***
I wake up some time later—groggy and lightheaded, bumping up and down in the back seat of an old pick-up truck. I feel around and try to pull myself up, but my wrists are bound together with what feels like a zip tie. I know that I wouldn’t have gone unconscious for more than a few moments with a knock-out like that, and from the sore spot on my arm, I can only guess that someone got me with a sedative.
And how in the fuck did they get that? Josh always told me Frank had his ways, but a short-acting sedative like that would be hard to get ahold of.
“Fucking asshole,” I mumble. “What the hell do I have to do with this?”
“Oh you’ve got everything to do with this, kid,” Frank says. “It looks like our man Joshie has a thing for you—that true?” I don’t respond. Instead, I’m working out how to get the zip tie to loosen up. Fucking zip ties. It just feels tighter now than when I started fiddling with it. “I said, is that true, sweetheart?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business, Frank,” I spit. The truck slows to a stop, and I see the red glow of a traffic light just ahead and to the right. When Frank turns away to look at the road, I crunch my legs up and kick hard against the door handle, screaming as loud as I can. The car door doesn’t budge, even when I angle my toes under the door handle and pull as hard as I can.
“It’s locked,” Cole says dumbly from the front seat. “You can’t get out.” He chuckles a little bit, and I realize his voice sounds different from when I last saw him. There’s none of that sweetness anymore—it’s like it’s all been drained out of him and replaced with ugliness. There’s an edge in his tone that I’ve heard before, and it dawns on me that he’s coked up. I open my mouth to yell at Frank, but Cole turns to look at me with a hard look in his eyes.
“Don’t even think about it, princess,” Frank says. “You’re some kind of doctor or something? Well, this kind of situation doesn’t exactly require brains or any kind of fancy degrees. It just requires that you shut the fuck up and let us get what we want.”
“Josh is smarter than this. He’s not going to come.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. Josh is smart—far smarter than he thinks he is. But he runs hot, and he’s ready to fuck Frank up.
“He ain’t smart, honey. He came back to my gym, and then the stupid motherfucker disappeared again, because why? Because you told him to? Because you wanted him to come back?”
“He knows he’s better than you, Frank. He knows he can go pro without you, and he knows you’ll have to back down when he breaks big.”
Frank chuckles and then starts laughing. “Oh you think that’s what this is about? Joshie is trying to steal my gym out from under me, and you think I care that he’s trying to go pro? Or did you not know that, sweetheart? He was back for a whole week, and these kids kept disappearing—kiddies I was training myself. He’s got a whole goddamn underground railroad, and he and that motherfucker Ash have been getting the kids out of dodge. Those are my fighters, honey. And if he thinks he can do this, he’s a goddamn moron.” Frank’s New York accent is thick, his words spilling out fast, one after another.
“I guess you think you know a lot about what Josh is doing, don’t you? Does it make you feel big, picking on fifteen year olds, getting injured fighters high on cocaine, and then getting them to kidnap women for you?” I laugh, the sound sharp and loud in the truck. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole. I don’t know who you think you are, but Josh knows the illegal shit you’re up to, and he can prove—”
“Cole, I’ve decided I don’t want to hear this little bitch talk anymore.” I start screaming and don’t relent, and Frank swerves on the road. A car honks somewhere in the outside world, and Cole reaches back and smacks me squarely across the jaw. The pain sears hot, pulsing through my consciousness. Before I can open my mouth to react, Cole presses a piece of duct tape across my mouth, and my screams turn into quiet, innocuous moans.
“That’s better,” Frank says. He pulls into a parking lot, and the car stops. He looks back at me for a long moment and sighs. “You’re a pretty girl, sweetheart. But you’ve got mixed up in shit you don’t belong in. I’ve got that file, by the way—the one with all of my accounting shit for the past year, and the copies of the IDs for the kiddies. Very nice move on Josh’s part. But I was one step ahead of him. I always am. Always will be.”
Cole ushers me out of the car and grips my arm roughly. “Sorry to do this, Natalie. But the boss wants what the boss wants.” I can’t respond, but I look into his eyes as he pushes me towards the door of Frank’s Gym. Cole’s coming down now, and he’ll either be fiending for more—or coming to his damn senses.
Frank may think he’s always one step ahead, but he doesn’t know everything. He thinks he can rely on Cole, but I saw the twist of hatred in Cole’s face when he talked about what Frank had done to him.
The kid is under duress. And we’ll just see which way the wind blows.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Linda’s car sits in the space next to the cottage. I pull in behind it and park, but I feel like I want to ram into it, destroy it, or drive my car right into the yellow shingles of the cottage. But I don’t. There will be a release of this rage, but it won’t come at Linda’s expense. I know exactly who will pay for this shit—for involving someone completely innocent in a dispute that only involves me.
