Not a Chance

by S. C. Stephens

  Pain is momentary, a good con lasts a lifetime.

  The parental words of wisdom flooding Chance’s brain hardened his heart. His dad had excelled at the long con. Chance had been a long con…

  A longtime ache filled Chance and he knew the upcoming beat down wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as his father’s betrayal. Narrowing his eyes at Reggie, the grin on the brawny man’s face eager, he spat out, “Make it convincing. Give me something that will look really nasty in a couple of days…lots of bruising.”

  Reggie nodded, cracking his knuckles again. Chance eyed him warily. Right as the big man shifted towards him, Chance held up his hands and added, “Don’t break anything though. I don’t want to have to deal with curious hospital staff.”

  Garrett sniggered right as Reggie struck. Chance stopped himself from blocking the blow; it was a difficult thing to do. The weight behind Reggie’s fist was incredible…as was his aim. Ignoring Chance’s request, Reggie took the low road and got his payback for Chance breaking his nose. His fist hit him squarely across the bridge—Chance heard the snap, felt the electric burst of intense pain, tasted the metallic zing of blood as it flowed into his mouth. Bastard.

  Chance gasped and wavered on his feet. His hand came up to his face, adjusting the break. Another flash of pain made his eyes water. Reggie gave him a fake, apologetic smile. “Oops, sorry.”

  Chance spat the blood in his mouth out. It hurt to breathe. He wanted to stop this, but knew he couldn’t. “Are you done messing around?” he sneered. Reggie twisted his lips, not amused.

  Garrett started laughing, a cold sound. “You’re something else, Chance.” He shook his head of bleached hair. His smile looked impressed, like Chance willingly getting the shit kicked out of him was somehow…honorable. Chance knew better. The honorable thing to do here was call the whole thing off and go home…to Makayla. But Chance couldn’t do that, and these two wouldn’t call this off anymore. They’d go in without him. They’d do something stupid. Makayla was safer this way.

  That thought giving him strength, Chance wiped the blood off of his chin and faced Reggie proud and tall. Reggie struck again, a hit across the cheek that left Chance dazed, seeing stars. Before he could completely recover, Reggie socked him in the gut. Chance doubled over, gasping as all of his air left him. His face aching, his lungs burning, his eyes watered again. Blinking back tears, Chance struggled to get in a breath. He quickly inhaled, right as Reggie gave him a wicked left hook. Chance felt the soft spot near his temple compress. He even imagined the blood vessels breaking, pools of it forming. He’d have a black eye for sure. Good.

  His breath finally back, Chance peeked up at Reggie; he could feel his left eye already swelling shut. “That all you got?” He smirked, not sure why he was goading the man. He really didn’t want to die today, but he hated the situation, hated what he was doing, hated himself…he deserved this.

  Maybe feeling neglected, Garrett struck. Chance hadn’t been expecting that and was caught completely off guard when Garrett swept his leg. He fell to the ground hard, his cheek landing on a jagged stone. He bit his lip to stop from crying out. Pain was momentary. A trickle of blood oozed from the fresh wound, but Chance didn’t have time to worry about it. Reggie had decided that fists weren’t leaving enough of a mark.

  Shifting his weight, Reggie thudded a heavy kick into Chance’s side. Chance let out a soft groan. He couldn’t stop it; it hurt so bad. Garrett immediately struck out on the other side. The dual assault was too much; Chance whimpered, a tear of pain sliding down his cheek, stinging as it entered the cut from the rock. Protecting as much of his body as he could, Chance laid there and let them repeatedly kick him. Garrett laughed the entire time, Reggie grunted with the efforts of his kicks. As one of them managed to strike him in the face, Chance started to worry that they wouldn’t stop, that they really would kill him. It didn’t make sense to, they needed him, but some animals couldn’t be contained once they were let out. And these two could barely pass as civilized.

  He started murmuring, “Enough,” but the two men didn’t seem to be listening. Reggie landed a solid hit in Chance’s ribs. Chance felt the compression and bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood. “Stop,” he muttered.

  Reggie heard him that time. Leaning down, he yanked Chance’s head up by his hair. Chance winced as bolts of pain erupted around his scalp. “Stop? We’re just getting started.” He raised an edge of his lip; his face right then was the most terrifying thing Chance had ever seen and a genuine spike of fear sliced through him. “We have to make this convincing…you said so yourself.”

  Chance shook his head but Reggie pulled harder on his hair, lifting him to his feet. Chance grabbed onto the man’s arm for support. His legs felt like Jell-O. He couldn’t stand straight anymore. His vision wavered and for a moment he saw three Reggies. He focused on the one in the middle. That one cocked his arm back. Chance’s eyes widened as he watched the fist comes towards him. Reggie still had a hold of his head and Chance couldn’t escape the move. He hit him square in the other eye.

  Chance finally did cry out then, begging them to stop. It didn’t help. No longer able to stand, he slumped against Reggie’s hold, his scalp burning until Reggie let go. Falling to his knees, Chance felt more hits to his face. Both eyes swollen now, Chance could barely see. That made it worse. Not knowing where the hits would come from made it worse. Garrett was hooting and hollering, enjoying the smack down. Chance tasted fresh blood in his mouth.

