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My order is ready in record time, and I sit out in the sun to annihilate my lunch.
Not wanting Gina’s coffee to get cold, I head back a little early. The streets are quiet, but there’s a nice breeze, so I enjoy the walk and work on relaxing my body and arms for my afternoon filled with clients. They never tell you about all the negative things that go along with your dream job. For me, it’s the arms. After doing blow-drys all day, my arms feel like they’re about to fall off.
I’m completely lost in my own world as I make my way back to the salon when a black van screeches to a stop beside me. My eyes widen in shock before my body starts to react. What the hell is going on? The door slides open, and I gape as Pitbull barges out onto the street before me, a sickening smirk across his face.
He runs at me and fear pounds through my body.
I throw Gina’s scalding coffee at his face and start to run, a ferocious scream tearing from my throat. I hardly make it two steps before he’s on me, his hand slamming down over my mouth, stifling my screams. A vise-like grip locks around my waist, and he lifts me off the ground with ease.
Pitbull rushes back to the van as I claw at his arms, desperately trying to get free. He climbs in the side door and throws me down on the hard floor, slamming the sliding door as he goes.
My heart races as I try to get myself up, but he’s on me once again, pressing a foot against my chest and shoving me back to the ground. “Nice to see you again,” he says with a wicked grin as the driver takes off, making me slide to the back of the van. My arms fling out, trying to save myself, but it’s no use. My balance is completely thrown, and I slam into the metal doors with a heavy thud.
Pitbull is on his feet, crouching in the small space and making his way to me. I scream while kicking out at him, trying to keep the bastard away. What does he want from me? Am I supposed to be his leverage to use against Xander in the fight? Is this his big plan to make Xander throw the fight or forfeit?
He continues toward me, which doesn’t take him long in this cramped space, and reaches out for my bag. I hold onto it with everything I’ve got, and as he yanks it up, I dangle from the straps. He kicks me in the ribs, and I scream out as I drop back to the van’s floor and latch onto my aching ribs with tears of agony in my eyes.
Pitbull smirks at my display but quickly disregards me as he pours the contents of my bag out on the floor to find my phone. He laughs like this is some kind of game before stomping on my phone and smashing it to pieces. He collects it from the ground and shoves it at the driver, who instantly tosses it out the window.
What the fuck?
I manage to get myself into a sitting position, but still have to hold onto the side of my ribs. “He’s going to kill you for this,” I say, not needing to clarify who he is.
“Let the fucker come,” he scoffs.
It becomes clear that he’s scared of Xander. If he thought he could win, he wouldn’t have gone to these lengths. He would have just shown up to the fight and taken him out. But no, here I am, being held as leverage so he can get what he wants.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but the rage and fury circling my body have my tongue loosening up. “You’re fucking chicken shit,” I laugh.
Pitbull storms forward and grabs me by the collar of my shirt, hoisting me up before slamming the back of my head against the blacked-out windows. “The fuck did you say?” he roars.
“You heard me,” I spit. “You’re nothing but chicken shit. You’re a loser. You’re scared he’s going to kick your ass, and you’d be right. He will. Maybe before you might have stood a chance, but not now.”
He lets out a terrifying growl and slams me against the window once again, this time making my head spin. If there ever was a time to thank my stepmom, it’d be now. If not for her regular beatings, I probably would have passed out on the first hit. Hell, I probably would have already pissed my pants as well. But not now. Not with this bastard.
“I ain’t scared of shit,” he says, lowering his tone, trying to invoke fear in me, but I’m too angry. Too riled up.
