by Eva Jones
He laughs like I just cracked the funniest joke in the world. ‘Half the fuckers here are coppers, Dom, don’t be an idiot.’
‘I’m not fighting again until I see her.’
‘Oh for fucks sake you have it bad eh? She got your balls real tight huh?’ I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. I just glare at him.
‘Come on then, I suppose we can manage a conjugal visit. If you don’t mind an audience while you fuck her?’ He chuckles—he actually thinks he’s funny.
‘Go fuck yourself.’ I tell him as he stands from his seat.
‘Oh here I was thinking you wanted to see your little whore? Maybe I should go fuck her instead?’
‘You touch her and I’ll fucking kill you.’ I growl and his bodyguards put their hands on me, blocking my view of him. He swats them away and walks through the gap.
‘Come on, Dom, I’m feeling generous but don’t push your luck.’ I should strangle the fucker right here for what he did to my nan, but I need to know where he’s keeping Chloe, I can’t do jack shit until I know where she is. He leads me to a door through the back and we walk down what looks like an old maintenance corridor. All the pipes and shit run right down it. We walk to the bottom and come to another door. As we get through there I see a guard on the other side, he has a cache of weapons and CCTV monitors. I do a quick once over and try to memorise every camera position from the screens.
We pass through three more doors and up a flight of stairs before we stop at a locked door. Mr. Smith knocks three times and the locks sound on the other side. I listen as the metal grinds against metal as each bolt slides home. As the door opens, Mr. Smith turns to me and gets all up in my face. I can smell the liquor on his breath.
‘You make a move, they’ll shoot to kill. I’ll dump her so no-one fucking finds her body, we clear?’
Gritting my teeth together and holding my tongue, I nod my head. As I walk in behind him, the first thing I notice is the bruise across her cheek. I inhale and hold my temper. Her eyes widen at seeing me and then tears stream down her face. My chest hurts from being so fucking helpless. I move to walk forward and the fucker guarding her steps in my way. I stand toe to toe with him.
‘Call your fucking dog off.’ I growl to Mr. Smith, not taking my eyes off the fucker in front of me.
‘Grant, back up.’ The man blocking my path sneers as he backs the fuck up, but I pay him no mind. Chloe has my full attention as everything else pales into insignificance as I cup her face in my bruised hands.
‘I’m so fucking sorry, Chlo.’
‘This isn’t your fault, Dom, none of it. Just go and don’t look back, get out while you can. Look after Nan.’
I frown as she spouts that shit. Like she believes I’ll actually leave her here. That pisses me off for a second. But then I realise she’s just cut up about it, she’s talking shit trying to save us. I smile as she pleads with me.
‘Chloe, I got this okay?’ Her eyes widen as she realises I’m not going to run.
‘Dom, you don’t have to—’
‘Stop, I’m not leaving you here, you’re going home with me.’ A cold, calculated laugh, sounds behind me and I know who it is. I close my eyes and tense my jaw so tight my teeth grind together.
‘Dom... Dom… Dom, the girl is staying with me. I’ve been generous, you’ve seen her, now get the fuck out.’
I don’t move. The guy giving me the evil eye when I entered, steps to my right side. He looks huge from my low kneeling position, but he’s going down.
‘Dom please… please, I’m begging you… just go.’ Chloe cries in front of me. I move closer to her and kiss her on the cheek, whispering in her ear.
‘I have to go now, but I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back I swear, I got this Chlo.’ I watch as she nods frantically trying to stop the tears. I kiss her gently on the lips, and then stand.
‘Enough of the fucking waterworks woman, you’re in good hands.’ Mr. Smith leers like a fucking predator. Instinct takes over and I swing for him. But I’m closed down by two men either side of me. I take multiple hits to the ribs and face. I curl up as I hit the floor and protect my head. Chloe screams out as they land blow after blow. That’s the last thing I hear before I’m out cold.
***
Chloe
‘Dommmm!’ My wrists burn as I pull against the ropes, trying to free them so I can get to him. I can’t tell if he’s breathing. ‘Stop. Please! Leave him alone.’ The fucker chuckles as my chair topples over and my head bashes into the wall.
