Chapter 12
Tanner
“Please, boss Tanner. I promise I’ll pay it back soon.”
I kick away the crying man and grimace as I look down at my pants. His hand has left a sand print. I frown in annoyance and ball a fist. He sees my rage and swallows hard.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to pay it back even if you were given an extra three months, Burns,” I say, wiping the offending stain with my handkerchief.
He starts to come towards me once again and I glare at him, causing him to pause.
“No, I promise. I will pay you back. Cut off my tongue if I don’t,” he says, a little too confident in himself.
“Why don’t I do that right now?” I grin as I walk towards him maliciously.
He shies away as his eyes fill with fear.
Coward.
“It’s your lucky day, Peter Burns. You get to keep your tongue,” I say in a bored tone. This is turning out to be more boring than I thought it would be.
Why couldn’t Josiah be free today of all days?
Handling this part of the business, having to deal with irresponsible men like Burns, is not how I had hoped to spend my day.
“Please, don’t take my house. It’s all I have left,” he cries as the snot in his nose falls toward his top lip.
My face scrunches in disgust. “Fix yourself up, man. You’re not a child. As for your house, you put it up as collateral. You can't act like this now that the time to collect it is up and you have no money to give to us.”
I turn to him with one last piece of advice, although I know that he won’t be changing any time soon. People like him, so given to addictions, do not change.
“You’ve never had any luck with gambling. Give it up before you lose something even more important.”
His face turns red with anger and I sigh. Just as I expected.
I turn to leave when I hear his heavyset footsteps and his shout in anger. I whirl around just in time to avoid getting stabbed with the knife in his hand. My suit is not so lucky.
My jaw tenses in anger. So much for ending this peacefully.
My men, all properly suited up, exchange glances in disbelief at Burns’ move; they know for sure that he has just signed his death warrant.
Gabriel, my most loyal man, reaches for the gun perfectly tucked in his pants, but he catches my eyes and I signal to him to stand down.
I effortlessly weave around a couple of Burns’ feeble attacks, wondering what exactly gave him the balls to act so carelessly. What we he thinking?
With a precise movement, I seize his hand in mid-air and twist so hard that he wails out in pain.
The sound of his bone cracking at my twist is quite alarming, so much so that Sam, the newbie, drops his jaw in shock.
My leg shoots out as I land a kick to Burns' knee. The satisfying crunch as he falls to the ground is better than anything I’ve heard in a while.
He falls, eyes wide with fear and mouth open as he screams in pain. I don’t let him plead with me or get up before I land another kick on his protruding stomach.
He coughs, folding into himself. “Oh God…”
“Perhaps you should have asked for his help to rid you of this habit.” I grab him by the collar and drill a couple of more punches into his face. My hits are so heavy that with each strike, blood from his bleeding nose and mouth splashes on my face.
I hate doing this, but he has left me with no choice. I'm almost losing control. The more I throw those blows, the more I see flashes of my first time in a fight cage. Even now, I can hear the cheering of gamblers outside the cage and smell the sweat of my opponent.
Because of this idiot, memories that I'd kept buried for a long time are now resurfacing, fueling my fury.
He can feel my wrath; they all can. The heat of my anger is burning hot. I loathe irresponsible people, especially those addicted to a bad habit.
“You had the chance to make things right, but you chose to fight, is that it?” I roar, lifting him up like a water rat. I shake him and fling him toward a wall, against which he rams his back and falls to the ground, groaning and wheezing.
I see the fear in his eyes as I walk toward him like the devil himself coming for his soul. He squirms, pulling himself to the wall so he can rest his back.
I halt before him, savoring the terror in his gaze. He lays there, helpless and at my mercy.
“No, please. Don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want,” he begs amid coughs, holding on to his broken wrist.
“I believe it’s a little too late for that, Burns.” I feel anger charging up within me, clouding my judgments. He had reopened my wounds, forcing me to relive a memory that had plagued me for years.
“You're so tough, aren't you, Burns?”
