Rock Me

Chapter 4

I pull out of the school parking lot after Marcel. I allow a white van separate me and his black Buick so no suspicion rises.
We go down Richmond highway, and I keep my eyes glued on that black car.

I watch as he switches lanes into the left one and takes Seminole Drive. People rarely ever take that road. It's the abandoned one that's a dead end. Only a few people who go hunting once in a while go down there. I slow down so he doesn't notice me pulling in after him. I pull into a slot open in the woods and park. I climb out and stuff my phone into my pocket. My feet crunch on the gravel as I walk down the narrow road. I cross my arms and blow out. I'm glad I changed my shirt when Marcel wasn't looking because the cold coffee would have made me freeze even worse then how I am now.

My thought runs with thoughts
Who sent those messages?
Why does he get so angry?
Why is he so secretive?

After around fifteen minutes a large, dark, brick building comes into view.
I squint my eyes to read the writing on the big metal door.
I mutter to myself what it says;

"Malik Inc."

Malik Inc? What the hell is that?

I spot Harry's black Buick parked alongside a silver Equinox and a row of black vans.
I narrow my eyes, and walk up to the door. I would look kind of stupid walking in the front door. After all the is obviously a secret organization that I'm not supposed to be at.

I try the door anyway and curse to myself when it doesn't budge. I put my ear to the door and I hear faint muffled voices.

"Harder! Harder! Harder damn it!" A gruff voice commands.
"Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!" Grunts another. It's obvious that the second voice is punching something.
"Liam, go outside and check for new boy." Commands the gruff voice from earlier.
"Alright." I hear some footsteps coming and I duck behind the wall.
The metal door swings open and a figure bounds outside. Once he's down the steps I whip around and duck inside the building. I hear the door slam shut behind me causing me to jump.

I place my hand on my pounding chest and squat down and crawl down the hallway. I pass a glass door where it looks like a conference is being held. I peek through a crack and it's a room full of men and a couple women all in black. I scan the faces and I crawl on when none of them are Marcel's.

I pass a few other doors with dimmed lights, and I finally stop at two giant double, metal doors.
I peer inside and widen my eyes at how vast the room is. It's padded flooring with dozens of punching bags. At each one there's somebody punching the hell out of it. I scan the faces and inwardly groan when none of them are-

Holy shit.

My eyes finally fall on a male, shirtless figure punching a bag. The mop of long brown curls bounce with each slam on the bag.
His muscles flex with each swing, and he jumps back and forth dodging it when the bag swoops back to him. I watch as he hits another slam, then backs away. He turns around and grabs a water, gulping it down. I recognize that all too familiar jaw line. And I recognize it even more when he turns around.

Those emerald eyes, prominent jawline, broad shoulders.

Marcel.

At least I think it's Marcel.
Marcel is a quiet boy with no fascinating good looks. He's adorable yes, but this guy, is.. sexy.

He shakes his hair with his hand and and wraps a towel around his neck as my gaze trails down his body to the tattoos.
I examine the butterfly on his torso, and I trail my eyes back up to his nice features. He's messing with his hands and looks up when some guy walks over to him in a white tank top and sport shorts. I expect Marcel to do his normal wide eyes and stuttering but all he does is smirk and laugh, high fiving the boy. He nods his head and says something without a hint of a stutter.