by Naomi West
Glancing over at the dart board I saw my chance. A couple guys exchanging money on the sly as they finished up their game.
I'd worked in a little dive bar like this shortly after I'd gone on the run from Pops. On slow nights, some of the old men would teach me how to play darts and pool. And, as slow as that place was, that made for quite a few nights of practice each week. Eventually they stopped playing with me because I was taking all their drinking money. In no time flat, I had a game going. I lied about the amount of cash I had to start, betting on my luck and skill, and soon ended up with three-hundred bucks more in my pocket, give or take.
Then, another drink in hand, I took my winnings and headed over to the pool table. A little while after that, with a fresh wad of cash in my pocket, and a couple irate men who I'd just bilked out of their money, I saw Asa walk in and glance around.
You took too long, Lauren, I cursed myself.
“Look,” I said to the drunks around me, “I didn't lie to you guys, did I? You saw me play earlier, didn't you?”
“Nah man, nah. This is fucking bullshit,” said a younger guy who had a little blonde rat mustache on his face that looked one step above some dirty skin. “You just ran that fucking table like it was nothing, bitch, like you were in the cup or something, some professional bullshit. Fuck you, girlie. I want my money back.”
“What?” I asked, my head pulled back, my eyes squinted. “You want a fucking refund because you sucked?”
I glanced up towards Asa, who was at the bar talking to the bartender, his back turned to me. The bartender leaned around the ways and pointed my direction. Maybe my handsome thug showing up was actually a blessing in disguise.
“The fuck you just say, bitch?” the guy said, taking a step towards me.
I turned around a little, putting my back to the short set of stairs that led up to the next level. I backed up slowly as I replied, my words equally slow and even paced. “I. Said. You. Suck.”
“Lauren!” Asa called from behind me.
“Look, you want your money back,” I said, jerking my shoulder back over my thumb towards the bar as I took another step towards the exit, “you talk to my man, Asa. He's the one who taught me everything I know. Half of this is going to him, anyways.”
“Yeah?” Rat Mustache asked, his eyes getting small and beady as he came up on me, towering over my much shorter frame. “Let's go talk to your boyfriend, then,” he said as his hand shot out and grabbed my arm, yanking me off balance as he dragged me towards the bar, and Asa.
“Lauren! We need to go!” Asa boomed as he came to the top of the landing and looked down at me and Rat Mustache. Then, I guess, he realized the guy had his hands on me. “What the fuck you doing with her, asshole?”
I wrenched my arm free of the guy's grasp as Asa came down the steps. Now was my chance.
“Asa,” I said as I went to stand by him, “meet asshole. Asshole, meet Asa. He thinks you owe him money.”
“Asshole?” Asa asked. “I owe him fucking money?”
I couldn't answer. I was already up the stairs and out the front door. The guys from the bar were after me a heartbeat later, their boots and shoes pounding loudly on the concrete floor as they came up the stairs after me. I slammed into the exit and took the steps two at a time, not really sure where I was going to go with this. All I knew was that I needed to get away, and do it fast. I just hoped none of these guys could move like Asa.
A cacophony arose behind me as the three guys from the pool tables hit the door behind me and chugged up the stairs. I sprinted around the building, down the street. I broke right, knowing that I needed to lose them without somehow alerting the cops. If they saw a young woman getting chased by three guys down the side of the road, they'd definitely stop. And I didn't want to see them anymore than the men chasing me probably did.
I hung a right down a dark alley, praying it would have an exit. I skidded to a halt in front of an old, worn out chain link fence and quickly realized how wrong I was. Feet sounded behind me at the mouth of the alley, and I spun around to see who it was. Rat Mustache and two buddies. No Asa, though.
My mouth tasted sour with fear, my heart beat a wicked, cruel tattoo as I realized this might be it. My flight reaction kicked in and I spun around, leaping on the chain link fence. If I couldn't get through it, I figured, I'd just have to go over it.
The posts holding the fence upright wobbled, and the sheet of linkages fell back away from it, making my legs shake and my grip to become unsure. I had to struggle with making it up and over. I gasped in fear, then screamed, as they grabbed me by the waist and yanked me from the clinking, clanking chain link fence and threw me to the gravel and mud, my body rolling, my shirt climbing up around my back and sides.
“Know what, girlie?” Rat Mustache said as he and his buddies closed in on me. “We got a way of dealing with hustlers and sharks around here, especially pretty ones. Thinking I know a guy who'd give me a cool grand, maybe two, for a fine little piece of ass like yours.”
Realization set in as I scrambled back from them. They were going to fucking sell me off. First, they'd probably rape me, then they were going to sell me like a piece of meat. “Please,” I begged as I crab walked backwards on my hands and feet, the gravel and rocks biting into my skin, “I'll give you your money back, okay? I'll give it back, no problem. My bad, alright? Just let me go, and we're fine, I won't tell anyone.”
