Never Choose Flight (A Fighter Romance Novel) (15 page)

So there I sat, in my pyjamas, suddenly very worried that I was ‘in trouble’. I didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but I could imagine some pretty horrible things that it
could
mean.

The first thing I did was look out front. And immediately I saw a black car that I’d never seen parked there before. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe they were visiting one of my neighbors. Or maybe it was something, and I was about to be murdered.

I locked my front door, and then I locked my back door. I thought about closing the blinds, but decided against it. The day was sunny, almost painfully so, which meant it was easier for me to see out the windows than it was for them to see in.

And after I’d done that, I had no idea what else I could do. That felt like a full list. Again, I couldn’t really call the cops. I’d seen in movies to what happens when they discover a ‘rat’. Bad things. Very bad things. I didn’t want that happening to me, and I didn’t want it to happen to Malcolm because of me.

I thought about my options, sitting there and letting my ice cream melt. I could stay put. They knew where I was. So did Malcolm. They were right outside though, so they could get to me first if they wanted me. Or I could move. I don’t know where I’d go. Just get on the road and drive, I suppose. That didn’t seem like a brilliant idea, but I didn’t have anything better.

In my room I got changed. If something was going to happen to me, I didn’t really want to be wearing my pyjamas for it.

I went with a sharp outfit. The kind I wear when I’m going to meet big clients. Or big prospects that I’m hoping I can turn into big clients. It shows off my hips and my chest, while still looking professional. I wore flats instead of heels with it though - practicality did factor in.

Out the front door and straight into my car. I saw some movement in the black car as I came out of the house, and then I saw it start up as I took off down the road.

It became immediately apparent that I wasn’t going to be able to lose them. They were right behind me, right away. Not trying to be sneaky about it. They knew that I was panicking. They were using that against me. They wanted me to be scared. I tried to keep a cool head.

Next I needed to decide where I should go. I started driving towards work, out of habit, but then I missed the exit. On purpose. I wasn’t going to work. I was going to Malcolm’s house.

The car remained right behind me the whole time, but that was all. No rear-ending. No other cars jutted out in my path. They just followed closely, letting me know that they were there.

And the fear tactic was worrying. I started to wonder if they really had cut the line on Malcolm’s phone, or if he’d been forced to hang up somehow. I realized that I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, and that I had no idea how his last week had been. I thought mine had been pretty bad, but it was possible that his has been
much
worse.

I pulled up in front of his house, and then I just sat there for a moment. I didn’t know what to do. Would it be safe for me to just get up and walk to his house? Then I realized I didn’t have any other options. I went for it.

Stepped out of me car. Closed my door behind myself. Then, as slow as I could manage, I walked to the front door and gave it a knock.

I panicked for a minute, thinking that he wasn’t home. Scared that I would turn around and see a thug in my path again. But then I heard footsteps inside, and the old door creaked open, and there he was. Malcolm.

I stepped inside and he closed the door behind me.

“Sorry,” he said, “they cut my phone line in the middle of our conversation.”

“That’s what I guessed,” I said.

We stood there in the entrance hallway, neither of us entirely comfortable. We hadn’t left on the best foot last time.

He had clearly taken a few more beatings since I’d last seen him. I saw a bump on his head, and his lip had a wound that looked fairly fresh. He stood with more weight on one leg than on the other.

“I was, uh, just going to make some breakfast.”

“It’s a little late,” I said.

“So you don’t want any?” he asked, walking into the kitchen.

“I’d love some,” I said, sitting down at his table. The horrible yellow of it actually felt kind of comforting. Like I was back where I belonged.

“Bacon and eggs today,” he said. “A modern classic.”

He turned the stove on low and lay down some bacon for a slow sizzle. Then he sat down across from me, looked at me. “How would you like your eggs?”

“Over easy,” I said.

“I can do that,” he said.

He stood back up and walked over to the stove with a bit of a limp. Put on a second frying pan.

“Just so you know,” he said, “I have no idea what might happen between now and Sunday. I know that it’s The God’s men who are doing this stuff to me, but I don’t know what they have planned. They’ve basically succeeded at making me live in fear.”

“Well that’s no good,” I said. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“Really?” he said. “Are there any black cars parked out front?”

“Yes,” I said. “And I was followed here. After being followed home. So there’s at least one more since you last checked.”

“Well I guess somehow they figured out that I still really care for you,” he said.

“Do you still really care for me?”

“Of course I do,” he said, flipping the eggs in the pan.

I sighed. This guy.

I could tell that he was about to apologize again, so I cut him off.

