Bab 12: Chapter 12: Imprisonment
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This is a nightclub. In public places, causing a scene with violence might not be easily resolved.
Fighting is one thing, but causing serious harm is another.
"Bring it on!"
Hardy faced off against Big Ivan.
Big Ivan looked at the fallen companions around him—some wailing, others unconscious. He realized that Hardy was not someone to be taken lightly.
But Big Ivan was known for his ferocity, having fought countless battles since childhood. His anger fueled his actions.
"Ah!"
Big Ivan roared and swung his massive fist at Hardy.
Hardy dodged sideways.
*Bang!*
He landed a solid punch on Big Ivan's right rib, causing him to wince in pain.
"Good!"
The onlookers cheered, clearly entertained by the fight.
The two continued to battle.
Big Ivan was powerful, but Hardy was more focused. Hardy's punch to Big Ivan's face left him bruised and bleeding.
The fight resulted in numerous broken tables and spilled drinks.
*Boom!*
Hardy seized an opportunity, landing two punches to Big Ivan's chin, making him dizzy.
Big Ivan roared, arms outstretched, and charged at Hardy, intent on strangling him if he could catch him.
Hardy used a wrestling move to throw Big Ivan across the room.
*Boom!*
Big Ivan's massive frame crashed into the bar.
Hardy thought, "It's time to end this."
Before Big Ivan could recover, Hardy approached him calmly.
He grabbed a knife from a nearby plate and pinned Big Ivan's arm to the wall, saying, "Ever heard that women can't be touched? Consider this a lesson."
The knife plunged down.
*Puff!*
Big Ivan screamed in agony.
"Wow!"
The crowd gasped as they watched Hardy pin Big Ivan's hand to the wall with the knife.
Blood dripped from his hand.
Hardy wasn't done yet.
He grabbed a fork.
*Puff!*
He pinned Big Ivan's other hand to the wall.
"Oh!"
Big Ivan's cries intensified. His appearance now resembled a victim on a cross.
Fear replaced any other emotion in his eyes as he looked at Hardy.
Hardy stood up.
The onlookers had mixed feelings—some admired him, while others were intimidated.
"Sean, get rid of these troublemakers," Hardy instructed, giving a discreet nod to Sean.
Sean understood, and along with Ryder and a few security guards, they bound the troublemakers and carried them to an unused room in the nightclub's backyard.
Hardy addressed the remaining guests, "This was just a minor incident. It doesn't affect your enjoyment. The band will continue to play."
Nightclub fights were commonplace. As long as no one was killed, it was just part of the entertainment.
The band resumed playing lively jazz, and the nightclub's atmosphere returned to normal.
Hardy went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and checked his reflection. He had a few bruises, but he would recover by the next day.
As he left the bathroom, Marissa, a beautiful woman, approached him with a smile. "Hardy, I'm returning your gun."
She handed him two guns.
Hardy took his revolver and holstered it, then took Big Ivan's TT-33 pistol and tucked it into his back.
Marissa looked at Hardy with admiration.
"Hardy, thank you!"
"It was my job," Hardy replied.
Marissa blinked and said softly, "I was really scared. Thanks to you, my heart is still racing."
She covered her chest, which drew Hardy's attention.
"Hardy, could you give me a ride home later? I'm a bit scared," Marissa asked suddenly.
"I have some matters to attend to first," Hardy replied, not directly agreeing. He still needed to deal with the Russians and investigate further.
"That's okay, I'll wait for you," Marissa said with a charming smile before leaving.
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In the room where Big Ivan was detained, the other gang members were bound and lying on the floor. Big Ivan was tied up as well, his hands bloody and in worse shape.
"Move him to the next room," Hardy instructed.
Big Ivan was taken away.
Hardy faced Big Ivan and said coldly, "You should know this is the Jewish gang's territory. Causing trouble here means there's more to it."
Big Ivan glared at Hardy defiantly, "I just came to have some fun. No other reason."
Hardy drew Ivan's TT-33 pistol and aimed it at Big Ivan.
"You know the power of this gun. If you lie, I'll shoot. How many chances do you think you have?"
