by Dani Stowe
I step over a thug whose hands are planted and stuck to his eyes. He’s crying. Of course, there’s a remover. But we didn’t bring any of that.
I follow behind Nick who’s several feet ahead to a door on the far side of the bar, which I assume is Sam’s office, but the second Nick spins the door handle, gunshots ring out. We all drop to the floor.
Funny thing about being bullied in your youth. You don’t just know how to take a punch. You know when it’s time to hit the ground.
Nick still manages to push the door open and Jaxon comes up from the side to toss a flashbang that produces multiple bangs, booming repeatedly in Sam’s office.
Nick leaps to his feet and I follow suit. My boss pushes his way in through the door pulling off his mask.
“You son of a bitch,” Nick tells Sam, who looks like he’s suffering. Semi-aware. Semi-disoriented. On the ground. Gun in hand. Finger on the trigger.
None of that stops Nick from bending over to pop Sam in the face. “Where is she? You, fucker.”
I love Nick. There are times when he freaks me the fuck out. There are other times, I worry about him as if he were my own flesh and blood. But it’s moments like this that I have to pat myself on the back for taking all of his shit so I could have an opportunity like this—to see a bully get what he deserves.
Nick jabs Sam in the face once more and then again and I wrap one thick fur covered arm and latex gorilla hand around the billionaire before he messes up his pink playboy shirt with Sam’s blood.
I let go of Nick to pick up Sam and walk him around his desk to seat him in his chair. Sam mumbles, coming around. Taking out my ear plugs to hear better, I nudge Sam’s head with a gorilla paw. “Sam,” I shout, “where’s Nancy?”
Sam squints, tilting his head back to look at me and he flips me the middle finger. “Fuck you,” he says, his head still wobbly. “I don’t know what you just said but I know you came for the chick.”
Of course, I wasn’t heard. I can’t be heard beyond the muffle of the mask on my head.
Sam smirks and continues. “By the way, you fucking monkey, I want you to know the second I cash in on that dame, I’m going to fucking kill her.”
I raise a fist.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouts Jaxon entering alongside Elliot in the company of another young man who reminds me of Alex but is trembling beyond control.
“If you’re looking for the girl, she’s in the basement,” says the kid whom I realize is Nick’s “loyal” bartender.
I retract my arm. If the kid sees me pound my fists into Sam, he’s going to need more therapy than he can afford after this.
Nick encourages the bartender to leave, which he does through the front doors, and promising he’ll never fuck with NIM. The second the doors shut I join the others to line up in front of Sam’s desk to face him. I pull my mask off my face, letting it rest atop my sweaty head.
Sam is still coming around, but he seems alert enough as he starts laughing. “What the fuck is this, Nick? You think you boys can just march into my club—”
“It’s my club,” Nick interjects, pulling the mask over the top of his head as well.
Sam rubs his forehead. “You’re wrong. This place is mine. I made this club what it is. We make a lot of money inside these walls, more than three times the money that was being made before I became a manager and I can foresee making a lot more. Nick, you’re not a very a good businessman. I know. I’ve hacked into some your files. I’ve seen the way you do things, the way you conduct business. It’s not good.”
Nick folds his arms across his chest as if his interest is piqued. Sam takes it as a sign to continue.
“You have the money,” Sam nods, “and you have the tools.” He points between me, Jaxon, and Elliot. “But you don’t have balls. To succeed in this life, Nick, you need a big dick.”
Sam’s eyes gloss over Nick, studying him from head to toe and snickers in amusement. “I mean, look at you! Who the fuck wears a pink shirt and... what is that? Is that a polka-dotted tie?” Sam’s laugh roars. “Who wears a polka dot tie to a fucking raid...or is this rescue? Because that’s your intention here, isn’t it? You plan to rescue the chick, right?” Sam slams his hand down on his desk to brace himself, he’s laughing so hard. “And who the fuck rescues a whore? Is she one of your test subjects or something? I heard some crazy shit goes on in those labs of yours.” Sam raises his brows and changes his tone. “I’ll tell you what. If you let me have access to your labs to make more drugs, I’ll let the four of you go downstairs to the basement and you can all gang bang the girl.”
