A Touch Of Sin [BxB]

28.

Jake's POV:

When I get to the football fields, it is cold, dark and there is not a soul in sight.

I peer around the empty carpark and wonder if I read the text right. I re-read it again to confirm the day and time. I don't recognise the number, but I don't believe I have the Coach's number saved anyway. He often sends his broadcasts out by email or the Facebook group chat.

I walk to the change rooms. There are no lights on and the door is locked. I'm even a few minutes late, so I would have thought the coach would be here.

Exhaling, I do another lap.

Sighing, I try to call the number but it doesn't go through. Feeling pissed off, I go walk away, when a hand hits me in the mouth, smacking my lips into my teeth harshly. I stumble back and a black bag is thrown over my head. Hands either side of me grab my arms and I'm swung back off my feet. I begin flailing and thrashing in their grip.

A solid punch to the side of me head has me reeling. I spit out blood into the bag and growl, throwing all my weight around, trying to get them to loosen their grip.

"Hold him!" one of the voices snaps and I don't recognise it.

I twist and writhe but have no luck. I'm carried slowly and then thrown into, what I'm assuming is a car or van. I groan on impact and feel something metal slice my cheek open through the material over my face. My knee smashes into something else and my head is still pulsing from the hit.

I yank my wrists but they are bound and so are my legs. When I end up causing myself more injuries, I finally stop, panting heavily, sweat soaking through my shirt.

It's loud and chaotic and painful.

What the fuck is happening?

"Anyone want to tell me what's going on?" I eventually ask only to get stomped on aggressively. The person digs their heels into my ribcage, and I have truly never felt any pain like it. I bite my tongue so hard my mouth is filled with blood and my nails bite at my skin, I have my fists so tightly balled. I won't give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

We drive for a while and I honestly can't gage how much time has passed. It can't have been long but it feels that way because of the white, hot pain surging through me. The van, I've decided I'm in a van, pulls to a loud, rumbling stop. I'm dragged out, my face scraping along the rough floor and I fall to the ground.

The person, or persons, yank me to my feet via my hood and I feel like I'm going to pass out from the pain.

It's quiet now and I know the person who behind it all of this is staring at me.

"It's got to be you, Rhett," I say through my teeth. "You're the only piece of shit that would need a whole team to take me on. Blind folded and bound."

"Watch your fucking mouth," the person snaps and only confirms my theory.

Rhett.

"I am so sick of you," he spits at me. "Everything would be easier if you were gone."

"You're not going to kill me."

"No," Rhett agrees. "But you will leave. Leave Westcom, leave the team, leave Callum and don't come back." I hear him step closer and I can feel the heat from his body. "Or something bad will happen to you, Jake. Unbelievably bad."

"Bit pathetic, don't you think? To go this length for someone who clearly doesn't want you–"

More retorts are hot on my lips but I don't get a chance to voice them. I'm shoved backwards and I fall, tumbling down a steep slope, landing in water. I struggle with my hands and legs being tied, trying to stop myself sinking. I splutter to the surface and a strong hand slams against my neck, holding me under the water.

Holy shit. He really is going to kill me.

I struggle and fight and kick and bite, trying anything to get out of the water but the hand holds me firm. My lungs screech at me, burning, boiling, needing air. My eyes close and my body begins to feel defeated, when I'm reefed into blissful air. I gasp, the material of the bag suctioning across my lips, before my head is under the water again. This repeats several times before the hand lets go. I've almost passed out twice now. I swallow down gulps of the air, barely able to keep myself afloat.

I try ripping at rope around my legs first, feeling like it is an impossible task.

"This is your only warning, Jake," Rhett's voice is a growl. "Listen and leave."

He walks from me then, leaving me in a position that could still kill me. I desperately try to escape from the restraints, Rhett's words bouncing around inside my head.

This is your only warning. 

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