Fury (New Adult Romance) - #1.5 Fierce Series (11 page)

Chapter
9

Darkness

The next day …

My face has been aching more and more. Icepacks don’t really help
anymore, and since the effects of the drug wore off within an hour my head has
been pounding badly. My mood has darkened quite a bit, realizing what I did
yesterday.

God, I am so fucking stupid.

How could I just let that dude get away with only two hits? I was so
fucking nice to him. Am I crazy?

I can’t believe I actually thought this would work. Dammit. Now I’ve
got even more to worry about than before. Drugged up me thinks it’s funny to
mess with the gang, pretend everything’s okay. I just hope they won’t find out.

Jaret’s been laughing at me from the time he came home until now.
Every time he looks at my face, he holds back a laugh, and I’m throwing stuff
at him because it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all. My face is all purple and
bruised, and my eyes are dry and red. I look fucked up.

And he thinks it’s funny.

Well, at least he believes my lie. I’m glad I didn’t tell him
anything about what I really did with that guy yesterday. I’m not sure he’d be
able to keep it between us. He has a much stronger connection to the gang than
I have, and I just can’t risk getting exposed.

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
ring 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.