‘Stupid girl. You idiots should have known not to mess with me. And to swing on me…’ A guttural laugh comes out of his nasty ass mouth and fuels me more to try to get to Dom. ‘…Big mistake.’
I wiggle my legs trying to get leverage to drag the chair across the floor, a foot lands on top of the chair and a heavy weight stops me from going any further.
‘Please... leave him be. Please, I’ll do whatever you want.’ Tears stream down the corner of my eyes, making it hard for me to tell if Dom is breathing. ‘Is he breathing? Did you kill him?’ I gasp in between words, struggling to get them out.
‘He’s fine.’ He states without even checking. ‘Grant, take this fool out back to the alley. I’m sure he can get himself home from there.’ My heart plummets with thoughts of him all alone back there, struggling to live.
‘Please, can you at least call an ambulance.’ I choke out as Grant grabs Dom by his legs and starts dragging him out the door. His head hits the door hinge and I can no longer hold back the sob that breaks free.
Mr. Smith turns and closes the door as the last bit of Dom clears it. ‘Okay, now that’s dealt with and Dom knows where we stand and what to do now, I’m going to need you to call your father. We need to know what his plans are for his daughter’s future.’ He pulls my chair from the ground and puts me back on four legs. ‘Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?’
‘Yes, I can call him.’ I quickly agree and make the choice of not starting more problems by throwing his condescending endearment back in his face. I’m smart enough to know that this is not the time, and after what they just did to Dom? I actually fear for my life now. ‘If you have a phone I can use, I’ll call him right away. Maybe if you guys come to an agreement, you will let me go?’
‘Yeah, uh huh. Let’s just see what daddio has to say before we go jumping to shit. Give me your phone.’ He demands and holds out his hand for the fucktard goon to give his phone over. ‘What’s the number?’ he directs towards me and I rattle off my father’s number to him. ‘I’m gonna put it on speaker, don’t try anything stupid. Remember what your boy toy looked like just now? Don’t make stupid choices, ya hear?’
‘Yes.’ Pushing send, he sits the phone facing up on the table closest to my rickety wooden chair, and it immediately starts to ring.
‘This is Mike, how can I help you.’
‘Daddy…? It’s Chloe.’ Tears well up in my eyes at the sound of his voice.
‘Chloe, where are you? Are you alright? Where are you calling from?’ He rapid fires the questions before I have an opportunity to even answer one.
‘Dad, I’m with Mr. Smith again. I can’t say much right now, but he’s wanting me to ask, what you plan on doing to save me, daddy?’ My chest starts trembling as more sobs break loose. ‘Dad, they hurt Dom, really bad. And I don’t know if he’s okay.’ I glance up at Mr. Smith and the glower he has on his face tells me that I need to stay on topic. ‘Dad?’
‘I’m here Chloe. Is he there with you?’
‘Um, Dom or Mr. Smith?’
‘Yes, Patrick… Mr. Smith. Whatever he’s choosing to go by now. If he’s there, put him on the phone, baby.’
‘I’m right here, Mike. But I figured you’d want to talk to your daughter and tell her how you’re gonna fix this mess you’ve got her in.’ He leans on the table, crossing his ankles, with a smug look on his face. He knows he’s holding all the cards. If my father doesn’t have a solution, I know for sure I’
m not going home today.
‘Patrick, just let her go. We can make some sort of an arrangement. You don’t need her.’ I can hear the pleading in my dad’s voice.
‘Dad, what are you going to do?’
‘I’ll take care of it honey, I promise.’ He clears his throat. ‘Pat, just let her go and you and I can work it out.’
‘Nope that’s not gonna work. I tried the whole work something out shit already, and so far all it’s done is land your daughter right back in my lap. I will do this though, I’ll give you a week to get me my money, or Imma start with her fingers. Maybe I’ll even send you a video so you can hear her screams.’ My heart plummets into my stomach at his words.
‘Alright, alright, Patrick, I’ll figure it out. Just give me the week.’
‘One week, Mike. One week!’
