I guess it’s true what they say, you really have to hit rock bottom to open your fucking eyes. Sadly, for some rock bottom is the end. There is no second chance. No opportunity to repent. As I glance around the room searching for a means to defend myself, I realize I’m one of the unfortunate ones. The only weapon I have against my faceless enemy is my fists. I have gotten myself out a lot of jams, but this is do or die. If I fail, I’ll likely never see Lacey or our baby again. Forget the charges against me and the possible long-term sentence that will keep me here. I’ll be dead and I don’t believe in the fucking afterlife. When they drag my bloody body out of this fucking room, that’s it.
Game over.
The end.
The door opens and I quickly spin around. Blinking against the stream of light that enters the dark room, I focus on the three men standing before me. None of them are familiar but their ink sure as fuck is. I’ve studied it intently over the last few weeks and have memorized every motherfucking symbol. They’re part of the Sinaloa Cartel.
Swallowing, I watch as the one standing to the far right reaches over his head and tugs a string. A single light bulb illuminates the room just as the guard slams the door shut, caging us together.
It’s me against them.
Three to one.
I’m fucked.
“What the fuck do you want?” I growl, clenching my fists as I widen my stance. The cunt standing in the center who I assume goes by Il Padrino, steps forward, sizing me up with his beady eyes as he cracks his knuckles menacingly. His tongue sneaks out of his mouth and runs across his lips before he flashes a smile full of gold teeth.
“I’ve come to collect a debt,” he explains, rolling his neck from side to side. “It seems Javier, didn’t adhere to my warnings. I told him not to play with white trash, but my brother, he’s always looking to broaden his horizons, even if that means him lying down in the gutter with a bunch of washed up bikers. You and your psychotic leader seem to have underestimated us.”
“Is that so?” I retort, crossing my arms against my chest. Sweat beads at my forehead as I meet his gaze and silently mull over my next move. It’s not like I have many options. I’m at the fucking mercy of the goddamn enemy and right now I’m mentally kicking myself for not thinking these pricks would come at me while I’m in here. It’s the one thing I didn’t plan for when retaining Schwartz.
“You killed my cousin, motherfucker. On top of that, you stole from my organization.”
“We didn’t steal shit from you fucks,” I fire back. “Get your facts straight. We were prepared to give you everything we promised in exchange for a meeting with Sergio. The guns and the territory. You cunts pulled the trigger on that deal the minute you fucking started shooting at us.”
Seeming unfazed, he turns to his left and snaps his fingers.
“A deal is a deal, Chico. You didn’t deliver and now it’s time for you to pay up.”
Before I can question him further, I catch sight of one of the two other guys. His fist wrapped tightly around a silver piece of pipe. My mouth goes dry as my eyes dart to the object he’s wielding in his hands. I’m so focused on his movements I lose sight of the other guy. It isn’t until his fist collides with my cheek that I realize they’ve distracted me.
Instinctively I swing back. My knuckles split open as they slam into his jaw. The pipe slams into my ribs and I lunge forward. Another jab to my face. One to my eye. The pipe crashed against the other side of my ribs. The wind is knocked from me as I stumble forward.
Lifting my head, I spit blood and watch as Il Padrino’s lips curl in satisfaction.
“Do I have your attention yet?” he taunts.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, taking a step forward. Raising my fists, my eyes dart between the two men doing a number on me.
“More,” Il Padrino demands.
The two men circle me and despite the pain shooting through my abdomen, I lift my leg and deliver a roundhouse kick, knocking the pipe out of the cocksuckers hand. I don’t get a chance to celebrate the victory because his partner lands a blow to the side of my head. I fall to the ground and my head slams against the concrete.
A groan rumbles from the back of my throat as the bastard straddles me, using my face as a fucking punching bag. Blood sprays from my left eye as I struggle to get him off me.
“Still, not willing to cooperate?” Padrino questions.
I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’ll die before I give this cunt anything. Jack Parrish may not have taught me how to be a proper husband or father but he sure as fuck taught me how to be a loyal soldier.
I hear the steel door open and with the eye that isn’t swollen shut and bleeding, I watch Padrino turn to the guard. He speaks to him in Spanish, but I can’t make out a single word because of the blood swooshing in my ears.
“You have a decision to make,” Padrino calls to me. His voice sounds ions away. “The way I see it, your club went against their word and in turn, my brother’s organization suffered a hit. We lost money on those streets you promised us and you’re gonna make up every fucking penny.”
He takes a knee next to me and drags his fingers through my hair, tugging it hard so that my head jerks and my one eye meets his.
“The guards on the cell block are going to turn their heads and you my friend, you’re gonna sell my product through these halls.”
“The fuck I am,” I grunt. “I don’t sell drugs.”
“You sure about that?”
Inside my mouth, I swirl the blood around preparing to spit it in his face when he pulls a wild card on me. The guard hands him a phone and I watch Padrino smile at the screen. His gold teeth glisten as he runs his tongue over them.
“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs. “Look at those tits.”
The blood in my veins runs cold as my stomach rolls. He turns the screen to me and even with one eye and blurred vision I can make out Lacey’s beautiful face.
“No,” I grind out. “No, you stay the fuck away from her!”
“It’s too late for that, Chico,” Padrino says as I reach for the phone. He leans away, out of my reach and my eyes dart back to the phone. “That isn’t a picture, motherfucker. That’s a live fucking feed. Either you agree to my terms or I tell the man sitting in your bedroom, watching your wife sleep to wake her up with his dick in her mouth. I bet a sweet piece of ass like that gives good head. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you watch her swallow his come before he slices her throat.”
An animalistic sound tears through my throat and my scream echoes off the walls as I lift my torso from the concrete and lunge for him. He tosses the phone to the side and wraps his tattooed fingers around my throat, slamming me back against the ground.
“Don’t try me, Chico, I get off on watching another man’s woman on her death bed.”
“Don’t fucking touch her,” I grind out. My voice sounds weak even to my own ears and I feel wetness pool from my eye. Whether it’s blood or tears, I’m not sure. “I’ll do whatever you want just don’t touch her.”
He flashes another golden smile at me.
“I thought you’d see things my way,” he says as he holds out his palm. The guard drops a small black bag into his palm that looks a lot like a cosmetic case. Padrino pushes it against my chest as he leans over me. “Inside is the product you're going to move. Don’t disappoint me. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go jerk off to your wife’s tits.”