Bad Boy's Toy: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 4

  “I have the two hundred,” I said as he turned away. “I can pay—”

  “How'd you get it, huh?” he shouted, cutting me off as he whirled around.

  I flinched and cowered back from him. “I made it working here.”

  “But not the way I said you needed to,” he roared. “That's the goddamn point, Micah!”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “No,” he said, his eyes sweeping around the room, taking in my clothes, my bed. “But you will be. You stay here.”

  He turned back around and left the room, slamming the door behind him when he left. I heard a key inserted into the lock and heard the tumblers click as it turned and the bolt slid into place.

  I exhaled a breath I didn't realized I'd been holding, feeling like the air was just evacuating from my body all at once. On the TV screen, Bill Murray was on the street, whispering in Scarlet Johansson's ear, something so quiet the audience couldn't hear.

  I walked over to the door and tried twisting the knob, but it didn't work. Panic welled up inside me. I was trapped here! Dang it, if I'd known this was how everything was going to work out, I would have gotten a job as a waitress or something!

  My mind chastised me. But what did you think was going to happen, Micah? You knew the money was too good, especially for what you were doing. No such thing as a free lunch, and credit always costs. You gotta pay the piper at some point.

  Well, crap. I went back over to my bed and sat down, my vision beginning to blur as my eyes welled up with tears. I collapsed back onto the covers, my arms straight out to either side of me.

  As I lay there, my thoughts drifted back to Ford. The way he'd held me, the way his gruff commands in my ear had turned me to Jell-O as he moved behind me. I'd never willingly given my control over like that, never been used so well and fully. If he was here, he'd take care of Daddy Williams. I just knew it. Then, I'd be free.

  Still thinking about him and his hard muscles, his steely glare, exhaustion took over, and I closed my eyes just for a moment. Just to rest them.

  I opened them again, though, at the sound of the key sliding into the lock. I glanced over at the alarm on my little nightstand, surprised that my short rest had turned into my sleeping for the last thirty minutes. I got up from the bed as Daddy flung the door open and pushed Kessa, half naked, in ahead of him.

  “Get in there, slut!” he roared as he stomped into the room, clearly on the warpath.

  I flinched a little at the way he bellowed, at how his bass tones seemed to resonate inside my skull.

  Tall, beautiful, curvy Kessa stumbled forward, streaks of eyeliner running down her face, marring her makeup, her long blonde hair tussled like a rat's nest. All she wore was a matching set of lacy red underwear, a pushup bra, and a thong. Her lipstick was smeared around her lips, her eyes puffy from crying, and a bruise was already forming on her cheek. Behind her, Daddy frowned, his heavy jowls pulled even lower and jiggling with each step as he came up behind her. He reached up, grabbed a handful of Kessa's hair, and yanked her head back in his grasp.

  “Kessa!” I screamed in shock, reaching out for her.

  “Hold it!” Daddy roared again, holding up a big Bowie knife. Even in his big ham of a fist, it looked large and terrifying, gleaming wickedly in the light.

  Fear gripped my heart with its icy hand, and I stopped in my tracks, even took a step back, my breath ragged in my chest.

  My grandfather had a knife like that when I was growing up, one that he used for skinning rabbits and other small game he'd kill on and around the farm. “Them's good eating,” he'd always say as he brought a bundle of them back to the house, their little furry bodies slung over his shoulders. That knife had terrified me back then, and the terror still held now. Daddy raised the knife higher as he yanked Kessa's crying face back, exposing her throat.

  “Kessa here's been a naughty little bitch, Micah,” he growled, bringing his face close to hers. “She's done worse than you, but I can tell you're headed that way.”

  I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy. I tried to speak, wanted to, but nothing came out. I couldn't even convince my mouth to open.

  “Now tell your little friend Micah what you did, Kessa.”

  Her eyes were wide with horror, her eyes lolling in her head as she seemed to search for that point in her life where things had gone so wrong. I watched her throat bob up and down as she swallowed nervously. “I—I— I didn't do everything the client wanted,” she said, her voice more nasal and stuffy than normal from all the crying.

  “And what did he want, slut?”

  “He—he wanted to hurt me. He wanted to hurt me, Daddy.”

  He bared his teeth and brought the blade up in his hand, nearly touching the naked edge of her throat. “Well, what did you think he'd paid me for, huh? Don't you reckon he thought he could do that because he'd arranged it with me ahead of time? Didn't you think I'd make him pay for a few bruises on your perfect skin, little girl?”

  She swallowed again and closed her eyes tight, squeezing more tears down her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she breathed. “I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again, Daddy. I promise it'll never happen again, not in a million years. They can do whatever they want with me from now on, I promise!”

  He pressed the blade to her throat, scraping it up her skin like a razor.

  She shivered and trembled, her whole body shaking as he held her tight, back against his big belly.