  He was going to die today. The maniacs were going to kill him. He’d never get a chance to see Makayla again. To hold her, to tell her he loved her…and to mean it. Warmth burst through his chest at the thought, and for a moment he could block out the sound of his own agonized voice, he could block out the stabs of pain jolting through his body, he could even block out the sound of Garrett’s twisted chuckle. He blocked out everything but her face, her beautiful honey hair, her pale eyes, so open and honest, so wanting to be loved. Given another life, Chance would have fallen for her instantly, would have dropped on his knees and asked her to marry him. But this wasn’t a chick flick, and Chance’s ending wouldn’t be sappy and sweet. His ending would be here, in a field of neglect, being pummeled to extinction by two men who deserved nothing but reciprocation.

  A knee to Chance’s jaw flung him to his back. As blackness darkened Chance’s world, he briefly wondered if Makayla would go on to make her dream come true. She should. Everyone should strive to reach their dreams. A smile spread across his lips as night pressed in around him. Chance hoped that Makayla would be the one to hunt down and lock up Garrett and Reggie. He hoped she would be the one to avenge his murder. That would be poetic.

  God, he was going to die…and he didn’t even know his real name. It was sort of tragic. Being so angry at his father, he’d never even asked. As Chance lost consciousness, he remembered the day he’d done his dad in, the day he’d betrayed the man who’d raised him.

  They’d been about to complete a job when Chance had come back from the hospital. He’d been so shaken, he hadn’t even told his dad where he’d been, what he’d learned. He’d been completely silent on the way to the mark’s house, some rich old couple with a handful of original, priceless works of art. He and his dad were going to sneak into their place and steal them while the pair were out for the evening. They’d been posing as hired hands for the last few weeks, learning the couple’s schedules. The night the job went down, the pair were at a fundraiser for some endangered animal; they were going to be gone for hours.

  Chance and his dad had snuck in during a shift change in the couple’s bodyguards. Having learned everything they needed to know, they disconnected the cameras, disabled the alarms, and grabbed the millions of dollars in art. At least, that’s what was supposed to happen. Chance left one alarm intact. He’d barely thought about it when he’d done it. It had just been instinct…he’d wanted to punish his dad for lying to him for his entire life. It may have been stupid and childish, but he’d fe
lt stupid and childish…and hurt, very hurt. Still did.

  Once the alarms had gone off, Chance had given his dad the loot and they’d bailed the house. Their escape plan in just such an event had always been to split up and meet back at the first motel listed in the city’s yellow pages.

  Chance had taken their car while his dad had quickly hotwired one on the street. Chance had purposely avoided getting near the stolen goods, although he’d hadn’t consciously done it at the time. When their cars sped away in separate directions, Chance had looked back at his dad’s taillights and made another rash decision. Picking up his cell phone, he’d made a call that had changed his life.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “I’d like to report a robbery…”

  He’d then gone on to describe his dad’s vehicle and had given them a tip about where they could find him—A1 Motel. When he’d hung up the phone, a flash of fear, relief and pain had flown through him. He’d done it. He’d set his father up to take a fall that would surely land him in prison…probably for a long time, thanks to the value of the paintings. His dad had never seen it coming…

  Before Chance completely faded, he wondered if his dad knew that Chance had left that one alarm in place on purpose… if he suspected why, if he hated him for it. Then, right before night took him, Chance decided that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t his real dad anyway.

  When he woke up, Chance was a little surprised to find himself alive…and he sort of wished he wasn’t. Blinding sunlight was the first thing he was aware of. Then he heard birds chirping and felt a light breeze along his face. The breeze stung his open wounds and he inhaled through his teeth. Scrunching his face hurt…everything else. He tried to relax his features, tried not to move. His entire body throbbed. He wanted to cry out in pain, but swallowed to hold it in. He really didn’t know if Garrett and Reggie were still around, and he was not going to show anymore weakness in front of them. Begging them to stop had been bad enough.

  Aside from the birds, the courtyard sounded empty, though. Bracing himself, Chance opened his eyes…as much as he could anyway. The sunlight made them water, but he couldn’t lift his hand to shade his vision. Well, he was sure he could, he didn’t feel like any limbs were broken, he just didn’t want to move yet. Chance was pretty sure that moving would be as painful as the strikes had been.

  Damn Reggie. That primitive bastard had gone way too far. Jesus, knee a man between the legs then break his nose and all of a sudden you’re number one on his hit list. Reggie really needed to work on his anger issues. And Garrett…he…was beyond help, Chance was pretty sure.

  Flicking his eyes around the lot, Chance saw that he was indeed alone. Letting out a much needed groan, Chance prepared his body for a jolt of pain. He didn’t want to do it, but he needed to make sure the idiots hadn’t broken anything…aside from his nose. Counting to three, Chance sat up. He cried out as every muscle, joint, tendon, nerve, told him to stop. What little vision he had left, swam and wavered. The picnic table dimmed in his view as his body struggled to fight through the agony.

