My Bad Boy And The Gang.

Chapter 10

I sit in the fancy Booth staring at Vince. When he said this place was nice I didn't think he meant fabric booths and no linoleum nice.

I didn't think he meant maitre'd. I didn't think he meant such a nice place I probably should've worn my long dress. I didn't think he meant the highest high end restaurant in a seven mile radius.

But of course he did. I openly gape at him and gawk at the building that says Monroe's in giant fancy handwriting.

"Go big." He says shrugging parking the car. Sure... Go big.

Or go home. Is that an option? I stare out the window numbly, I register that my doors bow open but only because of the chill that hits me. I feel his hand grab mine. I hear something in the background... Like a dull monotone buzz.

What is that? I shake my head to get rid if the noise but now it's louder. I turn to my right where it seems to be coming from.

Oh, it's him talking.

Oops. He seems worried. Why? Is that about me? He eyes are shrouded in worry, there's a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He's nervous. His words start to come into focus and I try hard to listen.

"...if you want to leave. Baby why won't you speak? Are you....... I didn't think you'd be upset I thought you'd be......... Comes to restaurants like these all the time...." I can't understand all of what he's saying and partially because my wars are going in and out if focus, partially because of the screaming men exiting the restaurant. Vince turns around with anger in his eyes then immediately turns around facing me with worry.

"Babe what's going-" before I can finish my question one of the yelling men changes, he's not yelling at the man I front if him anymore.

"DEMARIO! YOUR ASS IS DEAD!" The men full out start running at us and as much as he tries, Vince can't make his get away.

∽•♔♚♛♚♔•∽

I push the cloth soaked in antiseptic a gash in his bicep. I didn't give him a warning and the string of expletives that roll from his mouth tell me I got the desired effect.

Why am I being cruel? Well for one our date was ruined, even though that might have been partially my fault. Secondly though, when I said I'd date him I didn't sign up for two men torturing me to get to him.

But that's kool. If he's the kind if guy who can oh so casually sit and watch as two men tie me up strip me of my clothes. Get anywhere near me the way they were only for them to end up beating the shit out of me, then I can be fine with it right?

Right? Not. Wrong, dead wrong.

Thankfully that's the worst of it. When they'd removed all but my underwear and bra I was afraid of.... THAT happening but they had worse motives. Prey on the five foot five little girl who was tied up and couldn't have done a thing with my hands free and a knife or gun with me.

But... I can deal with that. Who cares I'm past it. My broken rib might not be for a while but I am. I'm not okay with how they ruthlessly beat Vince, I got a few punches to the gut, broke a few bones. But that was nothing compared to the way the two men stood and slammed fists, feet... Even haphazardly made weapons into him over and over again for what felt like years.

But I'm angry he didn't tell me his life was being threatened. We said no more secrets but he obviously didn't care.

I wrap the gauze tightly, if not too tight, around his arm scrapping the metal clip along his skin making him hiss.