by Dani Stowe
I pull at the knot of my silver tie at my neck. I’m about to break a sweat.
“Peonies,” Nick cuts in. He knew I was lying. “They’re her favorite. Do you even know how much a bouquet like this costs? These flowers aren’t even in season. These flowers had to cost... Oh, I don’t know. What Lou? Close to a thousand dollars? Because believe me, I know.”
“Oh jeez,” sighs Loulah, walking into her office. “Maybe I bought them for myself.”
“Hey!” Nick roars, rolling up the sleeves of his white collared shirt with no tie, as he follows behind his assistant. “Don’t walk away from me.” He slams Loulah’s door behind him.
Jax, Elliot, and I each exhale in unison as the tension in the hall releases until we are holding our breaths once again as shouting between Loulah and Nick blares through the closed door.
Jaxon rubs the back of his head with both hands. “You don’t think Nick’s going to go too far, do you?”
“Not physically, no,” I answer with certainty.
Loulah and Nick start screaming at the top of their lungs. They sound like a married couple and Elliot chimes in. “Don, did you know Nick and Loulah have never had sex?”
“Well,” I cock my head, surprised. How did I not know? I always assumed. “That explains the tension.”
Jaxon raises his chin. “And she’s never been in the Bank. Did you know that as well?”
“Huh?” I’m baffled.
“Yeah, the Bank is off limits to her.” Jaxon nods. “Loulah’s not allowed to go in there. Nick changes his own sheets.”
“Hmm,” I moan, although it should not surprise me. Nick is a narcissist. Favoring individuals over others is a trait of the personality type. It also explains why he wouldn’t want her mingling with submissives or associating with them in any way.
We hear something heavy, like a book or a laptop, fall to the ground.
“Are you sure he’s not going to hurt her?” Elliot looks to me, his hands in his pockets, shoulders raised, and worry in his eyes. “You know, he did drag Charlotte into the Bank, tied her up, and raised a hand to her.”
I chuckle. “From what I understand of that story, he was protecting himself. Charlotte mentioned she was ready to kill him after he took the Bang. But to answer your question—no. I don’t believe Nick would lay a finger on Loulah other than the occasional butt smack, at least, not until she clearly articulates that she wants to be physically hurt by him like his submissives do. And even then, I’m not sp sure he’d get physically aggressive with Loulah.”
“Why not?” asks Jaxon sounding sorrier for Nick than curious.
“I don’t know. Nick won’t talk to me, but if he had any intention of hurting her, he would’ve done so by now.”
“Nick won’t talk to me either,” replies Elliot.
“Or me,” sighs Jaxon.
“Speaking of the Bang,” Elliot adds, “I’m working on a low-dose, extended release to allow the side effects to last for more than just one day. Perhaps up to two or three days.”
Jaxon’s interest is piqued and the two begin discussing the Bang as the couple, Nick and Loulah, who are not actually a couple, quarrel behind the closed door. I’m trying to understand Elliot’s new thought process on the purpose of a longer acting formula when Nick emerges, stomping.
“You three in my office right now,” he demands, pushing me aside to open his door. We file in behind him but not before we each take a quick glance back to see Loulah—as beautiful as ever—sitting behind her desk gazing starry-eyed up at her pink bouquet standing tall and untouched by Nick’s wrath.
This is how I know Nick is unlike the men who hurt the women I counsel. If Nick was a true abuser, those flowers would be wrecked—each petal pulled from its life-sustaining stem—smashed and in shambles, most likely landing on the floor or in a trash can. But the pretty pink enormous buds remain preserved, undamaged, beautiful, and radiant. They are as radiant as the smile beaming from Loulah’s face as she admires the delicate blooms.
“There’s something wrong with her,” Nick grumbles, marching towards his desk. “Shut the door.”
I hear the door click shut. Jaxon stays to lean against it while Elliot and I both take a seat.
