Two #2
I’m ready to rip the douches hand right off his arm. She spins so quickly with her arm raised and I wait for the slap that doesn’t come. She hesitates before lowering her arm.
The douche grabs her hand and starts tugging her towards the bar.
I’m ready to put him in his place for her, before she tugs her hand free and takes up a seat right next to him.
Maybe he’s her boyfriend? The thought makes me irrationally mad.
I don’t know this woman. I don’t have any kind of claim on her…
yet. I watch as she orders a drink from James before spinning around in her chair and watching the room.
Her gaze finally makes it to my side of the bar and as soon as our eyes lock on each other, I’m hypnotised, caught in a trance and soaking in all that she is.
She isn’t looking away either. I don’t know what it is, but this woman has cast a spell.
I know I need to look away, but I can’t seem to make my eyes move.
Just behind her, I see James place their drinks on the bar top before turning away to serve another customer, and that’s when I see the same pencil-dicked douche empty some kind of white powder into her drink.
This has me seeing red. Just as I’m getting up to go over, the douche slides his hand up her leg and she turns around, about to accept the drink, but she stumbles. When he grabs her, I know I’m about to cash in on Bray’s offer to bury bodies.
The angel attempts to push him off, but it’s useless—he’s twice her size.
Walking up behind him, I throw him across the room before turning back to my sunshine.
Huh, my sunshine? I give a hand signal to the security grabbing him, so they know to take him down to the basement and wait for my orders on what to do with him.
I turn just in time to catch the angel as she falls again, steadying her with my hands on her waist. I know she can’t be drunk. I watched her walk into the club less than five minutes ago. She was stable, not a wobble to her. Now she can barely stand.
She reaches up and touches my face. “GQ, you are so pretty.” I laugh, but before I know it, she’s falling into me.
“Shit.” Scooping her up into my arms, I instruct James to have her drink, the one I know was roofied, sent downstairs and to tell the boys to wait for me.
I pick up her purse off the bar, carry her up to my office and lay her on the couch. Just as I’m doing this, Dean comes through the door. He looks at me, then at the couch, then at me again.
Yeah, mate, I know. It’s strange to see a woman on my couch in her clothes.
Although, now that I think about it, that dress doesn’t do a damn thing to cover her body from roaming eyes.
Before I think about what I’m doing, I walk over to my chair and grab my jacket, placing it over the top half of her body.
As I look back up, Dean is staring at me, mouth gaping like a damn fish. “What?” I demand, getting more and more frustrated at the situation. I need to get my hands on the fucker who did this to her.
He shakes his head and smirks. “Umm, nothing, boss. What do you want me to do with the prick the boys brought downstairs?”
“Ella here yet?” I ask.
“Just got here. She’s in VIP with her friends—got Steve and Jonno with them.”
I nod. “Tell them to bring her up here. Make sure Steve and Jonno come too.”
He pulls out his phone, firing off text messages as I empty the woman’s purse contents onto my desk. Picking up her ID, I discover she is twenty-three years old. Alyssa Summers. Nice name—it feels like it just rolls off the tongue.
Ella comes stumbling into my office giggling with one of her friends, who suddenly stops and stares at me. Ella is oblivious until I call her out. “Ella, how much have you had to drink?”
She looks up and smiles at me, knowing she can usually get away with murder with that damn smile. This time, I’m not smiling back. She takes a minute, but she sobers and looks around. Noticing the woman passed out on the couch, she looks back to me.
“I’ve only had one drink, Zac. Why?”
“I need you to stay here and watch over her for a bit,” I say, pointing at the passed out and oblivious woman.
“Who is she? And why am I babysitting one of your floozies?”
“She,” I say, pointing at the woman, “is Alyssa, and was roofied by some asshole who I need to teach a lesson to. She is not one of my floozies as you call them.”
