Rise (The Phoenix Series Book 1)

by M. K. Cunningham

  Looking to Summer, her head is shaking from side to side, and she is chewing on her bottom lip. Shifting in my seat, “Summer, do you know who this person is?” Pausing to wait for a response that will never come, “I ran his image through the database, and he has never been convicted of anything, so I have nothing on him. Who is he?”

  Now glaring in my direction, “that bastard is Matt Conway.” Shaking her head, “I knew he was trouble but this…” pointing to the photo, “he is a dead man.”

  Placing my hand on Summer’s shaking one, “how do you know this Matt Conway guy?”

  Closing her eyes, “remember the night you found her in the woods? Well, he is to blame for that. The night before he was in the ring with Greer and tried some shady shit on her, but she still won.” Taking a deep breath, “I thought he was pissed at her due to the fight, and that’s why you found her in the woods the way you did. But now, with this photo and the fact that he was there, the night Greer was at Bombers for the rooftop fight. He was the one that held her feet down as Jerry had a knife to her. I don’t know how or why but he’s on Jerry’s payroll now.”

  Getting Summers attention again, “Who is she running from? I need to know who this Jerry guy is.” I’ve got concern written all over my face. I’m missing part of Greer’s story.

  Leaning forward with her elbows on the table, glaring with a stern face, “Greer had a bad past that is still trying to catch up with her. She isn’t safe and never will be while Jerry is still breathing. Years ago, Greer gave her heart away to a boy. Little did she know who that boy’s family was, especially his father.” Summer’s voice fades fast.

  Her body got tense, and her eyes went anywhere but mine, “His name, the father’s, is Jerry Sloan.” I freeze once she says that name. I know exactly who he is. He’s been in the news for the last year. He’s the most wanted man and is under investigation for the pile of bodies found in an abandoned warehouse. Jerry Sloan, the Godfather of the Mob.

  I don’t know why I never put two and two together. Drew and Jerry have the same last names, and I should have recognized him when I was on the rooftop.

  Her eyes shoot up to mine in a pissed off way. “He’s out for revenge…death. Greer opened her heart to his son, and Jerry didn’t support it. He didn’t like Greer from the start and warned Drew to stay clear of her.” She’s breathing slowly, and I know the next words out of her mouth will explain everything.

  “He was shot and killed by his father’s lackeys. As they were fleeing, Jerry’s men cornered them both and murdered Drew right in front of her. They blamed Greer for his death, she blames herself.” By the last word, she’s in tears.

  I get up and hug her, tightly. “Why would Jerry kill his own son.” Clearing my throat and shaking my head, “Greer is foolish if she really believes his death is on her.”

  Shaking her head and never looking up at him, “That’s Jerry for you. He has never cared about anyone but himself. Drew was just a payday to him and the day they both snuck out, he was dead to him right there. If he couldn’t make money off him anymore, he had no use for him. You don’t just leave Jerry, and if you do, it’s because you are no longer breathing.”

  Backing up and peering into my eyes, “He has been looking for her ever since and hasn’t found her, until recently. Her survival mode has been down, and she has been reckless with you. When she is with you, that fear starts to disappear little by little. Because of that, her guard was taken away. When Greer was kidnapped by Jerry after Drew’s death, he did something to her. Whatever it was is what has kept her alive for the past three years.” Shaking her head once more and looking disgusted with herself, “I hate to say it, but I promised someone that I would keep her alive and her with you is not doing that. Because of you, I’ve broken that promise.”

  CHAPTER thirteen

  greer

  I never seen it coming, they caught me off guard as my back is facing them. I just found the frozen green beans when the twins approach me, each grabbing an arm, attempting to drag me out of the mini market. I begin putting up a fight but fail as one of them throws me into the can display, located next to the emergency exit, when I bit down very hard on one of their arms.

