Don’t You Dare: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance

by Claire St. Rose

  Gloria had no time to think about the rope or how Vinny had come to learn the tricks of the trade. As she stood to search for a pair of scissors, she suddenly could hear her worst fear approaching through the kitchen and near the foot of the stairs.

  Gloria ran back towards Jessica’s side as she softly instructed, “Someone’s coming,” Gloria stuffed the tie back into her mouth and pushed the woman’s quivering body closer to the bed. “Don’t say a word about me, and I promise you, I am going to get you out of here, but you have to play along. Just do want that man says. Everything is going to be all right.”

  Gloria ran out of the master bedroom and into the closet of the hallway. She made herself small as she sunk down to the bottom of the floor and watched from the slits as a man’s slow footsteps grew closer and closer. A pair of black leather boots, similar to the ones she had seen at Vinny’s place, appeared before her and then turned away towards the master bedroom.

  “No! No! No! Please!” Jessica’s voice rang out. The man had taken out the necktie from her mouth and was now struggling with her. Gloria could hear the woman banging up against the side of the large bed as it hit the wall of the bedroom over and over again. Another long scream let out as the thrashing continued to grow louder and closer.

  The two black boots appeared before her again followed by the strands of Jessica’s long blonde hair. He was grasping on to them by the grip of his hand. Vinny’s partner looked down at her, “Bitch, are you gonna make me carry you down by your hair, or you gonna come with me nicely?”

  Jessica continued to fight back, as Gloria could see her legs kicking him wildly as he crouched down next to where she lay just inches from the door of Gloria’s hiding spot. His hands scooped up more of her hair and yanked hard as he dragged her body down the first stairs. Loud, inhuman thumps and cries rang up until it suddenly stopped altogether. But Gloria didn’t dare move. She couldn’t bear to give away her position if she tried. Instead, she waited and listened, biding her time until she was sure the man was back down in the basement.

  When she certain it was clear, Gloria ran from her position and down through the stairs. Even in the dark, she was careful to step over and around the pools of blood and hair that had fallen from Jessica’s head. She knew better than to promise the woman any bit of safety. After all, she had no idea what her next move was. But as she ran out of the home and back into the backyard of the Smith residence, she had to believe there was a way out of this.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Calvin…? Calvin…! Calvin!” Vinny was on his knees, practically begging for the man before him to just open his bruised and swollen eyes. “Wake up, Calvin! We don’t have time for this shit. C’mon. You hear me in there?” Vinny slapped Calvin’s stubbly face with the palm of his hand as Calvin’s eyes continued to remain closed shut as tightly as possible. By the way he clenched his fists and rolled his head, Vinny thought he looked almost like a child, refusing to see what scary monster may be hiding in their closet.

  It wasn’t an unusual sight. Most of the men did likewise when Vinny’s tactics had worked. But, tonight, he took no pleasure in this kind of torture. He just wanted to get out of there, find Junior, and get his life back to where it was. Calvin Senior and his refusal to give him what he wanted was one of the few things standing in his way.

  Now, the few and precious seconds he had to work without spilling too much blood were ticking down. But Calvin had no understanding of that. Vinny wasn’t even sure if he was close to death or just simply slowly dying. A dead man wouldn’t work for Vinny. He was in the business of scaring and scarring men. He brought men to the edge of his life, but he had no desire to see them get pushed over it. There was no coming back when you killed a man, especially one who didn’t do direct harm to you.

  He tried a different tactic this time, softening his voice to appeal to the man slumped before him, “Calvin, you need to give me something. You hear those cries? That’s your wife. That’s Jessica. My partner and I are going to have to kill her. You don’t want her to die over this. Just tell us where Junior is and this stops. I can make it all go away.”

  That man’s balding head began to roll forward in recognition. He tried to speak, but all he was able to do was choke back the blood and fluid that ran up from his lungs and pooled at the side of his mouth in a frothy, disgusting mess. Still, after a long, horrible moment of attempts, he managed to softly say, “Warehouse…” His breathing labored as he continued slowly, “Devils… Land… Jessica.... Jessica…”

  It was something. Vinny grabbed hold of the man’s body, shaking it as he exclaimed, “What warehouse, Calvin? Which one? What’s the address?” Vinny knew he was getting clues, but he needed the full picture.

  After all, he couldn’t risk anyone lying to him again about a location like Gloria had earlier. Luckily for Vinny, he had spotted the Smith’s novelty mailbox as the men canvassed the block, looking for potential witnesses or pitfalls in their plans. If he hadn’t foiled Gloria’s attempt to ruin his mission, his assignment would have been over before it began and he would have wound up dead, or worse—Gloria would have.

  “Devils… Land… Jessica… Jessica…” Calvin was repeating himself on a slow, hazy loop.

  “Did the son of a bitch wake up? Fantastic! Means we’ve got more to beat out of him!” Quimby stumbled heavily down the stairs. His enormous footsteps made thundering sounds throughout the house as he hit each step.