Ella takes a moment to digest what I’ve said before taking a seat on the opposite couch, her silent friend following suit. “Wow, I can’t believe someone was stupid enough to drug a girl in your club, Zac.”
I don’t reply to the comment; the motherfucker won’t be doing it again once I’m finished with him.
“I need you to stay outside the door. No one gets in; no one touches her,” I demand, pointing at Steve and Jonno, both of whom nod their heads before turning to stand out front of the door.
Turning to Ella, I instruct, “Do not let anyone touch her.”
She stares at me, mouth open, before composing herself and replying, “Sure thing, big brother. No one touches her.”
I kiss Ella on the head as I walk out of the office. “Don’t leave until I get back.” I don’t bother waiting for her reply. I know she won’t leave Alyssa alone.
Standing in a corner of the dark room, I know he doesn’t realise I’m here yet. He doesn’t know that I relish the sound of his cries and pleas for help… help that’s never going to come.
Down here, there is nobody to hear him scream.
I wait a few more minutes for the fight that’s about to happen in the cage between Bray and Smith to start.
The noise of the crowd will drown out this fucker’s screams. When I hear the roar of the crowd, I take a breath in, inhaling the smells of the basement—dampness mixed with blood.
Counting down in my head, I know that I am going to get my hands on the douche any time now.
I wait until I hear the ref’s whistle before I make myself known to the arsehole tied to my chair. “Smell that?” I ask, watching as he jumps, turning his head left and right and attempting to see where I am. It’s useless though; he’s blindfolded and can’t see for shit.
“Who are you? Why am I here? Let me go,” he pleads, already begging before the fun begins. Figures.
“I’m the guy about to give you a lesson on what happens to fuckers who drug innocent women in my fucking club.” I get right up to his face before whispering in his ear, “And I will enjoy every damn minute of this lesson.”
He pisses himself, literally just fucking pisses himself, the wet patch growing on the front of his jeans. Not surprising, as any guy who needs to resort to drugging a woman is a weak piece of shit.
Landing a punch to his stomach, then another to his face, I relish the blood splatters that come from his mouth. Now I’m smiling. It’s a shame he can’t see how damn much I’m enjoying this.
The sight of his blood, and the fact that I caused it, releases something in me.
His cries get louder. “Please… please let me go, man. I did nothing.”
Pathetic is what he is. “Scream all you want, mate. No one can hear you down here. And even if they could hear, they wouldn’t save you.”
He struggles against the ropes on his arms. Holding his head still, I land another punch to his ribs then one to his face. I let go and he falls backwards, chair and all.
“Fuck you! Untie me and fight me like a real man.” Now, he tries to be brave—the fucker probably thinks I won’t fight him if he’s not tied down. Think again, motherfucker. Bending down, I remove the blindfold and nod to Dean, giving him the signal to cut the ties loose.
“Wha… what… what are you doing?” he sputters as Dean approaches, flicking the knife between his fingers.
“Making your wish come true, fucker. I’m cutting those ties, so you can fight the boss like a real man.”
Dean laughs and kicks him in his stomach before leaning down and cutting the ties loose. The douche scoots backwards on his arse until he hits the wall.
“Stand up!” I command.
“N… n… no, please. You don’t have to do this. Just let me go. I won’t say nothing to nobody.” He’s shaking his head back and forth violently.
“I thought you wanted to fight me like a real man? Now get the fuck off the floor!” I approach him, and he still doesn’t stand up to fight. I kick him in his ribs and he goes into the foetal position, crying like the motherfucking pansy arse he is.
I go at him, landing punches to his face and torso, before I turn back to Dean, who’s watching with a huge-arse grin on his face—sadistic bastard that he is.
“Got that drink I had James send down here?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says as he walks over to the table, picking up the drink.
“Good, make sure he drinks the whole thing before you throw his ass out to the back alley.” I walk out, hearing the asshole screaming and begging. I don’t need to be there for the rest. I have an angel who needs taking care of back in my office.