Always Into You

PAIN - Chapter 13

Christopher Hightower’s POV)

I wasn’t an i***t.

Maico knew where Tanya was. He had practically confirmed it without saying it outright. And if he thought I was just going to sit back and wait for answers, he had severely underestimated how stubborn I could be.

So, I followed him.

Subtly, of course. I wasn’t about to make it obvious. I waited until he left the bar, slipping out a few minutes behind him, keeping my distance. He walked with that easy confidence, like he owned the night, completely unaware that I was trailing him.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Until he stopped.

Dead in his tracks.

I froze.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t even look at me. Just let out a sigh and muttered, “You’re really bad at this, rich boy.”

Crap.

Before I could react, Maico whirled around and...

SMACK.

The impact was fast and heavy, a sharp slap to the back of my head that sent me stumbling forward.

“What the hell?” I shouted, rubbing the spot.

Maico just smirked. “Following me? Really? What are you, a kid!?”

“I wasn’t following”

SMACK.

A second one. Harder this time.

“You’re following me,” Maico continued, shaking his head. “Like some lovesick puppy. It’s pathetic, Hightower.”

I clenched my jaw. “I just want to see her.”

“You had your chance,” he shot back. “And now? You’re just creeping.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then

“Hey, Maico!”

I turned.

Four no, five guys were walking toward us, all of them wearing the same face expressions as Maico.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Is this the guy?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” Maico said, with anger. “Rich boy thought he could tail me.”

They all cracked their knuckles.

One of them hold my shoulder like we were old friends. “You ever heard of boundaries, man?”

I barely had time to react before

SMACK.

“Son of a...”

SMACK.

“Maico are you for real?”

SMACK.

“Okay, stop....”

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

It wasn’t even painful at this point. Just annoying. Like getting repeatedly hit by a group of older brothers who enjoyed making my life crippled.

When it was finally over, I was left standing there, mildly confused, hair a mess, ego severely bruised.

Maico dusted off his hands like he had just finished baking. “That should do it.”

I glared at him. “You’re insane men.”

He just laughed, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and shoving it into my hand.

“Here’s your reward, detective.”

Then, he and his goons walked off, leaving me sore, humiliated, and holding a damn note.

I unfolded it.

Scrawled in quick, messy handwriting were three simple words:

Stay. Away. Hightower.

I exhaled sharply, shoving the note in my pocket.

I should’ve walked away.

After the first few smacks, after Maico’s little gang of idiots had their fun, after I was left holding that stupid note.

I should’ve walked away.

But I wasn’t built like that.

I never walked away.

So, when Maico turned his back to me, laughing with his friends like this was some kind of stand up comedy show, something inside me exploded.

I lunged.

Fist first.

Maico must’ve sensed it coming because he dodged easily, sidestepping just enough for my punch to miss. But I wasn’t done. I swung again, this time aiming for his ribs and his stomach.

Bad move.

Maico’s expression shifted in an instant, his usual expression grin disappearing as he blocked me with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. And then

SMACK.

Hard.

A punch straight to my stomach. My breath left me in a sharp whoosh, and before I could recover.

BAM BAM.

His fist connected with my jaw, sending me stumbling back. The world tilted for a second, my vision blurring at the edges.

“Wow,” Maico muttered, cracking his knuckles. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

I spit blood onto the pavement, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My head was spinning, my body screaming at me to stop, but my pride wouldn’t let me.

I charged again.

Big mistake.

Maico wasn’t just strong. He was fast. Every move I threw, he countered like it was nothing, like he had done this a thousand times before.

Because he had.

It hit me too late.

Maico wasn’t some random guy watching over Tanya.

He was a former MMA fighter.

And I had just picked a fight I couldn’t win.

The next hit was brutal. His fist slammed into my ribs, the force of it making me wheeze. Before I could even think about dodging, he grabbed me by the collar, yanking me forward.

“Just stay down,” he muttered.

Then he kneed me in the ribs.

Hard.

The pain was blinding. My legs gave out, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, gasping, coughing, bleeding.

Everything hurt.

Maico crouched beside me, his face unreadable as he watched me struggle.

“You rich boys think money can get you everything,” he said, his tone almost bored. “That if you throw enough cash at a problem, it'll go away.”

I glared at him, my breathing ragged. “I ..just...want...to see her.”

Maico shook his head. “She doesn’t need to see you.”

Then he stood up, brushing off his knuckles like I wasn’t even worth the effort.

“Next time,” he added, “I won’t go easy on you.”

With that, he walked off, leaving me sprawled on the pavement, broken and humiliated.

I tried to sit up, pain shooting through my ribs. My vision swam, my body refusing to cooperate.

Damn it.

I had lost.

But this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

But i would never give up.

Never.