CAGED (Bad Boy Romance): THE UNDERGROUND

by Alexx Andria

  Damon grabbed the nearest shirt and sweatshirt and within seconds he was dressed. His curt gesture told me it was time to go.

  “He’ll put a bullet in your brain the minute you step into his office,” I said, desperate to drill some sense into the big idiot. “Do you have a death wish? Davonte doesn’t forgive and you broke his fucking nose. What do you think he’s going to do to you for that insult? Take you out for dinner?”

  I knew my words gave Damon pause, probably because he’d wondered the same, but he seemed stubbornly stuck on track. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the door.

  I screeched and tried to pull away but it was like trying to free my arm from an alligator once it’d clamped down.

  “What kind of man are you?” I demanded, struggling as he dragged me toward the door. “You would knowingly take a woman to a man who planned to rape and God-only-knows-what to her? Where’s your fucking conscience?”

  “A conscience is a liability in my line of work.”

  I stomped on his insole but his grip didn’t loosen, if anything, he tightened his grasp around my wrist until I thought my bones might crack. I bit back tears, refusing to cry out. “You’re a monster, just like Davonte,” I managed to say before he shoved me out the front door, his hulking mass right behind me.

  “Yeah, well, a guy’s gotta make a living,” was all he had to say.

  And I knew I was screwed if I didn’t get away because this mother fucker was right — he was no hero and I was a fool to think otherwise.

  Risking everything, I kicked him as hard as I could right in the nuts.

  “Fuck!” He grunted as he doubled over, giving me a hair’s breadth of time to run like my life depended on it — because it did.

  Even though he’d proven he was fast, the need for air worked in my favor as he dropped to his knees, cradling his nuts, sucking oxygen.

  I flew down the street, putting distance between myself and that muscle-bound idiot.

  I didn’t look back.

  I didn’t stop until I was blocks away and my lungs threatened to cave in.

  Survival mode was officially switched on.

  Chapter 5

  Damon

  I was shoved roughly into a chair, opposite Davonte. The black and blue of his broken nose stood out against the white bandage but it did nothing to soften the cold rage in his eyes. Davonte steepled his fingers as if deep in thought, chewing on my fate.

  “Where’s Charlie?” Davonte asked.

  Time to pay the piper — except I had nothing to offer but my sorry ass apologies.

  Fuck, Charlie was right, Davonte was going to have me served up to his dogs.

  My balls still aching, I shifted in the chair, admitting, “Fuck if I know. She kicked me in the nuts and ran when I was trying to bring her here.”

  Davonte’s brow shot up. “You were trying to return her after running off with her?”

  “About that, I don’t remember anything from last night,” I growled, my cheeks heating at how stupid I sounded. “When I realized what’d happened, I tried to bring her back.”

  Davonte only seemed to care about one thing. “Did you fuck her?” The barely contained jealousy was almost palpable.

  “No.” Of that, I was pretty sure. Though, not from lack of interest. Red-heads were my weakness.

  “You want me to believe you had Charlie for the night and you didn’t fuck her stupid? Are you blind?”

  “Even if she hadn’t been your woman, she’s not my type.” Total lie, but I was trying to stay alive, not win awards for honesty. “Too much trouble.”

  “Assuming I believe you, how do you know the woman?" he asked, going straight to the point.

  "I don't."

  “Bullshit.” Davonte wasn’t buying my story. The irony was that I was telling the truth that time.

  I shrugged. “Never laid eyes on her before last night.”

  He gingerly touched his bandage. “Your actions say otherwise, son.”

  I tried not to feel any sort of false connection at the casual endearment but it was hard. Davonte had been my mentor, of sorts. I’d thought Davonte saw something in me. Now I knew it’d been all bullshit.

  “What's so special about her?” I held Davonte’s stare. “Why her?”

  Maybe it shouldn’t matter but curiosity got the better of me.

