The fight was on a Sunday evening. I already had appointments scheduled that day, and not every one of them could be postponed, so I had to work until later in the afternoon.
Hunter had to go ahead of me. He promised I would be able to get into the club if I just give them my name.
I didn't see Antonio again. Hunter must've banned him from coming to our house, even when the other coaches kept coming and going to the house gym. I appreciated the gesture. I never liked Antonio to begin with, and what he did just made my opinion of him worse. I was glad he wasn't going to get anywhere near our space again.
After I wrapped up everything I needed to do for the day, I sent my assistants home while I changed my clothes to close up for the day.
My bladder screamed. I'd been holding it in the entire afternoon because I wanted to finish up as early as possible. But I couldn't any longer.
I was in the examination room, about to go to the bathroom, when I heard a rattle and a crash outside. What the...?
I really needed to pee. But the noise was too close. Frowning, I opened the door, but couldn't get a step outside. I caught a flash of broken glass before an unfamiliar man shoved me inside the examination room. I stumbled back, disoriented.
The man was dressed in a black winter jacket and a black cap shadowing his features. He reached inside his pocket.
And pulled out a gun.
I think I peed a little.
I froze, my mind going blank for a fraction of a second before all possible scenarios exploded in my head. Thieves? But in the middle of the day? It'd never happened before, and this was a relatively safe neighborhood since there was a police station literally one block away.
"Hands up," the guy said. He raised his head, and his sharp blue eyes came to sight. He had a thick mustache that dripped down the sides of his chin with no beard.
Instinct took over, and I put my hands up. My heart was beating so hard, I could barely hear what he said. He pointed to the chair near the counter with his gun. "Sit down."
I sat down.
Calm down. Taking a deep breath, I said, "the money is in there," I nodded towards the door separating my office from the examination room. There was a very small sum. Most clients paid using their credit cards.
Mustache grinned and leaned against the examination table. "I'm not here for the money, darling," he said, his southern accent thick.
My stomach rose to my throat. Not money. My mind immediately went to the only other thing a man would want out of a woman. I crossed my arms.
"And what are you here for?" I asked with more courage than I felt.
"We're here to keep you occupied until the fight is over," Mustache said.
What? The fight?
"What fight?" I asked, even though there was only one fight I had to attend at the moment.
Mustache chuckled.
"Between Jamison and Cullen," Mustache said. He leaned forward. He was half a room away from me, and I appreciated the distance. "Your boyfriend is going to beat Cullen's ass, if you don't mind my language. And Cullen knows it. So he had to get a leverage over Jamison."
The picture cleared up. "And that leverage is me?" I asked.
"Exactly," Mustache said. "No hard feelings, darling. It's just business. We're going to have a little call with Jamison in a little bit, so he knows we have you."
"And how exactly is this going to help Cullen win the fight?" I asked. "You want Hunter to purposefully lose?"
"Yes. The two will be putting on a show, since we don't want anyone suspecting foul play. But Jamison will have to lose, if he wants to keep you in one piece." He winked. "Don't worry, darling. Jamison seems pretty fond of you, so I doubt it'll come to that."
"Good to hear," I mumbled.
He laughed. "You have a sense of humor. I like it."
My phone rang. It was in my purse on the counter. Mustache grabbed my phone from the purse, keeping me in his gun's range, and gave it to me.
It was Hunter.
"Answer," Mustache said.
So I did. "Hello."
"Are you okay?" Hunter asked. His voice was calm. Too calm. As if he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.
"Um- Define okay?" I said.
"So there's someone there with you," he said.
"Yep," I said. Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. I continued. "I guess Cullen didn't want me to be lonely while you're busy with him."
I kept my tone as light-hearted as I could. I didn't want him to worry. It was bad enough that he had to go through a losing fight. He didn't need to worry about my safety as well.
There was a crash on the other end of the line. Before I could say anything, Mustache picked the phone from my hand and put it to his ear.
"Your sweetheart is safe with us, Jamison. Just do what you're told. Oh, and no police. We have a guy outside, and the moment he suspects anything, he'll tell me. You don't want her to lose a finger or two, do you?"
Hunter said something. Mustache chuckled. "Sorry, boy. It's bad for business. Once I'm bought, I'm bought. Otherwise I won't have much of a reputation anymore, now, would I?"
Hunter must've tried to bribe him. Good idea. Except of course he was the kind of thugs who had scruples. That was just my luck.
"Just lose the fight in a way that's not bad for Cullen, and once the fight is over, we'll leave your girlfriend in one piece. It's a pretty good deal for everyone involved."
