Page 9 of Body Lock

My eyes lifted rapidly, taking in the large, purple-faced man who stormed in.

It was my father, Louis Powell, sole owner of Whiskey Sour; among other endeavors he had his greedy hands in.

A flashback of Willy Wonka and the girl who blew up into the giant blueberry crept into my mind. I half expected him to pop; his face swelled with anger, ready to explode. Holding in my giggle, I kept wiping the counter.

My father's eyes bulged out of the sockets, his chest lifting heavily under heated breaths. If it was cold in here, steam would have spilled from his nostrils like dry ice crawling over a smooth surface.

Heavy feet stomped across the old wood floor, the walls rattling around me with the weight of his body.

Fuck. This is not what I need right now.

“Cadence, what the FUCK happened here!?” Using the word 'angry' to describe his tone didn't give it enough justice.

He was fucking pissed. He was beyond fucking pissed, there was red in his eyes, the veins reaching out and around his black pupils.

Trying to sound calm, I brushed off the incident as if it was nothing. “Dad, it was just a stupid fight. No big deal, nothing was broken.” The wide eyes I had when he entered swiftly returned to the newly shined counter.

I couldn't look directly at him; I knew exactly why he was so upset. This hadn't been just a stupid bar brawl with two drunken idiots.

This was different, it involved one of his own. His fighters weren't allowed to use their fists outside the ring.

“No Big deal! No big deal, Cadence! How about Nico, huh? His face was broken. What am I going to do now? He's my top guy, I need him, and you know that!” His hands vigorously rubbed back and forth against his temples, wrinkles across his forehead created a stairway back to the thin hairline resting in the middle of his skull.

Under his breath, he whispered to himself, as he paced anxiously back and forth. “You couldn't just do your job, you had to go start shit with him, had to.” The thick muscle of his neck rotated side to side with his head, veins pulsing angrily all around his throat.

I couldn't speak, I didn't want to try and calm him down, or sooth his worry about that asshole.

I wanted to yell, scream, tear the rest of the hair off his head so he would maybe listen to me for once in his life. My thoughts crested the edge of my lips, but stayed dormant in my mind. The words were there...“I don't care that he's your head fucking crony! I could give two shits about that dirt bag!”Instead, the scream sat like billboard letters, burning against my pupils.

My father was a tough man. Even with me, his daughter, his own flesh and blood, I was spared nothing. A quick lash of his tongue or strike of his fist, that was how he ran things. I was trained to never talk back, to never question his authority.

He was my father, and with just that he deserved every ounce of respect I could give.

And he always knew exactly what to say to hit me below the belt. I hated that.

I wish Quinn was still here.

It was easy for my inner thoughts to reach for him, call for him from the depths of my body. The way he took control, standing in front of me as my savior. Every nerve stood on end, a prickling wave of goosebumps flooded my skin.

My lip pulled up to reveal the hint of a smile. Instantly, fire filled my fathers glare. His eyes gaped open, the charcoal centers reflecting my image. “You better wipe that fucking smile off your face,” he said, a deep lunge of his foot brought him directly in front of me. “How did Nico end up this way? You know one man couldn't have done that. What happened?” His teeth ground together as he spoke, sending a piercing screech through my eardrums.

“It was a guy named Quinn. Nico got in my face—like he always does.” I couldn't stop my tone that time from twisting; the normal obedience and respect I was trained to have was shadowed by my hatred for that man. “You know how he treats me!”

My father's fist slammed down on the counter, fingers burying beneath his palm. “Don't lie to me, Cadence!”

My body jolted back from his fervor. Trembling inside, I struggled to speak. “I-I'm not. Really, it was just Quinn.” Taking a step back, my spine brushed the register; hand catching the edge, and tipping the cash drawer.

His hands came up quick, drawing long strokes down his chest, pulling on the collar of his black button-up shirt to straighten it. “You say that one man, a single man, did that much damage to my best fighter?” A new life emerged from the cold eyes set deep inside the sockets. “Then I have to have him. He needs to work for me.” From within his grizzly face, a smile burned. “Andyou, you my dear, are going to bring him to me.”

“Wait... What? How do you expect me to do that?” My mouth hung open, brows furrowing deep into my nose.

I couldn't understand what he was trying to ask. Where would I find him? I didn't know his last name, where he worked, nothing.

He was a stranger to me.

A stranger I would love to thank for what he did. He deserved that much.

“He was dragged out of here by the cops wasn't he?” my father said, the empty hollows of his eyes widening. My head shook a soundless 'yes.' His lips transformed into a devious arch as he leaned in over the bar. “Then you know where to find him.”

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