by M Dauphin
“You need to take her to a fucking hospital!” The voice booms.
“She’ll be good as gold in the morning, Z.” Another voice growls. “Fuck, you always were a dramatic boy,” he chuckles.
“Dad, she may have internal damage.”
“Gwynn!” the man barks, making my stomach drop as soon as the line goes dead.
No. No, no, no.
Frantically, I rewind the recording and play it over and over again. I’m sure the noise I heard before I could start recording was her. She’s trying to tell me where she is.
She’s alive.
She’s well… well, at least well enough to steal a phone and make a fucking call.
I trace the number to a phone registered to a Zeke Diaz, of South Texas.
Zeke Diaz? Who the fuck is that?
Tracing the name through my files, it takes about ten minutes of constant searching until I find the line that leads to Zeke.
Then it all comes rushing back to me.
I put his father in jail. I was the whistleblower that called the cops and ended my end of the investigation when the authorities got involved. Luckily there was enough evidence on him available to the police that I never once had to open up my files on him. I only get the authorities involved when it’s a case I’m certain the police won’t find anything or myself or the Savages on. The Diaz family had been involved with the Savages well before I came into the picture, and I can’t let the Savage name get twisted up into investigations.
The law system here in this part of Texas knows I have a PI agency and they know to ask if they need anything extra. What they don’t know, and hopefully never will, is that I work closely with the Savage family to gain most of my knowledge on these criminals before I start tearing into their lives digitally. I would love to be able to call the police to help fight for Gwynn, but the unknown is what could get me in trouble the most. If she’s in the hands of someone I had the Savages take care of, illegal vigilante shit and all, the police wouldn’t be so thrilled with me and would probably ask to tear through my systems with a fucking court order.
That can’t fucking happen.
At least now I know who has her, and I plan on getting her back as soon as I fucking can.
I’ll deal with the Diaz family after my girl is safe and sound.
Gwynn
24 hours ago
“Gwynn?” The voice from the other side of the door is timid and I laugh at it. Who the fuck can be timid in this environment? There’s men walking these fucking halls that will rape you with one wrong look. I should know, I gave one a black eye last night for trying it.
Today is another fight, and if I win this one, Z said he’d show me another image of my family. I’m not naive… I know he’s blackmailing me and I know he has no plans on letting me leave, but I’m not letting him see my weaknesses. He thinks that images of my family will make me submit… they only keep me from killing him.
The minute he hurts them, I’m breaking necks like mother fucking Chuck Norris. Roundhouse kicks to all the fucking bastards.
“In,” I bark, packing my bag for the arena.
Well, I hope it’s an arena. The last fight I was a part of wasn’t any larger than my living room at home and had fucking dirt floors. Talk about throwing a girl off. It took me a hot minute to realize the dirt would move under my force from any hard throw to any part of my body, so I had to go about the fight in all the wrong ways.
He never saw it coming.
Oh he? Yes. He. Z puts me against fucking dudes that are double my size. I’m happy when I’m against a woman, really, no matter her size. Men are harder to break; especially the ones that are fighting me.
“Mr. Z wants you to wear this tonight.” The girl, no more than fifteen, sets a pair of bright red boy shorts and a bright white sports bra on the bed.
I raise my eyebrow at it, then look up at her.
“Seriously?”
“He told me you’d fight it. Then he told me to remind you of the deal.”
Wow this girl is fucking weak. I could have her arm snapped in two before she finished her sentence, but I won’t. She’s not the problem.
He is.
“Yea, yea, I remember,” I grumble. “Aren’t you tired of taking his shit?”
She looks at me and her eyes go wide when her mouth pops open.
“I uh…”
“I mean, you know what they’re doing to us is so goddamned illegal, right?”
She shakes her head quickly but doesn’t reply.
“I’m sorry,” I huff. “Shit! I just can’t fucking stand these people!” My voice echo’s in the room and I know people outside can hear it but I have zero fucks to give.
She gives me a sad smile then scurries out of the room. Cursing, kicking the chair over, I let out a scream and try to take a few calming breaths before slipping off my modest fighting clothes for this fucking ensemble.
The door swings open the minute I have the new sports bra slid over my head.
“The fuck?!” I shriek, pulling it the rest of the way down to glare at Z in the doorway.
“Getting a little temper on us, aren’t we?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, slipping off the pants I’m wearing and throwing on the shorts.
Z storms over to me, taking my shoulders in his hands, stunning me. I flash him a grin, then take one swift kick at him but not before he can break my swing with his forearm.
“You’ve been here three weeks, Gwynn, I would have hoped you’d stop fighting this by now. I’m not a man to force a woman to realize what she wants,” he trails off and his eyes move down my body to the new bra he sent for me.
I try to wriggle out of his grasp but it just tightens the more I wiggle.
“I will never be what you want me to be, Z,” I growl.
“You forget the power I have, Red.”
The nickname brings me out of my anger and softens my resolve.
“Today you will fight. Today you will do as I say. Today you will be mine,” he growls, slamming his lips to mine.
I manage to break out of his grasp while his lips crush to mine and back away, watching the slow, slimy grin spread over his features.
