Fury (New Adult Romance) - #1.5 Fierce Series Page 8

  But I hope I can trust him more when the time comes.

  He needs to help me find out who the leader is.

  My stomach growls, and suddenly I’m reminded of the fact that I haven’t eaten in a while.

  “Shit, I have to run. See you in a few hours, okay?” Jaret suddenly says, closing his phone. He must’ve gotten a text from Alpha Psi.

  “Sure. I’m gonna grab some food at the cafeteria,” I say, wincing when I use the muscles in my face.

  We both go out the door, each in a different direction. Now that I’m alone and I can come to terms with what happened these last couple of days, I realize my situation is not getting any better. I still haven’t gotten any closer to finding out who’s running the gang, I pretty much fucked up my first job, and I even used the very shit I swore not to use. Ever.

  I’m such a screw-up, even I can’t believe what I’m doing.

  I go to the cafeteria and stare at the line. There’s all sorts of delicious food stacked on people’s plates, and it’s making my mouth water. I wish I had the money to buy the same, but unfortunately my brother’s the one who’s bringing in the most, and since he’s in jail … Well, let’s just say I’m broke.

  I lean against a vending machine, coughing. The taste of iron is on my lips, and as I lick it off, I can taste the blood. Dammit. That guy’s hit must’ve knocked a tooth loose.

  I wipe away the blood and smear it on my jeans. I rummage in my pocket while running my fingers through my hair, but when I notice the meager amount of money I have left, I cringe. Dammit. I can’t even buy a candy bar with this. Life is really pissing on me.

  I’m almost tempted to give a little kick to this machine, but then I realize this cafeteria is packed with people. Turning my head, I notice Leafy sitting at a table with her friend. The moment our eyes lock she shakes her head softly. Her fork drops to the table. Shit. She must’ve seen the bruises on my face.

  She immediately stands up and comes walking toward me.

  What is she doing? I don’t want her to see me like this. Fuck!

  I pull up my hoodie, hoping it’ll hide the dark marks on my face. Then I walk out through the door.

  She catches up to me and grabs my arm. I immediately jerk loose. I don’t want to talk to her right now. She can’t know what I’ve been up to. I don’t want her to know how fucked up all of this is, and I can’t explain it either. I’m not allowed. The gang would kill me if I told her.

  “Leave me alone,” I say, trying to escape her.

  “What happened to you?” I can hear her concern. The strain in her voice is hard to bear, but I keep walking. I have to get away from her.

  However, she pushes past me and steps in front of me, spreading her arms. She seems to be under the impression I can’t pass. I could easily push her aside, but I don’t want to put my hands on her. Not like that, at least.

  She stares at me, her brows drawing together as she checks me out. Shit.

  I hide my face further in my hoodie, hoping she won’t start asking questions. I know she probably will, though, considering my fucked-up face. I must look horrible after those drugs. Hiding myself isn’t my usual style, but I know I have to if I want to avoid questions. However, there’s nothing in the world I’d love more than to have someone to help me through this. To share my problems with, and to tell my secrets to, but she’s too innocent. I can’t put that on her.

  So I close my mouth and try not to think about it.

  “I asked you a question,” she says, swallowing hard.

  She’s trying very hard to convince herself she can do it. I admire her courage. It’s not often someone tries to stop me from leaving.

  However, I still can’t talk to her. What’s the point if I can’t tell her anything worthwhile? What does she want to hear from me anyway? The only thing I bring is bad news. Nothing more.

  “And I said: Leave me alone,” I say, forming fists with my hands because I’m pissed at myself that I have to do this. It hurts to be this blunt, but it’s the only way to make her leave. To make her want to get away from me.

  But she’s still here, unmoving, blocking my way. Her entire body is trembling at the sight of me, but she won’t move.

  “I want to know what happened,” she says.

  Damn. That voice. It’s so … caring. My heart is breaking to pieces right here. I don’t understand why she keeps resisting the urge to run away. She should.

