Part 59 (2/2)

”Turn around,” the man says. He sneers at me. I stare angrily at him.

”Turn around, love,” he says, this time stepping closer. I shake my head at him.

”Darlin', behind you there's a chair where you can sit. Either sit in it or don't, I don't care. But no matter what, you're stuck in 'ere.”

f.u.c.k you, I think to him. I flash a quick glance behind me and do see a chair, but I don't sit. Instead, I wait for him to leave the small office. I can hear him locking the door with a deadbolt from the outside.

I immediately go to the window, and look down. It's a long drop into some kind of pit. Maybe they used to keep a neutralizing agent in there, or maybe just water. All I know is that I'd never make it without breaking my leg.

d.a.m.n it!

I'm not even thinking about what they're going to do to me. I'm wondering what they're doing to Pierce.

I hear a gunshot, and my whole body jolts. The bang was so loud, my ears hurt, and I'm in a closed room. It came from somewhere nearby, somewhere in the same building I'm in.

Following the gunshot is a cry of pain.

I recognize the voice.

It's Pierce.

Chapter Thirty Three.

”f.u.c.k you!” I bellow. ”f.u.c.k all of you!”

I wince, stare down at my foot. It's bubbling blood out of a gunshot wound. I move my foot to the side, see the bullet lodged in the ground, the concrete all around it cracked. It went straight through me.

”That's a handicap,” Fallon says. ”Because you f.u.c.king walked out of that fight, the only b.l.o.o.d.y way I could get that Russian c.u.n.t to agree to a rematch a double or nothing a is to handicap you. This is your fault, you stupid American c.u.n.t.”

”f.u.c.k you,” I growl. ”I swear to G.o.d, Fallon, I'm going to f.u.c.king kill you.”

”Listen to yourself, you idiot,” Fallon barks, pointing a finger at me. ”You still think there's a way out of this? If that Anton gets you, he's under instructions to break you. You embarra.s.sed us back there. You know how many people bet big money on you? You embarra.s.sed me back there by walking out. I vouched for you. In my world, there's this thing called face.”

”f.u.c.k your face.”

”So if you can't win, you'll be broken, Pierce, and we will leave you here to die. We're in the middle of f.u.c.king nowhere. There's no working phones. You will die.”

”f.u.c.k you, you old motherf.u.c.ker.”

”Well let me tell you something. I've got your pretty little thing locked up in the office. If you don't fight, we... encourage you to.” He grins nastily at me. I imagine myself cracking his skull with a rusty pipe.

But I know I've got no choice. It f.u.c.king kills me that they've got Pen, that they're using her, that it's my fault she's in this position.

”You better bandage up my f.u.c.king foot, then,” I tell him. ”Because I can't fight if I lose all my blood.”

I look down, and see a puddle of crimson beneath my foot. It hurts like h.e.l.l, but d.a.m.n if I'm going to show it.

”Micky,” Fallon says to his goon. ”You got some medical training, right?”

”Served in the army as a medic, boss.”

”Ah, that's right,” Fallon says, clicking his fingers.

Micky leaves and comes back with a first aid bag, and says, ”This might hurt a little.”

He lifts my foot. I grit my teeth together, but otherwise don't show my pain.

”Through-and-through,” he says to himself. ”Small fracture of the third metatarsal. Surprisingly, the ligament is still attached, I think. Bullet slipped straight through. Basically a flesh wound.”

”Thanks for the medical,” I growl.

”Boss?” Micky says, turning around.

”What is it?”

”Give him some morphine?”

”No!” I say, pulling his attention back to me. ”Don't give me anything.”

”It'll hurt when you put pressure on it.”

”f.u.c.k off.”

He grins. ”Tough c.u.n.t, are ya?”

”Tougher than you.”

”That right?”

”Why don't you untie me and find out?”

Micky the medic laughs. ”Alright, alright. You'll get your chance to show off soon.”

He pours iodine on my foot, and then begins to bandage it up. I do my best not to show that it hurts, but f.u.c.k if it doesn't burn to h.e.l.l and back. f.u.c.k if it isn't a shock to see the orange iodine fall through a hole in my foot.

When he's done, he looks to Fallon, who gives him a nod, and then he cuts my binds. I stand up, test the foot. I can barely put any weight on it.

”I'll fight that Russian f.u.c.ker,” I say at Fallon. ”On one condition.”

”I don't think you're in any position to be making-”