by HJ Bellus
I set my backpack down on the cement sidewalk then crouch down. My fingers strum out the combination in a matter of seconds.
“Who do we have here?” A dark, menacing voice comes from behind me.
I don’t have to turn my head to know who it is—Tyson, one of the assholes Trick put in his place the first day of school. Deep chuckles accompany his voice, letting me know he’s not alone. He’s one of several who have made it their mission to make my life a living hell ever since they discovered they could hurt me with their words. My spine stiffens, but I don’t glance up. My fingers tremble as I wrap the lock around a bar on my bike. I refuse to give them any power over me. Their words hurt and slice at raw wounds, but they will not get a reaction out of me.
“Don’t have big, bad fighter guy here to protect you.” He kicks my backpack, sending it across the sidewalk. “I’m thinking you need a bit of a reminder where you came from.”
“I have no fucking idea what he sees in her,” a shrill feminine voice joins in.
This time I do peer over my shoulder to see Zoe from the sandwich shop. Her blood-red manicured fingernails drum on her chin. “God, you’re pathetic. He must’ve lost a bet or something to be hanging with trash like you.”
I stand up tall and square my shoulders. I don’t peer down but rather drill my stare right at the assholes. “If that’s all, I need to get going.”
I take three steps and gather my backpack, heaving it on my back. I cringe thinking about the pens and markers that could be shattered by the brutal kick.
Blinding pain rips through my scalp as my head is jerked back. “He told me I was the best lay he ever had. Then the next time I see Trick, he can’t even give me two seconds of his time because of you, you little bitch. Leave him. He deserves better.”
Instinct has me jerking away from Zoe. She’s left with a fistful of my hair. I rub the throbbing spot on the back of my head. “You’re crazy.”
“You haven’t even seen crazy yet.” She’s pulled back by Tyson.
“Leave me alone,” I shout as Tyson and two other men step up to me while Zoe sinks into the background. This isn’t about self-confidence anymore. It’s a game of survival. A threatening chill races up and down my spine. I fumble for my phone in my pocket. It begins ringing as soon as I pull it out. My thumb barely grazes the answer button when it’s slapped out of my hands.
It was Trick. I caught a glimpse of the picture I saved with his ringtone. He’s sleeping, chest bare, with his muscular forearm resting right above his head. I focus on the memory of that morning. Me waking up finding him next to me. I snuggled down into his side, lightly kissing up and down his chest. Trick sleeps like the dead, and it’s expected, the way he grills his body at the gym and the late hours of studying.
I wince when once again I’m throttled forward by a fist clenching my hair. “Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Trick, the douche, call us out?”
I don’t answer. I freeze. The ability to think has long left me. Tyson lets go of my hair, grips my shoulders, and shoves me back. I stumble over my feet and lose the war of momentum. My ass slams hard down on the cement. A nauseating wave of burning agony creeps over my skin. I don’t have time to gain my bearings before I’m pulled back up into a standing position.
Tyson whirls me around, grinding his crotch into my ass. Hot, stale breath glides over the nape of my neck. “How about we go to my place? I’ll claim this pussy and ass, making it mine. Trick will never want to touch you again.”
His palm glides down the front of my abdomen, his fingers dangerously close to the top of my jeans. Beats of horrid, unrelenting pain drum through my body. Tyson’s words become a blur, blending into each other. A moment of clarity strikes when he cups one of my breasts. He’s not going to stop. Tyson is dead set on revenge.
I want you to react like a cat in a tub of water. Fight until you get loose.
It’s faint at first then grows louder. It’s Boss, encouraging me to fight the way he taught me how. Visions of that night at the gym become front and center in my memory.
“When I’m done with you, the rest of my buddies will be taking a turn. We aren’t going to let some little bitch come in and humiliate us.”
It’s now or never. I react, fighting against his grip. I throw my head back and scramble like I never have before. The sound of squealing tires fills my ears. Doors slam and I break free. The adrenaline coursing through my body sends me sailing forward to my hands and knees.
