Blame It on the Pain Page 2

  It was something we were going to have in common real soon.

  His eyes opened wide. “Stop. You're really gonna kill me, Jackson.”

  My fist went flying straight for his chest, this time, effectively silencing him.

  His eyes rolled back in his head and a low gurgling sound filled the room.

  I reached down and fisted his hair while meeting his stare. “Did you listen when my baby sister begged you to stop?” I questioned before I sent a karate chop straight to his neck.

  Adrenaline mixed with guilt, grief and wrath like I'd never felt before coursed through me as I continued to pummel him.

  At some point, I saw life leave his traitorous eyes and heard sirens looming in the distance.

  ***

  “His blood was literally found on your hands, Mr. Reid. You don't stand a chance in hell of walking away from this without doing some serious prison time.” My good for nothing attorney informed me.

  I glanced down at the cuffs around my wrists. “Did they test his blood for steroids like I told you to have them do?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He came back clean.”

  Fuck. How was that even possible?

  That meant that he was in his right state of mind when he murdered her after all.

  Rage bubbled in my chest at the thought.

  I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “He killed my baby sister. It was self- defense.”

  He matched my sigh. “His attorney is saying otherwise, son.”

  “His attorney. What the fuck are you talking about? He's dead- as he should be. Why the fuck does he have an attorney?”

  He fixed his tie before he looked at me. “I didn't want to be the one to break it to you, but there's no point in keeping it from you any longer. The big-time sponsor and agent that Mike signed with are going after you, Jackson. Not to mention his very wealthy parents. They're working with the prosecution and blaming it all on you. They're doing everything that they can to protect their brand. And his parents are doing everything they can to protect their family's reputation. They're fighting your story tooth and nail. They're a huge sponsor and combined with Mike's family they have lots of connections and resources. They have the means to take you down.”

  He paused and looked down. “And the fact is- there were only three people there that night...and two of them are now dead. It's your word against theirs...and it doesn't look good. Especially because you basically admitted to killing him.”

  He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. “Also, this showed up at my office today. I'm really sorry, Jackson.”

  I skimmed the letter and pounded my fist on the table. My own sponsor and agent had officially dropped me.

  I would no longer be welcomed in the professional MMA world, ever again.

  “So what are my options?”

  He ran a hand over his bald head. “Well, I talked to the prosecutor. I got Man-one off the table.” He pulled another stack of papers out and moved his glasses up his nose. “The best they will offer you at this point is Manslaughter-two. 15-25 years. However, here's the clincher- if you don't take the deal. Mike's team will be teaming up with the prosecution against you.” He sighed. “I hate to say it, Jackson. But this is the only shot you've got.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and snorted. “15-25 years, for killing a piece of shit abuser?”

  He visibly swallowed. “And Lilly,” he whispered.

  I stood up to my full height of 6'3 and got in his face, my shackles straining against me. “What the fuck do you mean and Lilly? I didn't kill my sister!” I screamed.

  If I wasn't shackled to the heavy metal desk, I would have beat the crap out of him for spewing some shit like that.

  He took a step back. “I told you, Mike's team is working with the prosecution. They're not putting the blame on Mike for this, Jackson. They're twisting some horrid tale about you and your sister being super close after growing up the way you did...if you catch my drift.”

  Bile ascended my throat as he continued. “They're going to say that you were jealous of Mike and your sister’s relationship. Combined with the fact that he came from wealth and landed a much better sponsor than you did...it all leads to jealousy being the motive.”

  “But, I was at the fight that night. Hell, I won my fight that night. Hundreds of people saw me with their own eyes. Mike and Lilly never even showed up!”

  “They're saying that you killed them before the fight because you didn't want him to compete in the first place.” He made air quotes with his hands. “Because your jealousy got the best of you and finally came to a head.”

  I threw up my hands. “And then what? I just decided to attend my fight with his blood on my hands and then return to the scene of the crime instead of getting the hell out of dodge? That's insane.”

  “According to the prosecution's story, you returned to find a way to get rid of the bodies.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “It is,” he agreed.

  I shook my head. “I'm not taking that deal. I'll take my chances in court. I didn't kill Lilly. If they were just accusing me of killing Mike, I would consider folding- because I did kill him. But I will not go down for committing the heinous act that he did.”

  He rubbed his scalp again and sat back down in the chair. “Look, I've got to level with you. We won't win this, Jackson.” He motioned toward the papers on the desk. “I'm good at my job. And I fully believe you didn't kill Lilly, even more- I understand what you did to Mike...but I can't win this. The system is corrupt as fuck, and we've got everything going against us right now. You're not walking away from this. The only option left is to plead insanity and spend the rest of your life in a straight jacket and a padded room.”

  I got up and motioned for the guard on the opposite side of the door.

  “No,” I said gruffly.

  ***

  Ten days before my trial was supposed to begin, I was informed I had a visitor. Since my lawyer had pretty much all but given up on the case, I was a little surprised.

