylor’s bag, I inspect it. Her keys are near it. She obviously dropped them when she opened the door and was attacked. Her phone is gone, but her purse is still here.
They were sending a message. Carefully picking up the contents, I put it on the sofa and step over the bodies. My blood flows coldly, my anger getting the best of me.
They touched her.
If I find out they hurt one hair on her head, I will tear them limb from limb.
A phone rings, and I crouch, taking it from one of the bodies, and answer, but I don’t speak.
“Well, do you have her?” an impatient voice asks.
Smirking, I look around. “Your men won’t be coming back anytime soon, nor do they have me, but don’t worry. I’m coming to you anyway. I’ll be seeing you soon.” I hang up, ignoring it as it rings again.
I got lucky. Lauren is staying with a friend tonight, but I still call and check. My voice probably sounds odd, but I try to calm down so I don’t alert her that anything is wrong.
“Hey, kiddo,” I greet when she answers. “You all ready for bed?”
“Yep. You’re picking me up tomorrow, right?” she replies happily, and I hear giggling in the background.
“Sure thing. You’re all okay?” I ask.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She laughs at something her friend says. “Tell Tay I’m okay. I’ll call her in the morning.”
“Will do, kid. Have a good night.” I hang up, my expression turning cold.
They took Taylor.
This has to be because of the Sai brothers—one of their enemies. No one else would dare come against me or take a neutral. They are off-limits for a reason.
I heard rumors over the last few days. They spread like wildfire after the two bar incidents. They say that I’m in bed with them. The rumors are wrong, of course, but it seems their enemies don’t care about that. They can’t touch them, so they came for me.
That was their first mistake.
The second was thinking I would let them live.
Grabbing my phone, I put in a call. “Trace the two numbers I’m sending you. Keep it quiet and consider it a personal favor.” I hang up without explaining. She knows what to do. A minute later, a message comes through. Both numbers are at one location.
That’s where they have her.
I could call in reinforcements, but this is my family. Maybe it’s time I remind everyone who I am and what I can do so they never make this mistake again.
They dared to touch what is mine.
They will regret it.