Chapter 3: Hidden Heir: Chapter 3

“Do you need to place an order?”

Clearly they have no interest in doing that but it’s the only thing I can think to say as the smaller of the four men places his thick large hands on top of the counter.

“Not quite,” he says, his crooked smile widening with one side stretching up as if it was trying to reach his ear.

There’s an Irish twang in his voice, and each step closer that he takes makes my heart pound faster and faster. The other three men start to move around the store crashing plants, vases, flowers, and pots to the stone floor. Glass and clay rain down, breaking and scattering into a thousand pieces.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” My anger gets the better of me and I surge forward as my livelihood becomes a playground for these three men. As soon as I move, the fourth man reacts. He slams into me, grasping my face in one meaty hand and placing his forearm across my chest, forcing me back against the wall.

“Not so fast, little girl.”

I gasp. My entire body runs cold when I hit the wall, pinned in place by this terrifying stranger. Hot tears spring into my eyes and I clutch at his elbow as if the touch can somehow give me leverage for freedom. His fingers embed into my cheeks, forcing my lips into a macabre smile. My heart races, jumping with every sharp crash and smash of my shop’s contents.

These men are dangerous.

I know dangerous.

I’ve been hiding from a dangerous man for three years. Are these men his goons? Are they linked to the shadow that exists in the corner of my life?

It’s difficult to sort my thoughts between the pressure across my chest and the smoke stench radiating from this man’s mouth.

“Please,” I beg through squished cheeks. “Tell me what you want, maybe I can help. Just stop destroying my store!”

The man laughs coldly.

“Are–are you from the bank? Is this about my late payments?”

The man laughs even louder. “Do we look like bankers? No we’re not from the bank.” As his grey eyes slowly drift down my body, a different kind of cold wraps its long fingers around my shoulders. His gaze is so intense I can almost feel his sleazy thoughts leaking into me, pressing down across my body. There’s nothing I can do to hide from his gaze. The disgust rises through me and I wiggle my shoulders, trying to get free so I can take a breath that doesn’t include the stink of his mouth.

He doesn’t like that. Suddenly, he releases the grip on my jaw only to pull back his hand, colliding it full force with my cheek. My head snaps to the side as burning heat explodes across my face, my ear ringing from the force of the blow. He drags me from the wall and shoves me down over the counter, draping his bulky body over the top of me and pressing down so hard I can’t breathe.

“Wait!” I squeak, dizzy from the blow. “No, please, don’t!” One large hand lands on my head, keeping my hot cheek pressed to the cold counter. Terror grips me like barbed wire as his thick leg shoves between my thighs and I’m completely pinned.

“Please, please don’t. No, no, no, NO!” It falls like a mantra as his other hand wanders over my body and pulls my t-shirt up, exposing my abdomen. In the same second, the sudden sharp pressure of a blade presses into my navel. I choke on air, unable to cry and breathe at the same time.

“Now, we’ll talk,” the man says, leaning down and pressing his lips against my cheek. “My name’s Paul and you owe us a shit ton of fucking money. And I’m not leaving here until I get it.”

“What?” I gasp hoarsely. My body trembles with a will of its own and despite my fingertips clawing at the countertop, there’s an unnatural numbness taking over my limbs. It’s like fear is now completely in control.

“Are you fucking deaf?” He grips my hair and lifts my head an inch, then slams it back down onto the counter.

I scream and suddenly his fat fingers are in my mouth, clawing to the back of my throat. I can’t even bite down as sharp pain lances through my jaw. I choke violently, my body convulsing against his. He snickers as if enjoying the struggle.

“Now you listen here, you little bitch, and you listen good. I’m a patient man, but right now, unfortunately for you, my patience is wearing thin. Your brother owes us money, you understand? He owes enough money that I bet you could buy a hundred of these little flower shops, but we can’t find him. It’s as if he’s just up and vanished. But we did find you, pretty lady.” Paul pops his lips and my stomach turns in disgust.

My body recoils instinctively, his words reaching me in snippets through the fearful pounding of my own heart and the sharp, wet chokes from my throat. It feels like he’s trying to reach down into my body and flip me inside out.

This is about Ant?

“You see, Ant works for us. Do you know who we are, Brooke?”

I can only gurgle.

Paul laughs. “I don’t think she knows, boys.”

Through my swimming eyes, I catch a glimpse of the other three men moving toward the counter, and a fear like I’ve never known grips me so hard I can’t breathe. They came to claim money that Ant owes them. What if they decide to use me as part of that payment?

“We’re members of the Irish Mafia and your brother works for us. The only problem is, he became a little too addicted to the product, if you get what I’m saying. I can overlook a sniff here, a needle there. We’ve all done it and addicts make great dealers because no one sells product as well as someone already hooked.”