  Davonte shrugged. “The mysteries of life, right? Suffice to say I want her and you are going to get her for me.”

  The words, fuck that, came to mind but I didn’t flinch or bat an eye. “How’s that?” I asked.

  The flinty look in Davonte’s eyes was a warning sign but I was up to this shit to my eyeballs.

  “The way I see it, you owe me. You took my property and banged up my men. Now under ordinary circumstances I would just have your balls cut off and fed down your throat but the situation has made me realize that I’ve undervalued your contribution to The Underground.” He paused. “I heard that your manager cut you loose.”

  The statement was rhetorical. Davonte knew everything that went down in this town if it had to do with The Underground.

  Davonte sighed as if dealing with incompetence was a burden he was forced to carry as he laid it out for me.

  “Sometimes Manny doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He's too swayed by young, dumb and full of cum. Manny’s missed the true prize and I’m staring at it right now. I’ve never seen one man take down six of my guys as well as knock my lights out. Go ahead, take some pride in that victory,” he said with a falsely generous smile.

  He added, “I’m a big enough man to say it…you’re one bad-ass mother-fucker. That took balls. So here's the way I see it. I can either make you an asset or I can put you down like a rabid dog and move on. Personally, I'd rather be friends.”

  A cool threat bubbled beneath the seemingly benign statement as Davonte added pointedly, “Don't you want to be friends, Damon?”

  Why did that feel like the devil had just asked me if I was partial to my soul?

  But what could I say?

  Basically he was saying, work with me or die, and I didn’t want to die so the decision was pretty much already made for me.

  “What are you offering?” I asked, holding Davonte’s stare.

  Davonte laughed as he shook his head. “Balls, son. Balls of fucking steel but I like that. I want to put you on salary. I want you to teach these idiots over here how to take a punch and not go down like a bunch of bowling pins. You might not have what it takes in the ring but you're one hell of a brick wall and I would like you to be on the right side of me.”

  It cut to hear Davonte dismiss my dreams of making it in the ring but if he was right, what choice did I have?

  I wasn’t good for much else but fighting and if that option was snuffed out…I guess being on Davonte’s payroll was about as good as it was going to get.

  “Let's just say I was interested in your offer… what do I have to do?”

  I knew of deals like this, this was how guys ended up cleaning Davonte’s mess.

  “Your job is simple. I'm going to give you a task and you're going to either pass or fail. If you pass I put you on the payroll, if you fail I put a bullet in your brain. Very simple. But you're a smart guy, smarter than most fighters. So I have no doubt that you will bring me what I want.”

  So there it was. A devil’s bargain. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to work for Davonte. What a shitastic position I was in.

  “So, all you're saying is, for me to save my own ass, I just have to bring you the girl?”

  Davonte spread his hands, agreeing. “It's as easy as that.”

  Easy, my ass. The woman was already slippery as fuck.

  “How do I find her?”

  Davonte’s gaze hardened. “That is your problem.”

  Yeah, wasn't that the crux of it? My problem. All of this was my problem. The problem of my own damn making. Why hadn’t I just minded my own damn business?

  “Wh
at are the perks?”

  “Look at you, trying to drive a hard bargain. I respect that. All right, you get full run of The Underground. You're my muscle. You walk into any club you want, you get any pussy you want. All you have to do is make sure that everyone tows the line I draw, which includes keeping that scumbag Terrance Johnson and his fuckers on his side of the territory.”

  Terrance Johnson, the only fucker as dangerous as Davonte in this town. They were like two dogs circling each other, sniffing out weakness in the hopes of going for the jugular when the other least expected it.

  But there was a truce between the two kingpins, at the moment, so at least I had that in my favor.

  Seemed easy enough. Except that's not what I wanted out of my life. I hadn’t trained half my life to be Davonte’s thug.

  "What if I want to get back in the ring?"

  “Son, there comes a time in everyone's life when they have to realize their own limitations. You got no soul and no intuition for the ring. That's not your strength. Trust me when I say I'm doing you a favor.”

