His to Protect: Midnight Riders MC

by April Lust

  “No, no,” he replied. He shook his head back and forth like a wet dog. “The boss of my unit. A capo, he is called. His name is Giovanni.” Another lick of the lips.

  “Giovanni,” I mused, rolling the name between my lips. This was the man I needed to impress.

  “Bruno, give us a second, would you?” Fists asked.

  Bruno spun immediately and walked out of the alley. I heard the spark and catch of a cigarette as he leaned up against the wall facing the street.

  Fists turned to me once Bruno was gone. “You ready?” he said, eyeing me up and down.

  I didn’t blink or fidget. “Yes.”

  “I hope you wrote up a will,” Luca shot in. “Make sure all your loved ones are gonna get your precious stuff.”

  “Fuck off, Luca. You’re not helping,” Fists barked.

  He raised his hands in self-defense. “I’m just sayin’, this is dangerous shit. You’re goin’ behind enemy lines. Who knows what could happen? I wish the best for you, of course.” He went on, “but I’m a realist.” He placed a hand on his chest like a professor lecturing. “A man must face reality, no?”

  “Luca, shut the fuck up,” I said evenly. He shrugged and went back to piecing his gun together again. He thought he was a funny motherfucker sometimes.

  I’d never been a big fan of gallows humor. But I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. There was a damn good chance I wasn’t coming back from this. One slip-up, one mistake, and I’d have my head staked on a pole in Cosimo Esposito’s front yard. The underworld I operated in didn’t take kindly to traitors.

  I’d be damned if that happened, though. This business would end in one way and one way only—with everything the Espositos had ever touched being burnt to the ground.

  “Time to go,” Bruno called from the front of the alley.

  “One sec,” Fists said. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eye. “Good luck, brother,” he told me.

  I could feel him putting all the certainty and strength he could into his voice. I didn’t need to be convinced. I knew what was happening. I knew what we wanted. And I knew what the outcome would be.

  I was going to get revenge, or die trying. There was no such thing as an in-between.

  Fists nodded once more, then he and Luca turned and left the alley at the other end. I took a deep breath. One last moment of silence before plunging into the breach. I was leaving everything behind. The life I’d spent so many years putting together from nothing, it was just ash in the wind now. From this point forward, I was whoever I needed to be. The goal was all that mattered.

  I tightened my belt and walked out towards Bruno. Game time.

  “Let’s go,” I growled as I emerged from the alleyway.

  Bruno looked me up and down. “No weapons on you?” he asked.

  I shook my head. I knew better than to come strapped into the Esposito stronghold. All I had was my fists. That would have to be enough for the time being.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said, and he started to lead the way down the street.

  I followed him for a few dozen blocks, weaving between pedestrians and street vendors. The sun had set an hour before, and the last of the light was vanishing from the sky. Neon signs flicked on, advertising bars and restaurants, while the people of the city flooded its streets in search of whatever it was they were looking for.

  Slowly, we left the heart of the downtown area and moved farther into a slummier part of town. Out here, there weren’t quite as many signs, not quite as many people. The burble of happy crowds gave way to groaning homeless types and the rusty cranking of beat-up cars as they trundled by. I’d never spent much time out this way. It wasn’t exactly an area that was known for being friendly to Punishers like me. Even the bums in this district were liable to be working for the Espositos as lookouts. I kept my head down and followed Bruno.

  He came to a halt in front of a boarded-up restaurant. The dust and graffiti on the wooden slats covering the windows suggested it had been closed for a long time. There was no front door. Cobwebbed shadows beckoned from within.

  “Here?” I asked. Bruno shot inside without answering. I sighed and moved in behind him.

  The interior was brutally dark and had a nasty, musty smell that attacked my nostrils as we walked deeper into the building. We moved towards the back and I began to hear raised voices.

  “Fuck,” I cursed as I stumbled over some broken furniture in the darkness.

  “Shh,” Bruno hissed back from up ahead.

  I couldn’t see him at all. I just followed the sound of his footsteps, moving as quickly as I could behind him. I heard the creak of a door opening and a dim light speared out into the building. I could see a stairway sloping down from the entrance. Bruno held it open and gestured for me to go down first.

  I didn’t like this situation. Basements meant no alternative exits. There was always the chance this plan had been doomed from the start, that we were being set up. I half expected to walk down and find one man with a gun, ready to torture me until I gave up my brothers and then end my life once I had nothing more to offer.

  What I saw was almost worse.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs and discovered the source of the raised voices. Twenty or thirty shirtless men stood in a circle around an open area. They were all sweating, howling, slapping their hands against their thighs or stomping their bare feet on the concrete floor as the sounds of meaty thumps echoed upwards from the center of the circle. A few men shifted, offering me a glimpse of what lay within.

