Twisted Love: A Bad Boy Romance

by Lily Knight

  “Alright, alright, I'm coming,” I said.

  I undid the chain and then opened the door. He reached in, grabbed my blouse and yanked me out, and then threw me violently to the ground. For a few moments, I lay there trying to catch my breath, stunned and shocked by the unexpected attack. I couldn't speak; the wind had been knocked out of me when I hit the pavement.

  I heard the door being shut behind me, and then I heard a familiar voice – a scarily familiar voice: Tyrese Wilson.

  “The cop costume works every time,” he rasped. “Nice acting, Jimbo. She really thought you was a cop!”

  The “cop” laughed.

  “Stupid bitch. They always fall for it.”

  I looked up and saw Tyrese, dressed in his usual tacky street gear and garish jewelry, standing over me, scowling mockingly at me.

  “Get her over there, by those trash cans, where nobody from the street can see. Then we'll have a little fun, you and me and this pretty little bitch.”

  “You... you can't...” I managed to gasp as air finally came back into my lungs. “Don't... touch... me...”

  “Don't touch you or what?” Tyrese growled. “What you gon' do, huh? You think your boy, Sciotti, can help you? He ain't here, and neither is that big dumb gorilla he's got guardin' you. You out here all by yo' self, sweet thing – and now we gon' have some fun.”

  The two of them grabbed me, one taking my right arm and one taking my left, and started dragging me over to a pile of trash cans. Terror started pumping through my veins, and I screamed out.

  “Help! Someone help me! He—”

  A swift kick to my face silenced me, and I tasted blood pooling up in my mouth as pain throbbed through my jaw.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Tyrese barked, “or I'll do a lot worse to you than just kick yo' damn teeth in!”

  They threw me behind the trash cans, and then they both leered down at me.

  “Now, now we gon' have a real good time, you and me and my boy here,” Tyrese said. “And ain't nobody gon' stop us.”

  Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the alley, and both men froze with shock.

  “I'm gon' stop y'all, ya damn no good bunch a' street hoods!”

  I looked up and saw Manny standing in the doorway, a smoking revolver gripped in his hands.

  “You, you old kitchen rat!” Tyrese rumbled. “Get the fuck outta here before you get hurt, grandpa! I thought we done beat some sense into you last time. Guess we need ta give ya another lesson.”

  “I don't think so, asshole,” Manny snarled in return. “You think I ain't capped nobody before? Uncle Sam sent me to Vietnam when I was nineteen years old, boy! I don' killed mo' people than any two-bit street thug like you, an' if y'all don't run away real soon, I'mma add your names to the list a' enemies I don' sent to meet th’er maker! Now get the hell outta here befo' I put a bullet in each a yo' thick skulls!”

  Tyrese glared down at me.

  “You're lucky bitch, real lucky. But next time, you're dead. And you too, Grandpa – next time I see you, you're dead.”

  “Talk is cheap, hoodrat. Now run along befo' you get hurt,” replied Manny.

  Tyrese and the fake cop ran away, disappearing around the far corner of the alley. Manny ran over and helped me up.

  “Are you alright, Miss Verde?” he said, looking worried. “Yo' lip is bleedin', looks like a bad cut, a real bad cut.”

  I gingerly touched my lip and a surge of pain shot through me. I pulled my finger back and saw that it was wet with blood. Luckily my teeth were okay though.

  “It's just a split lip,” I said to him. “Otherwise, I'm fine. And where the heck did you get that gun?”

  “Oh, it's an old thing I've had fo' years,” he said as he helped me up. “Used to carry it when I was a much younger man livin' in a much rougher 'hood. Started carryin' it again after those thugs jumped me a couple weeks ago. Good thing I was carryin' it today, huh?”

  “Very good thing, yes.”

  “Come on, let's get you back inside and get that lip cleaned up.”

  “Thanks, Manny,” I said as he helped me back inside.

  I made sure to lock the door securely behind me.

  “I'll take care a' the customers out front,” said Manny. “I can handle things for a while. You go upstairs to your apartment and clean yo' self up.”

  “Thanks, Manny. You really saved my life back there,” I said, and gave him a quick, tight hug.