  Was he going to kill her? Was he going to just cut her throat like a ho and, leave her to bleed out all over the floor of my room? No one deserved this kind of treatment, no one deserved to be threatened this way. Certainly not Kessa, either. She was the sweetest, most wonderful girl I'd ever met. My heart hammered in my chest as I took a step forward.

  Kessa's eyes, now wide, locked onto mine as she shook her head.

  I stopped in my tracks, my fists clenching at my side, angry at my own impotence and inability to save my only friend.

  “You gonna do what you're fucking told from now on, slut?” Daddy asked.

  Kessa, eyes now wide, nodded carefully, clearly not wanting to disturb the blade pressed to her neck.

  “Good,” he soothed, taking the blade away, lowering it almost to his side.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” I murmured under my breath.

  His eyes shot to me, his hand bringing the knife back up, this time to her cheek. “Never said what her punishment was gonna be.”

  She screamed bloody murder as he sliced down her cheek, blood welling up around the blade as he quickly slashed it down and through the meat. She tried to get away, but he held her blonde tangle in place.

  My heart nearly stopped at the sight of the blood gushing down her face and onto her chest, at the sound of her screams. “Daddy!” I screamed, reaching out to them.

  “No!” Daddy bellowed, pointing the tip of the bloody knife right for me. His eyes looked like a wild animal's, full of murder and rage. I knew if I took one step closer, he'd gut her, and then me.

  I stopped in my tracks as Kessa reached up to her face, her hands frantically trying to compress the wound, trying to staunch the flow. It didn't help, just covered her in more crimson as the blood came up from between her fingers and ran down the backs of her hands.

  “Daddy!” I sobbed. “Let her go!”

  “The whore needs to learn her lesson!” He threw her aside, knocking her to her hands and knees as she began to sob again, her words unintelligible. With the blade still pointed at me, his eyes narrowed. “Just like you girls all gotta learn your lesson. You defy me, Micah, you're going right where Kessa's going.”

  “What?” I stumbled out. “Where? Where's Kessa going?”

  “To market,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of all care or concern for his once favorite girl, who was now groveling and crying on the floor of my bedroom, her blood dripping onto the carpet, her tearful sobs filling my ears. “Tomorrow night.”

  Market. I knew what that meant. Some of
the girls had whispered about it, in hushed, concerned tones when none of the men or girls we couldn't trust were around. An auction Daddy had every so often, a secret one, where women were bought by the highest bidders. Kessa had told me about it, the fear in her eyes evident as she'd whispered the rumors to me. I knew it was her greatest fear to be auctioned off there.

  He turned and reached down, grabbing hold of Kessa's hair. “Move, whore!” he roared, yanking her hair forward till she was crawling on all fours after him, just like a poor, beaten animal. She sobbed as she scrambled in his wake, frantic to keep up with him.

  He slammed the door shut behind him when he left, no other words needing to be spoken. He locked the door again, leaving me alone in the room.

  I shivered as I looked down at the trail of bloody handprints that Kessa had left, the dark red soaking into the carpet. She wouldn't let me help her. She'd been terrified, but she'd kept me out of it, not wanting to see me injured.

  I had to get out of here, I realized. I had to get out of here, now. The clothes didn't matter; the shoes didn't matter. Just take what little money I had, take the ring, get out. If I could, I'd come back for her. But from inside Daddy's estate, I couldn't do anything.

  So I had to leave.

  Tonight.

  Now.

  Chapter Six

  Ford

  I banged my head into the steering wheel of the old Pontiac, the sudden pain not adding any clarity to my situation. But, still, I kept doing it anyways as I sat there in the parking lot of the shitty motel I'd been forced to hole up in.

  Even after going back and winning some of my bankroll back, I was still short on my payment to Tambor. How was I going to pay him back now? Doing this work wasn't any kind of life, not one that was worth leading. Some guys might have gotten off on this kind of work, but I sure as fuck wasn't one of them. I still had some principles.

  The worst part about it? I could even tell that that last part was changing. Each time I did the bloody work, it became easier and easier. It just took practice, was all. Cruelty was apparently like any other skill. The more you did, the better at it you became.

  My phone rang in my pocket. I fished it out, knowing exactly who it was going to be, so the name Tambor didn't surprise me when I saw it.

  “Yeah,” I said as I put the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, hey, hey, Ford,” Tambor said into my ear. “Looking through the books, and I saw my favorite boxing buddy was up for his next payment.”

  “Got a funny way of treating your buddies, Tambor,” I replied.

  “Aw, come on now, Ford, this is just business. You know that.”

  Business, huh? Sounded more like pleasure, with the way he always seemed so damn cheery on the phone. I snorted. “Yeah, Tambor. That's what you say.”

  “I'm truly hurt, pal,” he said, his voice full of hurt. I knew it was fake though, all just part of a fucking act. “Truly, truly hurt that you'd think that about me, that I get some sort of sick joy from having you owe me money.”

  I just silently shook my head. No reason to dance around things. Just better to come out and say it, that was my view. “Listen, Tambor, I need an extension.”

