The Spanish Bad Ass

Chapter Fifty six: It'll cost you your fucking life.

Life's not easy,
I'm not made out of steel.
You forget that I'm human,
You forget that I'm real.
Act like you know me,
But you never will.
That's one thing that I know for sure.〰️ Justin Bieber.

⚫⚫⚫

"It's your turn you loser." Were the final words I heard before I felt something hard smash against my face.

"You bastard I'll kill you." I gritted lunging at Ian. I had barely landed the punch when I felt the most excruciating pain I had ever felt before shoot straight through my arm from my fist. I dug my leg too harshly into his chest so that his wince could cover mine. He fell off the couch the same time I fell back on the couch cradling my fist to my chest.

The pain was so unreal but I could let him know that I didn't have my hands again. He would know my weakness because without my hands I was basically an empty barrel.

I shook the pain out in time as Ian recovered from his chest attack. "You're going to kill me one day." He said with a scratchy throat walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"That's the aim," I yelled after him but he just flipped me the finger.

When he was gone I used it as an opportunity to properly inspect my hands. They were red and swollen with different cuts on them. I wasn't helping myself at all. I needed to use those bandages before I destroyed my hands beyond repair. It was then that I made the decision to use my bandages.

But not just yet.

I could just start wearing those expensive black gloves that those agents used. But I didn't know which would raise more suspicion.

Ian walked in with two bottles of water. I grabbed one and pressed it against my palms gratefully. I had to hold back the hiss that almost escaped against my lips. Ian looked me over as I took a long gulp of the water so he wouldn't notice.

There was a smug look on his face. "You know I should get you an ice pack also for your fists." My throat went dry despite the bottle of water I just consumed. "I've been in enough street fights to know when someone's fists are too injured that even a doctor would wince looking at them. And Sisi that's where your fists are at." He finished his water with a gleam in his eye that I was determined to wipe off.

"If you so much as tell a soul. You won't have any fingers again. I promise that I'll chop them up and stick them up your ass one after the other till you start to gag on them." His eyes widened at my choice of words. He looked down at my hands that were wrapped around his neck and laughed.

"You've got a deal Sisi. I love my ass and I don't want any fingers going up there." He smirked. "Well except they're yours... it would be weird seeing as it should be the other way around but just because it's you I'm willing to make a compromise." He grabbed onto my waist and started to grind his body against mine. Wiggling his eyebrow suggestively.

"You make me sick." I scoffed pushing his hands off me and getting off the incriminating position we were in which involved me straddling him. There was no point hitting him. Nothing I could do would change his perverted nature. There was no point fighting for a lost cause.

"You're an animal that's what you are," I said cradling my hands.

"I'll be an animal in the sheets for you love. I'll eat you up till you can't-" I threw a vase at him. It didn't miss him by much but at least it was enough to shut him up.