  My breath is knocked out of me the moment I hit the floor. A shooting pain races up the back of my head and as soon as I place my hand on the spot, stinging occurs. Immediately, I rush my hand from that spot and notice a decent amount of blood spread across my palm. Jumping to my feet, I look to see a mother and her boy in front of me, in shock, staring at the scene playing out. A male employee is to my right, just a mere fifteen feet from me, not moving an inch. To my left, the twin with the scar is helping the other one from the floor. He must have fallen when I did.

  Realizing I have not moved a muscle, I begin to race down the aisle to Thane until I hear one of them. “Stop now, or they both get it!” Turning around, the twin that’s knocked down has his gun drawn at the mother and son that stood just in front of me a little bit ago. Looking to them, their eyes have a red rim around them, and they are begging for their lives. The mom slowly steps in front of her boy, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Turning around entirely, so my whole body is facing them, I raise my arms in the air, surrendering. The man with the scar walks straight to the employee and sticks a gun in his face telling him to get the can display set up quickly. They are trying to cover their tracks. Part of me hopes that Thane walks around the corner, but he never does. The one that’s thrown to the floor still has his gun pointed at the mother and son.

  With a shaky breath, “Not one peep out of you. You tell anyone...” Walking up to the women, he reaches into her purse and pulls out her wallet, unzipping the main compartment. “and I will personally be visiting 106 Oak Street.” Swinging his gun in their face, they both nod simultaneously at him with quivering lips. Walking back to his brother, looking at the employee that is halfway done restocking the cans, “same goes for you too!”

  Knowing the employee understands the threat, both brothers turn toward me. Swinging their arms, while still holding their guns, it doesn’t take them long to get to me with their long strides. Grabbing my arms again, they dig their nails deeper into me. I let out a slight discomfort groan but quickly shut it down because I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they are causing pain.

  Still, I put up a fight. Trying to ground my feet, I dig as hard as I can into the floor, but all my sneakers do is cause a small squeaking sound, like nails on a chalkboard. The one I bit before turns and sucker punches me in the stomach causing my legs to give out from under me and my body leans forward. Gasping for air, I look up to see we are heading for the emergency door.

  Pushing the handle on the door, I feel the fresh Fall air on my face. The clouds are starting to move in and hide the Sun that I long for. Looking behind me, still, no Thane and the door never sound the alarm. Hearing a handle lift and slam back down, I turn my attention to what is going on in front of me. A silver car is waiting there, idling. Before I know it, I’m being thrown into the back of the vehicle.

  I am shoved into the backseat, and as I peer up from the floor, I rush the door, trying to escape. The brother with the scar pulls out his gun and points it straight in-between my eyebrows, and I stop, knowing I’m screwed. Hearing someone from behind me move to adjust themselves in the seat, I turn my head, and my heart stops.

  Jerry, who is sitting next to me, thrusts his hand to my throat and slams me into the seat. The back of my head bounces off the back window, leaving a slight crack in the glass with a hint of smeared blood from my previous altercation. The pain I had before has tripled in my head, and my eyes are having a hard time trying to focus on what is happening in front of me. Inches from my face, a blurry Jerry has his lit cigar lingering near my skin, waiting to show his old ways.

  Hearing the gun slide into the man’s holster, Jerry’s lackey closes both the back door and his door, and we speed off into the day.

  Moving his unshaven face closer to
mine while still cupping my throat, “told you I’d be seeing you again cookie.” His breath smells strongly of cigar and whiskey.

  I begin to smirk and narrow my eyes because that’s all I can do considering I’m back in this situation again, “fuck you.” Jerry cups my throat harder and his thumb digs into my cheek causing me to gasp for air. Without warning, he violently places the lit cigar on my thigh, and I scream in pain until I no longer feel it due to the adrenaline rushing through me.

  With a slight laugh, I lean forward as Jerry is still applying pressure to my throat. Hoarsely, “I’m not scared of you anymore. You can torcher me all you want, but I’ve made my peace.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he squeezes tighter around my throat. Before he sees it coming, I fling my hand into my hair and pull out the hidden razor blade in my bun. Swinging my hand at his throat, I slightly graze him as he pushes my hand out of the way.