Big Ivan was aware of the gun's lethality. A shot to the limbs could cripple him, and a shot to the torso could kill him.
"3."
Hardy raised the gun and aimed at Big Ivan's right leg.
Big Ivan shivered.
"2."
He had brought five men with him, normally managing two or three at night. He never expected to face such a formidable opponent like Hardy.
"1."
"Alright, I'll talk. A few days ago, Spanish Sergeant Burstein contacted us. He said that creating trouble here would benefit us."
Hardy's interest was piqued. "What kind of benefit?"
"They said they'd reduce the price of the cocoa powder we buy from them by 20%."
"Did the Spanish involve anyone else?"
"I don't know."
Hardy asked more questions, and Big Ivan detailed his meeting with Burstein.
It seemed the Spaniards might be plotting something more complex. Hardy felt the need to inform the Jewish gang leader.
"Take him back and lock him up with the others. Also, give him some basic medical treatment," Hardy told Ryder.
"Understood." Ryder dragged Big Ivan away.
Hardy went to the manager's office on the second floor, picked up the phone, and dialed. After a few rings, the Jewish leader Fred answered.
"Mr. Fred, this is Jon Hardy," Hardy introduced himself.
Fred paused, recognizing the name.
"What's the matter, Jon? How can I help?"
"I need to report an incident. Tonight, some Russians caused trouble at the Bunny Girl Bar. I detained them. According to their leader, Ivan, they were sent by Spanish gang member Burstein. I think there might be more to this."
"What do you suggest?" Fred asked.
"If it's just a minor issue, it's manageable. But if it's a larger scheme, we need to be cautious about any further actions from the Spaniards," Hardy advised.
Fred thought for a moment.
"Hardy, you did well. I'll look into it."
The call ended.
Hardy returned to the backyard. The Russian gang members had awakened and were nervously awaiting their fate.
Hardy wasn't going to kill them. Killing would bring trouble.
"I recall there's an unused cellar in the backyard. Lock them up there for three days without food, then release them," Hardy ordered.
The Russians' faces turned pale.
"You can't do this. Just put us out of our misery," one of them pleaded.
*Bang!*
Hardy fired a shot into the ground.
The Russians trembled in fear.
No one dared to speak further.
Hardy made sure everything was in order and checked the time. It was early morning.
He expected Marissa to have left, but she was still waiting at the nightclub.
"You're still here?" Hardy asked.
"I was too scared to go back alone," Marissa said, blinking her eyes.
Bab 13: Chapter 13: That One Rainy Night
December is the rainy season in Los Angeles, and it had just started drizzling lightly.
The two of them stepped out of the nightclub. The air was humid and cold. Marissa shivered and hugged herself, only to have Hardy drape his suit jacket over her, instantly providing warmth. She could still feel his body heat on the jacket.
Marissa looked at Hardy. His nose was strong, his cheeks sharp, and his eyes deep and intense. He was no boyish face; he was a man with a rugged, masculine charm.
They got into the car and started driving away from the parking lot.
Marissa took out a cigarette from her silver cigarette case, lit it, and offered it to Hardy.
He took it without hesitation and placed it between his lips.
"Does the bruise on your face hurt?" Marissa asked. Hardy had taken a couple of punches during his fight with Big Ivan, leaving him with some bruises.
"It's fine. It'll be better by tomorrow," Hardy replied.
"You fight really well," Marissa complimented.
"Your singing is impressive too. Have you trained for it?" Hardy inquired.
Marissa's eyes lit up at the question. She measured her words carefully. "I've always wanted to break into Hollywood and become a star. So, I joined a modeling agency and studied acting and vocal music. The teacher said I had potential, but not much talent. I'm still working on it, taking four vocal classes a week, though it's quite expensive..."
Their conversation continued until they arrived at Marissa's house—a quaint two-story building.
Marissa got out of the car and turned back to the driver's side. "Goodnight," Hardy said.
Marissa looked at the scar on Hardy's cheek and, concerned, offered, "Why don't you come inside? I can apply some medicine to that bruise."
"No need to trouble yourself," Hardy replied.