I can barely wrap my mind around what I’m hearing, too consumed by fear over the knife at my belly and the clawing fingers in my mouth.

“Trouble is, Ant got cocky and a shipment went missing. A shipment I trusted him to deliver. It was his chance to rank up but instead, the truck goes missing. The truck with my drugs in it.”

As anger seeps thicker into Paul’s voice, the blade presses firmer into my abdomen, forcing me to arch away from the knife and into Paul’s body.

“You don’t happen to know where that shipment might have gone, do you? Or where your brother is, for that matter?”

Again, I can only gurgle. Paul is silent for a few seconds before laughing wickedly.

“Oh shit.” Finally, he removes his fingers from my mouth. My stomach tightens and heaves in disgust.

I cough loudly, gagging and choking over the strange metallic taste left behind. It’s not until I cough again that I realize my mouth is bleeding.

Fuck!

“I don’t know anything!” I sob. “I swear. I didn’t even know Ant had a job. I haven’t seen him in I don’t know how long. Please, I’m telling you the truth!”

Paul doesn’t appear to believe me. When he leans back down, he aligns his cheek with mine. “You see, Brooke, normally I wouldn’t believe you but I’ve been watching you for a few days and I’ve seen that gorgeous little daughter you have. No sign of your brother, though.”

A different fear grips me. This one is hot and all-consuming, blaring in my mind like a siren as his words sink in.

He’s seen me with Tiff. He knows I have a child.

I consider telling him exactly where Ant is because there is no world where I will choose him over my daughter. But my mouth doesn’t work. I’m trembling so fiercely that all I can do is whimper.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking. If Ant can’t give us what he owes then it’s up to you.”

“Me?”

“Yep. With everything your fucking scumbag brother skimmed off the top, plus the shipment he stole, and compensation for me having to come to a fucking flower shop with my allergies, I figure the total comes to seven fifty.”

Does he mean seven hundred and fifty? That’s a lot of money but I could take out a loan and pay it back quickly.

“Is that all?”

It’s not meant to sound mocking but clearly my answer isn’t good enough. The knife against my abdomen flicks to the side and fire licks at my skin as the blade cuts into me. I squeal and whimper, choking on the next wave of tears that consume me.

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

“What?” I screech. “I don’t have that kind of money! I’ve never even seen that kind of money! I can’t, you’re insane. I can’t pay that, this shop isn’t worth nearly that much!” Panic rises in me like a surging wave and I begin to squirm against Paul with all my strength. This has to be some kind of bad dream.

Paul pulls me up against him, hushing me as if I was his lover. His hand slides around my throat and he caresses my jaw, but then his hand is replaced by the blade of the knife and I freeze. I breathe in short, sharp gasps and my heart slows to powerful, terrified thumps.

“I know that already. One look at you and I knew we wouldn’t be getting the cash but don’t worry, Brooke. I’m a businessman.”

One of the other men snorts.

“So I’m giving you a choice. It’s an easy choice really, but I want you to have the fun of deciding. Unless you know where Ant is?”

I contemplate it. I could tell them he’s hiding in my apartment and they could take what they wanted from him, but then his sad, pathetic face flashes in my mind. His soulful words of his struggle, his desire to get better. Besides, for all I know, these fuckers could be lying and this whole thing is one weird power trip.

“I have no idea,” I whisper shakily, straining away from the knife.

“Well then, here are your choices. “Either you go under my knife and I cut out your organs until you give me seven hundred and fifty thousand worth of flesh, or I sell what’s between your pretty legs to a millionaire at my personal auction.”

“You can’t be serious,” I reply. “How is that a choice?”

“I’m a fair man,” Paul says, dropping his tone, “but I’m not always a patient one so what’s it gonna be? I get your organs or some rich fuck gets hours with your pussy? You have no idea what men will pay for a no-limits session with a woman as pretty as you. I’d only have to sell you maybe ten times.”

My stomach cramps and there’s nothing stopping the sudden rush of bile up my throat. Paul has enough sense to release me just as I collapse forward and throw up bile onto the floor. Coughing harshly, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Paul drops to his haunches next to me and taps my cheek with the knife.

“Or I could sell your daughter.”

Ice forms in my veins and I lift my blurry gaze to Paul’s hideous amused face. “You’re disgusting.”

“Maybe,” he says as if we’re disagreeing about a movie rating. “But I want my money and I don’t give a shit how I get it.”

There’s only one choice here, one real choice that keeps me and my daughter safe.

“Fine,” I gasp. “Stay the fuck away from my daughter. I’ll be at the auction.”

Paul’s smile turns cold and cruel. “Right answer.”