Rat Mustache lewdly rubbed the front of his jeans as he laughed with his friends from the bar. “Nah,” he said. “You ain't gonna tell anyone, anyways. Shouldn't have come to the Saloon, baby girl. Shouldn't have come into our fucking bar.”
A crunch of gravel behind me, back at the alley's opening to the street.
Please let it be Asa, please let it be Asa. I glanced back, my breath catching in my throat as I realized it was him, chain in hand. “Asa!” I screamed. “Help!”
He just laughed. “Why should I bother? You're nothing but fucking trouble!”
My face sunk as I turned back to the men and tried to scramble away faster.
Chapter Twelve
Asa
“Come on, Asa!” Lauren called again as I walked down the alleyway, chain in hand.
These three guys were all light weights, just a bunch of vultures who were swooping in on her because she screwed them out of their money fair and square. Now they saw what they thought were some easy pickings and some nasty bit of fun. Like I said before, I hate men who beat women, and I hate rapists. But, still, I wanted her to stew in her decision for a moment. Wanted her to suffer contemplating the consequences.
“You know, I don't exactly need you,” I called back as I stopped about fifteen feet from the scene.
The guys, now, were shifting their attention to me as I let the end of the chain with the padlock still attached drop to the alley floor.
“Your daddy probably doesn't trust you worth a damn, anyways. You probably got more reason than anyone to kill him.”
“Asa, you motherfucker!” Lauren spat.
“See?” I asked. “It's that attitude that's gotten you here in the first place. You're a real pain in the ass, even if you're a great lay.”
“Feeling's more than mutual, asshole!” she snapped.
The guys were all looking at each other now, confused by the whole interaction. The blonde skinny kid who seemed to be the one with the most beef, just looked flatly at me. “We gotta fuck you up, dude? Or what?”
I ignored him and moved a step closer.
“Help me get in to the Fortress,” I said to her. “Fortress, or whorehouse. Your pick.”
She gritted her teeth and growled in frustration. “Fine,” she finally said, realizing she didn't have any other options left. No real ones, at least.
“Fucking finally,” I growled as I struck out with the chain and whipped it around at the head of the guy on the right, knocking him off his feet. I bared my teeth at the other two as I slinked the chain back into my grip, shortening it into a cl
oser quarter weapon.
They fell on me in a drunken rage, their fists flying at my head. I ducked the first set of fists and danced away, twirling my chain to gather momentum. I swatted the middle one, the tiny blonde guy with a bad mustache, across the knee first, then wrapped it around his neck, the weight of the weapon throwing him completely off balance and knocking him to the alley's floor, gasping, clutching desperately as it closed off his throat.
I turned to the other, dipping my forehead to take his poorly punched fist, then closed in on him as he yelped and shook his hand in surprised pain. I kick-stomped his extended knee, following through with a shattering, satisfying crunch that resounded like a snapped tree limb in a storm, the crackling break bouncing off the brick walls on either side of us. His stunned scream rose above his buddy's gagging as I cut him to the ground with two quick slashes of my fist. One to the chin, the other to the nose.
He went down like a bag of misshapen rocks, blood streaming from his face and pulling beneath his head as he rolled sideways onto a discarded aluminum can.
“Jesus,” Lauren gasped. “Holy shit, what did you just do?”
“Saved your fucking life,” I said as I went over and offered her a hand up.
She looked warily from me to my extended hand, then back again. She grasped it, finally, and I pulled her to her feet.
“Come on,” I said as I yanked her along. “Cars around the side. Let's get out of here.” I stopped in my tracks as I heard the gasp from the man around whose neck I'd wrapped the chain. I bent down next to him and loosened it. He gasped for breath, his face beat red as I slapped his cheek.
“Let me give you a piece of advice,” I said as I stood up and coiled the chain back in my hand. “Don't play pool with pretty blondes. They always got an advantage over you types.” Then, I kicked him in the side a couple times to drive my point home. Then a couple more on top of that. Like I said, I hated rapists.
“Asa,” Lauren said, finally grabbing at my arm and tugging me away.
“What?” I growled as I turned and followed after her. “They were going to rape you.”
“Doesn't mean you need to kill them,” she muttered.
As we walked back to the car, I decided I needed to come clean with her. I needed to tell her that I hadn't been working for her father - I was actually trying to get my own revenge. The only question now was, had I been lying so long that she wouldn't believe the truth, even when she finally heard it?
Chapter Thirteen
Lauren
He took me into the motel and made me sit down on the edge of the bed. “Alright,” he said as he tossed the cuffs on the bed next to me. “I've decided I'm going to come clean with you. This isn't exactly what it seems like.”
I turned my head and gave him the side-eyes. “What do you mean?” I asked sarcastically. “Am I on candid camera or some shit?”
He sighed and shook his head. “I don't work for your father,” he replied. “Not yet. My boss wants me to get in good with him so I can figure out a way to start stealing his business.”