  “Why?” I say.

  Why is she so interested in me? She’s a good girl, who has good grades and doesn’t seem to ever do anything wrong. Nothing good can come out of talking to me. I’m like poison in her life. I shouldn’t even be in it.

  “Because you seem hurt,” she says, in such a sweet voice it makes me melt.

  I fight so hard to resist the urge to tell her all about me. I just want to pick her up and hold her against my body. I want someone like her to love me.

  But I know that’s not possible. She could never. Not with someone like me. I don’t want to be a festering wound in her life. No. I’d rather not have her at all.

  I don’t even know why she bothers.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  It puzzles me that she’s so interested. Nobody else ever is.

  “Because …” she pauses for a second, her eyes drifting toward the floor. “I just do.”

  Her cheeks turn pink, and she’s twiddling with her fingers like she’s nervous.

  Dammit. She’s so fucking caring and nice. It just makes me want to punch myself for being so shitty to her.

  Christ. This is too much.

  I can’t even look at her. Not without tears forming in my eyes.

  I don’t deserve any of that goodness. Not after what I did and what I’m going to do.

  Suddenly her hand moves up to my face. Her eyes are full of hurt, concern, and pity. I don’t want her pity.

  “Don’t,” I snap, jerking my head away from her fingers right before she touches me.

  I don’t want her to touch me. Not like this.

  It’s too hard not to grab her and hug her, so I do the only thing I can to make sure she won’t be bothered by me anymore.

  I pass her and bolt away.

  Fury is raging inside me, eating me up. There’s nothing more I want right now than to escape my own life. Everything’s so fucked up.

  And then I bump into Jaret.

  “Hey, dude, I was just looking for you.”

  “What do you want?” I snap.

  “Whoa, easy there. I’m bringing good news.”

  “Is my brother getting released from jail?” I say, frowning heavily.

  “No …”

  “Then it’s not good news.”

  “It is. The distributors want you to come to our club house. Wes gave me the green light to tell you.”

  “Club house?”

  “Yeah, it’s the place where everything happens. Parties. Brawls. Poker. Lots of money being thrown around. And drinks.” Jaret winks while unscrewing the cap of a bottle, and then he takes a sip.

  “And drugs,” I add.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, the fact that they want you there means that they trust you.”

  “Why do they want me there?”

  “I don’t know …”

  So they’re pretty much telling me to come to a place packed with dealers. Great. If that isn’t dangerous as fuck, I don’t know what is.

  “I wouldn’t say no to that if I were you,” Jaret says.

  “Yeah, well it’s not like I get a choice either.”

  “That’s true. But they probably just want to welcome you.” He throws his arm around my shoulder and drags me through the corridor.

  “I’m prepared,” I say, clearing my throat.

  “Good, ’cause you’ll need that confidence to impress them.” Jaret slaps me on the chest. “We’ll take my car.”

  “It’s off campus?”

  “Of course it is. Can’t have an underground club with a fighting ri
ng here at college,” Jaret muses.

  “Fighting ring? You mean the arena?”

  “Yup.”

  Shit. Double fucking shit. That’s the place my brother got beaten to a pulp because he was a rookie, and they earned money off his back. Fucking infuriating. And the worst thing is, I know they’ll force me to go in there too.

  Grinding my teeth, I crack my knuckles. I’m ready.

  Chapter 10

  The Club

  Jaret drives us to the industrial side of town with all the abandoned warehouses. He parks the car in front of a large door, and when we step out, I assume he’s going to open one of those big doors, but he doesn’t. Instead, we walk into a small alley, and he opens a door with a ‘NO ENTRY’ sign on it.

  “It’s here?”

  “Hmhm. Best way to stay hidden.”

  We go down a flight of stairs and end up in front of another door. Jaret knocks on the door in rhythm a few times, which seems like a code. Suddenly the door opens, and in front of the doorway is a six-foot-tall man covered in tats. Damn, even I wouldn’t be able to take that on.