I take off my suit jacket and fold my sleeves up to my elbow before standing over him. A punch straight to his nose causes another childlike squeal as he tries to bring his hand up to protect himself.
“Get up,” I say to him. “You wanna fight, don't you?”
He shakes his head, but I ignore his fear.
“You're a gangster, aren't you? Get up and fight!” I bark, and he sluggishly attempts to rise to his feet.
“I'm in so much pain, boss.” He whimpers like a child, infuriating me even more.
Thirteen-year-old me was a lot braver than this scumbag. I’m pissed at him right now because everything he does is a reminder of how and why I am what I am today.
I can perceive that Gabriel is trying to catch my eyes again, probably to try and pacify my anger, but I'm just too pissed off. Burns has gotten the message to never mess with me ever again, but I'm acting based on the flashes of my past. The more images I see in my head, the angrier I become.
“Please, Mr. Smith. I'm in pain.” From the sound of his voice, it's evident that he is indeed hurting, but I couldn't care less.
“Pain?” My eyes squint with displeasure as I step toward him. In that moment, I hear the newbie say softly, “Uh-oh. He's struck a nerve.”
Eyes blazing red, I strike his face and he staggers a bit before he hits the ground. I grab his broken wrist and a wail escapes him.
“You call this pain?” I say as I twist, enjoying his whimpers and screams. “You have no idea what true pain is like. But I guarantee you…you will.” The slight pause comes as I let go and knock him out with an uppercut to the jaw.
Such a weakling of a man.
I feel the gaze of my men as I stand over his body with my bloody hands. I’m struggling to beat back the images flashing in my head.
As I stand there, the noise from the fight club clouds my mind, taking me back to my first cage fight.
I glance at Sam, the newbie, as he shakes subtly, standing beside the veteran, Gabriel. He looks innocent, but this job isn't for the innocent or the weak. He needs to toughen up.
I stretch out a hand and Gabriel places a white handkerchief in it. Shutting my eyes, I shoot my head up and let out a sigh, suppressing the demons of my past.
I wipe his blood off my face and hands. There is a red stain on part of the collar of my white undershirt. I wipe that too.
“Get him out of my sight,” I spit, directing the instruction at Sam.
“M-me?” he stutters, and I glare at him. I see him shaking as he summons the courage to take a step closer.
If he is going to be one of my men, he must learn to be strong. He must learn our ways.
Sam looks at Gabriel as if to ask what he should do, and the latter nods at him encouragingly. Sam inhales and exhales sharply as he walks over to Burns’ motionless body.
He bends over and pulls the body by the legs, grunting lightly at Burns’ weight. I signal Gabriel, and he immediately renders his assistance in moving the body.
He gets to escape with his life just this once. He knows not to cross my path again. He will disappear into the gutters like they always do.
The drive back to the safe house goes by more slowly than I expected. I hate it, because now I'm stuck with my demons reminding me of everything I've managed to keep in check all this while. I’ve never liked having to fight, but people never seem to understand that just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m the weak link they can so easily disobey or try to hurt when I’m alone.
The fact that I can walk alone should be enough to have them quaking in fear.
As I drive, the battle in my mind is growing stronger. It's like the more I resist, the more impossible it becomes to keep the memories down.
I groan at the pain my resistance is inflicting on me. The same images overlap in my head: my mother, the drugs, the underground fight club. Each time the latter image flashes, it’s accompanied by the noise of the crowd of spectators and gamblers.
With a deep breath, I finally stop fighting and let the memories return as I drift away into the dark corners of my mind.
Two huge men grabbed me by the neck and threw me into the cage. I fell in the dirt and my palm splashed into a puddle of blood. I glanced at my reflection in it and rushed to the bars, struggling against them as a man locked the gate from the outside.
“Since you're so stubborn, Slim Tee says you'll learn the hard way.”
Thirteen-year-old me continued to shake the bars as some men from the crowd hit the cage with grimy hands, laughing at me, a little shrimp who was about to be used for dessert.
The air was thick with sweat, mixed with the smell of blood. Saliva and blood stained the floors, adding to the horrible ambiance of the cage.
