“Who the hell are you?” I asked.
He gave me a smirk and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “I'm your new lawyer,” he said.
I stood up and tilted my head in the direction of the guard, signaling him to let me out so I could go back to my cell. “I think there's been some mistake. I don't recall asking for a new lawyer.” I eyed his expensive suit and snorted. “Besides, I'm positive I can't afford you anyway. I have legal aid for crying out loud.”
“Sit down, Jackson.” His voice boomed throughout the room.
Looking back—I wouldn't say I was scared of him...it was more like intrigued about what he was doing there in the first place.
I begrudgingly sat back down and stared at him. “Okay, let's just cut to the chase then. What's this about? Who are you?”
He cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his seat. “You can just call me your guardian angel, boy,” he said smirking.
I had recently turned 24 at that point, and I was practically on death row for killing a man. I was far from a boy and didn't appreciate being told otherwise.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You have 1 minute before I walk the fuck out of here. I don't give a shit who you are.”
He studied me for a beat before he rubbed his chin and laughed. “Alright. Let's just say that I have a proposition for you.” He cracked his knuckles again. “Something like a get out of jail free card. You interested?'
I raised an eyebrow at him. “From what I'm told...not even God, himself can get me out of this shithole.”
He leaned forward and proceeded to light a cigarette, his eyes gleaming. “No, you're right. God can't...” He flashed me a smile. “But the devil can.”
Chills ran up my spine with those words. “I would ask what the catch is, but I'm not sure I want to know,” I mumbled.
I heard the click of his briefcase and he handed me what looked to be a contract of some sort.
The first thing that stood out was the name.
“Who's Bruno DeLuca? That you?” I questioned.
He laughed. “No, that is not me. However, I work for him. He's the one who sent me here.”
I skimmed the rest of the contract, but I didn't understand it. It just said that I would agree to work for Bruno DeLuca for the next ten years, and failure to uphold my end of the agreement would result in disciplinary action. “What kind of work? And why the fuck would he want me? Who is this guy? And more importantly, what the fuck makes him think he can get me out of serving time for murder?”
He winked and gave me another smirk. “Let's just say that Bruno DeLuca knows a thing or two about murder, kid.”
I stood up. “Okay, I've had it with the games. I have a trial in 10 days that I need to prepare for and I really don't need this bullshit.” I looked at the guard through the plexiglass and signaled for him but he ignored me. I got up and proceeded to bang on the glass when the man's voice halted me.
“Sign that contract and you won't even have to prepare for trial. You'll be out of here within the next 48 hours. You won't go down for your sister’s murder, Jackson. And more importantly, no one will be making disgusting and untrue accusations about your relationship with her in a court of law and tarnishing her memory.”
Needless to say, that got my attention. “What does he want from me?”
“He wants you to do the thing you love the most. Compete and fight.”
I spun around and faced him. “That's not going to happen...I'm pretty sure I've been canned from the professional world of MMA fighting. No sponsors or agents will touch me with a 10-foot pole.”
He barked out a laugh before his expression turned serious. “This isn't professional fighting. This is underground fighting.”
I said the first thing that popped into my head. “That's illegal.”
He blew a puff of smoke out and shrugged. “Last time I checked, so was murder.”
Well, he had me there. Even though I still didn't feel a single ounce of remorse for it.
I sat back down at the table and took a cigarette out of the pack. “Okay, explain to me how he has the means to do this and why he wants me...and I'll consider it.”
He smiled and lit my cigarette. “I realize you're from Boston, kid, but Bruno DeLuca is the biggest mob boss to hit New York City since the five families.”
I took another drag off my cigarette...I definitely needed it.
“And he runs an underground fighting ring?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Amongst other endeavors, yes.”
“And he wants me because...”
“Because you showed real potential before you got locked up. Not to mention, you beat the shit out of and murdered a fellow professional fighter- one who our sources say was even more talented than you.”
“It was only because of the roids he was on,” I muttered.
He waved me off. “Personally, I don't give a shit. The point is that DeLuca wants you, kid. And you're not really in a position to say no to him. You're up shits creek without a paddle.”
At least on that fact, I could wholeheartedly agree with him.
“I just don't get how I would be able to walk out of here, though. Look around, I'm in jail for Christ's sake. I'm pretty sure the judicial system would have something to say about my release.”
He stared at me hard before he rubbed his fingers together. “Money and power, kid. It makes the world go round'.” His expression turned serious. “For starters, he's going to buy off the judge. He's also having evidence planted that will end up proving your innocence as we speak.”
I held up my hands. “Whoa, I'm not okay with having an innocent man go down for murders that he didn't commit.”
“That's not for you to decide, kid. Let's just say that this guy crossed DeLuca, so he's only getting what's coming to him. You just get to reap the benefits.”
I put out my cigarette and went to stand again. “No. I won't do it.”
“You don't really have a choice, Jackson.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“If you don't take the deal and work for DeLuca...you will be attacked in your cell, later on, tonight.” He looked me in the eyes. “And, kid. I gotta tell ya...the odds aren't in your favor in regards to making it out alive.”
I glared at him. Anger pulsing through me. “So, I never had a choice in the first place, did I?”
He shrugged and handed me a pen. “Afraid not, kid. Welcome to the family.”
Chapter One
Alyssa
THREE YEARS LATER
“Yeah, you like that, you slut?” he says as he continues to plow into me from behind.
His words reverberate through my head and I fight back the tears.
Nope. Not even a little bit.
“Yeah,” I say, hoping it will all be over soon.
“Who's a little slut?” he asks before I feel his entire body spasm against me.
“I am,” I whisper. All while, secretly hating myself for how true it is and for putting myself through this goddamn scenario, yet again.