Resistance

by K E Osborn

  “Look, I know you want to scare me into talking, but I’m not gonna budge. Enzo scares me far more than you do. And if you were fucking smart, you’d know hurting me is a bad move on your part, too. ‘Cause Enzo will only come after you.”

  I look to Sensei, and he nods moving over to the cabinet in the darkened corner of the room. Alfonso’s eyes follow him, his body tensing as the room shifts to silence, and Trax smiles wide knowing what’s coming.

  “So, what? You think you’re going to just tickle me now, and you’ll get what you want?” Alfonso asks turning to me and taking his eyes off Sensei.

  I smile and nod. “Something like that.”

  Alfonso grits his teeth, his hands balling into fists as he jolts about in the chair trying to wrestle free from his restraints.

  He won’t break free. Those restraints are too tight. Alfonso groans in frustration.

  Sensei walks over carrying a Tanto dagger. He brings it up to his eyes and looks down the sharp line of the razor-sharp blade. His thin eyes, squinting even smaller as he appreciates the steel. A small smile adorns his lips. “This blade was given to me by my father. I look at it as a step back to my heritage.”

  Alfonso looks at Sensei and raises a brow. “That’s great and all… but honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

  Sensei smiles and steps up to Alfonso. “You should. My heritage is going to play a part in what happens next,” Sensei warns and brings the tip of the blade to his finger. He pricks it, and a single drop of blood forms on the end.

  I shake my head. He’s a twisted fucker.

  “You see, this blade is sharp. So sharp it can cut through tiny bones.”

  Alfonso looks up, his eyes opening wider at that comment. He looks at me, and I shrug like I have no idea what Sensei’s planning, but I already know where this is heading.

  “All you have to do is tell us what Enzo planned to do with Neala. It is such a simple question and so easy to answer.”

  Alfonso swallows hard like his façade is cracking, but he shakes his head and breathes in deeply. “With who?” he answers.

  Sensei chuckles. “Hmm…. I have done a lot of research on my heritage. You see my parents are Japanese, and my mom moved from Japan to Chicago before I was born. But she always liked to keep the Japanese tradition instilled inside of me. I wanted to know more about my country. About its traditions. About the people. Good and bad—”

  “Your sob story is boring me sushi train… fucking get on with it,” Alfonso quips, and I shake my head.

  He’s going to regret that little statement.

  Sensei smirks and nods respectfully. “As you wish. And I was saying, I took notes on the people… good and the very bad. Like the Yakuza…” Alfonso’s eyes light up, and he looks at Sensei intensely. “Hmm… yes. I followed their traditions and their techniques. Learning all I could from an early age.” Sensei sighs dramatically and bends down looking Alfonso in the eyes with a cold hard stare. “If you will not talk, I think I might have to punish you with the Yubitsume as a form of penance… you understand.” Sensei smirks.

  As Sensei stands back up cracking his neck from side to side, Alfonso’s eyes almost burst out of his sockets. “What the hell is that? I don’t understand your Japanese gibberish,” Alfonso rushes out in a state of panic.

  Thank fuck! Finally, he’s taking this seriously.

  Sensei curls his fingers around the handle of the dagger, his grip firm as he stands to the side of Alfonso. I steady my posture, folding my arms over my chest letting Alfonso know we’re not here to fuck around.

  It’s time to get serious.

  Sensei moves to Alfonso’s left side taking a stance beside him as Alfonso stares at him breathing harshly in and out of his nose waiting in apprehension of what Sensei’s going to do. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Without hesitation, Sensei brings the dagger down on Alfonso’s pinky finger, slicing it clean off. It’s so precise, so clean, so meticulous, it feels like a surgical removal. Blood spurts out of the knuckle closest to his hand as Alfonso screams loudly, and I jolt from the harshness of it. Spittle flies out of his mouth as his chin drops to his chest in the agony of the moment.

  “You sick fucking bastards. Li mortacci tua!” He insults us in his native Italian dialect, but I have no idea what he’s said.

  Sensei grabs a man-sized handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping his blade clean, and I smile at his clean-freak ways.

