by Skyla Madi
I hold my breath as he pulls me through the door behind him. The only thought in my brain is a single four-lettered word. It begins with F and ends with K.
Skull’s man holds me by the bicep and forces me to stand by a yellow service light underneath a concrete set of stairs that curl down to the right of the room. His grip is tight and threatening, so I don’t dare to move.
The room in front of me is a nice little set-up. To the left, there’s a small table surrounded by seven wooden chairs of varying quality. On the surface, poker chips and cards are scattered around the base of empty beer bottles. Across the medium-sized room sits a used, stripy sofa with cushions that look two decades old, covered in velvet and all kinds of stains. Neither of those are the reason for the jackhammers hammering away at my stomach lining. What worries me the most, is the tattoo chair that sits conspicuously in the middle of the room.
I swallow hard.
Shit.
Indications
“Unhand the girl, will you?”
I hear Skull’s voice before I see him.
The goon releases me the second I see Skull’s whiter-than-white sneakers step onto the dark, dirty concrete floor in front of me. I pull my stare from his shoes, up his black slacks and onto his white, formal shirt. For the occasion he’s extremely overdressed, but whatever statement he’s trying to make with his immaculate attire and gold cufflinks has been made. Skull has money. He has places he needs to be. He wants me to feel honored by his presence and I have to be if I’m going to get out of here without spilling my secret.
I eye his tie and the little diamond knife pin he’s centered in the middle of it. He looks elegant, yet dangerous. I assume, for whoever he’s seeing after this, he’s left little hints of just how dangerous he really is—like the skull tattooed over the face he was originally born with isn’t enough to scare you into making deals with him.
He’s wider close up, and taller. His tattoo makes my skin crawl and I’m having a hard time trying to decide if it’s in a bad creepy way or a good creepy way—if that makes any sense at all. I watch him closely as he saunters over to the tattoo chair and sits on the stool beside it.
“Am I in some kind of trouble?” I ask, eyeing the door beside me.
The man that pulled me into the room blocks it, foiling any getaway I might try to make. Anxiety awakens in my chest and prepares to wreak havoc. It begins by kicking up the tempo of my heart and restricting my lungs from expanding to full capacity.
“No, no trouble.” Skull taps his long, tattooed fingers against the larger chair. “I just want to chat.”
I contemplate suggesting we sit at the table, but then I see the gun sticking out of the back of Skull’s pants and remember he isn’t the kind of person open to suggestions. Forcing one shaky leg in front of the other, I walk as confidently as I can over to the tattooing chair, and I inhale and subtly let my breath out before sliding into it. Pursing my lips, I have to remind myself over and over that everyone down here knows who Skull is and what he’s looking for. I need to be like them. I need to treat Skull like I would any employer. I need to pretend his life is something I want to be involved in.
“I’m honored you’d want an audience with me,” I lie, flattening my sweaty palms against my leggings.
I don’t look at him when I speak. I can’t bring myself to see his tattoo so close. I feel him watching me for a little while before he decides to respond.
“Are you scared?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone.
I finally manage to gather the courage to look at him straight in his face. As my gaze locks onto the dark, tattooed circles around his eyes, I fight the urge to gasp or shriek. Imagine a skull being the last face you saw before dying. You’d be traumatized for the rest of eternity. Brain-dead or not, it’s not something you’d forget. What’s even more terrifying than the skull face is the throat he’s had tattooed on, too. If I ever want to see what the inside of a human throat looks like, I’ll never have to Google it.
“Of you?” I force a smile I’m sure he can see right through. “Absolutely.”
Skull chucks his head back and laughs. Fuck me. It’s actually genuine.
“I like you. You’re not stupid,” he says, letting his smile linger. “Now take off your shirt.”
I freeze before shooting a quick glance in the direction of the door. The goon pretends not to listen to our conversation, but I bet when I take off my shirt he’ll suddenly be interested in what we have to say.
“Excuse me?”
Skull reaches around the back of my chair and pulls a small table in his direction. On the table sits a stainless steel tattoo gun and a few other random bits and pieces. He reaches for the gun and adjusts something with his foot while I splutter, hopelessly.
“Take off your shirt,” he drawls. “I need your collarbone.”
“C … can I ask what for?”
Skull tips his head to the side, his black eyes glistening. “Normally, I’d tell you to shut the fuck up right before I have my friend over there rip your shirt from your body, but you’ve caught me in a good mood.” He leans closer. “I’ll answer your question, Emily, but this is the only time you’re ever allowed to question me when I ask you to do something. Understood?”
I nod compliantly, too dazed to comprehend what he said after my name fell from his lips.
“I like to mark those I’m interested in, and so far, you and your boyfriend interest me.”
“Why—”
He snaps forward, grabbing my lips between his fingers and squeezing them shut before ‘tsking’ at me like I’m a misbehaving dog.
“You have such a beautiful mouth. I’d hate to have to tear it from your face.” All signs of friendly humor and amusement fall from his face. “Take off the fucking shirt.”
He doesn’t have to ask me again. I grip the hem of my tank top and pull it off over my head. When I took my shirt off in front of Jai for the first time, I was embarrassed of my cotton bra, but here, I’m thankful for it. I’ll take any extra layer of clothing, no matter the fabric, if it prevents Skull’s soulless stare from kissing my skin.