He listened to what Hunter had to say, then clicked his tongue. "No need to worry. We're gentlemen."
After another exchange, Mustache ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. He smiled at me, his blue eyes twinkling. "Make yourself comfortable, darling. We'll be a while."
Right. Comfortable.
It was fine. I would hang out with Mustache here, Hunter would lose the fight on purpose- I just hoped he wouldn't get beat up too bad- and when he was done, everything would go back to normal.
Except maybe I would go to jail, because I was definitely going to kill Antonio. That damn weasel! He just had to get us in this shitshow. Ugh.
Now that everything was cleared up, my bladder made itself known again. I bounced my knee.
Mustache was texting someone, but the gun was still in his hand. I cleared my throat. "Hey... uh, do you mind if I use the bathroom?" I pointed to the door of my office where the attached bathroom was. "I really need to go."
He raised his eyebrow. "You don't have any notions of escaping, do you?"
I sighed. "Why? You made it clear you don't have a reason to hurt me. And all this will end once the fight ends. I don't mind hanging out here until it's done."
He slowly nodded. "Alright. Go on."
He went to the office with me, probably so I wouldn't use the phone on my desk. I hurried to the attached bathroom.
It was so weird having someone listen to my pee. And it was a very long one. I wondered at one point if it would end.
Despite what I told him, I would love to get out of here and go to Hunter. He might get seriously hurt during the fight, and he wouldn't be able to fight at one hundred percent because he was supposed to lose.
But I just had to believe in him. I had no other choice.
I flushed the toilet and went to wash my hands. The bathroom was small, and the sink was right next to the door. Before I turned on the water, I heard Mustache talk. I could tell he was trying to keep his voice low. I pressed my ear against the door, cautiously, and listened.
"...might kill the guy in the end," he was saying. "Jamison pissed him off pretty bad. I've never seen that asshole so worked up. He'll probably pull something underhanded out...."
He chuckled, while my blood chilled, and continued, "I think Cullen's gonna tell Jamison to tap out only when he gives him a sign. With means he wants to beat up Jamison either until he's dead or unconscious."
He cackled, as if someone's suffering was amusing. What a prick.
Washing my hands, I looked at the small mirror. My blue eyes looked dark even under the dingy bathroom light. I set my jaw and held onto the sink.
I couldn't stay here. I had to get to Hunter. If Cullen really wanted him hurt, then Hunter couldn't do anything to defend himself. He wouldn't put me in danger even at the cost of his own life. I knew that.
Anxiety threatened to render me into a useless heap on the ground. I squeezed the sink tighter and focused on my breathing. In. Out. In Out.
I had to focus. Hunter was in danger. I had to find a way out of here and go to him. He had to know I was safe so he could defend himself.
The asshole outside couldn't be bribed, which meant I had to escape. How? He had a gun. He was bigger and stronger. I was a decent fighter, but faced with a man twice my size, there was only so much I could do. It sucked, but that was the reality.
If I could only knock him out with one punch, then I wouldn't have to actually fight him.
Wait.... Knock him out? I didn't need a punch for that. I was a vet, for goodness sake. A plan formed in my head. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. Here's to hoping it worked, and that I wouldn't actually kill the guy.
I got out of the bathroom and forced a smile. "Thanks."
He winked, mumbled something in the phone and ended the call. We went back to the examination room. I didn't sit down. I went straight to the fridge on the counter. "Want a drink?" I asked. "I have water, water and water."
Mustache chuckled and leaned against the examination table. "No beers?"
"Afraid not," I said, taking out a water bottle. I unscrewed it and took a drink, keeping my back to him. My hands shook as I scanned the fridge. There it was. I did a quick calculation. But I was too nervous to be sure of my estimation.
I put the bottle in the fridge and swiped a vial of anesthetic, and turned, slipping my hand in my pocket. Mustache was busy with his phone. Thank God. I strolled through the room.
"Hey, you don't mind if I do a bit of cleaning, do you?" I asked him. "Just to keep busy."
He narrowed his eyes, but after a couple of minutes, he nodded. "Sure."
"Thanks." I beamed at him. He followed me with his gaze for the first couple of minutes, but lost interest when I went through the second cupboard full of cat and dog treats.
I opened the drawer where I kept the syringe. With my back to him, and with shaky hands, I unwrapped the syringe. The crinkling of the packaging almost gave me away. I could feel his gaze on me. So I put the syringe down and crunched the packaging.
"Why does Mary always keep trash in here," I mumbled, as if to myself, and went to throw the packaging in the trash can. "Always have to do everything myself."