"It's no trouble. I live alone here," Marissa insisted.
The car stopped, and the two went upstairs together.
The lights on the second floor were turned on, and through the window screens, their silhouettes could be seen. Marissa tended to Hardy's wounds, and soon the room was filled with the gentle, soothing sounds of the night.
By morning, the sun's rays illuminated the room, gently touching Marissa's blonde hair. She woke up to find Hardy had already left, and felt a pang of disappointment.
As she sat up, the blanket slipped away, revealing her perfect curves. At 25, she was at the peak of her beauty.
She walked barefoot to the bathroom, noticing the remains of the night's activities. A smile crept onto her face as she recalled the intense experience. Being with Hardy had been more exhilarating than she'd ever imagined, perhaps because their connection had been purely physical and uncomplicated.
Marissa felt a lingering desire for that feeling.
---
Hardy left Marissa's house in the morning and drove to meet Sean and Ryder, who quickly surrounded him.
"Boss, did you spend the night at Marissa's place?" Sean asked with a smirk.
Ryder also looked on with curiosity.
Hardy glanced at them. "Yes, so what?"
"Wow!" both exclaimed in surprise.
"Boss, you saved the day and won Marissa's heart. That's impressive!" Sean said with admiration.
"Such a beauty—just thinking about it is amazing," Ryder added, looking envious.
Hardy gave both a pat on the head. "Enough with the nonsense. It's getting late. Let's head to the warehouse and collect the goods. Do you have the receipts?"
"Got them," Ryder replied.
The three drove to the tobacco and alcohol warehouse.
After working there for half a month, Hardy was now proficient at ordering, reconciling, and signing for goods. He had also gotten to know many people in the Jewish community.
Alessandro, who was in charge of a neighboring block and had a few men under him, greeted Hardy with a cigarette. "Hardy, I heard there was trouble at the Bunny Girl Bar last night?"
"Yes, Russians," Hardy confirmed.
"The Russians are just a small group. How did you handle them?" Alessandro asked.
"I put them in the cellar for three days," Hardy said.
Alessandro laughed. "Good approach. Let them suffer a bit."
As Alessandro's goods were loaded, Hardy and his men waved goodbye and drove off.
As they left the slum area and drove down a remote street lined with abandoned factories, two trucks appeared ahead, blocking the road.
"Damn, who's blocking the road? Amor, go and clear the way," Alessandro instructed his subordinate.
Amor exited the car and approached the trucks. Suddenly, the truck tarps opened, revealing several black barrels. Amor was caught off guard and was shot on the spot.
Alessandro and the driver were stunned and quickly reached for their guns, but the attackers were faster. Machine guns fired relentlessly at their truck, shattering the windows and hitting the occupants.
Blood pooled as the truck's passengers were instantly killed.
The attackers quickly unloaded the tobacco and alcohol into their vehicles and tossed a grenade into Alessandro's truck before leaving.
Moments later, the truck exploded in a fiery blaze.
---
After packing up the goods, Hardy checked the receipt—$3,620, reflecting a recent increase in sales.
He waved goodbye to supervisor Benson, and Ryder drove away from the warehouse.
The car was moving slowly when they encountered a truck blocking their path.
"Damn it, who's parked in the middle of the road?" Ryder complained, honking the horn repeatedly.
When there was no response, Ryder decided to confront the situation.
But Hardy suddenly felt a strong sense of danger.
"Wrong," he muttered.
He stopped Ryder from getting out of the car. "Ryder, back up quickly!"
"What's going on, boss?" Ryder asked, confused.
"Back up now!" Hardy insisted.
Ryder reversed the car as men on the truck jumped out, brandishing Chicago typewriters.
They opened fire, hitting the truck's windows. Hardy returned fire, hitting one of the attackers despite the distance.
Sean and Ryder also fired back but struggled with their aim.
"Sean, get my rifle!" Hardy shouted.
"Got it, boss," Sean responded, retrieving the rifle from under the seat.
Armed with the rifle, Hardy took aim and fired, bringing down another attacker.
The battle continued with Hardy's precise shooting gradually turning the tide.
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