Skull inches closer, the gun poised in his hand like a pen. Goosebumps prickle to the surface of my skin and the jackhammers in my tummy have broken through my stomach lining and are going to work on every other organ in that vicinity.
“I … I’ve never been tattooed before,” I say.
He grins wickedly and the gun buzzes to life. “I’m honored to be your first.”
The needle touches my skin. I inhale and flinch sharply. Skull grips my bicep in his hand, forcing me to stay put when all I want to do is fucking run. It’s cutting into my skin and burning like nothing else.
“The pain will fade once you get used to it.” He laughs over the buzzing of the machine.
It’s a lie, of course. The burning doesn’t fade, even after he’s finished. The entire time, I bit my lip and held back tears. I don’t know how he did it. Each pore filled with black ink on his body represents pain. A pain I never want to go through again.
When he’s finished, he applies a small amount of cream and tells me to put my shirt back on. Going off movies I’ve seen, I know I’m supposed to have my tattoo covered, but he doesn’t offer me anything and I worry about infection. I expect him to leave when he’s finished; instead he kicks the small table away and leans his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me about Jai Stone,” he says, randomly.
The mention of Jai and what I know sets me on high alert. I’ve never been tight lipped. I mean, I’ve never had a secret I’ve had to keep, but if he brings out that tattoo gun again, Jai might be in trouble.
“He has a sister,” I tell him, playing dumb. “A brother too.”
Skull seems less than impressed and his bored expression worries me. When men like him get bored, shit starts to happen. When shit starts to happen, people die.
“I don’t need a recap of his family tree. I fucking know it off by heart.”
; Realization flickers over his face and the frustration turns to cunning happiness in barely a second. It’s unsettling to see.
“Speaking of which, you seem to lack a family tree. I bet that bothers you.”
I grit my teeth and he smirks when he sees it. He’s fishing.
“It doesn’t bother me at all,” I say, proud of my confidence. “I haven’t needed one yet.”
Skull surveys me, his eyes thinning into thoughtful slits.
“I could give you your family tree,” he states, resting his chin on his hand. “Tell you who Mommy and Daddy are.”
There it is. The one thing I’ve been thinking about since Jai told me Skull would know. Problem is, what does he want in return for the information? What information do I have anyway? Yes, we’ve had sex, but in retrospect, I barely know Jai.
“If you want information on Jai, I can’t help you. I’ve only just met him myself.”
Skull quirks a brow—or at least that’s what it would be if it were noticeable over the ink. “My man Steve tells me you two showed up together.”
Oh shit. I’ve fucked up the story. He’s going to see right through it. I keep my face calm, but there’s no stopping the heat from seeping into my cheeks. “We met minutes before coming underground. He’s still practically a stranger.”
Unsatisfied with my response, Skull runs his hands over his bald head and exhales, heavily.
“Since you have no ties to Jai besides being his fuck buddy, I have a job for you.”
I scowl at him. “I don’t work for you.”
Skull zips forward, closing the distance between us. I try to recoil, but get nowhere as he presses his chest against mine and our lips almost graze. My heart is in my throat, beating my esophagus to a pulp. I have to remember to keep my mouth shut. Smile and nod. How fucking hard is that to learn? Skull presses his finger to the tattoo on my collarbone, making me wince and hiss.
“You’re my Kitten now.”
I flinch at the mention of Jai’s pet name for me. I didn’t think it could sound any worse than it did already, but hearing it fall from Skull’s mouth did it.
“You’ll do as I say. If Jai does anything out of the ordinary, you tell me. If he so much as eats, showers or sleeps in a strange way you fucking tell me! Got it?”
I nod, fast. I’ll do just about anything to get out of this room, even if it means agreeing to betray a friend. I close my eyes as he strokes my cheek. His fingers are warm and sweaty and the feeling they leave in their wake isn’t something that sits well on the stomach.
“Good Kitty.” Dragging a quick finger across my lower lip, he pushes away from me. “I have an important dinner to get to. Congratulations on your fight. Hitting someone while they’re down is a special kind of heartlessness that’ll do well in my business. I look forward to your next one.”
He grins wickedly before reaching around to his back pocket and dropping a heavy roll of money onto my lap. I don’t take my eyes off him as he clicks at his goon by the door. Without a glance in my direction, they both head up the stairs and I’m alone in the room. I guess I’m supposed to see myself out. I slip off the tattoo chair and onto shaky legs. They still tremble as an aftermath of the fight. So do my hands, but inside me, there’s a different kind of movement. I’m not sure what it is … guilt, maybe. Skull is going to make me betray Jai and I don’t think I can. If I don’t, Skull will most likely kill me—he seems like that kind of guy. If I do, Skull will kill Jai and then me. Either way, this whole thing isn’t going to end well.
I force my tired body over to the door. With heavy eyelids, I open it and saunter out into the tunnels. Most of the crowd has dispersed, but the few that remain dance and chat and party like this is the best place to be. I wanted excitement too, once. After a day or two, I thought this was the best place to get it. Then I got in too deep and I couldn’t find my footing to get back out.
