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Damon grabbed the nearest shirt and sweatshirt and within seconds he was dressed. His curt gesture told me it was time to go.
“He’ll put a bullet in your brain the minute you step into his office,” I said, desperate to drill some sense into the big idiot. “Do you have a death wish? Davonte doesn’t forgive and you broke his fucking nose. What do you think he’s going to do to you for that insult? Take you out for dinner?”
I knew my words gave Damon pause, probably because he’d wondered the same, but he seemed stubbornly stuck on track. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the door.
I screeched and tried to pull away but it was like trying to free my arm from an alligator once it’d clamped down.
“What kind of man are you?” I demanded, struggling as he dragged me toward the door. “You would knowingly take a woman to a man who planned to rape and God-only-knows-what to her? Where’s your fucking conscience?”
“A conscience is a liability in my line of work.”
I stomped on his insole but his grip didn’t loosen, if anything, he tightened his grasp around my wrist until I thought my bones might crack. I bit back tears, refusing to cry out. “You’re a monster, just like Davonte,” I managed to say before he shoved me out the front door, his hulking mass right behind me.
“Yeah, well, a guy’s gotta make a living,” was all he had to say.
And I knew I was screwed if I didn’t get away because this mother fucker was right — he was no hero and I was a fool to think otherwise.
Risking everything, I kicked him as hard as I could right in the nuts.
“Fuck!” He grunted as he doubled over, giving me a hair’s breadth of time to run like my life depended on it — because it did.
Even though he’d proven he was fast, the need for air worked in my favor as he dropped to his knees, cradling his nuts, sucking oxygen.
I flew down the street, putting distance between myself and that muscle-bound idiot.
I didn’t look back.
I didn’t stop until I was blocks away and my lungs threatened to cave in.
Survival mode was officially switched on.
Chapter 5
Damon
I was shoved roughly into a chair, opposite Davonte. The black and blue of his broken nose stood out against the white bandage but it did nothing to soften the cold rage in his eyes. Davonte steepled his fingers as if deep in thought, chewing on my fate.
“Where’s Charlie?” Davonte asked.
Time to pay the piper — except I had nothing to offer but my sorry ass apologies.
Fuck, Charlie was right, Davonte was going to have me served up to his dogs.
My balls still aching, I shifted in the chair, admitting, “Fuck if I know. She kicked me in the nuts and ran when I was trying to bring her here.”
Davonte’s brow shot up. “You were trying to return her after running off with her?”
“About that, I don’t remember anything from last night,” I growled, my cheeks heating at how stupid I sounded. “When I realized what’d happened, I tried to bring her back.”
Davonte only seemed to care about one thing. “Did you fuck her?” The barely contained jealousy was almost palpable.
“No.” Of that, I was pretty sure. Though, not from lack of interest. Red-heads were my weakness.
“You want me to believe you had Charlie for the night and you didn’t fuck her stupid? Are you blind?”
“Even if she hadn’t been your woman, she’s not my type.” Total lie, but I was trying to stay alive, not win awards for honesty. “Too much trouble.”
“Assuming I believe you, how do you know the woman?" he asked, going straight to the point.
"I don't."
“Bullshit.” Davonte wasn’t buying my story. The irony was that I was telling the truth that time.
I shrugged. “Never laid eyes on her before last night.”
He gingerly touched his bandage. “Your actions say otherwise, son.”
I tried not to feel any sort of false connection at the casual endearment but it was hard. Davonte had been my mentor, of sorts. I’d thought Davonte saw something in me. Now I knew it’d been all bullshit.
“What's so special about her?” I held Davonte’s stare. “Why her?”
Maybe it shouldn’t matter but curiosity got the better of me.
Davonte shrugged. “The mysteries of life, right? Suffice to say I want her and you are going to get her for me.”
The words, fuck that, came to mind but I didn’t flinch or bat an eye. “How’s that?” I asked.
The flinty look in Davonte’s eyes was a warning sign but I was up to this shit to my eyeballs.
“The way I see it, you owe me. You took my property and banged up my men. Now under ordinary circumstances I would just have your balls cut off and fed down your throat but the situation has made me realize that I’ve undervalued your contribution to The Underground.” He paused. “I heard that your manager cut you loose.”
The statement was rhetorical. Davonte knew everything that went down in this town if it had to do with The Underground.