I glance back, wiping the hair from my face. It’s chaos. I relax, though, knowing the danger isn’t focused on me any longer.
“You motherfuckers,” Trick roars and slams his truck door.
Jag is right behind him, hopping out of his own truck. The cowards run to the parking lot. My head spins, and my body goes into a panicked state.
“Sunni, get her to Trick’s place.” Jag jumps in Trick’s truck and hollers at him.
He’s torn. It’s visible on each of his features. I push myself back into a sitting position. Pain like I’ve never felt before showers down. I nod to him then raise my palms. They’ve been scoured with tiny pebbles. Dribbles of blood trail down my arms.
I’ve never been one for revenge. I’ve always taken the route of ducking my head and sinking back in my shell. Not anymore. Those assholes deserve to pay.
“Go!” I manage to get out.
Trick nods and hops in his truck. The tires squeal as he tails Tyson’s rig. A new unsettling sensation washes over me. God, what have I just sent him into?
“C’mon, sweetie.” Sunni does her best to bend down and help me up.
A laugh rips from my core. It’s endless, never stopping. My stomach begins to cramp up, and the tears flow down my cheeks.
“Shit, have you gone crazy?” Sunni rights herself, rubbing out the pain in her lower back.
I shake my head and hoist myself up, aware of every muscle in my body. “Just the sight of us. You trying to help me up and this whole crazy situation.”
Sunni wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, it’s pretty damn funny, and laughter is the best medicine. Always. Jag taught me that life lesson.”
We walk side by side to Jag’s truck, parked in the middle of the road with the driver’s door wide open.
“I know you don’t do vehicles,” Sunni offers. “We were on our way here to drop Trick off. He wanted to surprise you, but we were running late. I was going to drive his truck back to Jag’s place.”
“He was bringing his bike,” I whisper. I knew it. “God, what did I do to deserve this man?”
Sunni smiles at me. “You are you. It’s simple as that. Don’t over think it. Been there done that and it’s way counter-productive.”
“Thanks, Sunni.”
I load my bike in the back of Jag’s truck. It’s not an easy task. Sunni and I walk a few blocks to a local popular pizzeria. It’s the best pizza I’ve ever had, and I know this because Trick ordered it in the other night.
The screen on my phone is shattered but seems to still be functional. We’ve settled into a booth, and I’ve checked it at least a dozen times. Nothing. Sunni keeps me distracted, rattling on about how much fun she had today. I nod my head, agreeing with her because it truly was amazing.
The waitress sets four large pizzas in front of us. Sunni doesn’t hesitate to dig in. My appetite is non-existent. I fiddle with the edge of the napkin.
“Do you think they’re all right?” I ask.
Sunni nods her head while chewing. “They called Cruz in. Layla is on her way here. Cruz will be the one to keep them from killing those men.”
My jaw slackens. “I’m going to get them in trouble.”
Sunni shrugs.
I’m ready to lose it any second. She’s nearly full-term with a set of twins, and I assume her husband is currently beating the shit out of someone. And she’s nonchalant as can be.
Layla slides into the booth on Sunni’s side. She helps herself to a slice of pizza without asking. Her
demeanor matches Sunni’s. Their even mood has me freaking out even more.
Moments later, a deep voice floats across the restaurant. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I’m scrambling out of the booth, but Trick beats me to it. He glides in, pushing me against the wall. The safety of his body covers mine.
“Are you okay?” I stutter out.
He shakes his head. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re here worrying about me.”
“You can get in trouble with Boss and the…”
He cuts me off with a swipe of his lips. The first one is light, then he devours me. Our tongues tease each other for long minutes. Trick is the one to pull back first.
“If I get in trouble then I get in trouble,” he mumbles against my lips. “Nobody will ever hurt you with their words or actions ever again. Told those bastards I’d be watching them. Trust me, I got my point across this time.”