  “Just doin' the right thing, Miss Verde,” he said. “You like family ta' me. I dunno what I'd do if anything happened to ya. And those damn thugs – I'll be damned if I let em' lay they damn greasy fingers on ya.”

  “Thanks again, Manny. I really owe you one.”

  “Alright, alright, enough a' that,” he said with a smile. “Go on, mid-morning rush is gon' start soon, and you gotta get yo' self cleaned up befo' then. Hurry, upstairs, now!”

  I nodded and went upstairs, still pretty shaken from the experience. The eerie, mostly-vacant apartment that had once been my home only amplified the feeling of unease. Still, there wasn't time to sit and dwell on this. I went to the bathroom, which was mostly empty but did have a first-aid kit that I'd left there, and got to work cleaning up the wound. Eventually, I got it cleaned up, and it stopped bleeding. It remained very swollen though and was impossible to conceal. Still, what could I do? There were customers there waiting to be served.

  I headed downstairs, and as I got to the front of the diner, Tino walked in, holding the coffee I'd asked him to get. He noticed my swollen lip immediately and rushed over to me.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked.

  “Tyrese,” I said. “He tried to ambush me after you left.”

  “Are you alright? What did he do?”

  I told him everything that had happened, and as I spoke a dark look of anger came across his face.

  “I'm gonna tell Benito about this right now,” he said. “And when he hears about it, he's gonna be pissed – real pissed. And then... we're gonna get that bastard. We're gonna get that scumbag, Tyrese, I promise you that. He ain't gonna get away with this.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Benito

  “Boss, I got somethin’ to tell ya that's you are not gonna like. It's made me crazy mad, so I can't even imagine what it's gonna make you feel like.”

  I didn’t like the sound of his tone. Tino seemed really worked up about whatever this was, and I suspected it had something to do with Bethany.

  “Alright, Tino, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Tyrese and one of his boys paid a visit to the diner.”

  Anger blasted through me like lightning, and I hadn’t even heard what had Tino so worked up yet.

  “What?!” I roared into the phone. “Your job is to protect that place, Tino! You're supposed to be watching it so that those scumbags can't come anywhere near the damn place! What the hell were you doing that allowed them to be near there? No, wait, wait, never mind that yet, tell me first, is Bethany alright? Tell me Tino, and hurry the fuck up about it!”

  I hadn't even heard the full details of what happened, and already my blood was boiling.

  “They kicked her in the face.”

  “Shit! And is she hurt? Hell, of course she must be hurt, she got kicked in the damn face. Shit! How bad is she hurt?”

  “Luckily, not too bad. She’s got a split lip, it's swollen now but it ain't bad. No other damage.”

  “A split lip is far too much damage, goddammit! What the hell were you doing Tino? How the fuck did these guys get close enough to her to give her a damn split lip?!”

  “They used the back entrance. She sent me out on an errand, boss. She said they were out of coffee and had to have it before the morning rush hit. Said it was impossible to get delivered on time. I told her boss, I told her I wasn't supposed to leave the post, but the place was only ten minutes away, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I guess the CM guys must have been watching me, ‘cause they struck pretty much as soon
as I left.”

  “Alright, alright,” I said, calming down somewhat but still furious about what had happened. “I guess you couldn't have seen it coming, but dammit, Tino, I'm still mad at you for leaving your post. But, I know where to direct most of my anger – and it's gonna come down on 'em like a damn volcano erupting.”

  “Tyrese and his boys?”

  “You're damn right. Those punks are gonna learn a lesson they ain't soon gonna forget.”

  “Alright boss. So, what's the plan?”

  “I'm busy here, and I don't want you to leave the post for any reason. You stay watching the diner until it closes. I'll get a few of the boys to drop by for an 'unexpected visit' at that bar downtown where Tyrese and his thugs like to hang out. They're gonna pay for what they did, I swear, And they're gonna know not to mess with the Sciotti family.”

  “Alright boss. I wish I could do it myself...”

  “As do I, Tino, as do I – but you and I have important things to attend to, so we can't do this right now. But it will be taken care of right away. They need to know that an act like this will be met with immediate retribution.”