  Trax steps in front of Alfonso dipping his fingers under his chin and lifts his head so Alfonso will look at him. “So… is your memory coming back now? Or are you still having douche-grade amnesia?”

  Alfonso breathes harshly in and out of his nose while I stand back, arms still folded over my chest watching the blood seep from his knuckle, and wonder if he’s going to break or not. He shakes his head while gritting his teeth and clears his throat. “Didn’t need that finger anyway.”

  I burst out laughing. “Geez man, you’re fuckin’ hilarious.”

  Trax shakes his head while Sensei smiles as he turns and walks over to his cabinet in the dark corner. I hear the unmistakable high-pitched ‘zing’ sound of the samurai sword being withdrawn from its scabbard. The sound makes Alfonso’s ears prick up as he watches intently for Sensei’s form to reappear in the light, and when he does, he’s carrying his Katana blade.

  Alfonso sighs and shakes his head. “No. You can’t. If you decapitate me, Enzo will hunt you all down.”

  Sensei steps up to him placing the top of the blade on his shoulder and takes a deep breath. “Who said anything about cutting off your head? Your head holds your mouth. Your mouth does the talking. Now… tell us what we want to know, or…” Sensei tilts his head letting the unknown hang in the air.

  Alfonso looks around to Trax and me dramatically like he’s searching for our help. Like he’s actually scared of Sensei.

  I shrug. “Don’t look at me. You know the way out of this, Alfie. Tell us what we wanna know, and you walk… it’s as simple as that.”

  He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Simple as that, huh? Simple. As. That! I tell you what you want to know and you don’t cut off my head, but then Enzo kills me anyway. Or I don’t tell you, and I die now. Fuck me into the middle of next week… I lose either way.”

  I take a step forward dropping my arms. “There is another way. You tell us what we wanna know, and we’ll help you find a way to disappear.”

  His eyes light up, his brow raises, and I can see the cogs turning in his mind. He’s mulling this thought over, truly weighing up his options. “You swear you’ll get me away from Enzo. Keep me in permanent hiding?”

  I nod. “I swear.”

  He sinks into the silver chair and clenches his eyes shut before opening them again and shakes his head. “I was sent in to distract you while the others were tasked to take Neala. We knew once we showed up, you’d send word to get her out of there. So, we had men cover the back exit, and sure enough, right as we knew you would, you sent Neala directly into our hands.”

  My nostrils flare, and I notice Trax clenching his hands into fists as I take a step closer. “Why were you taking her?”

  He takes a deep breath and looks at the floor. “Enzo wanted her for a tradeoff.”

  My body tenses and I grit my teeth. “A trade for what exactly?”

  “You’d get her back if you agreed to stop distributing roids. He wants the whole market. He wants to be the chief supplier in Chicago. He doesn’t want scum bikers coming in and underhanding him every chance you get. He wants you guys out of the gyms. His end game is to buy up all your gyms and take them over.”

  I look to Trax, and he shakes his head. “He tried to take our sister, stabbed our prospect, and invaded our club because he wants to overthrow our gyms?” Trax replies.

  Alfonso nods. “Yeah, he wants to own Chicago. He wants it to be solely Italian owned and operated. Not run by bikers. You own half the gyms. You own the main club in town. You own the gun shops and ranges. He’
s concerned you’re getting too big, taking over, and he wants it all.”

  Shaking my head, I snort. “So his ego’s a little dented?”

  Alfonso raises his brow. “Torque, he’s not joking. He wants it. And he’s willing to do anything to get his way.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my forehead crinkles. “What does that mean, Alfonso?”

  He sinks into the silver chair a little more and cracks his neck to the side obviously uncomfortable with the line of questioning, and with what he’s about to say. “Look, don’t shoot the damn messenger.”

  “Spit it out, Alfie,” I almost yell.

  He groans, gritting his teeth, his eyes avert from Trax and me. “The idea was to treat Neala like any of the other women coming through Andretti doors. If she isn’t one of our women, then she’s…” he pauses with a concerned look and then continues, “… worth nothing to us, and we treat her as such.”