  Two fighters were squared up across from each other in the open space at the heart of the cluster. They were shirtless and slicked in sweat. One man was massive, nearly seven feet tall, with legs like tree trunks and biceps riddled with anaconda-like veins bulging beneath the skin. Across from him was a much smaller man, not even six feet tall, who lacked the muscle tone and ferocious expression of his opponent. He looked downright terrified.

  Suddenly, the big man let loose a ravenous wail, smacked his fists against his chest, and charged forward. The little guy tried to move out of the way, but he had hardly budged an inch when the first punch collided with his jaw. I heard the sound of teeth breaking and saw the enamel fragments skitter against the concrete. Two more punches landed in quick succession, each uglier and more powerful than the last. The small man never had a chance.

  He was still moaning and conscious when the titan he was fighting picked him up overhead as easily as he would a child. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the limp, nearly lifeless man reached the top of his arc. Then the bigger man swung him downwards at full speed. He hit the floor with a sickening crunch. He didn’t move anymore after that.

  The crowd erupted in cheers and satisfied grunting. I watched as two stone-faced boys entered the circle, picked up the broken body of the defeated fighter, and dragged him off to the side. To my surprise, they just left him there to bleed and whimper. No one attended to him. If he were going to survive, he needed to get to a hospital immediately. But no one seemed to give a damn.

  So this was a fight club. Money changed hands around the edge of the ring, settling bets on the former round. The air was heavy with expectation and pent-up aggression as they waited for the next fight. The monstrous man who’d dominated the first round still stood in the empty space at the center of the gathered people, not even breathing heavily. The win hadn’t cost him much in the way of effort. I wondered what poor bastard was going to have to fight him next.

  I noticed Bruno’s eyes on me. I looked over and saw him gulp nervously, but the anxious expression quickly shifted into something more sinister. “What?” I said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  “You are next,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” I demanded.

  “This is your test. You need to prove you are who you say you are. So you fight him.” He extended a bony finger towards the circle where the seven-foot animal stood waiting.

  This
motherfucker. It wasn’t quite a set-up, but it was damn close to it. He’d made vague comments about having to verify myself to the family, but I never imagined anything like this. Just as I want to argue, I feel the attention of the crowd shift in my direction.

  “You’re next?” bellowed the man in the middle, extending a thick, grubby finger in my direction.

  I couldn’t say no. Refusing to fight would be as bad as blowing my cover. Slowly, I walked forward to stand in front of him. The crowd parted to let me through.

  Inside the circle, the stench of sweat and blood was overpowering. It was hot as hell with all the bodies packed so closely together. Across the ring, the giant cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck. I looked around, waiting for instructions.

  “No shoes, no shirts,” said a reedy man next to me. His body looked like it was carved out of driftwood, all sinew and bone with hardly an ounce of fat. “No holds barred. Fight until you can’t fight any longer.”

  I complied, stripping off my shirt and tossing my shoes to the side. My breath was low and even as I tried to steady myself and get ready for what was coming. But I still had one more question.

  “How do I know when it’s over?” I asked the skinny man.

  He grinned, revealing a bloody gap where his front teeth should have been. “When one of you is dead.”

  Chapter 12

  Natalia

  It had all happened so fast. I’d run back to my room, tears stinging my eyes and a paralyzing sense of dread coursing through my veins. Marco was dead and I was at the mercy of the psychotic bitch who’d decided to haunt my life. Alessandra hated me and so I would suffer. That was how the world worked. My world, at least.

  I had to get out. That was the one thought ripping through my head over and over again. I grabbed a bag, started throwing things in it. It was desperate and stupid. There was no way I’d be able to leave. But I had to try.

  I didn’t own many things, and it took only a couple minutes to gather it all. I looped the bag over my shoulder and burst out of the room. If I could move fast enough, maybe I’d find a window to sneak out of. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I made it outside. Hail a cab, maybe, and beg for him to take me as far away as possible. But I had no money to offer, nowhere to go. I had to hope for the best.

  The hallway was quiet as I snuck down. I kept my ears at attention, ready to scramble in the opposite direction as soon as I heard any hint of another person. Nothing moved. I stole into the living room. It was sparkling clean from my efforts the night before. I laughed miserably to myself. In comparison to now, my life yesterday had been so simple. It had almost been nice. Marco had cared enough to shield me from the worst of Alessandra’s hatred. But I saw now that was the cause of all this. She hated me because he cared. There was something wrong with her, something fundamentally broken and skewed. All it took was Marco’s affection towards me to trigger the slave master inside of her.

  Suddenly, I heard voices behind me. I panicked, froze. The pulse in my eardrums ratcheted up until it was all I could hear. Thud, thud. I had to run. Where? Which way? I whirled around and dashed down a side hallway. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was following.

  And ran headlong into the outstretched forearm of a bodyguard. I collapsed onto the carpeted floor, dizzy and in pain. Looking upwards, I saw Alessandra’s face jut into my vision. Her expression was twisted with cruelty and cold anger.