  “They do, boss. Let me know what happens with 'em.”

  “I'll do that.”

  I hung up the phone and walked over to the boxing bag hanging in the corner of my office. Rage was still pumping its red heat through my veins, so I pounded on the bag, grunting and roaring with each punch until finally, sweating and tired, I had gotten most of the immediate anger out of me.

  After that, I called up my cousin, Bobby.

  “What's up, Ben?” he said.

  I explained calmly and clearly what had just happened, and what I wanted him to do about it.

  “Understood,” he replied after I had explained everything. “I'll get right on this. I'll have Louie and a few of his guys handle it. We'll teach these clowns what happens when they can’t play nice. And I've got something that will make it possible for you to enjoy it: my kid has this GoPro camera he uses to record that skateboarding shit he does. I'll borrow it and use it to record our little encounter with these CM thugs. Then you can see what a good job we're gonna do on 'em.”

  I let that sink in for a second. “I like that idea,” I said. “I can record a personal message to Tyrese and can send him the whole video afterward.”

  Bobby chuckled. “Excellent idea, Benny. Then he'll really get the message.”

  “Get on that right now, Bobby. I'll be expecting the video footage in an hour.”

  “You got it.”

  Sure enough, an hour later there was a knock at my door.

  “Who's there?” I asked.

  “It's me, Bobby.”

  “Come on in.”

  Bobby opened the door and walked in.

  “I hope you brought something for me.”

  “Oh, I did, I did.”

  I noticed some blood splattered on the front of his light gray suit jacket. I pointed it out.

  “Looks like you got to work this one a little too, huh?”

  He grinned.

  “Damn straight. Here.”

  He handed me a USB stick, which I plugged into my computer. I opened the video file that was on it, and we sat back and started watching.

  The video was shot from Bobby's point of view. I watched as he, Louie, and two others walked into the bar. As it was daytime, the place was relatively empty. Louie was carrying an M-16 assault rifle, and he opened fire at the ceiling with an abrupt burst of automatic fire that had everyone diving to the floor.

  “Everyone out!” he yelled. “But not you two,” he said, pointing the M-16 at two CM gangsters who had been playing a game of pool. “You two stay right there. Take your guns out real slow and slide 'em across the floor to me, nice and easy or I'll splatter your brains out all over that damn pool table!”

  The CM guys complied, removing their guns and sliding them across the grimy floor, where Louie’s guys picked them up. The few patrons and the bartender all scrambled to rush out of the bar. After they had gone, Bobby locked the door behind them, leaving my guys alone with the two CM thugs.

  “Now,” Bobby said, “your boy, Tyrese, and his dumb-ass friend who likes to dress as a cop went and paid a visit earlier to someone who they ain't allowed to be visiting. So, because of that, we decided to pay you a visit. And I must say... I think we're gonna enjoy this little visit a lot more than you two assholes are. Sheesh, talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, huh? I bet right about now you're wishing you hadn't decided to come into this bar for a game of pool this afternoon, right? Oh, I know if I was in your shoes I'd be wishing that. But here's the bad news, boys—wishing ain't gonna get you nowhere. Alright, men... let's teach these thugs a lesson.”

  The rest of the video consisted of Bobby and the others dishing out a severe beating to the CM thugs who, by the end of it, were lying on the floor with what I could only guess were numerous broken bones. Baseball bats tend to have that effect.

  “Tell Tyrese that Benito Sciotti says hello,” Bobby snarled as he and the others walked out. After that, the video ended.

  I turned to Bobby.

  “Thanks, Bobby. Well done.”

  He nodded. “They won't mess with us again. Not after that. Not if they got any sense.”

  “The question is,” I said, “will it be enough for Tyrese to get the message?”

  “Who knows? But if we need to do the same thing to him and the rest of his punk-ass friends, I'm more than happy to.”

  I nodded. “I can always rely on you, Bobby – and for that, I'm grateful. I am. But we won't go to war with him just yet. First, let me record a message for him, and then we can send this video to him and see what happens. You still got that GoPro camera with you?”

  He nodded.