  To Vinny, he had seemingly transformed into a caveman while he was away. Jessica’s bloody, limp body rested on his oversized shoulders as blood trickled down her neck and face. In his other hand, he held an equally blood knife.

  “What did you do to the wife? Is she dead?” He disgusted Vinny. Quimby had a reputation of being sadistic, but his show tonight was beyond anything that Vinny could have imagined. He could understand why Benni wanted him to join Vinny on his assignment. Quimby was willing to go where Vinny didn’t dare.

  “... Jessica. Jessica. Jessica.” Calvin was almost shouting know as he recognized Vinny’s question to Quimby. He tried to pull his chest against the ropes only to remember his situation and relent.

  Quimby tossed the woman down against the wall of the basement’s wood paneling like she weighed, and meant, nothing. Her body fell awkwardly to the side as he strode over to where Calvin was still tied up tight against a metal dining chair. Calvin continued to chant her name as if she could hear him despite being unconscious.

  Vinny’s accomplice couldn’t stand him as he punched him with all of his strength as he shouted down, “Shut up, old man! Unless you got something to say, I don’t wanna hear it. Not that she can hear you anyways.”

  Quimby’s punched stunned Vinny as he stood back up to meet his glance. The two men were toe to toe with Vinny screaming, “What the fuck man! He was talking!”

  Vinny was getting fed up with Quimby. He had worked with many other enforcers, some more ruthless and bloodthirsty than others, but Quimby had far outdone those. Him punching Calvin in the chest was unnecessary. He couldn’t imagine what he had done to Jessica while they were upstairs.

  Quimby lifted his arms up to push Vinny off of him. He walked back to where Jessica was, clearly seeing Vinny’s concern. “She ain’t dead, but she will be soon unless he’s finally coming around. Did he tell you where that little asshole of a son is?”

  Vinny again knelt before Calvin, hoping and praying Calvin would come back and finish his explanation before it was too late. But he was silent now; the punch had done its damage. Vinny gave him as much as he could: “While you were gone, he said somethin’ about the Devils. Maybe Devils Land? Does that ring any bells to you?”

  “As far as I know, they mainly run outta that place in Sampson on Peterson Street.” Quimby had taken a seat on the ground near Jessica. He was using his shirt to wipe the blood from Calvin’s wound off the shiny, thick blade while he stared at her as if he were willing her to wake up again.

  “Naw man, it has somethin’
to do with land. Lake maybe a landscaping racket or something?” Vinny stood as the picture came to him. “Calvin didn’t say nothin’ about Peterson Street or Sampson.”

  “Are you sure he’s not just playin’ you? C’mon man, everybody knows their base is on Peterson. He could have just been feedin’ you bullshit to get this to stop.”

  Quimby had a point. Vinny had been so quick to trust Calvin with his few hints that he failed to think he could be just unconsciously talking about his son’s associations and the only couple things he knew about the Devils. Vinny paced circles around Calvin’s chair, his hand running through his hair as he tried to think of something, anything.

  “You sure there’s nothin’ about the word ‘land’? I don’t know why he’d be talkin’ ‘bout land if there wasn’t somethin’ to do with where Junior is.” Vinny hated being a detective as much as he knew Quimby would. But if it got his partner to calm down a second, he may be able to save a life or two tonight.

  Quimby continued to wipe down his blade as he off handedly said, “Fuck if I know. Just keep beatin’ him. Motherfucker’s gonna die anyways, might as well make this night interesting.”

  “What are you talking about?” Quimby had just stepped way over the line, enraging Vinny. “Who the fuck put you in charge? He’s cooperating now as far as we know. We were given instructions not to kill him unless word comes from Benni.”

  “That ain’t what I heard,” Quimby said nonchalantly. “Benni said to do what had to be done.”

  “That doesn’t mean we just kill him and the wife! That’s insane man. That would start a war.”

  “Who gives a fuck what it starts.” A sly, taunting look went over his face as Quimby added, “Plus, didn’t you kill their leader? By my accounts that’s a pretty big war-starter itself. What's a couple more bodies?”

  Vinny spat on the cement ground threateningly. “I don’t kill nobody just because they ain’t talking. That ain’t in my job description.”

  “So what do you do, you little faggot?” Quimby demanded, shoving Vinny a bit. “‘Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like you’re just as weak as that little bitch tied to the chair. I heard what Benni said. You wanna call up Benni and have a conversation about how he would like us to proceed?”

  As Quimby produced his phone from his pocket, Vinny yelled forcibly, “I don’t need you to run to your mommy to check. I know what’s gotta happen.” Without another word, Vinny ran up to Quimby and grabbed his knife out of his other hand. The tool was thick and cold despite being held in Quimby’s sweaty palms. Vinny slowly turned it over and over in the palm of his hand as he traced the red line of blood with his fingertips. What he was about to do would only make the knife heavier.

  Slowly, he approached Calvin’s chair and shouted his name one more time, his breath picking up speed as he tried to find all of the courage and energy to pull this one last attempt off. “C’mon, you stupid motherfucker! Just tell me where your son is, or you’re gonna die! You hear me? I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

  Calvin made no signs of recognition. No attempts to come to. Vinny’s cries just grew stronger and more urgent as he began, “You’ve got ten seconds. Ten! Nine! Eight!...”