“Kill this little fucker!” someone from the crowd shouted as they cheered on my opponent.
I slowly turned and faced the man who seemed to be my imminent doom. He wasn’t huge, about five foot nine maybe. But he had a funny physique. From his waist upward, he was big, with a broad stance. However, from his waist downward, he was slim with thin legs.
I thought to myself that he looked like an improper fraction, and under different circumstances, I'd have burst out laughing. But this circumstance was nothing to laugh about, at least not for me, anyway.
I felt a sudden dryness in my throat, and I swallowed hard as he roared, marching toward me.
He would have to be sick in the head if he was truly going to hurt me, a little boy, defenseless with no combat training except for the few moves Slim Tee had been showing me.
The crowd was even sicker for cheering him on. This was inhumane; all those people must have had screws loose in their heads.
Fear overwhelmed me, especially as I watched him crack his neck and knuckles. The man was really serious.
“Are you really going to fight a child?” I whimpered, hoping to speak to his conscience, but he clearly didn't have one.
“There are no kids in the ring, boy. If Slim Tee put you in here, it means you're a fighter,” he replied with a raucous voice.
“But…but I'm not a fighter.” I cringed as he advanced. I felt my back hit the bars of the cage.
“There's nowhere else to run, kid,” he said. He swung a punch at me and I hit the ground faster than I could blink.
His voice and those of the crowd suddenly became indistinct as the blow almost deafened me. There was a loud ringing in my ears that affected my ability to hear.
“Get up! Get up, kid!” he barked, violently straining his muscles. “Are you a pussy or a fighter?” He paced around me. “Don't you have something worth fighting for? Don't you have something that annoys you?”
I frowned as I recalled all of the bad things that had happened to me. I frowned as I remembered my mother and what she did to me.
“Focus on that rage, kid. Release the demon in you. Don't fight it.”
For some reason, his words were gradually charging me up. I wasn't sure whether or not this was another training session, because why else would he be telling me how to defend myself? Maybe there was no honor in killing a defenseless child, so he was trying to arm me with a mental weapon.
I struggled for a while until I was back on my feet again. Doing as he said, I was fuming, seething seriously as I focused my attention on the negativities in my life. I glared at him with eyes full of hate and rage.
“There he is,” he smirked. “There's the killer.”
He roared and charged at me, throwing punches, all of which I weaved and dodged around with a rapid blur of movement.
I struck him as hard as I could, but my fists weren't strong enough to inflict any pain. They just bounced off his thick flesh. One swing of his hand, and the back of it knocked me away.
I flew across the cage and crashed dangerously, bleeding from my nose. Groaning, I got back to my feet and spat out blood.
My opponent beat me until my face was swollen and my knees were quaking. My whole body was aching, my nose and lips were bleeding, and my flesh was covered in bruises, wounds, and blisters, but I just wouldn't give up.
He clearly underestimated my ability to take a beating.
“You got heart, kid. I'll give you that.” He stared at me. “But it's time you stayed down!” He rushed at me, and a second later his fist connected with my jawbone.
I felt as light as a feather, the world around me was swirling, and the cheering of the crowd was slowly becoming distant. I felt the impact of the hard ground as I fell down weightlessly.
Every muscle, every bone in my body was weary and aching. My eyes were shutting and I could barely see through the swollen flesh hindering my vision. I was too weak to get up, I just couldn't take it anymore, but I wasn't going to give up.
My opponent turned his back on me with his hands raised in the air as he enjoyed the praise of the crowd.
Against my quaking knees and cracking bones, I pushed myself to get back up. I could hear the amazement in the gasps of the crowd as I grunted and finally stood on my shaky feet, taking a boxing stance.
He observed the murmurs of astonishment and slowly turned back around. His shoulders dropped.
“You just don't know when to give up, do you?”
I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“No,” I replied, balling my fists in readiness. “No, I don't.” My voice was shaking and my breath was hard to catch. “I can do this all day.”
He frowned and lunged at me with all his might. What he didn't know was that I had been watching his moves, learning them, studying his attacks.
