Pleasure doing Bussiness (Whip 3) ✔️ SAMPLE

Chapter 10

MICHAEL

Autumn, 1988

I know I shouldn't be up; it's the middle of the night and I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I've been woken up by the sounds of someone pounding on the door followed by raised voices of my parents.

It's unusual for anything to happen past 9 p.m. in our community, so I, curious about what could be so important to keep my parents from sleeping, decide to sneak out of my room and go find out.

I sneak through the dark corridor, careful not to step on the creaky floorboard that my mother has been bugging my father about fixing for as long as I can remember when I pause in my tracks as a man dressed in strange black clothes appears in the corridor.

"I found one." the man yells over his shoulder before slowly walking closer and then crouching down in front of me.

"Who are you?" I ask, suddenly regretting ever getting out of my bed. The man scares me, especially once he stepped closer and I see that he has a big rifle hanging from a strap on his shoulder.

"Don't worry little one, everything is going to be alright now." the man says, and before I can do anything like run, I find myself in the man's arms, being carried outside.

I start to scream, calling for my mother to come and rescue me. She must hear me, I think, after all, I've just heard her and father, but as soon as we step out of the house the screams die in my throat at the sight that greets me.

Flashing lights; it's all I can see wherever I look. People cursing, children screaming for their parents; it's madness.

Then I see my parents being led by another man dressed similarly to the guy that's holding me.

"You will burn in Hell! All of you!" my father is screaming, resisting the man that's trying to get him into the back of a big, black van before the man in question punches him and slams him into the ground, his actions followed by my mother's screams.

"Mama! Mama!" I scream, trying and failing to escape. My mother's eyes snap up to me from where they were looking at my father at the sound of my voice.

"Michael! Everything will be alright child. Just have faith! The Lord is in you! Just have faith!" is the last thing I hear before she's pushed into the van along with my father and the doors slam shut.

Just have faith...

∞∞∞

Present

"Mama!" I shout as I shoot up, my eyes wide and unblinking as I stare into the grey morning light.

I'm breathing rapidly, my heart beating so fast that I think every moment now it will jump out of my chest. Sweat rolls down my back, making my t-shirt moist, and I shiver as I hug myself tightly.

I remember!

I finally remember something. My parents. And the lights; so many fucking lights.

People screaming as what I now know was the SWAT team leads them into vans.

What the fuck happened there?

I clutch my throbbing head; my eyes squeezed shut as I wrack my brains, trying to remember more.

But it's futile; the only thing I can remember is the dream, my mother's and father's faces, and the words.

Just have faith...

And then another word pops up, just one other, but it's enough.

Kubinski.

Michael Kubinski.

∞∞∞

NIKLAS

I pride myself on being a man who can control himself. No matter the situation, no matter the circumstances, I always remain calm; whether I'm working for a particularly difficult client or fighting in a war and getting my leg blown up.

So, to find myself foaming at the mouth, ready to tear the man that's peacefully sleeping upstairs, to pieces, is a new experience.

I don't do feelings, at least if I can avoid them, but there is something about Michael Jones that makes me act out of character. And when I found myself alone at the Club, left there by the man in question without even a by your leave, I've lost my plot.

How am I supposed to protect the damn idiot, if he's unable to stay put?

Unfortunately, or fortunately for Michael, by the time I've finally arrived back at the house, the man was nowhere to be found.

So, I've shut myself in my room, fuming and unable to sleep until I finally gave up trying and got up. I went to the kitchen and brewed myself a tea in an attempt to calm down, which is where I still am when the man responsible for my dark mood stumbles into the room.

I stand up, a harsh reprimand already at the tip of my tongue, but once my eyes fall on the man, I stop in my tracks.

Michael is a mess. His eyes are wide and crazy looking, his hair in a complete state of disarray and his face pale. I frown, something like worry rising in my chest at the sorry sight the man makes.

"Mr. Jones, are you alright?" I ask, standing up and coming closer to where the man is standing, staring at nothing and looking lost.

Did something happen? Did he receive more threats?

The thoughts fly through my mind, each scenario worse than the one before, making me curse myself for allowing the man out of my sight.

Michael starts at the sound of my voice; his still wide eyes jumping to mine in surprise as if he hadn't even noticed me until then, making the worry I feel grow even more at the action.

"I... I don't know. I don't know." Michael says, his voice quiet, barely a whisper, as he stumbles toward one of the kitchen chairs and sits down, practically falling into it as he does so.

He leans forward, clutching his head between his hands as he rocks back and forth, making me kneel in front of him, seriously considering the man's mental health.

What in the fuck's sake happened?

"Did something happen? Talk to me, Michael. I can't help you if you don't talk to me." I say and at the sound of his name, Michael finally raises his head and looks at me.

"I need a laptop." he says after a minute, making one of my brows furrow as that is the last thing I expected to hear. I nevertheless jump to my feet and run to my room, snatching my laptop from the desk and coming back.

Upon my return, I see that Michael has moved. The man is standing by the counter, preparing a coffee, and something in my guts eases at the sight. He hasn't completely lost it, as it seemed before.

"Here you go." I say, setting the laptop on the breakfast table. Michael nods, taking a sip of his coffee before making his way toward the table and taking a seat.

I take my tea and join him, grimacing at the cold liquid when I taste it, as I observe the man's fingers flying over the keyboard as he types.

We sit like that for a few minutes, Michael typing and me watching him before the man suddenly pauses, his eyes going incredibly wide as he stares at the screen.

"No... No... It can't be." Michael murmurs, shaking his head in denial, before jumping from the chair and starting to pace.

"What? What's going on?" I ask, my fingers itching to turn the laptop and find out for myself what is it that's made the usually collected man lose his plot so completely, but I resist. I would never impede on the man's privacy like that.

Michaelturns toward me, staring at me for a long moment before he says, "We are goingto California."