She gave me stilted instructions to a really nice house that was a little farther up into the hills than my mom’s was. No one would really think to look for her there. I idled at the end of the driveway and waited for her to climb out. It wasn’t like I owed her a heartfelt good-bye or anything. She watched me for a second and took the money I had given her and put it on the dash. Without another word, she slipped out of the car and headed up the driveway to the big house. I blew out a breath that I felt like I had been holding for an hour and peeled out, making sure I left rubber and smoke in my wake.
I don’t know what the deal with Race’s sister was, or if it was the fact that she was tied to the only person in my life I genuinely cared about, but I couldn’t afford to let her be twisting me all up. My life wasn’t set up for feel-good crap like that.
I spent the rest of the day running around, touching base with people I missed, people who owed me cash, anyone and everyone I thought could put me in touch with Race. I went and saw my mom at the hovel she lived in. It was just a rented room in a house filled with other addicts and people that had simply given up. She could be in the house I bought for her but couldn’t put the bottle down long enough to make that happen. It burned like acid in my guts and of course put me in a nasty and harsh mood.
I made it a point to kick it with Roxie and tell her I would be back later that night. What I didn’t do one single time was think of Dovie or what could have happened to send her running like I had personally done her wrong. I wasn’t a good guy, but I hadn’t done anything bad to her and I didn’t like her treating me like the enemy, even if that was what she ultimately had determined that I was.
I was frustrated and short with everyone I ran across the rest of the week. It was starting to grate on my last nerve that no one—and I mean no one—had any information on Race. I had heard from three other people that he had been asking around about some rich guy when he came back, but no one had a name or anything helpful to use, and everywhere I turned I ran into either a wall or Benny. I was about done with his sense of smug satisfaction that I wasn’t getting any further than he had with finding my buddy. When he asked how Dovie liked the remodel of her place, it literally took every ounce of self-control I had not to break all his teeth in. But if nothing else, prison had taught me how to be patient, how to bide my time, and how sweet retribution was when it was delivered unexpectedly. I just ignored him and made sure he could see the storm brewing in my eyes every time I walked away from him.
I sent Dovie a text in the middle of the week to let her know I hadn’t made any progress, but considering she now thought I was out to harm her brother, I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t hear anything back. I was pissed at myself that her snub poked under my normally thick skin like a splinter. It wasn’t my way to try and convince her that I needed Race to explain what he had done to me before deciding how to feel about it. I wasn’t the explaining or justifying-my-actions type, plus the guy had always had my back, no questions asked. There had to be an explanation as to why he had set me up, an explanation behind the bitterest betrayal I had ever experienced in my fairly young life, and it needed to come from him and be delivered man to man. I might very well have to murder him if his answer wasn’t up to par, but I knew Race. He spent so much time trying to save me, there was no way he would have just watched me burn.
Before I knew it, it was Friday and I had to show up at Nassir’s club for the fight. I hadn’t been in a knock-down, drag-out, blood-splattering, dirty-as-hell fight since the first year I was locked up. Once you put down all the guys who were bigger than you out of sheer desperation, they stopped trying to take you down a peg. In fact, they stopped trying to mess with you at all. There were always scuffles and dustups, that was going to happen with a bunch of violent men locked up together, but fighting for my life or my pride wasn’t something I’d had to do in a long time. Fighting for a paycheck wasn’t something I had done since I was a teenager. I hoped I could still take a beating and bounce back enough to function the next day.
I was smoking like a chimney. Full of nervous energy I would never admit to. Nassir’s had turned from an electric house party to a hollowed-out fight club. Instead of trendy kids filtering in from the Hill and the university looking for a good time, it was now packed to the rafters with men and women looking for an animalistic and gory show. I didn’t want to know what the odds were. I had caught just a glimpse of the other guy when he rolled in with his entourage, and there was no denying he was a monster. He probably had a good inch on me, but was leaner and more cut. I had a thick, bulky build that came from cheap prison equipment. This guy looked like he had a trainer and a team of people whose sole purpose was to make him a fighting machine.
“Nervous?” Nassir’s smooth voice scraped across my already frayed nerves as I looked down at the bare circle someone had drawn on the center of the factory floor with red spray paint. No ring. No pads. Nothing but fists and blood. It was a brutal way to make a buck.
“No.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. He was holding a tumbler of Scotch that was older than me and watching me with unfathomable eyes.
“I’m surprised you agreed to do it. Seventy-five hundred is a fair chunk of change and I know you squirreled away most of what Novak paid you. You can’t be hurting for cash. I thought maybe it was to save face in front of the redhead, but then you showed alone.”