“I should have known!” I shout. “So fucking stupid!” The cottage door sits partially open, but still, I get out of the car and rush forward. I shout inside the empty cottage and run around its perimeter. There’s no response apart from the rustling of the wind through the sea grass. Pressure fills my chest, and I taste salt and metal at the back of my throat. My hands clench into fists again, and I take a swing at the side of the house. I back away right before my hand makes contact. Adrenaline courses through my body, and I run back to the car, pulling away just as Linda runs out of the door of the main house, her face a mask of confusion. But before she can shout at me, I’ve pulled out of the driveway and I’m speeding for the causeway.
Frank’s many things, but he’s not a creative man. He wants me to find him. Even in the heat of my rage, I know that he’s taken Natalie to the gym. My mind locks in to finding her, taking her back. This small taste of her—this slice of a normal life—it’s all I can think about. I crack my knuckles against the steering wheel, gunning the old Civic up to ninety, and then a hundred. I screech into the parking lot of Frank’s gym and slam the door so hard that it’ll probably fall off the car.
“I’ll get you another one, baby. When I can actually fucking fight again. And not for Frank.” When I barge through the doors, Frank’s standing front and center, his back against the cage where I learned to fight, where I first felt the power of a knockout. My impulse tells me to go knock the shit-eating grin off of his face, but his arm is dangerously close to Nat’s neck. Even if Frank’s hands are fucked from years of bare-knuckle fighting, he can still hurt her.
“Frank—man—what the fuck? We got no beef.” I stand before him, frozen in place. We’re ten feet apart, but it feels like the world is separating us. His fingers tap against Natalie’s skin, and something in my chest clinches tight. She moans beneath the duct tape covering her mouth.
“We’ve got plenty of beef. Want me to name it? You’re fighting outside my gym, and you’ve turned my best trainer against me. You’re not welcome here anymore—and Ash ain’t either.” I lunge forward, but I’m still about five feet from Frank, punching the air.
“Easy there, Joshie my boy. I wouldn’t want to bring Cole back out here.” Nat’s eyes flick over to the door to the locker room. Frank has his arm thrown lazily around Natalie’s neck, and he’s patting her shoulder, like he’s known her for a long time. With his other hand, he holds her arm behind her back, his sausage-like fingers digging into her skin.
“Cole’s a good kid, Frank. What the hell did you do to get him involved in this?”
“Everybody’s got family, kid. You just gotta
find the right buttons to press. Cole’s is his mom, out in Greenville. Plus, you know Cole just loves getting a little bit high. With the right combination of motivators, you can get anyone to do anything.”
“Goddammit, Frank. Who else you got involved in this shit?”
“It’s just us, kid. For right now. But under the right circumstances, I can get just about anyone involved. It’s not just you who’s got control of the kiddies. I know what you’ve been doing, Josh,” he says. “I just don’t know why. Wasn’t I the one who gave you a job—and a home—when you didn’t have anything? You think getting your GED and paying off your debts through some big fight will get me off your back?”
“Nah, not even I’m that dumb. You’ll just have to wait and see what I’ve got up my sleeve, Frank.” Nat’s face is blank, and Cole stands in a corner behind the two of them. The kid usually looks as calm as the surface of a lake, but he’s edgy as hell right now. This is eating at him—he’s not this type of kid. I crack my knuckles, and punch my right fist against my left. After weeks of rest and rehab—and the small bit of training I did with Ash last week—my left shoulder feels almost as good as new. And I know I could take Frank—but I watch as his hand tightens around Nat’s neck. Fear flickers in her eyes, and Frank laughs, long and hard.
“I know exactly what you got up your sleeve, kid. I got what you got up your sleeve. It’s all locked up good and tight.” Frank’s Cheshire grin appears on his face, and I swallow hard. It feels like my face is starting to go numb, like everything around me is fading out.
“How the fuck?” I’ve been keeping those papers with me every waking moment, even when I’ve gone to Natalie’s house to feed the cat. But in my rush, I’d left them sitting right on the dresser in the cottage.
“Just picked it all up, as easy as pie. What did you think you were gonna do with that shit? Hand out copies to all the other promoters in the area? They certainly don’t give a shit. Give it to the police?” My face must betray my plan, because Frank nods like he’s got me all figured out. “Yeah, the police, they fucking hate me. Good plan, kid. You would have put me away for a good while—or tied me up in court so long that I wouldn’t be able to get to you while you set up your business. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Setting up your damn business?”
“Shouldn’t you be proud, Frank? I learned from the best. It took you a solid fucking year to realize what I was doing. I call that a win in my book.”
“Not when I’ve got your little bitch right in my grasp.” He’s goading me, and it’s fucking working. But I bite down. Think, man. Think. There’s one thing that’s important, and it’s Nat. I glance over at Cole and see that he’s sweating like a goddamn pig. His eyes dart around the room, and I know he doesn’t want to meet my gaze.
“You got me there, Frank. You do.” My words come out slow, purposeful. Frank watches my face, and confusion flickers in his eyes for just a moment. “What do you really want here, Frank? You want to fight me? What is it that you’re hoping for?”