“I’m going to choke him,” I growl taking a step forward.
The back of Nick’s hand lands across my chest. “Put your mask on first,” groans Nick.
We all slip our masks on.
“What the fuck is this?” shouts Sam, trying to sound like a tough guy though his shoulders slouch heavily with uncertainty. He looks at the four us, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse, wearing gas masks and eager to show him his own soul.
Because that’s what we do. We show bullies who’s really in charge. It isn’t us. It isn’t them. It’s fate. And if there’s one thing we geeks have accomplished, it’s how to manipulate fate.
Nick reaches into his left pants’ pocket, pulling out a palm-sized clear elongated plastic container, which he pops the top to pour out a pinky-sized glass ampule filled with green gas. Nick holds the ampule up, showing it to Sam, as I place the gorilla head over the top of my skull. I bang on the top with a heavy fist just once and the gorilla head comes down. I adjust the face until I can see Sam clearly through both masks.
“What the fuck are you nerds up to? You really are a bunch of geeks. Look at you,” Sam points to me and laughs, “dressed up like a dumb animal.”
I clench my fur covered fists as Elliot shuts the door behind us.
“Not animals,” corrects Nick. “We’re savages.”
Nick winds up and throws the glass ampule. It shatters against the wall behind Sam into a hundred tiny pieces and the gas dissipates into thin air.
Sam cocks his head back to see no damage and laughs. He then cocks his head back to us and blinks, his face falling flat. He’s not laughing anymore.
Sam’s eyes widen and his mouth turns upside down. “Mommy,” he whines. “There’s a monkey in my room.”
I know I should just stand here. It’s more than enough. The monkey from Sam’s nightmares as a child will be haunting him for the rest of his life during every waking moment and he’ll never bully anyone again.
But this feels like it’s not enough. Nick is chuckling. Jaxon and Elliot are both observing, just ogling their work and taking mental notes, as they always do. But fuck! This whole thing is anticlimactic. It’s a boring ending to the chaos we just caused and my angst get the better of me...
I have to choke this fucker. Nobody fucks with my girl.
I lunge at Sam’s desk, hopping and planting my ass across the top to swing my legs and kick him in the chest. I knock him flat on his back in his chair. I hear the rest of NIM behind me. Screaming. Shouting. Telling me to stop.
Gripping Sam by the throat, I yank him to a standing position and then slam him into the wall. I grip his throat and choke him. It’s effortless. Sam doesn’t fight me. He can’t. He’s under the influence of the gas and I recognize why it was so easy for me to get beat up as a kid. I never fought back. I was too afraid, too afraid of getting hurt.
I watch Sam’s tongue protrude while the rest of NIM is now clinging to my arms, my neck, and my back trying to save Sam from the crushing squeeze of my large barbell pressing hand that’s about to kill him. I want to kill him. He took my girl. He took what’s mine.
“Don, you’re not a killer,” Nick shouts, muffled under his mask. “You’re a lover. You’re trained to teach, show, grow love.” Nick pulls off his mask and wipes the sweat from his brow with the pink cuff of his shirt. “You fix people. You don’t break them. You’re about to break Sa
m. Let him go.” Nick tries to loosen my fingers from Sam’s throat. “Listen to me, man. Nancy is waiting for you. She’s in the basement.” He tugs my fingers harder. “She needs you right now. It’s now or never, Mr. Nine. For fuck’s sake, go get her.”
Chapter 13
Nancy
The first bang of what sounded like an explosive made me flinch and I coughed with the dust that fell to my face from the shaken rafters above.
With the second explosion, I hardly moved at all except to wipe more tickling dust that fell over my nose.
When the third set of cluttered explosive booms roared, I became worried about my dress. I dusted it frantically. I’m still trying to dust it off.
The dress I was forced to wear is white. The stretchy material gleams with a shimmery sheen. It’s cut at an angle so it shows my entire left leg from front to back and stops right below my right knee. It’s tight, of course, two sizes too small, and the deep V-cut halter exposes nearly all of my chest and my breasts. I look into my cleavage and notice more dust. I wipe it out with my fingers.
