Damn it!
I’m not even thinking about what they’re going to do to me. I’m wondering what they’re doing to Pierce.
I hear a gunshot, and my whole body jolts. The bang was so loud, my ears hurt, and I’m in a closed room. It came from somewhere nearby, somewhere in the same building I’m in.
Following the gunshot is a cry of pain.
I recognize the voice.
It’s Pierce.
Chapter Thirty Three
“Fuck you!” I bellow. “Fuck all of you!”
I wince, stare down at my foot. It’s bubbling blood out of a gunshot wound. I move my foot to the side, see the bullet lodged in the ground, the concrete all around it cracked. It went straight through me.
“That’s a handicap,” Fallon says. “Because you fucking walked out of that fight, the only bloody way I could get that Russian cunt to agree to a rematch – double or nothing – is to handicap you. This is your fault, you stupid American cunt.”
“Fuck you,” I growl. “I swear to God, Fallon, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Listen to yourself, you idiot,” Fallon barks, pointing a finger at me. “You still think there’s a way out of this? If that Anton gets you, he’s under instructions to break you. You embarrassed us back there. You know how many people bet big money on you? You embarrassed me back there by walking out. I vouched for you. In my world, there’s this thing called face.”
“Fuck your face.”
“So if you can’t win, you’ll be broken, Pierce, and we will leave you here to die. We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. There’s no working phones. You will die.”
“Fuck you, you old motherfucker.”
“Well let me tell you something. I’ve got your pretty little thing locked up in the office. If you don’t fight, we… encourage you to.” He grins nastily at me. I imagine myself cracking his skull with a rusty pipe.
But I know I’ve got no choice. It fucking kills me that they’ve got Pen, that they’re using her, that it’s my fault she’s in this position.
“You better bandage up my fucking foot, then,” I tell him. “Because I can’t fight if I lose all my blood.”
I look down, and see a puddle of crimson beneath my foot. It hurts like hell, but damn if I’m going to show it.
“Micky,” Fallon says to his goon. “You got some medical training, right?”
“Served in the army as a medic, boss.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Fallon says, clicking his fingers.
Micky leaves and comes back with a first aid bag, and says, “This might hurt a little.”
He lifts my foot. I grit my teeth together, but otherwise don’t show my pain.
“Through-and-through,” he says to himself. “Small fracture of the third metatarsal. Surprisingly, the ligament is still attached, I think. Bullet slipped straight through. Basically a flesh wound.”
“Thanks for the medical,” I growl.
“Boss?” Micky says, turning around.
“What is it?”
“Give him some morphine?”
“No!” I say, pulling his attention back to me. “Don’t give me anything.”
“It’ll hurt when you put pressure on it.”
“Fuck off.”
He grins. “Tough cunt, are ya?”
“Tougher than you.”
“That right?”
“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”
Micky the medic laughs. “Alright, alright. You’ll get your chance to show off soon.”
He pours iodine on my foot, and then begins to bandage it up. I do my best not to show that it hurts, but fuck if it doesn’t burn to hell and back. Fuck if it isn’t a shock to see the orange iodine fall through a hole in my foot.
When he’s done, he looks to Fallon, who gives him a nod, and then he cuts my binds. I stand up, test the foot. I can barely put any weight on it.
“I’ll fight that Russian fucker,” I say at Fallon. “On one condition.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making—”
“Fuck you!” I shout. “You put a fucking hole in my foot.”
“And you lost me fifty million dollars! And it might be more if you don’t fucking win tonight.”
“Take it or leave it,” I tell him.
Fallon pauses, considers it. “What condition?”
“Bring Penny out. Let her watch.”
“You want her to watch?”
“Damn right I do.”
He grins. “You bloody showoff. Fine.”
“And when I win—”
“If you win.”
“She leaves here with me… unharmed.”