  “Yeah?” he says.

  “We’re here on the boss’ orders.”

  The man grunts and steps aside.

  Music engulfs us as we step into the hall, and I recognize the song to be Jay Z’s and Kanye West’s ‘Ni**as In Paris.’ Lights flicker on and off, beaming colors like this is a dance club. There’s no natural light coming in; all the windows have been blocked by wood.

  We walk further inside, and I absorb as much of my surroundings as possible. I want to remember as much of this as I can so I can pen it down and know what to tell Agent Williams. To my right are a bunch of red sofas and lounge chairs with black tables, and there are a lot of people. They’re dancing to the music, drinking alcohol in broad daylight, smoking whatever drug they can find. There are girls dancing on guys’ laps and people dry humping each other.

  “Jesus,” is all I manage to say.

  “Welcome to the club,” Jaret says, slapping me on the back.

  I spot Wes in the corner of the club, lounging on a couch with a couple of girls. He’s got his hands all over them, rubbing his hands over their butts, taking cherries from their mouths while they giggle. Another girl snorts a line of coke from the table, and then starts kissing a girl.

  What the fuck. This is madness.

  When he sees me he signals for them to leave, and then he gets up and comes over to us. Here we go.

  “Welcome, welcome,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me in for a bro hug, like we’re best buds all of a sudden. “Like what you see?”

  I put up a fake smile and say, “Impressive.” That’s really the only true thing I can say.

  “It’s all yours to enjoy, just as it is ours,” he says. “We’re all brothers in here.”

  “Right …” I say.

  He squints, and I get the feeling he’s not buying my act, so I straighten my back and wink at a girl, trying to keep up the façade.

  “You pounded that kid into next week,” he suddenly says.

  My heart beats twice as hard the second he mentions the fight. I was supposed to have kicked his butt, but my high ass wanted to let him go instead. Well, to be honest, I never want to hurt innocent people. That’s not my style. But the fact that Wes thinks I did my job is putting me on edge. I have to be careful. The gang can’t know it was all fake.

  “Yeah, I gave him a nice beating. Here is the money he owed,” I say, and I fish in my pockets and take out all the cash I got from the guy. This money was burning a hole in my pocket anyway. I’d rather be rid of it.

  “Thank you, Hunter. You’ve proven yourself to be quite valuable.” Wes signals a girl in high heels and skimpy clothes to come to us with a tray of filled glasses, and I swallow at the sight of her. She’s dressed like a hooker, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she is one.

  “Here,” Wes says as he takes the glasses from the tray and gives one to me. “You earned it.”

  I stare at it for a second, wondering what the hell is in it, but when I see his glaring eyes pierce mine, I realize I really have no choice but to drink it. Refusal isn’t in their dictionary.

  I gulp it down in one go, and the burn is quite hard on my throat, so I wince. Damn, that’s some hot stuff.

  Wes laughs. “It’s called a White Russian. Vodka, Kahlua, a dot of whipped cream and some ice cubes to top it off. Like it?”

  I nod, putting the glass down on a table. I’ve had a few mixes, but never this one. It hits hard.

  “Takes the edge off things,” Jaret muses.

  “There are plenty of things in life to take the edge off things. Why not enjoy them, I’d say?” Wes chimes in, swaying his glass back and forth. “This business is all about enjoying those short moments of ecstasy in life.”

  “I bet you enjoy lots of benefits,” I say, trying to get him to tell me more.

  “Hmhm, drugs are not just a way to escape. They can create unreal experiences, unlike anything else in this world.”

  “I reckon you have a lot of experience with it then,” I say.

  Wes nods. “Let’s just say this business has brought me a lot of positive things.” He smirks.

  Damn, he’s so full of himself. I hate that look on his face. I hate it that he talks about this shit like it’s a good thing. As if those drugs he deals don’t ruin people’s lives. I’ve seen how it can destroy a family. It destroyed mine.