Now I know why the unknown is dangerous.
I scan ahead, searching the spattering of people for Jai. In the midst of all this crazy, he’s the only thing that has made me feel safe.
He steps out from behind a group of people and I freeze on the spot. Can he tell Skull wants me to betray him? Do I look different? More importantly, do I tell him? My legs feel weak. My hands still tremble and I do nothing but stare at him as he watches me. Briefly, his eyes flick to the ledge above the cage and his brows draw closer. I don’t have to look to know Skull is watching, and it’s enough to force my legs back into action. I move towards Jai, every step making me feel weaker and weaker. A foot away, Jai opens his arms and I dive into them, throwing my hands around his neck. My chest is heavy. I want to cry, throw up and scream all at once. Jai’s manly scent flows in through my nostrils and I breathe in the familiarity of it. Then his cheekbones brush against mine.
“You okay?”
If I open my mouth I think I’m going to cry, so I just shake my head instead. Not wanting Skull to see me like this, I pull back and straighten my shirt. Jai analyzes my face and I can see it in his eyes. He knows I don’t want to talk about it. So, to save face, he beams widely at me and claps me on the shoulder before tucking me under his arm and pulling me in the direction of our little nook.
Confession
We step into our space, and immediately, I shrug out from underneath Jai’s arm and sit on my bed. Jai lowers himself onto his own cot and our knees graze, but he doesn’t say anything. He sits and waits patiently, like he has all the time in the world. I see it on his face, though. He’s dying to know what went on behind that door, but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about Skull and what he wants from me. He called me Kitten and on my collarbone, he gave me a skull tattoo. He wants me to report anything Jai does that I find out of the ordinary. Everything, all of it—it’s too much pressure, and I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.
“You did well,” Jai says after a few quiet minutes.
I look at him, surprised he wants to start with my fight, and not with Skull.
He sits with his elbows on his knees, his fingers nervously fiddling with each other. His dark blue eyes reflect the sympathy he feels deep down and it even manages to manifest on his lips too. For some reason, I feel better knowing we’re both unhappy. Sure, we won our first round of fights, but this is only the beginning and I can’t shake the feeling our real fights haven’t started yet.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. She wasn’t feeling one hundred percent … my win was a freak accident.”
“It takes a lot to—”
“Kick someone when they’re down?” I cut in. “Yeah. So I’ve been told.”
I tug at my hair band and let my hair fall around my face like a messy curtain. It sticks to the sweat on the back of my neck and I hate it, but I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.
“I don’t know what was wrong with her … maybe she drank too much last night, or maybe she ate some bad food.”
“Maybe.”
I frown, unsure of the tone he’s used. For someone who cares if I win or lose, he certainly isn’t counting what happened this morning as a miracle. My first opponent falls ill the day we’re meant to fight and not once has he called me ‘lucky’. It doesn’t sit right with me.
“You’re not shocked?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“What do you want me to say? She got sick. Shit happens.”
No. I’m not buying it. “You know something, don’t you?”
He opens his mouth and I gasp, fitting all of the pieces together. I feel sick … I feel … I don’t know how I feel. My brain is unable to comprehend the act I’m about to accuse Jai of.
“You did something, didn’t you?”
Jai leans back on his hands, completely unfazed by my accusation. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
I push off my bed and my organs finally decide to implode from all of the stress. I rake my fingers through my hair as tears gush from my eyes and I sob. I sob so fuckin
g hard. I can’t handle this. I can’t live this life—the fighting, the cheating, the killing—it’s too much.
“That poor woman,” I cry, pulling at my hair as I pace the small area. “I cheated her. I cheated her out of her money, out of her spot here.”
Jai rises to his feet. “You didn’t cheat her out of anything. You played the game and you won.”
I snap my head in his direction and point a sharp finger. “You played the game for me! I never would’ve hurt someone for my own personal gain. Not ever!”
His jaw tightens and his blue eyes flare. “That’s why I did it for you. I knew your conscience couldn’t handle it. There are things we need to do here, Kitten, and I need your help.” His attention flicks to my tattoo before coming back to my face. “You’re in with Skull now. You’re in the perfect position to help me.”
I shake my head, sniffling, and trying to slow down the tears. “I don’t give a shit about Skull or your plan.”
I stuff my hand into my back pocket and pull out the dense roll of cash Skull gave me for winning my fight. I’ve never had money I didn’t want before. Or at least, I didn’t until now. It feels too heavy in my hands. It doesn’t feel like it should. As I look at it, the tears stop.
“How’d you do it?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the money. “How’d you incapacitate the woman?”
“I told you. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers—”
“How?” I demand, squeezing the cash in my hand.
“I bought some Tramadol off Marcus and I crushed it up and poured it into her water.”
Tramadol. All of the stuff I learned on the narcotic springs to mine. It’s a narcotic-like pain reliever used to treat moderate to severe pain. It’s used for around the clock treatment, not ‘as needed’.
“Do you know how strong Tramadol is?” I ask, curious.
I mean, it’s not hardcore like morphine, but it’s a hell of a lot stronger than Tylenol.