Dom
I DO MY best to clean myself up in the bathroom, but I keep having to stop to hurl again. I think I have a serious concussion.
On any other day, I’d have taken my ass to the hospital to be checked over. But there are so many reasons why I can’t do that. I need to figure out a way to save Chloe, be there for my nan and make plans with Andre. Not to mention the police asking questions if I turned up at the hospital like this.
My head is muzzy and I’m struggling to stay conscious. I don’t even know how I got here, or what fucking day it is. Clearly, I’m not in a good way. I turn the shower on and over the din of the water running I hear the trill of my phone ringing. I stop, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. I sway on my feet and stagger to my bedroom door. The noise stops momentarily but it starts up again just as quick. I look around swaying like a drunk and bend to lift my shorts from the floor. I don’t remember taking them off. I look down and realise I am in-fact only in my boxers. The shorts are covered in blood. Deciding this is definitely where the noise is coming from, I fumble around trying and failing to get my hand in the pocket to retrieve the phone. I try again and my head spins at around the same time my stomach flips and I lose what little I had left in my stomach leaving me dry heaving on my hands and knees.
I hurt everywhere. I’m not sure if it’s the thumping in my head, beating its own tune like the worst fucking hangover in history, or the pain in my ribs that hurts more. It could be a tie between the two. I dry heave again and groan as my head feels like it might implode. I crawl across the floor and the phone still ringing somewhere sounds further and further away as I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
***
I’m not sure if the noise I can hear is my blood pounding angrily around my head or it’s coming from somewhere else as I open my eyes. I blink realising only one eye is working. I feel strange like I’m not inside my own body. What the fuck is wrong with me? I push up from the floor, realising the banging is coming from downstairs and groan as pain shoots through my chest. The banging is coming from the front door to be more precise. I get up only for the room to spin, steadying myself against the wall, I try to get myself in motion.
As I get to the top of the stairs someone shouts through the letterbox. ‘Dominic it’s Andre.’ Every god damn step down the stairs pains me, and it takes at least five before I get a decent rhythm going and my feet get with the programme. I get to the door and find an angry guy, big about six feet and then some out on the front step. But as he takes me in, the anger seems to dissipate and concern etches his features.
‘What happened?’
‘I lost.’
‘I saw you fight last night you didn’t lose.’
‘Last night?’ What the fuck? ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s almost lunch time, I’ve been calling your phone all morning.’
‘Shit, wait…’ I close my one functioning eye as the pain ramps up a notch and my brain tries to fight through the foggy events of last night. I don’t like what I remember. My hands go out to grasp for the doorframe and Andre steps forward and holds me up.
‘You need to lay down.’ He holds me up and helps me to the living room. I fall onto the sofa and my head spins. Andre makes a phone call while I try to gather my thoughts and not throw up over Andre’s shoes. I try leaning forward on my knees but the room spins and my head thumps the back of the sofa. Ouch. ‘Fuuuck.’ I try and listen to Andre’s conversation but the thumping in my head takes precedence. And the rest is white noise.
I must pass out because when I’m hauled up and pulled to standing Andre slaps me around the face. ‘Come on you’re seeing the doc.’
‘No… no, they’ll call the police.’
‘Not that kinda doc, I know a guy.’
I’m put in a car and taken… well, I’m not sure where. I lean my head against the glass and the motion of the car hurts my head. Jesus fucking Christ I’m a mess.
***
When I wake I have a drip attached to my arm. I sit up and expect the dizziness to take hold but it doesn’t. Looking around I try to orientate myself. I’m in someone’s bedroom. Looks a lot like my nans, there’s frilly shit all over the place. Sitting up I find my feet and clamber up. The drip is attached to a stand which I roll along with me to the door. I open it and listen. I’m pretty sure I can hear someone down the stairs. I move slowly because I’m stiff, really stiff and not in a good way. It’s the hit by a fucking freight train kind of stiff, not the I had a good workout kind. Pain radiates upward toward my head with every fucking step I take. I get to the top of the stairs and realise I can’t go down with this stand. So I shout.
‘Hello?’