  Nausea twisted his stomach. He lost his control of it and, leaning over, vomited on the broken cement. There was blood in it. Great. Wiping his chin, Chance struggled to even his breath and his vision. After long inhales and exhales, his head cleared, the pain lessened. Gingerly feeling his face, Chance could tell that the swelling around his eyes had gone down quite a bit. He’d probably be okay to drive.

  A sane man would have immediately driven himself to a hospital, or, saner yet, called for an ambulance. Who knows what internal damage those two had done? But Chance didn’t have the luxury of being sane. He couldn’t afford the risk of some concerned hospital staff calling the police to question him about his poor, broken body.

  No, Chance would have to get through this suffering on his own. Good thing he had some seriously strong pain meds in his first aid kit in the car. “Never leave home without it,” his dad had always told him. It was the one piece of advice that Chance was actually grateful for today.

  Gritting his teeth, Chance ordered his legs to stand him up. He also had to order his hands to help, since his jiggly legs couldn’t do it all on their own. It took a lot of effort, but he finally made it. When he did, he found that he couldn’t stand completely straight up and down; he had to bend over, had to clutch his bruised ribs. His breath came in sharp pulls and his vision wavered again. Another moment of stomach sickness went through him and Chance cursed after he wiped his mouth.

  Damn Reggie. Damn Garrett. He was done with the both of them once this over. Maybe he’d leave a bread trail for Makayla to follow. Something that led her right to the demented pair. Chance really didn’t want her anywhere near them, but he liked his dying vision of her putting them behind bars. If and when she became a cop, he’d help her track them down.

  Once he felt steady, Chance hobbled his way back to his car. The photos were gone, one of the two miscreants having picked them up. That was fine with Chance. If they were going to secretly set up the manager, Chance couldn’t risk holding onto them, couldn’t risk Makayla finding them. And she had a habit of finding out things that Chance didn’t want her to know about.

  After barely managing to get his broken body through the chain link fence, Chance finally made it back to his car. Slumping inside it, Chance leaned his head back and let out a long exhale. His whole body felt on fire. He wanted nothing more than to drive back to Makayla’s house and wait for her in her bed. She would come home and take care of his hurts. She’d lovingly mend his body, and his heart. He wanted that so badly, his chest suddenly hurt worse than any other part of him. But…he couldn’t. He couldn’t rush back to her, not yet. He needed to scare her. He needed her to think the worst…he needed to disappear.

  Starting his car, Chance made his way to a rundown motel that wouldn’t ask a lot of questions about his appearance. He didn’t need them calling the cops either. Luckily, the seedy motels Chance often visited only cared about one thing—cash. They turned a blind eye to just about everything else. In fact, the manager only cocked an eyebrow at Chance’s cuts and bruises. By the look of disdain in the man’s features, it was obvious that he was more concerned about Chance getting the sheets bloody than about what Chance had gone through.

  Keeping his face blank, Chance paid for four nights and took his key. Four nights away from Makayla should give her long enough to almost be in a frenzy over his safety. It would also give his face and body long enough to bruise and yellow wonderfully. He would be a gross assortment of healing when he saw her again. As he opened the door to his new home, a part of Chance died a little at the thought of being away from her for so long. Four days. It sounded like an eternity after being able to see her so often. But Monday night, he’d come crawling back to her…he was already looking forward to the reunion. And the healing that would take place between now and then.

  Setting his emergency bag on the bed—extra clothes, money, basic toiletries, and the first aid kit that was always hidden in his car for fast getaways—he made his way to the bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, he took a long look in the mirror at the damage that had been done. His voice, asking them to stop, echoed in his ears as he examined the tender bruises along his ribs, his back. His cries of pain reverberated in his head as he examined his dual black eyes, the cut along his cheek, the dried blood under his nose. Damn those two.

  Turning on the water for the shower, Chance briefly closed his eyes and begged Makayla for forgiveness for what he was about to put her through. She wouldn’t understand, but he was doing this for her. Reggie and Garrett couldn’t be left to their own devices. It was imperative that Chance remained in control of this con now…her safety depended on it.

  Chapter 13

  What the Hell?

  Makayla was shocked when she came home and Chance wasn’t there, waiting for her. And even though they hadn’t talked about it, she had been surprised when he hadn’t shown up for lunch. She just expected him to b
e there now, smiling softly as he waited in the lobby. His not being there had somehow seemed ominous. Makayla had had a knot in her belly all day. Maybe it was because she knew he was going to return the watch to his brother soon. Maybe it was because his phone had gone straight to voicemail every time she’d called it.

  Makayla had even skipped out on a much needed personal training session to rush home and check on him. She didn’t want to assume the worst just because he wasn’t home, but fear drove her thoughts that way. His brother scared him; his face had made that clear. And anyone that could scare Chance was someone to be reckoned with.

  Setting down her purse, Makayla considered her options. There weren’t many. For one, she wasn’t sure that he wasn’t just at the store, picking them up a meal. Or he could have run home real quick, to get his mail or something. She bit her lip, hoping he hadn’t. He needed to stay away from anywhere that his brother might be lying in wait for him. If he was going to meet him, it needed to be on equal footing…and preferably in a public place.