  It takes all my self-control not to turn around and walk out of here and never come back, but I’m not done yet. Not until I find who’s behind this all.

  So I lie. “I’d like that too.”

  Wes squints. “I bet you would.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, dragging me closer, placing his entire arm around my shoulder. “Tell you what, I’ll give you plenty of drugs to deal to our clients, along with a list of buyers, and you go make us some money. You can keep thirty percent for yourself.”

  “Really?” I say.

  Actually, I’m disgusted, because he wants to use me. I despise him for making it sound like I’m selling candy to children. But Wes is my way into this gang and I’m not letting go of this. No way. Besides, I can use the money to bail out my brother, too.

  “Of course! You’re a good asset to our little brotherhood,” Wes says.

  Wes briefly glances at Jaret and then winks at him.

  Jaret nods. “I’ll help him with the first transactions, so he can get the hang of it.”

  “Good,” Wes says. “He’ll need someone to … help him.”

  Somehow, the word ‘help’ sounds more like he wants Jaret to keep an eye on me instead.

  My eyes drift off toward the club, and for a second I think I recognize someone. A dude with short blond hair, who’s chatting with a couple of girls while rolling a joint. I feel like I know him.

  “C’mon, I want to show you something,” Wes says.

  My eyes are immediately pulled away from the guy with blond hair. Wes drags me with him toward a door in the corner, past all the couches. We enter a room, and I’m stunned the moment I see all the drugs lined out on the table. Pills, powders, liquids, needles, pipes, bongs; everything is here. Loads of it.

  I’m flabbergasted.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Wes walks in, grabbing a few bags of pills and powders. “We get our inventory from the big guys.”

  “Who?” I say.

  Wes frowns, and then I realize I’ve asked a sensitive question.

  “That doesn’t concern you. Besides, there’s only one person who knows them, and that’s our leader.”

  “Right, sorry,” I say, but I’m making a mental note to remember this. The leader of Alpha Psi isn’t even the one in charge of all the drugs. Sure, he decides what happens here and on campus, but that’s probably because this is his turf. We’re all part of one giant scheme. Damn, this is a much bigger problem than I thought.

  “Anyway, here, take this.” Wes presses the bags into my hand. “Now, I have the per
fect job for you tomorrow,” Wes says. “I want you to sell some dope to the Bentley boys. They’ll be at the Denny’s joint around eight tomorrow night. You’ll wait for them there until they’re ready to make the trade. Jaret here will give you the price list and our client list.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give it to you once we’re back in the dorm. It’s in my drawer.”

  “C’mon, I still want to show you something,” Wes says, and he signals with his index finger for me to follow him. Hesitantly, I step out of the room and follow him all the way back to the entrance again, but instead of going outside, we walk into the central hall.

  “This is where it all happens,” Wes says, raising both his hands.

  There are four huge bleachers in a square, and in the middle is a metal cage.

  I gulp.

  Blood stains the floor. This must be the arena. The place I abhor the most.

  “This is the place where money flows, bets are made, and winners are born.” Wes turns around toward me, his smug face showing he thinks this is glorious. “And you will be up there too someday.”

  “What?” I say.

  “You know this is part of the gang, right?” Jaret says. “Rookies have to fight.”

  “Either you die fighting or you die fleeing. There is only one thing we don’t tolerate in here, and that’s when someone doesn’t follow the rules. So you really have no choice in the matter,” Wes says.

  My hands turn into fists, and I get the urge to start throwing around chairs, but I keep my cool by focusing on my brother. In this moment he’s so close to me, and yet so far away. His blood is on this floor, on the bars of that very cage. I will make them pay for what they put him through.

  “I’ll fight,” I growl.

  Oh, I’ll fight all right. I’ll fight until all my teeth are knocked out and until all my bones have been broken in two. I’ll fight until every last drop of blood has left my body. I’ll fight to the death if I have to.

  But I will never, ever, let them win.

  Chapter 11

  Fighting Temptation

  The next day…