  Maybe he had finally come to his senses and decided to fight for me the way he was supposed to.

  I looked around the dreary gray room while I took a seat beside the metal desk. My attention soon focused on the sound of the door opening.

  In walked a man wearing an impeccable suit, and holding a fairly large briefcase.

  He tipped his hat at me before he sat down in front of me.

  “Who the hell are you?” I asked.

  He gave me a smirk and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “I'm your new lawyer,” he said.

  I stood up and tilted my head in the direction of the guard, signaling him to let me out so I could go back to my cell. “I think there's been some mistake. I don't recall asking for a new lawyer.” I eyed his expensive suit and snorted. “Besides, I'm positive I can't afford you anyway. I have legal aid for crying out loud.”

  “Sit down, Jackson.” His voice boomed throughout the room.

  Looking back, I wouldn't say that I was scared of him...it was more like intrigued about what he was doing there in the first place.

  I begrudgingly sat back down and stared at him. “Okay, let's just cut to the chase then. What's this about? Who are you?”

  He cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his seat. “You can just call me your guardian angel, boy,” he said smirking.

  I had recently turned 24 at that point, and I was practically on death row for killing a man. I was far from a boy and didn't appreciate being told otherwise.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You have 1 minute before I walk the fuck out of here. I don't give a shit who you are.”

  He studied me for a beat before he rubbed his chin and laughed. “Alright. Let's just say that I have a proposition for you.” He cracked his knuckles again. “Something like a get out of jail free card. You interested?'

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “From what I'm told...not even God, himself can get me out of this shithole.�
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  He leaned forward and proceeded to light a cigarette, his eyes gleaming. “No, you're right. God can't...” He flashed me a smile. “But the devil can.”

  Chills ran up my spine with those words. “I would ask what the catch is, but I'm not sure I want to know,” I mumbled.

  I heard the click of his briefcase and he handed me what looked to be a contract of some sort.

  The first thing that stood out was the name.

  “Who's Bruno DeLuca? That you?” I questioned.

  He laughed. “No, that is not me. However, I work for him. He's the one who sent me here.”

  I skimmed the rest of the contract, but I didn't understand it. It just said that I would agree to work for Bruno DeLuca for the next ten years, and failure to uphold my end of the agreement would result in disciplinary action.“What kind of work? And why the fuck would he want me? Who is this guy? And more importantly, what the fuck makes him think he can get me out of serving time for murder?”

  He winked and gave me another smirk. “Let's just say that Bruno DeLuca knows a thing or two about murder, kid.”

  I stood up. “Okay, I've had it with the games. I have a trial in 10 days that I need to prepare for and I really don't need this bullshit.”I looked at the guard through the plexiglass and signaled for him, but he ignored me. I got up and proceeded to bang on the glass when the man's voice halted me.

  “Sign that contract and you won't even have to prepare for trial. You'll be out of here within the next 48 hours. You won't go down for your sister’s murder, Jackson. And more importantly, no one will be making disgusting and untrue accusations about your relationship with her in a court of law and tarnishing her memory.”

  Needless to say, that got my attention. “What does he want from me?”

  “He wants you to do the thing you love the most. Compete and fight.”

  I spun around and faced him. “That's not going to happen...I'm pretty sure I've been canned from the professional world of MMA fighting. No sponsors or agents will touch me with a 10-foot pole.”

  He barked out a laugh before his expression turned serious. “This isn't professional fighting. This is underground fighting.”

  I said the first thing that popped into my head. “That's illegal.”

  He blew a puff of smoke out and shrugged. “Last time I checked, so was murder.”

  Well, he had me there. Even though I still didn't feel a single ounce of remorse for it.

  I sat back down at the table and took a cigarette out of the pack. “Okay, explain to me how he has the means to do this and why he wants me...and I'll consider it.”

  He smiled and lit my cigarette. “I realize you're from Boston, kid, but Bruno DeLuca is the biggest mob boss to hit New York City since the five families.”

  I took another drag off my cigarette...I definitely needed it.

  “And he runs an underground fighting ring?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Amongst other endeavors, yes.”

  “And he wants me because...”

  “Because you showed real potential before you got locked up. Not to mention, you beat the shit out of and murdered a fellow professional fighter- one who our sources say was even more talented than you.”

  “It was only because of the roids he was on,” I muttered.

  He waved me off. “Personally, I don't give a shit. The point is that DeLuca wants you, kid. And you're not really in a position to say no to him. You're up shits creek without a paddle.”

  At least on that fact, I could wholeheartedly agree with him.

  “I just don't get how I would be able to walk out of here, though. Look around, I'm in jail for Christ's sake. I'm pretty sure the judicial system would have something to say about my release.”

  He stared at me hard before he rubbed his fingers together. “Money and power, kid. It makes the world go round'.” His expression turned serious. “For starters, he's going to buy off the judge. He's also having evidence planted that will end up proving your innocence as we speak.”

  I held up my hands. “Whoa, I'm not okay with having an innocent man go down for murders that he didn't commit.”