“Cole, go get him,” Frank says, nodding to the scared young fighter in the corner. The coke may have given him a little bit of bravado, but he ain’t got much left at this point in the day.
“Boss—I—you know Josh has been training—” There’s something in his voice akin to fear. This is good. This can be used.
“Cole, buddy, how’s your nose?” The kid lifts his fingers to the scar that runs between his eyebrows, the skin tight and pink over his nose. I know Nat and Summer stitched it. And I know the world of suffering he would have been in if they hadn’t—or if they’d gone through procedure and worked on him in the E.R.
“Fine. It’s fine.”
“He ain’t your buddy, Joshie,” Frank snarls. “He’s my fighter, and he’ll do what I say. Won’t you Cole?”
“I... I don’t know, boss. If you want me to fight tomorrow, Josh might put that… in question. You know how he is.” A grin comes over my face. Cole’s still fucking afraid of me—looks like Frank picked the wrong fighter to do his dirty work. Cole might have been able to wrangle Natalie at the beginning of his coked up afternoon, but the doubt is hitting him strong now. And he’s scared. He’s a goddamned little kid, just like I was, even if he’s rippling from head to toe with muscle. I watch Frank’s face for the signs I want to see. His eyes are stony, the anger growing behind them.
Good. Perfect. Go in for the kill. Natalie’s shaking her head at me, the frustration evident in her face.
“You a pussy, Frank? Those old hands too arthritic and disgusting to fight me? Huh? You used to beat the shit out of me when I was a kid—you can’t do the same now?”
Frank narrows his eyes. “Cole, get him, or you’re fucking out of here too.”
Cole stutters behind Frank, not making much of a damn bit of sense, and the rage takes over Frank’s whole body. He tenses up and finally—he fucking does it. He lets go of Natalie and pushes her back to Cole, almost knocking the kid over.
“Pussy,” I hiss. And then I look Frank dead in the eye and wink. For a moment, he looks like a bull about to charge, and then he fucking does it. In one swift motion, he’s lunging at me, striking my cheek with his elbow and then kneeing me hard in the ribs. But I know all of the old bastard’s weak points. He knows mine too—but his scars run deeper, buried in his gnarled old fingers, the pain driving him to prescription drugs several times a day. He lives in a haze of his own nasty creation, and I know just how to undo him. Lightning quick, the underside of my right palm makes contact with his nose, and I hear the crunch of cartilage that I’m looking for, see the blood starting to pour down his face. But the rage still has him, and he’s kicking me on the inside of the groin, even as I get his face locked under my arm and start punching him in the side of the face, my knuckles cracking against his bone with every strike.
Behind Frank I see a flash of activity, and as I deliver strike after strike to Franks face, the side of his head, knee strikes up to the ribs, and a kick square in the groin, I hear Natalie’s voice coming to me through the haze of my anger. I land the last punch on the side of Frank’s head and he falls down, clutching at his face, moaning. His eye is bloodied and swelling. Natalie’s voice keeps coming to me, but I’m panting hard and can’t make out the words. I look up, and her lips are free of the duct tape, her hands swinging by her sides as she runs to me and grabs my arm, pulling me toward the door.
“We’ve got to go before Frank pulls some other asshole into this.” She jerks my arm so hard I’m afraid it’s going to come out of joint again, and my hand is starting to burn this time—my right hand, my fighting hand. I manage to stumble after her, and she shoves me in her car. Right before we’re about to pull away from Frank’s, Cole runs out after us and pulls away on his motorcycle, headed for God knows where.
Before I can protest, Natalie pulls up in the parking lot of the Outer Banks Hospital.
“We’re getting a splint on your hand, like now. And you’re not fighting any time soon.”
“Nat, yes I am.”
“Fuck, Josh. You can’t do this shit to yourself anymore.”
“What? Get hurt? It’s what fighters do.” The anger boiling in my gut shouldn’t be directed at Natalie, but somehow it is. I try to swallow it, try to push it away.
“Not that, Josh. You can’t just fly off the handle and—”
“Save your ass from a dangerous situation?” She sighs heavily, and pulls me in the revolving door of the hospital. She yanks my left arm harder than she should—especially for a doctor. Silently, she moves me through a small crowd of people and takes me back to an empty bed in the trauma clinic.
“Natalie,” I say. “Nat, I didn’t have any choice.”
She looks at me, her usually warm eyes steely. “I don’t want to thank you, but I probably should, goddammit. I hate that you fucked up your hand, and I hate that we’re right back where we started all over again.”
“We’re not where we started.” I pull her in close to me, and she ye
lps. I’ve gotten her off balance, and she falls onto me, her curvy ass right on my lap. Bringing my lips to hers, I bite down gently. Despite her anger, and despite mine, a spark lights between us. I bring my lips to her ear lobe flick my tongue against it. “And I am going to wear your ass out when we get home, splint or not.”
Long Shot: An MMA Stepbrother Romance Page 19