Nick plants himself in his chair. His spine remains erect and he fumbles about some papers he’s laid out. They look like notes. I suspect Nick is under a lot of stress because I’ve never known Nick to take notes. Instead, he reads the notes and reports we write for him. The fact he even has paper sprawled about is an indication something is wrong and I fear if he doesn’t talk to someone soon, he’ll reach the end of his rope.
I lean forward from my seat. “Nick—”
“Shut up,” he tells me. “I’ve already forgiven you for lying to me just now about the flowers. I’ve forgiven you because I need you.” He looks up, making eye contact with each of us. “I need each one of you to give me a report on Lou.”
Elliot laughs. “What?”
“She’s outsmarting me somehow. I put a private detective, an ex-FBI agent, an accountant, and even a dog walker on her for a few weeks and—nothing.”
“Nick,” I say calmly, “I think you’re obsessing over—”
“Obsessing?” Nick lifts off his chair with such ferocity, the chair nearly topples as it rolls back, hitting the wall behind him. He points to himself. “You think I’m the one obsessing?” He points to us. “It’s you three fucks that came up with the Bang and you did it all for the sake of these chicks you’ve been dreaming about for the whole of your Goddamn cunt-loving lives. So, don’t fucking tell me I’m obsessed.”
I notice Elliot bows his head with a sigh. “What do you want?” he asks, raising his head and fixing his glasses.
“Anything. Everything. Lou is smart as fuck,” Nick replies walking back to grip the head of his chair and rolling it forward. “And we all know she’s even smarter than you dorks. But I figure putting the three of you—geniuses—on her tail will get me some answers.”
“She’s right outside your door. Why don’t you just talk to her?” I encourage.
Nick’s nose flares. “I do try to talk to her. I tried to talk to her just now in her office. Did you not see me trying to fucking talk to her?”
“Nick, that wasn’t talking.”
Nick props two fingers on his desk. “I want my fucking reports and I want them by this Friday first thing. Is that clear?”
“Yes, boss,” yells Jaxon.
“Elliot?” Nick questions.
“Yes, of course,” he replies.
Nick’s eyes beam straight into mine. “Can I expect your report by this Friday, Don? Please confirm so we can move on to our next order of business.”
“Yes.” I swallow. “I’ll have a report for you first thing Friday morning.”
“Good.” Nick settles back down onto his black throne. He leans back and takes a breath. “So, we have a new bully in town.”
Jaxon’s footsteps make their way closer as Elliot’s shoulders perk up, and I settle deeper in my chair to get comfortable. We are all ears.
“Do you remember Sam from last night?” Nick asks.
“The club’s manager?” asks Jaxon. “Doesn’t he work for you?”
“Mmm,” Nick admits reluctantly. “But he’s organizing. He used to be a decent guy when we were kids. His parents were wealthy but they lost everything on account of his father’s gambling. As a kid, Sam was already used to having a lavish lifestyle so he started engaging in illegal activity. He hooked me up with a few things when we were younger, except he fell into some trouble with organized crime. He came to me for help because of our history as kids and I bailed him out. Recently, I needed help running the club and he did not disappoint. The club’s been earning double the profit since he came on.”
“So, what’s the problem?” asks Elliot.
“The problem is...” Nick leans back in his chair. “Sam wants to take things a bit further. He wants to bring drugs and hookers into the equation to quadru
ple the profits.”
“Just tell him no. Or fire him,” I smirk.
“It’s not that easy, Don.”
“How so?”
“I haven’t been monitoring him. Too busy monitoring everything going on with the Bang, which is always a priority, you know?” Nick points his finger in the direction of Loulah’s office. “So, Sam, unfortunately, has been able to collect his own herd of savages, and I’m not talking small-time hoodlums high on dope. He has real criminals armed with AK-47s with enough roots and experience to make a real dent in the way things run in this city. Word on the street is he’s even going to try to hustle me and attempt a takeover of NIM. I am sad to admit my club helped him get as far as he has, but I need to rectify the situation before he starts bringing girls in as prostitutes and after last night’s little show—”
I sit up. “What are you talking about?” I know. I just know Nick is referring to the fact I took Nancy off stage last night.