He had a pattern of fighting, a specific angle he loved to throw his punches from, and unfortunately for him, I had studied him very well.
I ducked away from an attack and retaliated with a kick to his groin. The kick was so powerful that every man there felt his pain.
“Ooh…!”
His hands unconsciously reached for his balls as he strained and dropped to his knees.
This was my window, my opportunity, and I was going to take it. I rushed at him and swiftly climbed up to his neck. Before he could make any moves, I sank my thumbs into his sockets, ignoring his painful wails. He screamed so loudly, struggling against my arms, but I didn't let go.
I could see the veins lining his forehead as he strained, clearly in tremendous pain. He rose to his feet, staggering, with my arms still clasped around his neck. He slammed me against the bars of the cage, but I still didn't stop. I pushed my thumbs deeper and deeper until his eyes literally popped. Blood splashed, and the crowd went silent as his now-limp body thudded to the ground.
Seconds later, they cheered again. This time, it was me that was receiving the praise. I looked up at Slim Tee's office above the cage, and our eyes locked. He was standing behind his glass window, beaming with something that resembled pride.
I dropped to my knees and stared at my bloody hands, then at the body lying motionless beside me. The sight of him, with his popped eyeballs covered in blood, made me nauseous and I immediately puked, ignoring the crowd chanting in my favor.
My demons soon leave me after I take the time to relive that moment. I let out a sigh and massage my eyeballs as I focus on the road. I definitely need a drink. A cucumber juice would do just fine. I have one stashed somewhere at home already.
On getting to the safe house, I bring the car to a halt and step out. I lock it and head inside.
I hurry into the bathroom, not wanting our resident princess to see me coated in blood.
It’s been a week since we rescued Amelia, and in that time, I have been trying to make sure that we were safe.
Keeping my ears open in case there’s news of anything being linked to us has been the only thing that’s assured me of our safety. The Flames of Hell bastards have been out searching for her, but they haven’t tried looking in our direction even once.
Not that it would be easy even if they tried, since Josiah, Rueben, and I are the only ones who know of her location.
I discard my ruined suit and put on some clean joggers and a shirt. My lips turn down as I open my fridge. I had been hoping to slice up a quick salad to help me calm down, as I usually do when I deal with annoying days like these. I’ve found that mindful practices help to ground me.
A half-eaten cucumber lays where two used to be.
You know that moment when you are already having a bad day and then there is just one minor inconvenience that tips you over the edge? Yeah, this is it.
Amelia…
There is no one else in this house who would touch stuff that doesn’t belong to them. I have lived with Rueben and Josiah for over a year with my stuff never being touched. It’s not hard to point the accusing finger at the only thing that has changed so far: Amelia’s presence.
I march to Rueben’s room, where I know she is, and push the door open, my mouth open and ready to complain, but the sight in front of me shocks me into silence.
She’s naked and kneeling on the bed in a doggy position as she tries to shove the very cucumber I was about to complain about into her pussy. She grinds against it, moaning with her eyes closed and head on her pillow.
Heat surges south, stirring my cock into hardness, and all my previous anger melts away, disarming me.
“You sure are something,” I say, trying to distract myself from how hard the sight of her with my cucumber in her pussy makes me.
Amelia gets up immediately and whirls around, dislodging the cucumber from her folds as her stunned gaze finds mine.
I raise my eyebrows as I watch her process the horror of being caught in the act.
She shrieks and lays down, trying to cover herself up as the cucumber rolls to the edge of the bed. It’s so ridiculously comical.
“Given the situation you’re in, hiding for your life and constantly needing to be protected by one of your mortal enemies at all times, I can’t believe you still think about cumming,” I tease.
Her pale face turns a bright red that flows down her neck, down to her bare chest.
Interesting.
“What was I supposed to do? There’s nothing to do here, and you guys haven’t thought to provide me with any entertainment,” she says, jutting her lower lip in defiance as she loses her embarrassment. “I was bored and horny.”
I chuckle, slightly shocked.
“Well then, maybe you should have asked for help. We would have obliged.”