I run my fingers over his blood-crusted knuckles. There’s not one scratch, bruise, or cut on his face.
“Are you hurt, Mack?” He pulls back his hand and cups my face with it.
“No, but going to be sore.” I tilt my face into his touch. “Zoe was a part of it too.”
“Yeah, dealt with her too.”
My body stiffens.
“Didn’t lay a finger on her, Mack. Settle down. My point was made crystal clear, though.”
I lay my head on Trick’s chest. He inhales slice after slice of pizza, not seeming to be bothered to eat healthy tonight. The girls made us take home the takeout box of food since I didn’t touch a piece.
I wait by the front door as Trick takes care of the tab. Jag’s voice drifts in. I shouldn’t be listening to Cruz and his conversation but can’t stop myself.
“Thank fuck you came when you did. Trick was unhinged.”
“Never seen him like that,” Cruz replies.
“Brutal as fuck. I was right there with him. Catching the sight of Mack being harassed by those assholes made me sick. Don’t think they’ll ever glance her direction again.”
Cruz grunts in amusement. “Yeah, no shit. Let’s hope the seagulls get to their peckers before someone finds them tied up on that fence.”
Jag laughs his ass off. “Fucking epic touch.”
Chapter 15
Trick
I grunt as Riot’s fist connects with my ribs. He’s giving me all he’s got in the cage. It’s a sparring match, but I’m not stopping him. I sweep my leg; he dodges it. He connects a stiff right hook to my jaw, sending me reeling back.
I could unleash on him right now easily. Memories of Mack being attacked and the smell of the fuckers’ blood drive me insane. It’s a good damn thing Cruz and Jag were there to keep me in check or those motherfuckers would’ve gone to ground. How in the hell they get off on torturing an innocent woman I’ll never understand. I’m beyond certain the message was received loud and clear. Tyson took the brunt of the punishment. I’ll never regret that. I was ready to do so much more.
I was also ready and willing to take my punishment for fighting outside the ring. Wouldn’t give two shits if Boss stripped away all my fighting rights. I’d do it over again. His cryptic message when I entered the gym let me know he knew damn well what happened and wasn’t going to say a thing unless the authorities did.
“Jesus, Riot, control,” Coach barks from outside the cage.
Something has him all bent out of shape. I’ve been there before. Riot has been on the other side, taking all my punishment. I let him work it out while dancing around the ring. I watch his moves, speculating on my next. He’s bound to let his guard down for a second. He gets a few knees in and goes in for an uppercut that I’m able to dodge.
My moment opens up. Riot’s body is squared up to mine. He’s intent on getting another punch. He never sees the leg sweep coming. His body crumbles to the mat. I act fast because he’s scrambling to get up. I’m on him and have him wrapped up in a submission hold. The stubborn bastard refuses to tap out.
“Enough,” Boss roars.
I stand up, stepping back and running my hands through my sweaty hair. This isn’t the best practice, considering I have a match coming up in a few days. Getting the shit beaten out of your body before a match isn’t the goal.
“What the fuck is going on?” Boss enters the ring, getting right up into Riot’s face.
Riot has the balls to shrug. Wrong fucking move. Boss shoves him back up into the cage, placing his forearm over his throat. “Boy, you’re going to talk right fucking now.”
It’s none of my business. I worry about my brother. When he’s ready he’ll talk and not until then will I push him. An array of yellow catches my attention. Mack. She’s perched on a bench sideways with her legs curled up to her chest. Her thick black frames poised on her face, her hair strewn on the top of her head in some damn messy bun, and all her attention focused on a book.
The girl’s nose is always in a damn book. And goddamn, it’s sexy as fuck. She nibbles on her lower lip, letting me know nothing, not even an earthquake, would drag her from the words.
She’s changed over the weeks. There’s no longer the baby calf trying to find its footing. Nope, she’s up and running. A white paper bag sits on the floor below her. A damn doughnut. She’s so proud of herself every time she buys one. Mack has been venturing more around the city. And even though it worries the hell out of me, it also makes my chest swell with pride.