I sighed and went back to the drawer. The syringe was now out. I hummed under my breath and rattled through the drawer some more. Opening a few other drawers and transferring things randomly just to look busy.
Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious.
Once I was sure he lost interest again, I slipped the vial out of my coat pocket, put it in the drawer and filled the syringe.
Steady hands. Steady hands. Come on.
Syringe full to where I wanted it, I stuck it in my pocket and calmly closed the drawers.
Mustache was still scrolling. He might not be bribable, but at least he's obsessed with his phone. That should make things easier.
"So..." I began, stepping closer to him. "Can we like, watch a movie or something? I think the fight is going to take a while, so..."
"Pretty friendly, aren't you?" he said, smiling. Friendly. Yep. That's me. Friendly until I knock your ass out.
I stood next to him and looked over at his phone. He was trolling through TikTok. The guy was in his late thirties, at least. It never failed to amaze me how some older people loved TikTok as well.
As expected, his for-you-page was full of pretty dancing girls and rowdy jokes. People could be so boringly expected sometimes.
I visualized my plan a few times in my head. Please, let it work.
I gripped the syringe and waited until there was a very pretty, very curvy girl dancing on screen.
Then I pounced.
The needle went straight to through the muscle of his thick neck. He screamed and tried to shove me, but I was hanging onto him like a monkey until I emptied the syringe.
Finally, he managed to fling me aside. It would take some time for the sedative to work. I'd loaded enough there to knock him out. Hopefully I wouldn't kill him.
He jerked the syringe from his neck while I scrambled up. Blood stained his skin. He looked at the syringe, his face panicked, and raised the gun. "What the hell did you put in here, you bitch?!"
"Nothing that will kill you?" I said, my voice shaky. And why did that come out as a question?!
He stomped closer, bumping into the chair on the way. I scrambled back, hitting my hip against the counter. He pressed the gun to my temple. The coldness of the metal seeped right into my bones. I froze. Thank God I peed earlier.
"What," he asked through gritted teeth, "did you put in the fucking syringe?"
He blinked hard and shook his head.
"Nothing that will kill you," I said again. He opened his mouth, swaying on his feet. Yes! It was working!
He slurred something, his eyes rolling back. His breathing turned heavy. I pushed his gun away and shoved him. He crumpled to the floor. He tried holding himself up with his arms, but they failed him and he fell on his back. His hand spasmed over the gun before it lay limp beside him.
I snatched the gun and stepped back, heart racing. He was still awake. Barely. And I needed to get out of here. Now.
I rushed outside, closing the door against Mustache's garbled words. But then right outside the front door of the clinic, stood another guy. He was leaning against the broken part of the glass door and the lock so they wouldn't be visible from the outside.
Damn it. How the hell could I get him away from the door?
I looked around the waiting room. Empty. Outside, the world was turning dark. I had to hurry or Hunter would be seriously hurt.
I looked at my hand. A gun. I had a freaking gun!
I didn't know how to use it, but the asshole didn't know that. I held the gun up and opened the door. The guy had his guard down and almost fell back. He caught himself and turned with a frown. He froze. Staring at the gun then at me.
"Get inside," I said, walking to the side and keeping the gun trained on him. He slowly walked in.
"No funny business or I swear I'll shoot," I said. The impact of threat was lessened by my shaky voice. Still, he got in. I could literally see his mind working.
"Do you even know how to use a gun?" he asked, his voice scratchy.
I slowly moved to the door, still facing him. "Try and find out. Your friend isn't here, now is he?"
He narrowed his eyes. He knew I was bluffing. But I was right on the doorstep. He lunged.
So I threw the gun at him and sprinted out of there. The sidewalk was decently busy, fortunately. I weaved thorough people. They threw me odd looks. But one of the good things about big cities was that people didn't care what went on around them as long as it didn't concern them.
I could hear some screams and insults behind me. I chanced a glance. The guy was shoving his way through, following after me. I raised my pace. Thank God I was strict with my cardio. Thank you Steve!
I jumped into the road. Almost getting run over by a car. They honked, but I was already on the other side.
I was heading to the parking lot where I kept the car. But I didn't have my keys. My purse was still in the clinic. Ugh!
A cab was driving down towards me. I hailed it desperately. Please stop. Please stop.
It stopped. Yes! I jumped inside and shut the door. "Drive! Just drive!"
The asshole was on the other side of the street, watching the cab drive away. The cab driver didn't ask any questions.
"Should I be worried?" he asked.
The vibrations of the car engine. The passing scenery through the window. The headlights shining through the windshield. I closed my eyes tightly as my stomach roiled.
I was in a car. And I wasn't driving.