I want to look nice. Presentable. Though, that might be hard to do considering I’m a mess. I was crying up until I heard the first bang, so I’m sure my mascara has run down to my chin. I comb my fingers through the top of my hair and squish the ends upward with closed fists in hopes to make the little waves look lively with bounce.
Scooting my butt across the mattress laid out on the cold cement floor, I move closer to the door. I want to be ready.
Tiny—he’s coming for me. I know it’s him. He’s going to pick me up and carry me out again, but this time, I cannot wait. Everything in my body says it’s him, and NIM, causing havoc upstairs.
I clench my hands to my mouth to contain my smile, to hide it. I don’t want Tiny or his partners to think for a minute that I’ve enjoyed being down here. If he should catch me smiling, I might offend him but my smile is difficult to contain. Thoughts of Tiny touching me again and coming to my rescue—it makes my heart soar until...
I think of Alex. My heart plunges. There will be no getting over Alex, but I know Alex would be happy to know I’m going to make it out of here in one piece, safe and sound, and I’ll do whatever I need to do to take care of his mother for him. No matter what it takes, I’ll make sure she gets the care she needs even if I have to find work at another club...
Or two...
And have to do more than just dance.
My hands flail in surprise as the door bursts open. A small piece of wood flies into my hair. A man in a gorilla suit with a mask sporting gnarly, oversized fangs stands in the doorway.
I should be scared. I should be screaming. Perhaps, I consider I should even be running.
But I don’t. I don’t scream. I don’t cry/ I don’t run or make a peep. Not even when the gorilla growls, which is a bit comical. I simply play coy, clasping my hands to my chest as I lean forward to bat my eyes because I’m desperate. I’m desperate to be saved and not just by anyone but by him—the man I know is under the suit, which I figure must be a disguise.
Almost instantly, I’m swooped up by big furry arms and folded into a warm fur-covered chest. My legs swing back and forth as I’m easily toted up the stairs, over moaning men, around corners, through the back hall of the club and out the back door.
A limo awaits. Of course, it’s a limo with a driver seated in the front and one of Nick’s expected bodyguards holding the door open at the back, which I find ironic. The bodyguard is waiting for his boss to come back from havoc.
My feet touch the ground and I enter the limo. I go in easy this time. No fighting and without resistance. I do worry that my butt might get smacked again but instead, the second I reach the opposite side of the interior of the limo, I am scooped up once more and angled to sit on the gorilla’s lap.
Two more NIM associates—Jaxon and Elliot—gas masked geeks that I have not seen since high school but have substantially grown since then, quickly clamber in behind us followed by their unmasked dark lord. Nick tosses the gas mask in his hand to the limo floor as the big gorilla wiggles to get comfortable under me.
One at a time, masks fall to the center of the limo, including the gorilla head. Slowly, I look up, my lashes fluttering to catch a glimpse of Tiny. His eyes are fixed. Blazing. Beaming back into mine under a brow glimmering of dewy sweat.
It makes my body feel weak knowing what he just risked for me. My spine gives way and I slip lower into Tiny’s lap until he grabs my head to plant a hot kiss on my mouth.
My mouth clenches when I hear one of the others clear his throat, but Tiny nips at my bottom lip, forcing my lips to part, so he can breach my mouth with his tongue. The driving deep thrust going in and out alternated with sucking forces of air that enter and exit my mouth as Tiny’s lips open and close softly and then firmly and then painfully hard makes my lips quiver and I feel embarrassed to be kissed so heavily in front of the others. Tiny doesn’t seem to care and he even hikes his hand to the top of my exposed thigh.
The limo is already in motion and Tiny finally breaks the suction, leaving my lips to throb. He pulls me by the neck into his chest to kiss the crown of my head through my hair once... twice... a third time and then strokes my head with an oversized paw.