“I want this,” I said. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t make decisions for me. I want this, I want to be with you, and so unless you
actually
don’t want to be with me, please don’t make me leave again.”

He shook some salt onto the eggs while the bacon continued to crackle. He popped a couple slices of bread into the toaster. Got some jam out of the fridge.

“I am glad to hear that,” he said. “I really am.”

“Don’t apologize for making me leave. You were doing what you thought was right.”

He just nodded. A few minutes later the bacon was done, the toast was jammed, and the eggs were still hot. He plated it up and sat down with me.

“So you’re
in
this now?”

“I am,” I said. “I have been since that first night. There was no way I could stay away from you. Especially not since I know you care for me.”

“Alright,” he said. “Well maybe we should have a new plan then. One that doesn’t involve the two of us going separate ways for protection.”

“I take it you aren’t going to turn down the fight?”

“I can’t. I can’t turn down the fight. I can’t leave the ring until someone is knocked out. If I do, I might never be allowed to fight again, and fighting is my life. As well as my livelihood.”

“Right,” I said. “So we need something else. I different plan. That hopefully still results in us being safe.”

“Well so far,” he said, “they haven’t come inside the house. They wait outside. And I guess one of them came right up to the door, to leave the note and the chicken. But they’ve never stepped foot inside.”

“So you think it’s safe in here?”

“It could be,” he said. “They’re just following orders. And I imagine one of those orders might be to stay out of the building.”

“Okay,” I said. “So maybe I can just stay here until the fight is over. The God will leave town and I will be safe. And hopefully he won’t beat you to death in the ring, so that after the fight you can come home and we can feel safe again.”

“There are a few problems with that plan, but I think it’s the best we’ve got.”

“What are the problems?” I asked.

“Well, you kind of mentioned the one about me getting beat to death. So that’s one of them. But we’re also hinging a lot of this plan on the idea that they won’t come-”

There was a loud thump and the sound of shattering wood. The heavy door slammed against the floor, and there were footsteps in the hallway.

“-inside,” finished Malcolm. “Shit,” he added.

The first pair of footsteps was followed by another, and then another. Three thugs, in the house. They’d only given us enough time to come up with one plan, and then they’d ruined it immediately.

“Nice place you got here, Beast,” said the tallest of the group.

“Sure is,” said the shortest.

The middle height one just looked around with a blank face.

Malcolm stood up sharply. “Thanks you guys. Decorated it myself.”

“Well you’ve got some talent, kid” said the tall one. “But I think me and Ernie here might be able to make it a
bit
nicer. If you don’t mind.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything.

“Ernie,” said the tall one. “Redecorate that couch, please.”

Ernie, the short one, grabbed ahold of one end. He lifted it into the air, and then gave it a push. It tilted away from him, and then came smashing down, obliterating the little table next to it into a thousand little wood chips.

“I don’t know if that table it quite right either,” said the tall one.

“Too cluttered,” said Ernie. “You got it, Sam.” Then one by one he picked everything up off the table and either tore it in half, or threw it against the wall. A magazine. A newspaper. A candle in a glass holder. Destroyed. Malcolm just stood by my side.

The one with a blank stare was looking at me.

“I actually meant the whole thing needs to go,” said the tall one, who I think was named Sam.

Ernie then lifted the solid wood table and tossed it against the wall. It tore right into the drywall and then crashed down, its legs breaking off in the process.

“Much better,” said Sam.

“I agree,” said Ernie.

They looked at each other, and the one with the blank stare looked at me.

“Other than that, though,” said Sam, “I think there are only two more things that need fixin’?”

“Which things?” asked Ernie.

“That horrendous table,” said Sam. “Yellow? Really?”

Ernie walked over to the table, were our hot food still sat, and tossed it over, towards Malcolm. The glasses and plates shattered on the floor, and the food when everywhere.

“How’s that?”

“Much better,” said Sam. “What do you think, Beast? Glad we stopped by to help?”

He just stared at them, and then spat on the floor.

“Well,” said Sam, “We’ll be on our way then. Hopefully seeing you again soon.”

Sam started to walk out of place, and Ernie started to follow, but the blank man stared on. Eyes fixed on me, as they had been the entire time.

“Wait,” said Ernie. “You said two more things. Then I flipped the table. So that means there’s one more thing left, don’t it?”

Sam stopped, and spun back to face us. “Keen ears you’ve got, Ernie. I almost forgot!”

“So what is it?”

“The girl,” he said. My heart began to race. “The Beast is a lonely man. This is a house he lives in on his own. Having a woman around just seems unrealistic. And she doesn’t match the drapes in the slightest.”