  “That's not for you to decide, kid. Let's just say that this guy crossed DeLuca, so he's only getting what's coming to him. You just get to reap the benefits.”

  I put out my cigarette and went to stand again. “No. I won't do it.”

  “You don't really have a choice, Jackson.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “If you don't take the deal and work for DeLuca...you will be attacked in your cell, later on, tonight.” He looked me in the eyes. “And, kid. I gotta tell ya...the odds aren't in your favor in regards to making it out alive.”

  I glared at him. Anger pulsing through me. “So, I never had a choice in the first place, did I?”

  He shrugged and handed me a pen. “Afraid not, kid. Welcome to the family.”

  Three years later...

  Chapter 1 (Alyssa)

  “Yeah, you like that, you slut?” he says as he continues to plow into me from behind.

  His words reverberate through my head and I fight back the tears.

  Nope. Not even a little bit.

  “Yeah,” I say, hoping it will all be over soon.

  “Who's a little slut?” he asks before I feel his entire body spasm against me.

  “I am,” I whisper. All while, secretly hating myself for how true it is and for putting myself through this goddamn scenario, yet again.

  All in the name of punishment.

  That's what I do, though...that's how I cope. If you could even call it that.

  A few more slut shaming insults and a loud grunt later...my penance is over.

  I leap off the bed and make a beeline for the bathroom.

  I force myself to look in the mirror. “You only did it to yourself, Alyssa,” I remind myself.

  I close my eyes as I run a washcloth under the warm water and proceed to clean myself up.

  A moment later the door opens and arms wrap around me like tentacles.

  I move my head from side to side, looking for a way out.

  “That was great, babe. Huh?” he asks while adjusting his large framed glasses on his face.

  I roll my eyes against his preppy, polo shirt and give him a smile that's about as fake as a two dollar bill. “Yup.”

  I shimmy past him and nod my head toward the front door.

  “You can go now,” I remind him.

  He looks puzzled, which only serves to annoy me further.

  I swear, every time we have sex...he gets even more attached. I'm going to have to cut him off soon.

  I decide to try the nice approach with him one more time. “Look, I have a job interview today and I really need to get ready for it.”

  He laughs nervously. “Oh, okay. I was getting a little worried there for a second. Thought you were getting sick of me.” He takes a step forward. “When can I see you again? I really want to take you out on a date. I was thinking about taking you to the science...”

  Ugh...the walls are officially closing in on me.

  I cut him off before he has a chance to finish that sentence. “Look, Brock...I think we need to go over the rules of our arrangement again. This...” I gesture between us. “Is just sex. That's it. Once a week, maximum.” I walk toward him and cup his face in my hands. “You are a great guy, Brock...but I think this needs to end.”

  Before he has a chance to argue, I continue on with my spiel. “It's not you, it's totally me. I just don't think we're looking for the same things anymore.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and walk him to the front door. I unlock the door and give him a little nudge. “I'll see you around. Have a safe drive home. Buh-bye.”

  I slam the door shut and chain lock it behind me.

  He's gone...crisis averted.

  I fall back against the door...another innocent, harmless nerd prototype bites the dust before he reached stage 5 clinger status.

  With a sig
h, I walk back into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

  I finish the rest of my shower, and study the clothes I laid out for the interview I have later on tonight.

  I pull up my favorite tight pair of jeans over my hips and reach for my low-cut white top...made all that more pronounced by my black push-up bra. Then I blow dry my hair and apply a quick coat of lip gloss and mascara.

  I shake out my long blonde hair and run my fingers through it a few times.

  I glance at the clock and let out a curse.

  Given the fact that the city's about two hours away in rush hour traffic, I'm running dangerously close to being late.

  And lord knows, I desperately need this job.

  After throwing on my favorite leather crop jacket, I give myself a once over in the mirror again and decide I'm ready to go.

  I can't afford to blow this opportunity.

  ***

  His dirt brown eyes skim over my body before landing on my chest. He rubs his chin and nods. “Very nice. Now, turn around and bend over for me, sweetheart.”

  Somewhere very deep inside, my inner feminist wants to claw his eyes out. But then I remind myself that all I've got in the fridge is a container of moldy milk, and cheese that looks like it will make good penicillin soon.

  But that fails in comparison to the real reason I need this job.

  I turn around and do what he says while he lets out a whistle. After a few moments have passed, I assume it's safe to turn back around and my inspection is over.

  He considers me for another minute or so and gives me another nod. “You're easy on the eyes, that's for sure. And you got a rockin' body.” He holds up a cue card with a giant number on it. “Think you'll be able to manage holding these up in the cage?” he asks hesitantly.

  Seriously...is he kidding?

  I maintained a 4.0 for 3 years while studying journalism and news-casting at NYU for crying out loud.

  I flash him a strained smile. “Gee, I don't know, Mister. It looks awfully hard.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  Shit...I really need to learn to tone the sarcasm down every once in a while.