  “Alright, well turn it on. I'm ready to talk.”

  Bobby turned the camera on. I looked straight into it and started to speak.

  “I ain't gonna waste your time with bullshit, Tyrese. You crossed a line with your little trip to visit Bethany at the diner – and because you crossed that line, this is what happened. Your two friends are going to be getting around in wheelchairs for the next few months and likely eating through straws. And why? Because you put your greasy damn hands on Bethany. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen to you personally if you ever go near her again. But let me just say that what we just did to your two buddies in this video will be mild compared to what I'll do to you if you do. You hear that? Fucking mild. Now, I suggest you back off unless you're stupid enough to want a war because you and I both know if it comes to that, it's a war that you cannot win, a war in which the entirety of your measly gang will be wiped off the face of the planet. So, this is it, Tyrese, this is the last warning you'll get from me. Go near Bethany again, and I will eliminate every one of you scumbags – very slowly, and very painfully. You’ve been warned.”

  I got Bobby to cut off the recording there.

  “Make sure Tyrese gets this,” I said. “I want him to see this today.”

  “Will do boss,” said Bobby, and with that, he left my office.

  The next thing I would need to now would be to talk to Bethany. Either Tyrese would listen to my warning and back off – or he would only intensify his efforts. Either way, I didn't want her working at that diner anymore. I wanted her in a position where I could properly watch over her and make sure that she was as safe as she could possibly be. I called up Tino.

  “Tino, when Bethany is finished at the diner this evening, don't take her home. Take her directly to my office at the strip club.”

  “Sure thing, boss. We'll see you there later.”

  After Bobby had left, I got back to work on adding up some figures and writing up plans and ideas for the new casino and restaurant I was building on Bethany's street. After some time, my phone rang. Frustrated and annoyed, as I had really been getting into the flow of my work, I answered the call.

  “Ben here, what's up?”

  “Ben,
it's Tony.”

  “Tony, what's going on with you?”

  “I got some news.”

  “Alright, go ahead.”

  “Remember that guy we've been after for months, the one who took a cash loan from you and then high-tailed it outta Detroit?”

  “Ah yeah, that little shit, Danny Smith. That prick stole ten thousand dollars from us!”

  “You know I was visiting my ma in Montreal?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I was in this like, hippie store, getting this herbal tea stuff—”

  I laughed. “Hippie store? Herbal tea? What the hell are doing that kinda bullshit for, Tony?”

  “This tea is great, boss! It really helps with reducing my cravings for booze. It's good stuff... even if it comes from some dumb hippie store.”

  “Alright, alright, so you were there buying stuff from this hippie store, and then what?”

  “Well, I was browsing when who do I see walking past the storefront, dressed in fancy new clothes, but Danny freakin' Smith.”

  I growled. “Fancy new clothes that my stolen ten grand bought that prick!”

  “That's right, boss. So, anyway, I followed him around. Turns out he’s living in Montreal, working at a bar here.”

  “I guess he thought he could escape me by fleeing the States and getting across the Canadian border.”

  “Yeah, he probably thought he would be safe there. Thought he would... but he didn't count on me!”

  “So, what did you do, Tony? You've gotta get that prick for me! He stole ten grand from the family!”

  “Oh, don't worry boss, I've already got him.”

  “You have? And what do you mean when you say you've 'got him'?”

  “He's right here with me in the car. Well, in the trunk, all tied up and shit.”

  I chuckled. “And where are you now?”

  “About two hours outta Detroit.”

  “Hold on, so you're back Stateside?” I asked.

  “That I am.”

  “Well, how in the hell did you get him across the border? Surely the border guards checked your trunk?”

  “He didn't go in my car. I paid a hot hooker to get him drunk and pretend she wanted to sleep with him. While she was doing that, I broke into his apartment and got his passport. She left the bar with him, and because he was blind drunk, he just totally agreed to get into her car. I slipped her his passport without him seeing me, and she drove the both of them over the border. He passed out in her car after about fifteen minutes of driving. He didn't even know that he’d been taken back to the good old US of A. When she was suitably far enough away from the border, I caught up with her, and we tied him up and put him in my trunk.”