“You want me to throw her against a wall?” asked Ernie.

“No,” said Sam. I got to my feet in preparation for whatever he was going to say next. “I think we should take her with us.”

A wicked smile came onto Ernie’s face.

Malcolm jumped in front of me, fists up, knees bent.

Sam sighed. “Alright, let’s deal with him first.”

Both Sam and Ernie threw their fists up and stepped towards Malcolm. They had the stance down perfectly. I stood behind him. I could only assume that these men made their money by beating people up. So did Malcolm though, so I had no idea which way it would go.

Malcolm made the first move, running towards them a bit and then throwing a few jabs at Sam, the taller one. Meanwhile Ernie got a few solid hits into Malcolm’s side, where he’d been hit with a golf club not long ago.

Malcolm flinched, and Sam got a solid punch onto his jaw. I flinched watching it happen. It would have been a knockout punch had it happened to anyone else on the planet, but Malcolm stood strong.

“You’re going down,” said Sam. “Maybe not easy, but it’ll happen.”

The two men continued pummeling Malcolm, and I watched as he went into full defense mode. He wasn’t fighting back anymore. He was just trying his best not to get gravely injured.

He was having some success, but I suddenly realized what they were trying to do. They were beating him back. Beating him away from me. The man with the blank stare, eyes on me, started to smile. He knew what the plan was.

I heard a grunt here and there. I heard the sound of fists smashing flesh. I turned to look at the three of them, slowly getting further and further away from me. My eyes were wide. Malcolm was fighting his hardest, but there was no use.

I thought about an exit plan. Looked around for any way that I could run without getting attacked. The man stood at the entrance to the living room from the entrance hall. The fight was happening right near my only other exit, and I had reason to believe that they wouldn’t just let me run past them. I had no choices left. I was frozen in fear.

Then I heard a sizzling sound. I looked over and saw Malcolm holding Ernie’s face against the burner on his stove. Ernie screamed. Sam got angry. He tackled Malcolm to the ground, and Ernie pulled his face away from the heat.

Then Ernie jumped on top of Malcolm as well. Malcolm managed to stand up, and tried to run towards me, but each man held tight onto one of his arms. The had him pinned against the cupboards.

And then the man with the blank smiling face started walking towards me. He spread his arms out in either direction, like he was coming in for a hug. I screamed as he took step after slow step across the destroyed living room. But there was no where for me to go.

“Don’t you touch her!” yelled Malcolm. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“She seems important to you,” said Sam, calmly. “It’s a shame, really.”

I thought about running, but the blank man was not going to let me escape. I hoped that Malcolm would somehow break free and save me, but I knew the men weren’t going to let that happen.

I turned away from the man, and then his arms were around me. I struggled. I tried to get away. But his arms were muscular. Lean, but strong.

I screamed.

“Jessica!” shouted Malcolm. “Jessica!”

“Malcolm!” I yelled.

Slowly the blank man started walking towards the door, taking me with him.

I reached my hands out towards Malcolm, and saw more pain on his face than I’d ever seen before. I saw his muscles straining more than I’d ever seen before. He was angrier than I’d ever see.

I started kicking at the man’s legs. I got a flinch or two out of him, but his arms did not loosen around me. I flailed my arms. I tried to grab onto something, anything, so that I could fight back against him. Fight against the direction we were going. Fight back against these evil men.

“Malcolm!” I yelled.

Then, in the doorway, we stopped. I stopped screaming, and we watched as Sam spoke to Malcolm once again.

“She’ll be at the fight, you know. In the audience. Between Ernie and I. She’ll get to watch you fight. She’ll get to watch you lose. Because by the time the fight rolls around, you won’t have an ounce of strength left in you.”

“Fuck you,” said Malcolm, staring into Sam’s eyes.

“You can swear all you’d like,” said Sam. “It’s encouraged, even. Let’s us know that we’re doing our job.”

“Of course,” said Ernie, “if you win the fight, things might not turn out so well for your girl here.”

“I understand,” Malcolm said. “Just let her go.”

“We’ll let her go when you go down,” said Sam. “Don’t worry. The God has a great left jab. I’m sure that if you just fail with your defenses he’ll knock you out with a single punch and then you’ll be a loser, but at least we can let the girl go.”

I saw a look of pure panic in Malcolm’s eyes. The only way they’d let me go was if he got knocked out in the ring. And the only way he’d get knocked out would be by dying.

And then I was dragged out of the car. The man with the blank stare placed me in the back seat of a black car, next to another man. I felt a sharp prick in my shoulder, and then everything went dark.

* * *