  He made a wincing noise. “Ford, pal, you know I can't do extensions for you. You know that. I give you an extension ’cause you're my buddy, and I like you, I start to look weak when word gets around I ain't impartial on my debt collection strategies. You feel me, pal? You understand?”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. I'd known that was coming, but it was worth a shot anyways. Now he was either going to offer me another shitty job, that I'd be expected to do for free, of course. Or, he was going to send someone after me. Either way, getting out of town was starting to look like the only real option available.

  Los Angeles sounded nice, I thought. Big city, bright lights. I could get by out there, so long as I kept my head down. Clubs could always use a good bouncer, someone to take out the trash and throw it on its ass.

  “Tell you what, though,” Tambor said, sounding like a used car salesman who was about to tell you how good of a deal he was about to make for you with his boss. “I got me a job that might clear up your debt, and clear it up for good.”

  I groaned quietly and leaned my head back against the seat. If it was something that was going to wipe my slate clean, that meant it must be truly fucking awful. Like, I'm going to hell, and I'm driving the motherfucking bus, awful.

  “Got a kid, some rich kid who's playing with his pappy's cash, you know? He made some bets, some real bad bets. String of ’em, like this kind can't fucking win to save his life. But he said he was good for it, and he seemed like it was. Now, though? Now, the little pissant's trying to bilk me. Trying to stiff me, not even making payments on his debt.”

  I brought my hand up, squeezing the ridge of my nose. “What do you need me to do, Tambor?” I asked with a sigh. “Rough him up? Break his fingers?”

  “Nah, I don't think that'll send the right message. Need you to do something that'll really drive home how badly he needs to pay.”

  I remained silent.

  “Need you to pick up his little brother from school.”

  My eyes went wide. “And do what with him, Tambor?”

  “Just hold him till we get our money.”

  “Fucking A. You fucking serious?”

  “Just till I get my money, Ford,” Tambor said, not even bothering to fake that hurt anymore. “That's all. Or, you know, you can just go ahead and pay your loan back in full by tomorrow afternoon. Your choice.”

  I winced. “The full thing?”

  “The full motherfucking note, asshole,” Tambor said, the same way someone would ask for you to pass the salt. “Tomorrow.”

  “I ain't got that kind of money, Tambor. You know that. Give me something else to do, and I'll get it done. But not that.”

  My loan shark laughed into the phone. “Something else? This ain't a fucking temp agency, Ford; you know that. You don't get options on this. You do what you're told, or there's fucking consequences. Ain't no one ever told you about consequences before?”

  “What if I can't pay?” I asked.

  “Well,” he replied, an affable tone back in his voice, “I'm trying to get you to kidnap some kid so his older brother'll pay up, Ford. What the fuck does that tell you about that what-if scenario? Huh?”

  I shook my head and ran a hand down my face.

  I couldn't do this. I couldn't just kidnap some kid from his school and hold him for fucking ransom. I wasn't that kind of person. Never in a million years would I ever be that kind of person.

  “Make your choice by tomorrow, Ford,” Tambor said, his voice suddenly colder than I'd ever heard it. “This job, and you, got an expiration date.” The phone clicked as he hung up on me.

  I dropped the phone in my lap and slammed my head back into the headrest over and over. “Fuck!” I yelled to my empty car.

  He had me between a rock and a hard place, the fucking asshole. Jesus Christ, how had I gotten get so fucking far into this shit? How had I sunk so fucking low? Kidnapping fucking kids?

  Think. I had to think.

  Then I remembered my mother's ring, the last bit of her I had left. She'd given it to me on her deathbed and told me to give it to a special girl someday. A woman who would make me happy. It was worth a pretty penny, and the cash might be able to offset my debt. Or maybe, just maybe, I could hock it and drive up to Vegas with the cash and hit the casinos. Yeah, that'd do it. That'd put me back in the black.

  I'd had pretty good luck lately. And even if my luck didn't pan out, what was the worst that could happen? I was already fucked anyways, right? I mean, when your options are to either kidnap a kid from school or get smudged off the balance sheet by your loan shark, there's really nowhere to go but up.

  I climbed out of my car and went to open up the back door, to grab my old leather coat where the ring was. As I got out though, I caught a sight that stopped me in my tracks.

  Micah. Walking dow
n the motel walkway in jeans and a T-shirt, her shoulders slumped as she slunk through the shadows, headed for the motel's admin office. Even in this state, she was still as beautiful as when she'd stopped me from getting into the fight, earlier. The clothes did nothing to hide her figure, and I felt myself beginning to get hard again at the sight of her, my prick not giving two shits about how she made her money.

  What the hell was she doing here? I thought she lived up at that estate I'd dropped her in front of. “Micah?” I asked, my hand dropping from the back door as I approached her.

  She stopped and looked at me, blinking. Then, realization set in. “Ford?” she asked. “Is that you?”