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“The fuck does your money man want this early?” Mateo says.
“None of your fucking business,” my father answers. “I have to take this. You watch them. Hell, have some fun. Make yourself feel like a man by beating the shit out of my daughter.”
With his phone in hand, my father steps into the parking lot.
I see a small smile on Dixon’s face, a shade of that cocky smirk that first drew me to him… and made me want to kill him.
No sooner does he smile than I hear my father yell from the parking lot. “What do you mean, the accounts are frozen?”
“Looks like daddy’s having some money problems,” Dixon says. “You sure you want to hitch your horse to that broke bitch out there?”
Mateo whirls on him, eyes flaring. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“What are you going to do? Hit me while I’m tied up? Fucking big man you are,” Dixon says.
Mateo does just that. Hard. Repeatedly. Dixon and his chair fall flat to the floor. Mateo doesn’t move to pick him up. Instead, he towers over the downed man. In the short second between one punch and the next, Dixon’s eyes meet mine and the message is clear: this is it. Fight.
With every ounce of strength in my body, I struggle against the knots holding me while Mateo pummels the man I love. They hold, at first; then, inch by inch, they give until my left hand comes free, then my right, and I turn my attention to the knots binding my feet.
In front of me, Dixon hollers at Mateo, taunting him, keeping his attention focused.
“You call this a beating? Fuck, I feel like I’m at a fucking petting zoo. What, did you get your only experience at being hard learning from Rafael in the bedroom?” Dixon’s words end in a sharp crack as Mateo snaps his head back with a right hand. The knot around my left leg comes undone. Dixon laughs. “Damn, you hit like a punk-ass bitch who never had the guts to pull the trigger himself. Oh, wait…”
That statement ends as Mateo uncorks a kick that makes Dixon’s head snap back and sends blood and spit flying to paint the wall.
“Not so tough, now, are you?” Mateo says.
The last remaining knot gives way and I stand up. I clench my fists.
“Hey, asshole. How about a fair fight?”
He turns. “Alex?”
“Yeah, Mateo, you backstabbing bitch. Let’s rumble.”
My brother’s fighting advice rings in my ears: Alex, if you ever get in a fight with a bigger dude, hit them in the dick with everything you’ve got.
I swing as hard as I can.
This cock-punch is for you, Lucas.
Chapter Forty-Four
Dixon
Her fist connects with impressive force, not just for her size, but for anyone seeking to blast another person in their gonads, and it’s enough to make me wince. The impact fills the air with an audible popping sound, and Mateo slumps to the ground, moaning, clutching at what used to be a working dick. Alexandra doesn’t let up, venting her fury with a barrage of blows on her former friend. I watch, bound to the chair, impressed as hell, in awe, and more than a little aroused, while she slams him with her feet, her fists, even a knee or two, until, surging, Mateo grabs her around the ankles and rips her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling.
Like an animal, he leaps atop her and they erupt into a sickening dance, rolling across the dust and debris, grunting, clawing, with Mateo trying to pin her down and Alexandra fighting like hell unleashed.
Her training kicks in and I say a silent thanks to Lucas for teaching his sister how to kick ass; she's a whirling dervish of survival instincts. With a swift motion, she jams her thumbs into his eye and follows it with digging furrows in his face with her fingernails. Mateo howls, his grasp loosening just enough for her to knee him in the groin. The sight of her kicking ass makes me hard.
Mateo rolls off of her, and Alexandra doesn’t pause for breath; scrambling to her feet, her face is slick with sweat and blood — it's hard to tell whose — and she scans the room frantically for something, anything, that can be used as a weapon.
Mateo gets to his feet, and he swings, hitting her in the stomach with a fist and following it with another aimed at her head that she ducks.
She hits him with a left-right combination that stuns him momentarily, before he strikes back with another right hand that sends her stumbling back and into me. She hits me with a thud. Alexandra may be talented, but she’s already taken too much of a beating and, with her daddy outside, she’s outnumbered. Unless she does something quick, her father will come back and it will all be over.
“Take the knife,” I hiss.
