23. Char
CHAR
As I laid there, listening to coffee drip from the edge of the table to the floor, I found that my guilt was too much to bear.
I had misread the situation, clearly. He hadn’t been here getting answers, or trying to run some sort of bullshit on me.
Dallas had just come over with food and coffee, trying to enjoy some company.
And I had cornered him.
“Come on,” I groaned as I pushed myself up from the floor, “let’s go get cleaned up.”
I needed to go find him. If anything, to explain. But, really, the situation called for an apology from both of us. I shouldn’t have ever accused him of something like that without concrete proof, but he sure as hell should have never reacted the way that he did.
At least I could tell myself I was the bigger person for seeking him out.
I limped into the bathroom, cradling my pulsing arm.
The damned thing had broken my fall and it hurt like a bitch.
But, I managed to find my way into the shower so that I could clean up.
A nice hair wash, a double body wash, and a fresh set of clothes later, I was ready to go find him.
I wore jeans that time, though. No more easy access for wandering minds.
I stuck with the tank top, though. I loved my fucking tank tops.
So freeing and light. I never broke a sweat in them like I did other shirts.
And after spritzing myself with a bit of body spray just to entice Dallas a bit, I grabbed my nearly-dead phone and my keys and headed out the door.
Only to slip into the bar and find Deacon instead.
“How’d things go with Doc?”
I ducked into the first dark corner that I could find in the backroom. I saw Deacon’s shadow behind the bar and I watched as it paced back and forth. Into view, then out of view, but never really seeing his body. His voice—even while lowered—carried further than I figured it might.
But, it was Deacon’s next set of words that caused me to scramble for my phone.
“What do you mean, he threw the sign?”
I ripped my phone out of my bra and swiped up. I clicked the red record button and held my phone out, making sure I didn’t breach the shadows that cloaked me away from view. I stood there, an invisible mouse, listening to Deac growl into whatever phone he was using.
And I was getting it all on tape.
“All of them? Every single one? Are you sure he didn’t leave one untouched?”
The hell was he talking about?
“Shit,” Deacon hissed, “this isn’t good. Did he do anything else? Say anything else?”
I briefly wondered if I could get it on video, but what was the point? I couldn’t see him, I could only hear him. So, I chose not to risk it. After all, my cell phone light would give me away if he stepped around that corner.
And the last thing I needed was to piss another one of them off.
“The payment cleared? It wasn’t stopped in any way?
Okay, we’ll have to leave that alone for now, just in case.
I know, I know, the guys are gonna be pissed, but we don’t have any other choice.
For now, we put our plans on hold until the heat dies down on Doc.
We stick to the renovations, focus on the grand reopening of the bar, and nothing else.
By then, we should be good to do some digging before we contact Doc again. ”
Payment for what? What heat was he talking about?
What the hell were they selling? Because it was clear to me that they were selling something at that point.
Dallas’s reaction was pretty genuine, too.
Hard to fake that kind of nonchalant anger.
So, if it wasn’t drugs, that left only a handful of things they could be peddling.
My hand gravitated to my throat. I wondered if his hand would leave a bruise behind.
It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was that I was creeping closer to my answers.
Closer to finding a way to get Miss Lilly’s bar back for her.
Deacon stopped speaking, so I toggled my phone screen.
I turned toward the back door of the bar and saved the recording before I placed my phone back into my bra.
The question was, what the hell did I do with the recording?
Sure, I needed to take it to someone, but who?
It wasn’t as if the police in the area would help.
Not if they were in cahoots with their crew.
I had to get back into my apartment. I needed to reach out to DeShawn and M.J. They’d know what to do.
But, I didn’t even step out from beyond the shadows before something yanked against my hair.
“Ah!” I yelped.
“Gotcha,” Deacon glowered.
He tossed me across the backroom, and I stumbled over some empty cardboard boxes.
I held my hands out, trying to brace my fall before I broke my fucking nose.
But, I didn’t even get the chance. Something yanked at my hair again, pulling my head back, and just like that I was back on my feet.
Before my tits got shoved into the wall in front of me.
Before my cheek slammed into the hard, cold surface.
Before I felt his knee pressing between my thighs from behind.
“You guys really like walls, huh?” I asked through my smushed face.
He twirled me around and clamped his hand against my mouth.
His knee returned to its fatal position, and I hated how he inched it up the wall.
I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get away from his touch.
Trying to loosen his grasp against my lips.
But, as his clothed knee sat against my pussy, I found his furious glare holding me hostage.
Alone.
In the dark.
After getting caught.
“Your phone,” he said lowly.
“What about it?” I asked against his palm.
He parted his fingers, but didn’t move his hand. “What?”
I cleared my throat. “I said, what about it?”
“Where is it?”
I held my head high. “Go fuck yourself.”
He closed his fingers and raked his knee against my pussy, pulling a whimper from behind my lips. It betrayed me. It gave me away. And as a devilish smirk snaked across Deacon’s face, his hand pulled away from my mouth.
Before he slid his fingers into my hair and held on tightly.
“Ah,” I whimpered again.
“Now,” he said, his mouth close to my ear, “be a sweet little girl for me and give me your fucking phone. I know you were recording.”
“I don’t know what you’re—ah!”
