Page 51 of Hit and Run
“Kick his ass, Shade,” Clutch yells to me.
A bell rings, signaling the start of the fight. I walk toward the center of the octagon, keeping my face guarded while this fool bounces around, exerting himself more than he should. He rushes toward me, swinging a wild right hook. I duck with plenty of time to spare. When I stand again, I toss an uppercut right into his jaw. He stumbles back but catches himself before he falls. He’s pissed. If this dude were a cartoon, he would have steam coming out of his ears. He moves in a circle to the right, causing me to move, too. There’s no way I’m letting him close enough to hit me.
With all the moving he’s doing, he’s bound to wear himself out. He's not cautious of his moves. He’s hot-headed and predictable. He throws his leg up to kick me, but I jump back to avoid it. His eyes keep darting between me and someone in the crowd, telling me he’s trying to show off for someone. My guess is a female. His head isn’t one hundred percent in this fight. He was doomed from the start. He takes a step closer, still going between me and the crowd.
When he looks back to the crowd, I take a chance and throw a roundhouse kick. My foot connects with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. I take the opportunity to get more hits in. He starts out guarding his face, so I pound punches into his abs. He lowers his hands just enough for me to throw an elbow to his face. The hit makes him drop his hands and I throw punch after punch into his face, making it a bloody mess.
I must blackout, because the next thing I know, the bell rings to end the fight and Rascal is dragging me off Tyson, yelling at me to snap out of it. Rascal sets me on my feet back in the corner I started in,
“Fight’s over. You won,” he tells me. I glance over at Tyson. His buddies are with him and he’s drenched in blood, barely moving.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.” Rascal ushers me out of the octagon and into the locker rooms. Surprisingly, there are showers in here. Rascal walks to a closet, grabs a towel, then hangs it on a hook by one of the showers.
“Rinse off. Clutch will be back with your clothes in a few minutes,” Rascal tells me. I nod and walk into the shower with my shorts on. Once I close the curtain, I take my shorts off and toss them outside of the shower. I stand directly under the water, leaning with my hands against the wall and my head hanging between my shoulders.
As soon as I stepped foot in that octagon, it was TJ’s face I saw, not Tyson’s. When we find TJ, it’ll end much differently than this fight. TJ will die, be it at my hands or someone else’s. I will see to it.
I get some body wash from the dispenser on the wall. This thing is actually pretty neat. It has a spot for body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You hit a button for the one you need and it pours it into your hand. I wash my body and hair in record time, ready to get back to the clubhouse. Turning off the water, I reach out of the shower to grab my towel. I dry off, then wrap the towel around my waist.
When I open the shower curtain, no one is in here, but my clothes and shoes are sitting on the bench. I get dressed and put my shoes on, then head out of the locker room to find Rascal and Clutch.
“How ya feeling,” Rascal asks when I find them.
I shrug. “Ready to find TJ and make him suffer,” I admit.
“We’ll find him. Some slow and painful torture is definitely in his future,” Clutch says. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and a number I don’t have saved flashes across the screen. I hesitate, but something is telling me I should answer it.
“Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Shade, it’s Finn Murphy,” he tells me. “I think we found Sienna.”
32
Sienna
A few dayshave gone by since the kid came in to clean me up the first time. He came in last night to help me shower again. On top of that, they’ve been giving me more meals and water throughout the day. Oatmeal instead of toast. They must have had someone express interest in me if they’re doing all of this.
The thoughts of who I’ll be going to next kept me up all night. I mean, what kind of personbuysanother human? I’ve been luckier than other girls here. Scarface might slap me when I stand up to him, but I don’t have bruises or cuts all over my body. I shudder as I think of the girl I saw in the basement. Things could always be worse.
Scarface walks into the room carrying a tray with breakfast and a bag. I slowly sit up, watching him carefully.
“Buenas dias, chiquita.” he gives me an evil grin. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
I eye him wearily and glance from him to the bag, then back to him. I’m afraid to ask.
“We will be driving you to meet your new master today,” he tells me, setting the tray on the end of the mattress and the bag next to it. He stalks toward me. “I’m a little disappointed I can’t keep you for myself. Maybe we can have a little fun before we leave.”
His phone rings, saving me from whatever was going through his disgusting mind. He mutters something in Spanish.
“You’re a lucky little whore,” he says before answering his phone. When he’s out of the room, I let out a heavy breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I crawl to the tray and bag, curious about what’s in it. I cautiously open the bag. My eyes pool with tears when I realize there are clothes in it.
I pull out a pair of yoga pants, similar to the ones I wore here. There are a few t-shirts in the bag. Whoever packed it was kind enough to give me options. I grab what looks like a loose t-shirt and pull it over my head quickly. It has a deep v-neck that shows off the top of my boobs, but it’s comfy. At the bottom of the bag, there are multiple pairs of new panties and a pair of flip flops. I change into a new pair of panties before putting the yoga pants on.
After I’m dressed, I eat the oatmeal he brought. I pace myself so I don’t get sick. I can’t eat much in one sitting since my body had become accustomed to only eating toast once a day. The oatmeal is like a feast for me. The kid comes into the room while I’m eating.
“Did he tell you?” He leans against the doorway.
“What?”