Nick leans forward over his desk, lacing his fingers together. “It turns out your girl, Nancy, has some high-rolling regulars. They pay a lot of money to see her dance in private. After you took her off stage, her regulars were pretty upset. It’s a psyche thing, apparently. They were not happy seeing Nancy being removed when they themselves believed they would own her, at least for the time they had already paid for in advance.”
I shake my head. “Nancy’s not going back there. They can kiss my ass.”
Nick chuckles. “To save face, Sam offered Nancy to the highest bidder last night as a whore. According to some of my other employees, Sam made a big show of the whole thing after we all left. Nancy raked in over five-grand from the auction, won by some fifty-year-old tile-making tycoon. Word is he’s planning to make an example of her.”
Fuck that! I stand up. “I’ll fucking kill them. Sam and the fifty-year-old fucker. I’ll kill them both.”
“Sit down, savage. And fix your suit,” Nick commands. “You can’t kiss your cunt and make Nimees if you’re in jail.”
Nimees. Yes, we were that stupid in high school. We even invented terms for our offspring. NIM plus mini me’s equaled Nimees.
I take a breath as I adjust my jacket and plant my butt. I’m beside myself. I have no idea where such animosity came from but it’s there. These feelings of killing these motherfuckers sit right next to the coveted space occupied by warm feelings for Nancy, who I want to get my hands on right now to squeeze and hold and wrap up and cage to keep from harm.
Jaxon pats my shoulder before he looks at Nick. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”
“I’d prefer to gas Sam. You know, our usual plan,” replies Nick. “It’s not just one of NIM’s assets that’s at stake here. If something were to happen to Nancy, Lou would never be the same again. The sisters hardly talk, but I know Lou would never forgive me if we didn’t use our top resources to keep her sister from harm. If Sam were able to get his claws on NIM, the rest of the assets will be at stake as well, including the Bang.”
We all shift uncomfortably.
Nick stands up, placing both hands on his desk. “What do you think, Elliot?”
Elliot scratches his head. “Is Sam the only person we plan to remove from this equation or his entire entourage as well?”
Nick lifts his chin. “We’ll start with Sam though he’s always in the company of a couple of goons, so I’ll need to lure him here alone.”
“If it’s only one person, then we should go with our usual plan. As soon as we get NIM’s tech department to run a profile on Sam, it should only take me a few minutes to formulate the correct dosage of gas ingredients,” replies Elliot.
We all look to Jaxon. “You know it’ll take me an hour tops to combine the ingredients together.”
Heads turn in my direction. “Minutes. It only takes a few minutes to extract and replant a man’s worse fear that he’ll have to live with for the rest of his life.” I eyeball Nick. “Who’s delivering the gas?”
“We will,” he reports. “NIM’s assets are at stake. We’re not going to hire or leave it to someone else.”
It’s a big risk to partake in the criminal act we are about to commit, but I understand Nick’s rationale. This isn’t the first time we’ve gassed a bully. We usually do it ourselves when we want the job done right. I bow my head in agreement.
“All right,” sings Nick. “Looks like we’re taking out Sam after lunch. You’d better keep an eye on Nancy for today, Don. Sam’s a sneaky fucker. I would not be surprised if he tries to snatch her up and keep her tied down somewhere to ensure delivery of what he’s promised to the winning bidder. It’s Sam’s ability to deliver what he guarantees that has made him successful thus far.”
I nod. “I’m going to collect Nancy as soon as this meeting is over.”
Nick pulls out a plastic bag from his desk. I can’t tell what’s inside—too small to discern—but I’m assuming it’s a piece of hair or some other sample of DNA Nick already took from Sam.
Nick tosses the bag across his desk towards Elliot’s direction. “Meeting adjourned.”
Chapter 9
Dontyne
I’m speeding. I’m racing to a suburb seventy-five miles from the city. Loulah was reluctant to give me her sister’s address, but I was able to pull it out of her. In truth, if I had known this whole time that Nancy lived so close, I might have made a visit to her.
I shift gears.