Andre comes into sight and walks up the stairs, passing me and going into the room I just came from. I follow sitting back on the bed while Andre takes a seat in a pink flowery chair.
‘Where are we?’
‘A friend’s house, she tended to you, checked you over and cleaned you up.’
‘Well thanks. I guess I’m still a mess.’ He nods not saying much else. ‘I need to get Chloe and my nan is still in the hospital, do you have a phone?’ He nods reaching into his pocket. I take it realising I don’t have Zoe’s number to memory.
‘How long have I been here?’ Please only say one night I look up the hospitals number and dial as he answers.
‘Two days.’
‘Fuck that long?’
‘You were in a bad way. You had a severe concussion and you have broken ribs and some other things I don’t remember the names for.’
‘I’m supposed to fight every night, they have Chloe they took her.’ I stop talking and hold my hand up as the phone is finally picked up at the other end. I explain when I’m put through to my Nan’s ward who I am and why I’m calling. The nurse goes off and gets Zoe.
‘Dom? where the fuck have you been?’
‘Zoe I’m so fucking sorry, Chloe was taken and I was beat up real bad. I’ve only just come around a few minutes ago.’
‘Oh my god, Dom what do you mean she was ‘taken’, what the hell is going on with you? You’re scaring me.’
‘Zoe, I swear everything will be okay, I’m so sorry about everything, is my nan okay?’
‘She’s good Dom she should be able to go home sooner than expected, she’s talking and eating really well.’ Relief floods me at Zoe’s words.
‘Thank you, Zoe, so fucking much I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Just get your ass here stat I need a damn shower I stink.’ She laughs.
‘Listen I’ll get there as soon as I can, but I’m attached to a drip at the minute—’
‘Are you serious? It was that bad? Oh god, Dom, I’ll be here however long I’m needed just get better real quick! And keep in touch!’
‘You’re the best.’ I sigh in relief knowing Nan is in good hands.
‘I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me, but please tell me Chloe is okay?’
‘She will be.’ I tell her as honestly as I can. And just the thought of anything happening to Chloe guts me. I hang up the phone and Andre clears his throat. I look his way and hold out his phone.
>
‘We need to discuss the business of Patrick Smith.’
‘Yes, yes we fucking do.’ This motherfucker has to die.
***
Chloe
‘Get up, girl.’ I’m jostled awake by someone kicking my leg. ‘We’re moving you today.’ He says as he pulls me up off the floor by the bindings behind my back. Patrick popped his head in yesterday and told them to let me off the chair but to keep the ropes tied around my wrists. I thought maybe something was about to happen but after hours of sitting against the wall, my eyes finally drifted closed.
Dom’s wellbeing is the last thought on my mind before sleep takes me and the first thing as I wake. I’ve been in this room for what I think is about a week. With no windows or a way to keep track of time, I just don’t know. I tried to do that whole draw lines on the wall thing like you see in prison movies but after the third attempt of trying to do it behind my back, tied to a chair, I gave up. Especially when my nail broke half way down from trying, I could feel the blood dripping down my finger. Luckily none of the assholes were in here to see the tears roll down my cheeks from the pain. They would have loved that.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask hoping he’ll give me an answer, already knowing that he probably won’t. Anxiety settles in when I realize that Dom isn’t going to know where I’m at anymore. ‘Are we leaving the building? Isn’t there still a day or two on the deadline Patrick gave my father? Where are you taking me? Dammit let go of me.’ I struggle against the grip he has on my shoulder, but it does me no good. His nails dig into my skin and I shrink down from the pain. ‘Please just tell me something.’ I plead with him, not getting anywhere. He pushes me out the door and immediately turns right, heading in the direction of the exit sign. God please don’t let them take me any further from Dom.
‘Get out the door.’ He nudges my back with his elbow and I barely catch myself from tripping over the door trim. My eyes immediately squeeze closed as the light from outside hits them. The sun is beating down, but once my eyes start to adjust, I focus and see a decked out black Bentley in front of me, right where the man is heading. The door pops open. As I try to cautiously peep inside, fucking goonface pushes me in and I land face down on the black cold leather.