  My body tenses as anger flashes over me. Trax grunts and begins pacing the floor, his anger seething off him in waves, his muscles taut and tense, and I know I’m going to have to watch him in the next few minutes. An explosion of massive proportions is imminent.

  My voice lowers and is full of disdain as I grunt at him, “Go on.”

  His breaths come in short and sharp as he continues to avoid our gaze. “She was going to be under my supervision. She would be… tended to until you arrived.”

  My stomach churns, and Trax lunges forward, forcing me to have to grab him and hold him back as he pants for staggered breaths. I grit my teeth while holding onto Trax and stare cold hard daggers at Alfonso while keeping everything I have in me and trying not to cut loose on the fucking asshole myself.

  “Let me be very clear with you right now, Alfonso. Were you gonna…” I pause as bile creeps up into my throat, “… rape my sister?”

  He slowly looks up, his eyes finally meeting mine. His eyes are glassy. They look distant and broken. A man defeated, but I don’t care. He swallows hard licking his bottom lip and simply answers, “Y-yes,” but his voice cracks.

  I turn away, letting go of Trax, and he lunges forward without hesitation and lands a punch straight into Alfie’s already broken nose. Alfonso’s head flies back and smacks into the metal of the silver chair making him grunt out in pain. Trax lands a second punch to his face for good measure.

  Trying hard to gather my thoughts, I pace the room. My heart’s racing a million miles a second, and as I think to Neala, sweet innocent Neala who’s sleeping soundly upstairs, the thought that if they had gotten away with her, right now this fucker could be doing unspeakable shit to her. It’s fucking with my head. I’m a man of my word, but right now I can’t be that man. I have to be a brother, a president, and I must have vengeance on the man in front of me who wouldn’t have had a second thought in violating Neala.

  He has to pay.

  Severely.

  I turn to Sensei and give a simple nod. He grins at me and steps up to Alfonso. Trax steps to the side, shaking out his hand from a volley of punches and tries to walk off his anger. I reach out placing my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He looks to me and curls up his lip, shaking his head. I give him a curt nod, letting him know I’m not letting this asshole get away with the thought of touching our sister.

  I turn to Alfonso and take a centering breath. “Alfonso, I know I said I would give you safe passage. I swore it. I am a man of my word—”

  “What the fuck, Torque?” Trax interrupts me, and I hold up my hand to stop Trax’s tirade. He stops with a huff as I turn to look at him with a sly smile. He visibly relaxes as I turn back to Alfonso who’s trying to look at me with a very swollen face.

  “But, with this new information, I’m afraid there’s only one course of action I can grant here.” I give a curt nod to Sensei, and he steps in front of Alfonso, whose eyes light up in pure terror as Sensei brings the Katana blade up to his eye level while taking his stance.

  “No, you can’t chop off my head, bastardo. I gave you the information you requested,” he yells at the same time Sensei swipes the blade downward. It slices straight through both his wrists and his hands drop from the sides of the chair in one fell swoop. Alfonso’s screams echo through the room as snot runs from his nose, saliva runs from his mouth, and he begins to fade in and out of consciousness from blood loss.

  Sensei takes a step back and again takes his handkerchief and begins to wipe off his Katana making sure not to leave any grossness on his precious steel. I step up in front of Alfonso, not caring my boots are being covered in his blood. I bend down to his eye level and turn up my lip as his unfocused eyes slowly stare at me. “Now your filthy hands can never touch a woman again.”

  His bottom lip trembles as he coughs and splutters trying to stay awake through his immense agony.

  “Sensei… get his stubs wrapped. Then deliver him to Enzo with a message… ‘You come after what’s mine, I come back even harder.’”

  Alfonso’s head snaps up, and he shakes it with what little strength he has left. “No. No. You can’t. Don’t take me back to him… please. Torque, you promised you’d protect—”

  I turn with Trax by my side, and we head for the stairs. “That was before I learned the repugnant news that you were gonna rape our sister. Deal’s off… Enzo can have you.”

  HEELEY

  I spent most of my Sunday reminiscing about last night. My crazy whirlwind time at the club with Torque.