  The lackey in the passenger seat turns around and knocks the blade out of my hand and onto the floorboard, out of my reach. Looking back to Jerry, his fist is in full swing and seconds from my face. When he pulls back from the third swing, I start to get the black tunnel visions that you see in the movies. After the fourth punch to my face, I black out.

  ***

  Fading in and out from conciseness, I find my ankles, wrists, and chest tied to a wooden chair with rope. Looking around, they’ve got me in a small room with no windows, a dirt floor, concrete walls and water streaming down one of them. The place literally smells like shit.

  I can hear a faint sound coming from the door but not enough to make out who it is or what is going on. Viewing the room harder this time, I look for anything that may help me loosen the ropes or possibly tear them. The wall with the water streaming down it seems to have a slight crack in it with a piece of concrete protruding from it.

  Shifting my weight, to the front of the chair, I attempt to tippy-toe to the wall and fail. The chairs weight sends me falling over onto my side. At this point, I don’t know if I can get out of this position.

  Moments later, two big fellows, that I’ve never seen around Jerry, come walking in and placing me upright, closer to the wall. The tanner one with the cut off shirt leaves the room and returns seconds later with a syringe in his hand. This is a new technic Jerry’s never used before.

  As he walks over to stick that shit in me, I start jolting from side to side that way he can’t succeed. The other one, with the tiger tattoo across his chest, grabs both of my shoulders to steady me. Right then and there, they inject it into my left forearm.

  I have no idea what they have given me, whatever it is, I feel relaxed, and my eyes start to become hazy. Seconds later the walls all around me feel like they are caving in and as I look at the two strangers in front of me, their faces are becoming distorted, and their laughs are sounding funnier by the moment.

  I’m hallucinating…

  As I peer around the room to try to find anything to focus on, both men start to grope my breasts hard, very hard. Closing my eyes, a single tear escapes me. It's not because I’m scared of knowing what’s going to happen, it’s knowing I won’t get to see Thane and the others I love again. Jerry and his lackeys got me at a time I wasn’t expecting it. I was finally happy, I should have known.

  ***

  Lifting my chin, I open my eyes and find myself staring into tiger tattoo’s eyes, he is saying something very slowly, but I can’t make out what it is. I try to focus on his lips but still nothing. My head is heavy, and I can no longer control it, my chin bounces down to my chest. My body is becoming limp. From the corner of my eye, I can see one of them whipping their dick out, stroking it up and down. With what energy I have left in me, I pull against the ropes one last time to see if I can break free or loosen anything, nothing…not even a damn inch. I’m so weak and fighting to stay awake is becoming harder by the second.

  Shutting my eyes for what seems like a second, I open them back up to find nobody in the room at all. I swear they were just standing in front of me. My body is completely numb, I literally can’t feel anything. My vision is starting to clear, but my body is still frail. Looking back at the wall, the water that was streaming down is now a slight trickle. The concrete that is sticking out is more prominent now, and I seem to be closer to the wall then I was before.

  Curving my toes into a tippy toe position, I attempt to push with as much force as I can. They are so numb, and I can’t tell if they are even moving until the chair takes a tumble backward. My arms are pinned between the floor and the chair, and yet I still can’t feel them. I’m stuck.

  I hadn’t even noticed someone standing in the doorway until I begin looking around some more to figure out how to get out of this mess. I have no idea how long he has been standing there, but he seems amused. It is the one with the cut off shirt. He is standing in the middle of the doorway with a pocket knife in his hand, picking at his nails. His legs are crossed, leaning into the door jam.

  Letting out a big puff of air and speaking in a quiet voice to myself, “just fucking great!” Knowing I can’t get out of this position, I just lay there, doing nothing. A few minutes later he releases his legs and stands up straight. His face is serious, like someone prestigious is coming. I can only imagine who it is.

  Not too long after that, Jerry comes walking into the room that he is holding me captive in. He looks as if he is on a mission because he comes straight for me. Jerry appears pissed. Stopping right by my head but not without kicking some of the dirt that is on the floor right into my eyes.