Davonte sighed as if dealing with incompetence was a burden he was forced to carry as he laid it out for me.
“Sometimes Manny doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He's too swayed by young, dumb and full of cum. Manny’s missed the true prize and I’m staring at it right now. I’ve never seen one man take down six of my guys as well as knock my lights out. Go ahead, take some pride in that victory,” he said with a falsely generous smile.
He added, “I’m a big enough man to say it…you’re one bad-ass mother-fucker. That took balls. So here's the way I see it. I can either make you an asset or I can put you down like a rabid dog and move on. Personally, I'd rather be friends.”
A cool threat bubbled beneath the seemingly benign statement as Davonte added pointedly, “Don't you want to be friends, Damon?”
Why did that feel like the devil had just asked me if I was partial to my soul?
But what could I say?
Basically he was saying, work with me or die, and I didn’t want to die so the decision was pretty much already made for me.
“What are you offering?” I asked, holding Davonte’s stare.
Davonte laughed as he shook his head. “Balls, son. Balls of fucking steel but I like that. I want to put you on salary. I want you to teach these idiots over here how to take a punch and not go down like a bunch of bowling pins. You might not have what it takes in the ring but you're one hell of a brick wall and I would like you to be on the right side of me.”
It cut to hear Davonte dismiss my dreams of making it in the ring but if he was right, what choice did I have?
I wasn’t good for much else but fighting and if that option was snuffed out…I guess being on Davonte’s payroll was about as good as it was going to get.
“Let's just say I was interested in your offer… what do I have to do?”
I knew of deals like this, this was how guys ended up cleaning Davonte’s mess.
“Your job is simple. I'm going to give you a task and you're going to either pass or fail. If you pass I put you on the payroll, if you fail I put a bullet in your brain. Very simple. But you're a smart guy, smarter than most fighters. So I have no doubt that you will bring me what I want.”
So there it was. A devil’s bargain. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to work for Davonte. What a shitastic position I was in.
“So, all you're saying is, for me to save my own ass, I just have to bring you the girl?”
Davonte spread his hands, agreeing. “It's as easy as that.”
Easy, my ass. The woman was already slippery as fuck.
“How do I find her?”
Davonte’s gaze hardened. “That is your problem.”
Yeah, wasn't that the crux of it? My problem. All of this was my problem. The problem of my own damn making. Why hadn’t I just minded my own damn business?
“Wh
at are the perks?”
“Look at you, trying to drive a hard bargain. I respect that. All right, you get full run of The Underground. You're my muscle. You walk into any club you want, you get any pussy you want. All you have to do is make sure that everyone tows the line I draw, which includes keeping that scumbag Terrance Johnson and his fuckers on his side of the territory.”
Terrance Johnson, the only fucker as dangerous as Davonte in this town. They were like two dogs circling each other, sniffing out weakness in the hopes of going for the jugular when the other least expected it.
But there was a truce between the two kingpins, at the moment, so at least I had that in my favor.
Seemed easy enough. Except that's not what I wanted out of my life. I hadn’t trained half my life to be Davonte’s thug.
"What if I want to get back in the ring?"
“Son, there comes a time in everyone's life when they have to realize their own limitations. You got no soul and no intuition for the ring. That's not your strength. Trust me when I say I'm doing you a favor.”
I didn't believe Davonte for a minute. The man didn't do anything for anyone that didn't benefit him.
But my survival instinct kept me from pushing the issue.
“What's going to happen to Charlie?”
I probably shouldn't have asked. Again, I was poking my nose where it didn't belong. But what could I say, I was a glutton for punishment.
"Don't worry about her. You just bring her to me."
That didn't sit well. But if I was going to save my own neck I had to stop sticking it out for women I knew nothing about.
“Fine, I'll get the girl for you,” I finally agreed even though I wanted nothing to do with any of this shit. “I'm gonna need some cash to track her down. Since Manny cut me, I’m broke as fuck.”
Not exactly true but not entirely bullshit, either. If Davonte wanted me to be his bloodhound, he was going to pay for it.
Davonte reached into his desk drawer and tossed a wad of cash toward me.
There was easily two grand in that bundle. Detroit had been hit hard in the last decade.
Poverty was a fact of life for most people. Two grand in cash might as well have been a million.