“After the fight, Gwynn. Win me what I deserve and I’ll show you a world of pleasure that husband of yours could never.” He winks at me and leaves the room.
“Mother fucker!” I scream at no one. An empty room is something I’m getting used to, but apparently he has eyes and ears everywhere. I mean, he didn’t lie when he said he’d be sleeping in here with me, but so far I’ve kept his hands out of places they shouldn’t be. Plus, he’s gone first thing in the morning, leaving me solo most of the day until the next fight. I shouldn’t have talked to the help like I did, but come the fuck on, he can’t have that much of a hold on these girls, can he?
He does. It scares the living shit out of me, but I’ll never let him see it. I’ve been good this far with keeping up the facade of being ‘ok’, I can’t start to break now. I have to keep doing whatever it takes to keep my family safe and I must hold out hope that I’m getting out of this place one day.
I’ve tried on multiple times since I’ve been here to get a message out to Eddie. Each computer in this building has secret passcodes and I’m so leery that I’m afraid to go snooping for a phone. If only I could just send a call or a quick message or something so he could ping my location.
And a location it is, damnit. South fucking America. Honduras, to be exact. It took me a few days, but once I realized the language here isn’t primarily English, I knew we were out of the states. The flags sent off another warning but I don’t keep up with my fucking country flags so it meant nothing to me.
No, it wasn’t until I was at a fight and overheard someone talking about the city just being named number two in the most dangerous cities in South America, that I knew.
San Pedro Sula.
Not like I know where that is, geographically anyway, but you better believe I know it’s a fa
r fucking way from home.
As I stand here in front of the mirror, staring at myself in this bright get-up, my rage starts to boil over. He stole me, he brought me here, he forces me to fight well above my weight class, and he keeps me locked away in a room like a fucking caged animal. Then, like it’s not bad enough, he’s forced this skimpy fucking outfit on me tonight and I seriously feel like murdering someone. Only a few times in my life I’ve enjoyed inflicting pain because of hatred, but Z brings it out in me.
“Knock knock,” he announces, swinging the door wide open.
Fucking asshole.
“You ready, little Red?” My fists tighten at my sides from his new name for me. I fucking hate it. No one’s allowed to call me Red but Eddie… No. One.
“My name’s, Gwynn,” I growl, standing my ground. “And I can’t fight in this.” I motion to the outfit then glare at him.
“Oh, button.” He chuckles. “You don’t get to pick what you fight in. I think that will do quite nicely with tonight’s crowd.”
I narrow my eyes at him but don’t budge from my spot.
“What the hell’s going on with you?” I cock my head when he grins at me from the doorway. Slowly, he takes steps towards me until he’s so close I can smell his cologne.
“You don’t get to ask questions, Gwynn. You just need to focus on winning tonight. I have a lot of money riding on you.” He reaches out to touch me but I back away, watching him look down at his hand and shake his head.
“A few more hours, Gwynn. After this fight you’re all mine.” His eyes turn to ice and the light-heartedness of his tone turns deadly. “You’ll see,” he hisses, then reaches out and yanks me towards him, pressing my body against his.
If I didn’t hate the man so much I may have found him attractive, but as it stands, the hard body and delicious smell does nothing for me but help the rage burn.
“Why the fuck are you keeping me in a brothel house?” I blurt, slamming on the brakes as soon as we get to the doorway. The music is pumping from the living room area and there are girls walking down the hall right now wearing nothing but hooker heels. “This isn’t a place to keep a fighter if you want her in her right mind.”
Z chuckles and looks at me curiously.
“No, Gwynn. This is a place to keep someone that needs to be reminded of what they will turn into when they fail me.” He pauses a moment, his piercing dark eyes glaring into mine, then reaches out and yanks me out into the hallway.
Each woman I pass I want to beg them to rebel, but I can’t right now. Honestly, I’m not sure when I can anymore; I thought the girl today was a safe bet but she fucking ratted me out as fast as she could. I’m alone, and have no one here to talk to.
“In,” he barks as soon as we get to a waiting SUV.
“Gwynn,” Jase purrs from the back seat. My stomach rolls at the sight of him looking me over in this get-up. Ignoring him, I slide in as modestly as I can and lock my eyes on the floor.
“Not wanting to talk to your old friend, Jase, huh?” He nudges me and I slide further away from him. “Oh come on.” He wraps an arm around me. “I just want to get to know you a little better now, Gwynnie the Great.” His words make my blood boil… using my fucking stage name from my life before to try to weaken me, only makes me tougher.
And then it happens.
It’s over in the blink of an eye, but the minute his thumb starts caressing my arm, I spin and grab a hold of it, bending it backward as far as it’ll go and wait for the ‘snap’.
The minute it breaks I hear the wailing start and the telltale click of the gun.
“What the fuck?!” Jase shrieks, wide-eyed. When the van slams to a stop, I’m facing a furious-faced Z.
“Are you never going to fucking learn?” he growls, but not at me… at Jase. “I keep telling you to keep your fucking hands off her. She belongs to me and I decide what happens to her. Your fucking schoolboy fantasies are over. Get out of my van.”