  I didn't believe Davonte for a minute. The man didn't do anything for anyone that didn't benefit him.

  But my survival instinct kept me from pushing the issue.

  “What's going to happen to Charlie?”

  I probably shouldn't have asked. Again, I was poking my nose where it didn't belong. But what could I say, I was a glutton for punishment.

  "Don't worry about her. You just bring her to me."

  That didn't sit well. But if I was going to save my own neck I had to stop sticking it out for women I knew nothing about.

  “Fine, I'll get the girl for you,” I finally agreed even though I wanted nothing to do with any of this shit. “I'm gonna need some cash to track her down. Since Manny cut me, I’m broke as fuck.”

  Not exactly true but not entirely bullshit, either. If Davonte wanted me to be his bloodhound, he was going to pay for it.

  Davonte reached into his desk drawer and tossed a wad of cash toward me.

  There was easily two grand in that bundle. Detroit had been hit hard in the last decade.

  Poverty was a fact of life for most people. Two grand in cash might as well have been a million.

  Davonte leaned forward, all sense of fair game gone from his expression.

  “You’ve got one week to return my property,” he instructed, stabbing his finger into the surface of his desk. “If you're not back in this office in exactly one week I'm going to put a hit on your head worth so much that your own damn mother would take the deal. You feeling me?”

  I stifled the growl that rose at the casual mention of my mother. He didn’t know shit about my mother because if he did, Davonte would know there wasn’t an amount of money on this planet that convince my mother to sell out her only son.

  “Yeah, I feel you,” I answered, careful not to let my temper get out of control.

  There weren’t many things I was protective over, but my dead mother’s memory was one of those things.

  I slowly pocketed the money. “Sounds like you've got a deal. One week,” I confirmed.

  Davonte smiled as if we’d just completed a pleasant business deal.

  “Don't fuck up. I'd hate to kill you.”

  I walked out of his office on my own two feet but I knew I’d left something behind.

  Something that felt a lot like my dignity. But hell, what had it ever done for me in the past?

  Fuck it, maybe Davonte was right.

  I was made to be a thug.

  Chapter 6

  Charlie

  Hope was a dangerous thing.

  I was pissed at Damon for making me feel — if only for a second — that I had a chance with him helping me.

  Damon was just like everyone else in this town, bowing and scraping for Davonte’s approval, willing to suck a dick just to get out of this fucking hell-hole.

  The bitter wind ate into my bones as I walked the back streets, wondering where the hell I was going to go, where I could be safe from Davonte.

  Who was I kidding? Unless I walked my happy ass out of Detroit, there was nowhere safe from that sociopath.

  I cursed Tommy’s decision to get tangled up in The Underground, even though just thinking of my little brother made me tear up. I was pissed at him but I missed him, too.

  We’d been close because our parents were fuck-ups.

  All we’d had was each other.

  Our father was a weak-assed individual with the moral strength of a wet cardboard box.

  Hell, the only saving grace I’d ever had was that he hadn’t been interested in fucking me, so I guess I could count that as a blessing.

  Not all my friends had been so lucky.

  The state took my best friend, Alondra, away from her dad when we were in the sixth grade.

  One day at lunch Alondra let slip that her daddy had been fingering her since she was five.

  By the time she’d hit twelve, he’d figured it was time to go for the real deal.

  I hadn’t seen Alondra since that day social services came.

  All I could do was hope that wherever she’d landed, it was better than where she’d started.

  But Alondra’s story wasn’t unique. Hell, more than half the girls I knew had some kind of fucked up story to tell.

  Creepy uncles, handsy boyfriends of desperate single moms, perverted stepbrothers…actual brothers…

  I shuddered.

  So, I guess I was fortunate in that respect that my dad hadn’t been a pervert but being willing to sell out your kids to the dirtiest kingpin in Detroit was a form of prostitution, too.