He wrenched my head to the side by the hair. “You and your little friends aren’t nearly as discreet as you think you are.”
I turned my head quickly and bit down into the first thing that I could find.
Which, of course, happened to be his thumb.
I slammed my jaw closed until I felt something pooling in my mouth.
Something warm. Something metallic, like pennies on the tip of my tongue.
And when he yanked away, I saw the blood on his hand.
“You little bitch,” he snarled.
I gritted my teeth together and snarled right back. “I’d rather fuck Satan himself than do anything for you, asshole.”
He shook his hand out as his smirk grew. “Not a problem, if that’s what you want.”
The fuck did that mean?
“Now,” he said as he wiped his bloody hand against my face, “I won’t ask nicely again. Where is your phone, Char?”
I had to get away. I couldn’t give that man my phone. This was the smoking gun. The thing that I needed to get the entire bar on my side. I just had to show them first. So, I did the only thing that I had at my disposal.
I spat his own blood back in his face.
“Fucking Christ,” Deacon growled as he stumbled back.
“Help!” I bellowed as I moved away from the wall. “Somebody help me!”
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled.
“Someone! Heeeeelp!”
I tried to leap over the stacked cardboard boxes, but my toe caught the edge of one.
I flew through the air, crashing down onto empty boxes that just barely broke my fall.
I tumbled toward the door. Less than three feet in front of me.
I got onto my knees, scrambling to get to my feet, and the entire time I stretched my fingers out toward that door.
I just had to get outside. Into the light. Into the view of other people.
But, the second I felt his hand around my waist, I drew in a deep breath.
“HEEEEEEEELP!” I shrieked.
He hoisted me into the air and clapped his free hand against my mouth again. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun with you.”
I opened my mouth to bite him again, but he must’ve sensed my movements.
I kicked my legs midair, trying to knock him off balance as he moved his hand away.
The second I started making noises, however, he clamped his hand back down.
And because I hadn’t finished my breakfast, I didn’t have the kind of energy I usually did.
That didn’t stop me from fighting back, though.
It didn’t stop me from trying to bite down on his hand again.
“All right,” he grumbled as he shoved my cheek back against the wall.
“Dallas! Dallas, are you here!?” I called out.
Something cracked against my ass and tears rolled down my cheeks. My head got yanked back again before something pierced my lips, and the rough texture of the fabric on my tongue was twinged with cleaning solution.
And with every sound I tried making, the rag slipped further down my throat.
Something tightened around my throat. Heat burned down the backs of my legs.
My thighs clamped together and the darkness overwhelmed me.
My body got yanked in all sorts of directions.
I couldn’t get my feet beneath me. With every step that I took, I gagged, and it only caused the rag to slip deeper into my throat.
I didn’t stop fighting, though. Every touch, I bucked against. Every hiss, I tried to headbutt. Every time I felt him, I tried to harm him. Maim him. Make him pay for ever feeling like he had a right.
But, it was like fighting against God Himself.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, little one,” Deacon said as his voice appeared from seemingly out of nowhere.
I tried talking back at him, but the gag that forced its way up my throat threatened to spew stomach bile everywhere along with it.
“What was that?” Deacon asked. “Sorry, I think you’ve got something caught in your throat.”
I swung my body toward the direction of his voice, but all I found was yet another cardboard box that tripped me up. I felt myself falling. Careening through the air, and I braced myself. My shoulder would surely dislocate if I fell on it again, but I didn’t have a choice.
That is, until someone caught me.
Until someone set me back onto my feet.
Until someone pulled that rag out from my throat.
“Oh, fucking hell,” I said through my sputtering and coughing.
Something clamped into my hair before my head got ripped back again, and I found Deacon’s inescapable brown orbs staring down at me.
“Spit looks good on you,” he said as I felt it dripping down my chin.
I glared back at him. “You touch one shred of clothing on my body to be moved and I’ll kill you myself.”
The smile that snaked its way across his face frightened me. “Oh, how I’d love to see you try. Now, come on.”
“Wait, what?” I asked as he hoisted me onto my feet.
“You’re coming with me,” he said as he dragged me toward the backroom door.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where—where are we going? Let me go!”
He slammed the door open with his hip and tossed me to the ground. “This can be easy, or it can be hard. But I can promise you this, it’ll only be hard for you.”
Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t even have a chance to look around me. First, I was in the dark. Then, I was in the alleyway. Then, the cold hard metallic ground I fell upon was met with the slamming of doors at my feet.
“Deacon!” I exclaimed. “This isn’t funny! Let me out!”
My body was much too tired to fight back. My arm hurt. My throat hurt. My eyes hurt. My soul hurt. But, I knew that if I didn’t keep fighting, I’d die. If there was anything my childhood taught me, it was that.
Fight, or die.
Always.
“Deacon, please,” I whimpered as my cheek rested against the cold, hard ground.
Then, the sound of an engine struck up before insanely loud metal music filtered throughout the entire… van. Holy fuck, Deacon had tossed me into the back of a van.
“Dallas!” I shrieked. “Dallas! Help meeeeee!”
And as the van ripped forward, my body tumbled backward toward the unforgiving metal doors.
Metal doors that reminded me of just how trapped I had become.