I smirk then drag a towel over my face and head for the locker rooms, not bothering to interrupt her. We have a big night tonight. Mack doesn’t know it yet. It seems the little shit forgot to tell me about her birthday. Gene let it slip the other night at the center. It was no accident either.
Gene filled me in on the fact Mack’s birthday is the day she was found. It was never pinpointed down whether she was born the night before or not. Mack has never celebrated her birthday. The few times Gene and Wilma tried, Mack didn’t have any of it and never wanted to acknowledge the day. That’s all about to change tonight.
I’m not giving her an option. Sure, she could run if she wants. That choice will be hers. I have faith low in my gut that she won’t. My phone pings in my gym bag as the shower heats up. Digging around, I pull it out. Text message after text message echoes around the deserted locker room.
Layla: All set.
Layla: Oooops need paper plates.
Sunni: I’ll get them.
Layla: sweet.
Layla: Text us a five-minute warning
Jag: My dick is hard.
Layla: Who the hell added his ass to this chat?
Sunni: He added himself.
Jag: Come ride my face, baby.
Layla: STOP!
It continues. I growl in frustration, mute my phone, and toss it back in the bag. It’s been a circus once I filled them in on the plan. I debated for a long time whether to make the night a quiet one with just the two of us or a full-out party. In the end, I went with the party. Mack may not realize it, but she has several people who love her and want to celebrate with her.
The reality was I didn’t have the time to coordinate everything. So I called the girls in as reinforcement. Layla is the queen of party planning. Belle’s first birthday was out of this world with pony rides, coordinating food and decoration, along with favors for everyone to take home.
Tonight is going to be amazing. I step under the hot water. Let’s just hope Mack thinks so too. The thought of my nerdy, sexy-as-sin woman makes my dick hard. I give him a few strokes before washing my body.
“Baby.” Mack’s voice floats into the locker room.
“In the shower.” I clutch my dick hard, the cause of settling him down long forgotten.
“Anyone else in here?” she asks.
“Naw.”
Moments later, Mack peeks her head in the shower, and her glasses fog up. Through the haze of the steam, I see her timid smile then feel her hand reach out.
“Houston, we gotta problem here.” Her hand tightens around my girth.
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Jesus, only this girl could make me laugh my ass off at the same time that I want nothing more than to lick her sweet pussy.
“Baby,” I hiss out. “I’m good.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” Her hand glides up and down the length of my dick. She’s become a pro at knowing the right stroke and pressure. She has me ready to blow in a matter of fucking seconds.
“Mack, stop,” I growl, tossing my head back. “We don’t have time for this.”
“You’re close,” she purrs, not stopping her movement.
I don’t last another second, releasing all over her palm and into the sprays of the shower. My head spins and my spine relaxes all at once.
“Jesus, Mack,” I hiss.
She pushes the shower curtain to the side, staring me in the eyes. “You looked stressed out there. That bout was horrible with Riot.”
I chuckle. “How the hell would you know? Your nose was stuck between the pages.”
“A lady of many talents,” she responds.
I shake my head and go about soaping up my body. Mack takes a step back to avoid the soapy splash of the water. She doesn’t bother to close the curtain, instead taking three steps back. I do my best to keep an eye on Mack while finishing up my shower, ignoring the cascades of water pooling in the middle of the tiled floor.
It’s fucking surreal how it was such a struggle, a tug of war in the beginning, and now here I stand naked before Mack with her soaking it all in.
I turn off the shower, step out, and flick my head around, making water scatter everywhere. Mack’s squeal of glee is my reward. Target hit.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” she asks, tossing a towel toward my chest.
“Dinner at the steakhouse then a quiet night at your place.” It’s meant as a statement but comes out more like a question.
“Your house,” she counters.
I drag the towel from the top of my head and stare at her. “You serious?”