“But Zeke—”
“Out!” Z bellows. Rather… Zeke.
Zeke.
It’s an interesting name… it fits him… but I can’t for the life of me place it. I know he has to have something to do with Eddie and his work, but I never once heard this name slip from Eddie’s beautiful lips.
God, his lips. I miss them, and every other fucking part of his body. If I ever get back to him I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave his side again for a very long time.
I watch as Jase mumbles a string of curse words under his breath and slams the door behind him. Zeke spins in his chair and glares at me.
“You fucking try something like that again and you’ll be fighting one-armed, you fucking understand?”
I nod tightly, glaring right back at him.
Fuck him. Fuck this whole thing. Maybe I should just lose this fight to show him he doesn’t fucking own me.
The drive to the fight is silent the rest of the way with Zeke stewing in the front seat. I’m uncertain why he’s given me so many chances and hasn’t already ended me. I must make him major fucking bank… fucker. All the more reason to lose tonight.
The minute I see my opponent, however, all of my goals to lose this fight on purpose are squashed. I’m going down. I just need to do it smart.
“Gwynn, this is Mark the Man Eater. Mark, this is Gwynn.” Z stands there and watches as the color flushes out of my face while I take in the man in front of me.
Fuck. Me.
He has at least two feet on me, and his muscles make mine look like pudgy baby rolls. I find his gaze and the cocky grin he’s wearing makes me want to pummel his smug ass.
But how? I’ve taken guys down before but never someone that looks like this! Never someone over twice my size.
“This…” I start, and then turn to glare at Zeke who’s grinning at me. “You can’t do this,” I growl, fists tight at my sides.
“I can do whatever I want, Gwynn.” Obviously he’s amused by my reaction to this man, but there’s nothing fucking amusing about walking into your own funeral! “You’re even cuter when you’re pissed,” he whispers after leaning in closer.
“Fuck you!” I blurt, and the sting from his hand on my cheek leaves me speechless.
I guess I’ve hit my limit. Again. Ever since that first day when he threatened me… well ever since I started fighting for him… Z has turned almost soft with me. Honestly, he’s let me get away with more than I probably would have gotten away with if Jase or Mac were in charge.
Luckily, Jase is gone and Zeke has learned that Mac is utterly useless in every sense of the word.
“One hour. Go warm up.” His words hurt almost more than the hit. I have an hour to warm up to fight the biggest, strongest man I’ve ever been put against.
I’m not going to fucking make it out of this one.
I’m left alone for the hour in my small room off the arena area. The venue tonight is actually a gymnasium type of setup with a ring in the middle and bleacher-style seating all around. The lights are going crazy for my opponent before he walks out and the minute his name is announced the crowd goes insane. It’s all a bunch of dirty, sleazy looking people here tonight, not very different to any other night. When they announce my name there’s a few claps, but not much else. It doesn’t phase me, though. I’ve spent the last hour preparing to fail. I want to beat this man so badly, but I know if I give it my all he will still destroy me.
I have to fight smart, not strong, tonight.
The bell dings and we start the dance. Well, I start the dance… Mark just stands there watching me like it’s amusing.
“The fuck you waiting for?” I growl, trying to amp him up.
He’s way too calm for my liking.
I take the first swing, missing by a long shot, but that was my plan all along.
Maybe if I make him think he’s fighting a rookie that has no clue what she’s doing he’ll go easy on the whole ‘demolishing me’ thing.
He chuckles and looks over at Zeke who’s wearing
a curious look on his face.
“This seriously your ‘it’ girl, man?” Mark lets out a laugh and Zeke narrows his eyes at him. He looks at me next and I give him a cocky grin and salute before focusing back on Mark.
“What, you afraid to hit a girl?” I spit at him, and I see his face turn red. Good. I just want this fucking “fight” to be over with.
This isn’t a fight. It’s an execution.
He growls and storms towards me, and all I know is to act on reflex when his hand wraps around my throat.
I go for the balls, kicking and punching, but it doesn’t work.
The last thing I remember is glancing over to where Zeke is standing and watching, his eyes so wide they’re almost popped out of his head.
Now, here I sit, curled into a ball on a table, pain radiating through my entire body.
“She’s not going to be able to fight anymore, Dad.” Zeke’s voice carries through the room we’re in. “He almost killed her!”
“She’s fine. Let her sleep then get her the fuck out of here. Tomorrow she has another fight.”
I hear the growl come out of Zeke and grin to myself.
Trying to sit up, happy that I lost him money tonight, I cringe when it’s too hard to even do that. Wrapping my arms around me, I take a breath and almost start to cry.
Jesus, every fucking breath hurts to take.
They don’t know I’m awake yet, and it’s best to leave it that way. I need to figure out what I’m going to do from here. I’ve been hurt worse than this before… I think. I will come back from this eventually. What I’m more worried about is Zeke’s little confession of what I’m going to turn into when I stop producing wins for them.
I refuse to become one of the girls.
I lay my hands on the table next to me and my fingers graze something hard.
What the?
The voices have carried out of the room now and as I slowly look around, not wanting to give away my state, I see I’m actually alone for once.