  Vinny’s shouts grew louder and louder, breaking through the silence of the night. Calvin’s eyes remained tightly shut, but his breathing sped up unnaturally as the clear signs of fear overtook him, “Seven! Six!”

  “That ain’t gonna work, man!” Quimby stared Vinny down to see what he was going to do, the cellphone still clenched in his hand. “Just fucking do it!”

  Vinny continued counting, “Six! Five!” Blood rushed to the hand Vinny was holding the knife in as he shook with rage. He didn’t want to do this. But he had to. “Four! Three!”

  Abruptly Calvin opened his mouth to cry out, “JESSICA! I LOVE YOU! LISTEN TO ME! I LOVE YOU!” Calvin had tried to turn his neck to see where his wife was, but he was shaking too hard to make a real attempt at it spotting where her body rested, still slumped on the floor.

  “Three! Tw—”

  The piercing sound of Vinny’s cellphone ringer went off, breaking the fever pitch tension and catching the enforcer and everyone else in the room completely off guard. Without a second to process it all, he thought to himself, “Benni.” No one else knew exactly where he and Quimby were, and no one else had business with him tonight. It had to be him. And Vinny was obligated to answer the message if it was. He pulled the phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

  “What’re you doing? Just kill him!” Quimby had rose to his feet and tumbled toward Vinny. But the younger man was quicker as Vinny took five steps away to stand in the better light. It was a text message, one from a number he did not immediately recognize. The white words against the black, blank screen read: “Cops on their way. Two minutes. Get out now!”

  Quimby grabbed at him, attempting to take the phone from his hands. “What the fuck are you doing? Who was that?” He had spotted the look of terror that had crossed Vinny’s face and watched helplessly as Vinny tossed the knife in his back pocket.

  He leaned down again to Calvin to whisper one last threat, “You tell the cops or anyone who we are or what happened to you tonight, we’ll be back. And next time, there won’t be ten seconds to save you—or Jessica. That’s a promise.”

  With that, Vinny flew upstairs, running past where Jessica laid. He was even more careful not to touch anything with his hands, though they were still covered in the black leather riding gloves he had worn since he entered the house. In the distance, sirens were growing louder and closer. They were unmistakable now. When he realized what those noises were, Quimby, too, took off, following his partner outside to where their bikes were waiting.

  The men hopped on and slowly pulled out of the driveway. Vinny lead the way as they rode side by side down the small streets. As they approached the intersection, he listened to the road more carefully before choosing to head out right in the direction opposite of where he had guessed the sirens were coming from.

  For a split second before turning the corner, Vinny looked back at the Smith’s home as it slowly fell out of his view of his handlebars mirrors. The lights were still off; the doors were shut. The windows were unbroken. All that remained was the scene in the basement with Jessica probably still completely knocked out and Calvin still tied tightly to the bloody and broken chair. It was a scene he was unfamiliar with, a scene straight out of some horror action movie he wouldn’t buy a ticket to.

  But next to the home, only a couple homes down, there was something he was more used to seeing. It was beat up, rusted, and cracked. In the front seat, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a woman hunched down, trying to hide her face. Her phone was to her ear as she covered her mouth with her hand. She was staring right at the men as they drove off. She could have been a witness and, in fact, she had probably seen too much. But despite the lack of light and the slowly growing distance between them, Vinny could still recognize that pin straight blonde hair and those scheming fiery eyes from anywhere. It was Gloria.

  Gloria had somehow managed to break away from her watch and show up at the Smith’s house in time to see Vinny and Quimby destroy the lives of the family. In the few hours she had been out, she had managed to save them and screw them both all at the same time.

  Vinny looked over to where Quimby was riding. From his vantage point, Vinny suspected he had not seen Gloria sitting and waiting in her car. He was focused on getting out of the neighborhood before the cops came, and he was intent on following Vinny as he led them back to the Black Horsemen’s headquarters.

  Vinny was impatient to get back, for as he watched Gloria’s car start up and turn in the opposite direction of their bikes, he now understood what he had to do.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The doors of the entranceway slammed shut behind them, sealing the men inside together.

  “Did you get it? Do you know where that motherfucker is?” Benni clapped his hands and rubbed
the palms together eagerly as he waited for one of his boys to speak.

  “Not exactly. We were gonna ge—” Vinny had spent the entire ride over trying to think of something, anything to say to Benni that would make this situation go away. But he didn’t have to think too long.

  Quimby had already interrupted him. “We ain’t got shit, boss.”

  “What are you two incompetent bastards talking about?” Benni was impatient for excuses. The men had a simple task and yet they dared come back without results. This was unacceptable.

  Vinny put his hand against Quimby’s chest as the man began to speak. Vinny was not going to let him blow this out of the water or to get them in more trouble than they already were. After all, Vinny did have something; at least, he thought he had something. “We were close to getting it all out, but he was out fast from the beating and then we heard sirens and had to book it out of there before we could finish the job.”