I was suddenly pissed. Somehow, this was even worse than what I'd originally thought was going on. I narrowed my eyes at him. “So I'm a fucking pawn? Some piece of bartering? And you've been lying to me this whole time? Why have you been lying? You think it makes a difference to me one way or the other why you're taking me back to him?”
“Let me finish,” he said. “I'm not following my boss's plan. I'm just working for him. Do you remember a guy named Richie? Last one, I think, who came after you?”
Yeah, I remembered him. He was kind of goofy. Not as nice as Asa, and a little more timid but in the realm of kidnappers he'd been alright, even if he'd stuffed me in his trunk. I nodded. “Yeah. What about him?”
“Richie was my best friend growing up,” he replied, running a hand back through his short hair. “He and I got into this business together, whatever the fuck you want call it. Know how you got away from him at the last minute?”
I nodded.
“Well, he still went to your daddy, but he went empty-handed.” He paused, licked his lips, seemingly unsure of how to continue. “Dalton Saylor beat Richie to death and they dumped him in the river.”
I put a hand to my mouth. Pops had murdered Richie? I knew at least theoretically he was capable of it, but to be confronted with that fact so bluntly felt like someone had poured cold water over my head. I shook my head. “Why?” I asked. “It wasn't his fault I got away! He didn't do anything!”
“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “All I know is I'm going to kill your daddy.”
I rocked back a little at his words.
“And I'm going to take his whole business for myself. But,” he continued, now pointing at me, “I need you to get me through the door.”
“Fuck you, Asa,” I sneered. Now it was his turn to rock back on his heels. “Why didn't you just fucking tell me in the first place?” I yelled. “You think I wouldn't be up to it to go back there? To face him with you?”
“Because,” he replied, trying to keep his voice down, “he's still your fucking father!”
I took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. I took another deep breath, trying to fight back all the turmoil inside of me, before glaring back up at him. “You think I don't want him dead, too? That I've been running for so long because I just can't bring myself to do it? Fuck you!”
The look on his face was like I'd just slapped him. Good, I thought. He'd been lying to me, even with all the sex we'd been having and the time we'd been spending together, and he deserved to feel like shit about it. Little white lies were one things – this was entirely different.
“You want revenge for Richie?” I continued in a growl. “I want revenge for my fucking life.”
He stepped closer, went to put his hand on my shoulder. “I just couldn't be for sure,” he tried to explain.
I jerked my shoulder away. “Fuck you for underestimating me, just like every other goddamn man has.” I got up to walk away, to go into the bathroom, just to be out of the same room as him.
His face twisted up as I turned from him, and he grabbed my wrist in his bear-trap strong grip, his fingers biting into my skin. “Hey,” he barked, his tone of voice instantly sending a shiver down my spine as he yanked me back around to him. “You in or out?”
I looked down at his hand, then back up to his face. “What do you think?” I said. “But one condition.”
“What's that?”
“I want to kill the son of a bitch myself.”
He laughed till he saw the look on my face. “Fuck,” he said. “You're serious, aren't you?”
“Think I'm not?”
He looked her up and down, some sort of new found respect in his eyes. He licked his lips, subtly. “No,” he growled. “You are. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.”
He stepped towards me as he pulled me closer, bringing our bodies almost up against one another. He and I locked eyes, our gazes like a tug-of-wills.
I don't know if it had been the way he'd spoken, or just the heated passion of the moment, but I knew as I stared up into his eyes that he wanted me in more ways than one – and that whatever he saw reflected back told him I wanted him likewise. He pulled me into his strong capable arms, his lips crushing mine as I wrapped my arms around him and began to tug at the back of his shirt.
I needed to feel his skin against mine, needed to feel his lips on my body, needed to feel his mouth everywhere it could every possibly be. I raked my nails across his back as I opened myself to his tongue, to his flashing, biting teeth.
We broke apart, our hands flying to each other's clothes. We tore at each other like people driven mad with lust. “Lying piece of shit,” I growled as he pulled my top off.
“Pain in the ass,” he replied as he undid my jeans.
“Asshole,” I said as I worked at his belt and rubbed furiously on the front of his jeans, loving how hard he already was.
He groaned at my touch. “B
itch,” he growled as his hips ground his manhood into my hand.
“Keep talking like that,” I said as I unsnapped his jeans and pulled down his zipper, “and I won't let that filthy mouth anywhere near me.”
He pulled his shirt off, tossed it aside as he kissed me again. His hands wrapped around my back and undid my bra, pulled it from my shoulders and threw it on the floor with his tee. I arched into his hand as ran a thumb roughly over my nipple, tweaked it hard, and pulled my body into his. I growled at the pleasure mixed with a drop of pain, loving how dirty he made me feel.
“You know you like my mouth filthy,” he said before kissing me again as I kicked off my shoes and he began to pull at the waistband of my jeans. He shoved them down over my hips and ass, and my panties became of pool of cloth around my ankles.