  I wonder if he’s okay. I wonder how things went with those Andretti dudes. All I know is he shut down on me, told me to leave, and I have no idea if I’ll even see him again.

  My gut is telling me no.

  We said goodbye, and it sure felt final.

  I hate that it did. I’ve been playing that time over and over in my mind again today while I should have been studying. But no, Rylan ‘Torque’ O’Shea is on my damn mind once again. He seems to be everywhere I look.

  At work—he’s everywhere. The memory of him being here plays over and over again. No matter what I do, and I can’t seem to focus on anything right now. My mind can’t concentrate on what it needs to, and that’s work where I am right now.

  “Heeley? Heels. Damn, girl, will you wake up,” Ari berates throwing a cup of ice at me, the cubes smacking me in the chest as I shake my head, and they tumble to the floor clanking and smashing apart while she chuckles at her own joke.

  I huff and turn, grabbing the handheld dustpan and broom and get to work cleaning the mess up as Xav and Ari both look at me raising their brows.

  “What the hell had you so deep in thought you didn’t hear us talking about Chris Pratt’s junk? I mean…” he pauses for dramatics, “… you saw that pic in the tabloids, right? I know you couldn’t actually see his cock, and it was only the outline through his pants, but damn that man’s packing, and I don’t mean boxes,” Xav blurts out.

  “Yes, yes, I saw the pic.” I smile. “You both tagged me enough times for me to notice. And yes, it’s great. Sorry, my mind’s elsewhere.”

  “Mm-hmm, on a certain biker who’s also packing?” Ari replies.

  While putting the dustpan away, I roll my eyes and then lean against the counter hoping some customers will come in and save me from his line of questioning.

  “Look, we shared a kiss—”

  “A hot, steamy, sensual, sexual… oh my fucking God, toe-curling kiss,” Ari interrupts.

  “Okay, fine. Yeah, one of those. But… it’s over now. He has much bigger things to think about than me.”

  Xav slumps his shoulders and shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. I saw the way he looked at you. The way he tried to take possession of you, Heels. He’s not done with you. Even if he thinks he is, he’ll be back. Mark my words.”

  “Well, what if I’m done with him?”

  They both burst out laughing. Bending over in a fit of hysterics, I tip out my hip in annoyance as they continue to carry on at my expense.

  “O
h, good one, Heels… the way your mind wanders off thinking about him all the time, I’m one hundred percent sure you’re nowhere near done with him yet, either,” Ari laughs.

  With a quick shake of my head, I head out the back to try and busy myself with something, anything, to get away from these two annoyingly right people. I move over to the fridge and figure I’ll restock it, try to rearrange it around, so the items with the closest use by dates are near the front. Beginning with the cans of whipped cream, I grab the cans one at a time and start moving them, sorting them by date, trying to numb my brain with the mundane task. I vaguely hear the bell of the shop door ting, so I know customers are coming in, but I also know Ari and Xav are out there, and if they need me, they’ll call.

  “Ahh… Heeley. There’s someone here to see you,” Ari calls out.

  Looking up at the clock on the wall, it’s almost nine at night, which is closing time for a Sunday. Who the hell would be coming in to see me now? I have a can of whipped cream in my hand and don’t bother to put it down before I turn and walk out the front. My mind is running through the possibilities—maybe it’s Mom or Dad coming to check up on the place.

  I round the corner and stop dead. Torque’s standing at the divider waiting for me with a weak smile. Letting out a small puff of air which moves my hair, I swallow hard and take a step forward, the dividing bench in the way as I place the can of cream on the counter between us.

  He looks down at it and smirks his fucking gorgeous smile as he glances back at me. “What is it with you and whipped cream?”

  An image of me in an all too compromising position with Torque, and some whipped cream flashes into my mind. I clear my throat as I slide the can away from us. He chuckles.

  I look up at him and take a deep breath. “I thought we’d said our goodbyes. That I had to leave and never come back.”

  He looks down and sighs. “Yeah, I did say that. But someone told me I basically need to suck it up…” He stops, his eyes flash with something—maybe regret—and then he continues, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Heeley. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Please, let me make it up to you?”