All this time, I thought Nancy had made something of herself. I was sure of it. I was sure she had found some handsome fucker to take care of her. Though always curious, I avoided investigating Nancy’s whereabouts because I didn’t want to know how well I figured she was doing with kids and a family while I was still distraught, still trying to find closure, still trying to get over what happened between us. It’s amazing how one day—one filled with a broken nose and a broken heart—can shape the rest of your existence.
After getting beat by Nancy’s boyfriend, I went through therapy—mental and physical. I became a doctor myself so I could understand why people hurt each other. Though, I hurt people, too, now. I hurt them because, after all of my studies and research, some people just can’t be helped.
I do help those I can, like the women I counsel. Some of these women are so bruised, they need more than counseling. They need affection. They need love, so I give love through rehabilitation. I live with the ones who I believe will benefit with a two-day live in program because, for one day—the day I got beat—I knew not only what it was like to be battered but also bruised by betrayal. There is one difference, however, between me and the women I counsel—I live with them for a time and occasionally allow them to come over to show them what it’s like to be with a real man, a man who will care for them, a man who shows them that not all men are bad. I teach them mixed martial arts so they can protect themselves and I teach them how to have positive sexual experiences, not just with a partner but with themselves. To do this, I must live with them for a short period. I need them to recognize a good man when they meet one. A man who is more than a lover but also a friend.
I was lucky to have friends. I had NIM and I needed them after Dickie Mueller broke my bones. I spent the summer in rehab, but Elliot and Nick visited daily while Jaxon came on the weekends. I kept hoping Nancy might show as well. That was a ridiculous thought. I still cringe with the idea of how bad I wished she’d just show, wearing my pendant, being my zenith. But she never came.
Since then, NIM had taken upon itself to beat back against the bullies. People like Sam can’t be left to beat up on people. NIM’s Tech Team will run an intensive profile scan using a computer program I developed in collaboration with a few engineers years ago that was funded by a grant we received from the U.S. government. The program was among the first of NIM’s projects. It pulls data from every possible source it can find, mostly off the Internet, to create a composite profile of an individual to reveal significant details about their past and present status. Elliot and I, however, took the program a step
further by inserting genetic profile information into the data. As long as Elliot has access to a DNA sample of the targeted individual, the program can tell us not only how that person behaves, but also how he feels—what he loves, what he hates, what makes him feel bad, what makes him feel good, and even what gets him off. But most importantly, the program is able to predict a person’s behavior, such as what they are most likely to avoid. The program not only tells us what the individual fears but also what triggers that fear.
Funny thing about fear—you can control people with it.
It was Jaxon’s idea to come up with the gas. We haven’t sold that to the government. Not yet, anyway. Nick is worried the gas will interfere with the Bang. And the Bang has always been Nick’s priority, hoping to distribute it worldwide, making it available to everyone...
Well, everyone with a Y chromosome. Chicks can’t take that stuff.
The gas, on the other hand, heightens excitation of neurons in Sam’s amygdala—the spot in the brain most associated with fear. So, we will also run a composite profile to learn what Sam fears and particularly what the trigger to that fear is. It’s simple really. We’ll gas him and pull the trigger on his brain. Like many of the bullies we’ve gassed before, Sam will no longer be a threat to anyone but himself. He’ll go mad.
Ding. My phone buzzes. I slip between lanes to pass two cars and look at my speedometer: 110 miles per hour. I should be at Nancy’s in less than five minutes. I hit the receiver call button on my steering wheel and speak aloud, instructing my phone to read me my message.
The word, “Apes,” comes through the speakers of my two-door, hard top, caramel-colored Aston Martin Vanquish. The text is from Elliot.
Apes? Sam’s afraid of apes? This is what the computer profile is telling us, though I’m not totally surprised. I shake my head, laughing to myself. Sam surrounds himself with bouncers that look like guerillas. I suspect Sam’s fear is primarily rooted in rejection, so he surrounds himself with people he thinks are lower on the evolutionary scale than him—guys that he can talk down to and even look like apes. Now, all I have to do is figure out a way to expose Sam to this trigger while he’s under the influence of the gas.