  I walked against the wind, gritting my teeth as the chill ate through my thin jacket.

  I hated Detroit.

  I wanted to go somewhere sunny and warm. Like Florida or California.

  Somewhere that didn’t freeze your lungs with a single breath and the poverty level wasn’t hovering somewhere along the medieval peasant level.

  But how the hell was I going to get out of this place? I had no real money, no car, no place to stay and nowhere to go — and a narcissistic sociopath wanted me in his bed.

  I nearly choked on the toxic mix of fear and desperation bubbling up in my throat.

  One thing I did know, I had to get out of the open and off the street.

  I couldn’t go home, couldn’t involve my friends, and I certainly couldn’t return to Damon’s place.

  Where did that leave me?

  Fucking screwed.

  I thought of Damon again.

  If only he’d been a good guy. He could’ve been the answer to my problems.

  He was so fucking big. Like the Hulk without the green skin.

  He was muscle on top of muscle and those crazy dark eyes were enough to scare away the devil.

  But I hadn’t felt scared.

  If anything, I’d felt safe.

  Ha. What a joke.

  I am apparently a terrible judge of character.

  Another blast of wind nearly sent me to the icy sidewalk and I ducked into a corner cafe. I had enough for a cup of coffee.

  At least that would warm me up some.

  I made my way to the counter, ordered a black coffee, and curled my frozen fingers around the hot, cardboard cup.

  I snagged a table away from the window and tried to make my coffee last as long as I could, at least long enough to thaw out so my brain could work.

  Anyone that I involved would be at risk so I couldn't turn to anyone who cared about me.

  But I couldn't exactly sleep on the street either. Freezing to death wasn't an option I was going to entertain.

  Hard choices.

  This was exactly how Davonte trapped people into turning to him for help. He took away all of their options so that he was the best and only way to survive.

  I thought of the future I had to look forward to if I chose Davonte.

  When he was pleased, he was relatively generous.

  That’d been my dad’s argument.

/>   “He treats his girls real good,” Frankie had whined, casting me a perplexed look. “Fancy clothes, parties, some of them even get cars.”

  “Yeah, a real humanitarian,” I’d quipped darkly, shaking my head at how gross my dad was. “Those women are just walking vaginas. That’s all he wants from them. There’s no equality between them. The man makes me sick. And you want me to sign on for that? Fuck that and fuck you.”

  “You ain’t so smart, little girl,” he’d sneered. “You could play your cards right and do something useful for your family for once in your life. Get yourself set up like that one woman he put up in her own swanky apartment on the good side of town, not to mention what Davonte could do for your brother. Time to start thinking of someone besides yourself.”

  That was rich coming from him.

  I’d ignored his threat. When had my father ever said anything of value? Never. And I didn’t see a reason why he’d start now.

  And that swanky apartment? Just because it had a dishwasher and a bell man, didn’t make it uptown.

  I’d rather hand wash all my dishes for the rest of my life than live with the knowledge that I’d paid for my conveniences on my back (or knees).

  I don't know where it came from but my sense of right and wrong was too firmly ingrained in my personality to allow myself to sink to Davonte’s level.

  If all things had been equal, I would've went to college. I tried to talk Tommy into leaving with me.

  But he wouldn't and I knew I couldn't leave him behind. All the good my sacrifice had done…Davonte had ended up killing Tommy in the ring anyway.

  Don't think of Tommy. I didn't have the luxury of breaking down.

  Six months ago my brother was alive.

  Some days it felt like a lifetime.

  In spite of my best efforts, a tear snaked down my cheek and I wiped it away quickly.

  One of the baristas looked at me with concern. I turned away, discouraging her from coming over to comfort me.

  It wasn't that I couldn't have used a little human kindness it was that I was afraid of involving anyone in my mess.

  The barista got the message and went about her business. I scrubbed my hands over my face, desperately hoping for a miracle.