I close my eyes in relief, my cheek pressed firmly against the faux fur of his chest where I’m thankful, despite the silly costume, to be hugged, embraced, and coddled by my Tarzan dressed like an ape.
When I open my eyes, I catch sight of Nick. He’s undressing!
My eyes catch more movement from across the limo and I turn my head just slightly to see both Jaxon and Elliot are also getting undressed. One by one, they unbutton their dusty and dirty shirts, pulling them off their shoulders then arms until all shirts come off and I swallow. Hard.
These geeks are not geeks anymore. They are all men. Beautiful, strong men and I can only imagine what some girls would give to be in this scene right now.
Elliot pulls out a black duffel bag and I notice there are clothes inside. Buckles clamor and three sets of pants come down revealing bulge after bulge after bulge under three different colors—black, gray, and white—tight-fitting boxers.
Elliot is the first to reach in the bag to grab a set of clean clothing. “What time is the next meeting? I need to get my laptop.”
“The presentation is at four,” confirms Nick.
Next meeting?! These guys just stormed a nightclub with armed thugs and without using any guns themselves and they’re already talking business as usual?
It reminds me of the many times NIM was called to the stage during an assembly in high school to collect their awards. They amassed a lot of awards, which included my sister on occasion, on behalf of the math club, science club, and whatever other smarty-pants clubs they were in. I look at the collection of soiled pants collected on the floor and I recall the many times these guys were harassed—spitballs in their face, lockers defaced. But nothing stopped them. Not the bullying. Not the ridicule. Not the black eyes or the wedgie up the back, though I don’t recall Nick ever being on the receiving end of any of that except...
Wait, there’s something...
Something on Nick’s skin, I see, reaches out from the back to the sides of his lower waist.
A scar? No, multiple scars.
Nick catches me looking. He stops pulling up his pants to lean back, to hide what’s back there. He gives me a hard stare.
I gulp. I cannot look away because for the first time I see something other than the man who has robbed me of my sister. I see a different man. Somewhere, through Nick’s dark eyes and behind that devilishly handsome face, rests a tormented soul. For the first time since I told Taloulah to stay away from Nick Rohr back in high school because I felt he was bad news, I feel guilty that perhaps Nick has had a reason to cling to my sister, to keep her, virtually imprisoning her.
Deep down, I know the position I’m in right now is all Nick’s doing. Nick never seemed to be the nerd of the bunch, but he i
s the ringleader, the mastermind. It’s Nick, I believe, who I should thank for organizing this entire rescue. I’ll be going home safe and I suspect that’s what Nick believes he’s been doing with my sister this whole time—keeping her safe.
Behind those eyes and somewhere in that fucked up mind, I believe Nick endeavors for power and control to keep what very little he thinks he owns from harm. I just wish he knew the harm he does.
His phone rings.
“Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Rohr... That’s wonderful news... Excellent... Yes... Please, share my gratitude with the physicians... Yes... Thank you.”
Physicians? My heart beats with excited rhythm. Why do I get the feeling something miraculous has happened? I know it. I just feel it. It’s because of these men. They’ve done something. Saved something. Made something happen.
“Alex is out of surgery,” Nick says to Tiny. “They are moving the kid to intensive care and they say his vital signs are strong.”
Strong. Yes! That’s the Alex I know. My heart is aflutter.
“And his mother?” inquires Tiny.
“A nurse is at her bedside. She’ll have twenty-four-hour care until Alex is better.”
A squealing yelp escapes my throat from the pure joy and glee. I clench my hands to my mouth from the embarrassment and so I don’t start crying. Heaven forbid these men see me crying after what they’ve been through.
The geeks look at me with a comforting smile. Nick’s face, however, is flat with a fixed stare that bores into me, like I shouldn’t have doubted them, shouldn’t have doubted him. The stare is painful—the way it humiliates me.
I get it! I misjudged you. I misjudged ALL of you.
Nick’s face softens. He understands the effect he’s had. He blinks with a flutter of his lashes.
I’m so humbled. I owe him and the rest of NIM more than I could ever repay. I have no words to speak. I blink back a blushing half grin. Thank you.