  “Did you think you were going to run away after what you did?” she hissed. “Did you think I would let you go?” She slapped me, but I barely felt it. My face was numb from the guard’s forearm. “No,” she counseled, wagging a ringed finger at me, “you aren’t running anywhere.” She straightened up and looked to the man who’d knocked me to the ground. “Take her,” she ordered. Then she disappeared.

  The man loomed over me, big and stoic. His face didn’t betray a single emotion as he lowered a rag towards my face. I tried to scream and fight him off, but I didn’t stand a chance. He pinned my arms to the side and pressed the fabric over my nose and mouth. I choked on the chemical fumes. It took only seconds before everything went black.

  # # #

  I came to in a dank concrete cell. An excruciating headache split my skull in two, courtesy of the chloroform the bodyguard had used to knock me out. I struggled up onto my elbows as best I could and looked around through squinted eyes.

  The room was only a few yards square. A gated doorway made of iron bars was set into one wall. Everything else was solid rock. In one corner, a plastic bucket emanated a vile smell of urine and shit. Otherwise, the room was empty.

  It took everything I had to focus against the blinding pain in my head. I tried to reach a hand to rub my crusted eyes, when I realized with a start that they were bound together in front of me with a length of rough rope. My wrists were chafed and bleeding beneath the knots. Every muscle ached.

  I had no memory of how I’d gotten here or even where I was. The last thing I could remember was the rag swooping down towards my face. I blinked hard to make the memory go away.

  Managing to roll over onto my hands and knees, I crawled towards the door. I reached it and looked out beyond it.

  A single fluorescent beam flickered intermittently overhead every few seconds, casting an ugly pallor over the hallway. I saw puddles collecting in the uneven surface of the concrete floor. Lining the corridor were more doors like mine. The one directly across from me was empty, but as I listened closely, I thought I could hear a whimpering sound coming from the cell on the other side of the hall and one over.

  “Psst!” I whispered, trying to draw the attention of whoever was inside. It sounded female. “Psst!”

  I heard a shuffling noise, and then a girl came into sight. I recoiled at the sight of her. Her face was a mess of purpled bruises and dried blood formed a river from her busted lip down her chin and neck. Her eyes were swimming with terror. She swept her eyes down the hallway, looking for the source of the noise.

  “Over here!” I said, waving my fingers through the bars of the door. She saw me and her eyes widened. “Where are we?” I asked. “What’s happening?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could talk, there was a metallic clang from somewhere I couldn’t see off to the right. The clump of heavy footsteps walking downstairs grew louder. The girl’s eyes bulged and she shot backwards, disappearing from my view.

  “Wait!” I cried desperately. “Don’t go! Tell me what’s going on!” But she didn’t come back.

  I sighed bitterly and rocked back onto my heels. The footsteps drew closer, and all of the sudden a man stepped in front of my door. He was dressed nicely, in a dark suit and a white shirt ironed free of any wrinkles. The shine on his wingtip shoes reflected my face perfectly.

  “Are you talking?” he snarled down at me.

  I stared up into his face. He had bristly five o’clock shadow and dark, beady eyes. His mouth was a thin, pale line drawn tight beneath a piggish nose. He looked far from friendly.

  I shook my head feverishly left to right.

  He sucked in a breath. Despite the tranquility in his words, his eyes spoke of horrors to come if I didn’t obey. “You better not say another word,” he said. His voice drooled with menace. “Or I’ll come in there and teach you how to shut the fuck up. Understand?”

  I didn’t move.

  “Nod your head if you understand.”

  I nodded until it felt like my head was going to fall off my neck. My heart was racing and the headache continued to pound unabated at the soft parts of my brain. I was in pain and afraid and alone.

  Satisfied, the man turned away from me and gestured towards someone else down the hall. “Bring her in,” he called to whoever stood there.

  I heard the thumping of more heavy feet, accompanied this time by a slushing noise like something like being dragged along the rocky floor. As I watched, another man dressed similarly walked backwards down the hallway. In his arms, he held an unconscious girl. Her brunette
hair hung over her face in sweaty clumps and a quiet groan dripped from between her lips. Just like the other girl who’d refused to talk to me, she, too, was busted up badly.

  I retreated to the far corner of my cell and rested my head against my arms. I didn’t want to cry; tears wouldn’t help anything. But I couldn’t stop them from pouring unheeded down my face. It was all I could just to muffle the sobbing so the guards didn’t come back again. I didn’t want to end up like those poor girls I’d seen, beaten to a pulp and shot through with fear.

  But I didn’t know if I would be able to escape it.

  Chapter 13

  Nicholas

  Flesh slapping. The stomping of the men’s feet on the ground. A low, chanting howl, circling round and round and then rising upwards like a bird of prey. The heat seemed to grow hotter in response, pressing down on me with a dense weight. I kept my breathing slow. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Clear the head. Focus.