Chapter 81 How Will You Thank Me
Painful wails and screams echoed from the container. Dennis was terrified, his tall, thin frame curled into a ball. Quinley reached over to pat his shoulder and locked the car doors.
"Don't be afraid. Everything will be okay."
Dennis had been beaten badly and was traumatized. He held his head, his body trembling slightly. Quinley's gaze looked through the car window. The car was some distance from the container—she could only hear sounds but couldn't see what was happening there.
Suddenly, all the doors of the black vans parked in the distance opened, and a stream of young men in black t-shirts and black masks rushed out. Like a flood of beasts, their momentum was overwhelming.
Quinley quickly lowered her head, trying not to let those people notice her. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe yet—all she could do was wait and see.
The group swarmed toward the container, and the crashing sounds grew even louder. "Quinley, Dr. Brown is all alone," Dennis said, lifting his head from between the car seats, revealing half a face covered in sweat.
He knew he'd caused big trouble, and he knew this trouble might lead to huge disaster. David was innocent in all this.
"Stay here and don't move. I'm going to check on him." Quinley opened the car door, had Dennis lock it from inside, and crept toward the container.
The fighting sounds had stopped. As Quinley approached, she heard the sound of heads hitting the ground and pleas for mercy. "Please spare me this once—I was wrong to offend you."
The voice was actually the tattooed man's. Quinley's tightened heart relaxed slightly as she walked straight to the entrance.
The black-clothed men formed a circle, while the tattooed man's group knelt on the ground with their heads in their hands, begging for mercy. David sat in a chair with his legs crossed, squinting those wickedly charming eyes as he carefully wiped the golf club with a tissue.
His movements were slow and carried an overwhelming sense of oppression. "Damn it, take a piss and look at yourself in the reflection—you think you're worthy of offending me?"
He threw the tissue at the tattooed man's face. The tattooed man's face was twisted more bitterly than a bitter gourd. His previous arrogance had completely vanished, replaced only by terror and helplessness.
He lay on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly. "I'll do whatever you want."
"Do I look like I need servants?" David swung the golf club in his hand, mercilessly striking the tattooed man's back.
His body jerked—whether from pain or fear was unclear. "Master, master... you are my master."
The tattooed man was already incoherent. Evil people deserved severe punishment—Quinley felt no sympathy for the tattooed man whatsoever.
Suddenly, David noticed her at the entrance. He immediately stood up and walked toward Quinley.
"Quinny, what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to wait in the car? It's dirty and messy here. Go back to the car first—I'll be right there, okay?"
In front of everyone, David's tone was gentle. The rebellious aura around him had completely disappeared, his eyes full of nothing but Quinley.
"I have a few questions for him." Quinley walked around David and headed straight for the tattooed man.
She wasn't someone who left things unclear—she needed to get to the bottom of everything. "I already warned you before not to lend money to Dennis anymore. Why did you still do it?"
Quinley shouted sternly. The tattooed man didn't dare lift his head, shrinking his body as if wishing he could disappear on the spot.
Seeing him remain silent, David's golf club landed on the tattooed man's head. "I'll count to three. If you don't talk, I'll make your head bloom!"
"One." "Two."
Before David could count to three, the tattooed man hurriedly spoke up. "It was him... he called and begged us. He said... he said he had an emergency and needed five hundred thousand. So... so we lent it to him."
Five hundred thousand, with less than ten days to repay, with compound interest, it quickly became one million.
"Damn it, you really struck hard!" David cursed again, swinging the golf club at the tattooed man's shoulder.
He writhed in pain on the ground but didn't dare make a sound. "I'll pay you back the money, but not one million," Quinley said firmly.
The tattooed man nodded frantically. "Five hundred thousand, just five hundred thousand. We don't want your interest."
But as soon as he finished speaking, David's golf club stopped at his forehead again. "Say that again for me to hear."
The tattooed man was slightly stunned, then immediately understood. "Ms. Elikin, you never owed me any money. I was the one who was tactless and offended you."
David was very satisfied with his performance. He squinted at Quinley. "Let's go."
Fighting violence with violence, using strength against strength—this approach didn't work on everyone, but for someone like the tattooed man, it was deadly effective.
"Don't lend money to my brother again, or else—" "Or else I'll make your head relocate!" David finished Quinley's sentence.
The tattooed man had encountered a ruthless person today. He immediately backed down, raising his right hand to swear, "I'll remember. If I dare cause trouble again, may I be hit by a car when I leave."
"Get lost—" David commanded, and the tattooed man led his lackeys in scrambling out of the container.
"Everyone disperse." He told the black-clothed men, who immediately scattered.
In an instant, only Quinley and David remained in the container. His wickedly charming face wore a smile as he dropped the golf club and opened his arms to embrace Quinley.
"Were you scared, Quinny?"
Quinley stepped back, avoiding David's embrace. "Mr. Brown, it's not safe here. We should leave quickly."
David's arms fell empty, but he didn't give up, naturally putting his arm around Quinley's shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you both to the hospital first."
---
In the car, Dennis was still curled up like an ostrich between the seats. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brown."
Dennis had been crying and apologized with a stuffy nose. David patted Dennis's shoulder. "It's nothing major. Don't take it to heart. Just listen to your sister from now on."
In the car, Quinley held Dennis's hand tightly—he was her family, the warmth she'd always protected.
The car quickly reached the hospital. David had contacted doctors in advance, and when they arrived, medical staff were already waiting with a gurney.
Dennis's old injuries hadn't healed and now he had new ones—he needed detailed examination. He was wheeled into the examination room.
After David arranged everything, he returned to find Quinley hugging her arms and standing guard outside the examination room. He quickly approached.
"Quinny, don't be afraid. You still have me!"
As he spoke, he reached out to put his arm around Quinley's shoulder again. This time, Quinley still moved away.
Favors were favors, feelings were feelings—she kept them completely separate. "Mr. Brown, thank you."
Quinley's expression was distant and aloof. David was smart—Quinley had rejected him so many times, how could he not understand her meaning?
But understanding was one thing; he wasn't willing to give up. He'd done so much for Quinley. Any other woman would probably have pledged herself to him by now, but she had a heart of stone.
The more he couldn't have her, the more he wanted her. He moved closer, bracing one hand against the wall. His dominating aura poured down from above Quinley's head, his deep gaze enveloping her as that familiar wicked charm appeared at the corner of his mouth again.
"How will you thank me?"