  Leaning down in a squatting position, “Cookie, why don’t you tell me who that boy is that happened to take you out of the nightclub the other night over his shoulders.” As he says that last word he makes this clicking noise with his teeth.

  I just stare at him. If he really thinks I’m going to give Thane up, he is full of shit. Taking his right hand, Jerry begins rubbing his upper lip back and forth. Without a second thought, Jerry’s left-hand shoots straight for my throat and he is applying pressure to it. Again, he asks me the same question but in a more threatening way, “Who is the guy Cookie?”

  If I could, I’d spit in his face, but my mouth is so dry that I can’t even form any saliva. Instead, I just stare at him. With a slight chuckle, he lifts me and the chair up by my throat and repeatedly slams me back down to the floor multiple times. My head is banging against the hard dirt ground, and I don’t have the strength to hold it up to keep it from hitting.

  I don’t know how many times he does it, but eventually, he stops. The chair doesn’t seem affected by the violent outburst. I begin to feel a sting at the back of my head yet again. It seems whatever drug they are injecting me with, it’s starting to wear off. Lifting my chair up one more time, he leaves it on all fours. Still squatting, “Who is he?” Turning my head to the left, I look away from him and just stare at the pitch-black hallway not saying anything.

  Jerry becomes agitated again. This time, he doesn’t touch me at all. Standing up, he turns to the tanned one in the door jam. Walking just past the door he turns to him, “do whatever you want to her.” Looking back at me, “no injections, she can feel every bit of it until she gives me a name.” Patting his shoulder, “keep her alive.” He then walks away.

  Looking from the spot Jerry was at to the tanned asshat walking my way, I take a deep breath which causes me to flinch with the sudden pain I’m feeling. There isn’t anything he can do that hasn’t happened to me in my life already. As he reaches me, he stops to put his knife in his back pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, Tiger guy stands in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for instructions. The tanned one turns around and speaks in Spanish, “¡ tráeme el agua!”

  Looking at the one in front of me to the doorway, he is no longer standing there. Minutes later, tiger guy comes back in with a big trough, about the size of a coffee table. It is sitting on a cart, with its high pitch squeaky wheels coming my way with water lapping over the side of it due to the uneven gr
ound.

  I can only imagine what that is for. My heart begins to race, and I know that I have to get that under control or I’m not going to be able to make it through this torture. Taking deep, slow and stable breaths, I close my eyes and concentrate on the noises around me. I can feel my heart start to slow down to its normal rhythm.

  Suddenly, I feel someone grab my neck and dunk me in the water. The side of the trough is digging into my chest because they never untied me from the chair. I try to lift my head out of the water, but hands are pushing me back down and keeping me just from the surf. Not opening my eyes or mouth, I begin to calm down and take in what is seriously happening to me. The water they have me in is freezing, and I can feel chunks of something swaying back and forth against my head. If I had to guess I would say they iced the water.

  I have no idea how long they have me under for, but my body starts to betray me. My head begins to hurt due to the lack of oxygen it is receiving, and my heart starts to pound hard in my chest again. Not being able to take it anymore my mouth opens gasping for air and all that welcomes me is water. I begin to shake uncontrollably, trying to wiggle my way out of the man's grasp.

  Just before I pass out, they bring my head out of the trough and place my chair back on all fours. Opening my eyes, I try to see who is in front of me, but the water is streaming down my face, and a burning sensation begins to happen because of the hot air hitting my cold skin.

  Slapping my face, hard, “¿Quién es el hombre?” My head jolts to the right causing so much pain. Bobbing my head to my chest, I take deep breaths not knowing if they are sending me back into the water. I will always refuse to answer any questions about the ones in my life. I’ll die before that ever happens.

  Seconds later, the tan one takes a fist full of my hair and yanks my head back, causing me to stare at the ceiling. Not knowing what is about to happen, I get a sharp pain in my throat, and I’m gasping for air. Leaning his head into mine, “¿Quién es el hombre, zorra?”