“I don’t have to save face for anyone.”
“Ahhh . . . but she was different. I’ve been around a long time, Bax. My primary job is to instantly read and judge people. There was something more to her than one of your typical tramps.”
I gave him a dark look and opened and flexed my hands mechanically. I had never been much of a drinker because of my mom, but right now I was wishing I had a bottle of tequila and a dark room all to myself to get myself psyched up in. I wrapped my hands around the linked chain railing and watched the crowd below mill about. More than half wanted my head cracked open, and the rest didn’t care who won as long as they got their payout at the end of the night. It made my stomach hurt. I didn’t want this scene to be what my life looked like anymore, but I doubted I would ever fully be rid of it.
“She’s important to someone who’s important to me. That makes her different.”
“It’s more than that. A man like you—put him in a cage for long enough, and he either becomes domesticated or regresses to all wild animal. You went in wild, so that means all there was for you to do was be tamed. Your edge is gone, Baxter. I can see it, and if I can see it, that means Novak is going to see it and exploit it. You need to be careful.”
His words wormed under my skin and made my blood throb in my head. Without thinking about it, I grabbed the tumbler out of his hand and sent it sailing over the open railing to the crowded floor below. I watched as it shattered on the ground, sending glass and expensive liquor in every direction and splattering the crowd. Nassir clicked his tongue at me and squeezed me on my shoulder.
“See what I mean? Before, you would have just ignored me. Good luck, my friend. Normally I wouldn’t think you’d need it, but tonight I am not sure that is the case.”
He turned toward the steps. “You have ten minutes, I suggest you use it to get your head in the game.”
I blew out a heavy breath and hung my head. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw stars behind my lids. It galled me, but Nassir was right. I wanted out before getting locked up. Doing time had just solidified that living my life like I had nine lives and was bulletproof was getting old and just made me feel foolish. When I pried my eyes open, the first thing they landed on was a shock of orange-and-red curls moving through the frantic and frenzied crowd. I blinked because I thought I was hallucinating, but sure enough, she turned to look up, and our eyes locked. A girl with a stylish blond bob put a hand on her shoulder and yelled something in her ear and she nodded, never looking away from me.
I hadn’t seen her in a week, since Tuesday morning, but it felt like
longer. Like her skin was paler, her eyes were smokier, her freckles more prominent across her pert little nose, and like she wasn’t sure what she was doing here either. Her friend grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the way as the other guy suddenly bounded into the center of the circle.
A loud roar from the crowd went up and he started screaming like a lunatic. Shit, I bet he was hopped up on something. There was no other way to explain the bulging veins and wild-eyed look he was sporting. He ripped his black T-shirt off and threw it into the crowd, getting everyone even more whipped up. He had on cargo pants and black smudges of something under each eye like this was some kind of combat mission. I felt my night get ten times longer.
Grumbling under my breath and wondering why Dovie was here, I went down the stairs and headed for where I had last seen her. I didn’t need to look very hard because she waylaid me as soon as my booted feet hit the main level. I took off my hoodie, fished out my cigarettes, and handed them all over to her without saying a word. Her friend was gaping at me and looking me up and down, but I was ensnared in that forest-green gaze.
“I got a text saying if you were fighting, Race was bound to be here. They even sent the code to get in that crazy purple door.”
Her hands clutched around my hoodie as I shook my head. “He’s not going to be here. It’s a setup. They want you here so I’ll be distracted and that Hulk has a chance to cave my skull in.”
Her eyes got big. “Benny?”
I shrugged. “Novak. That’s way too smart for Benny.” It bugged me to no end that I was actually happy to see her. I really liked the stubborn tilt of her chin and the messy waves of her endless hair. I pulled my shirt off over my head by the collar and handed her that as well. I saw her gaze drop to my chest then dart right back up. She might think I was scum and question my motives, but she was hot for me, no doubt about it.
“You need to stay out of the way. The crowd goes nuts. There’s no ref, no rules, and things get ugly fast. If someone bet a lot of money on me and I lose, it’s not just the other fighter who wants to kick my ass. Be smart. If you feel the crowd turn, get the fuck out of Dodge, or better yet, haul ass outta here now.”
She folded my stuff against her chest and gave the blonde a searching look. The other girl shrugged and looked back at me.
“It’s your call, Dove. I told you something about that text didn’t seem right.”
Her head snapped back in my direction. “Is it safer for you if I go?”
I didn’t get to tell her “hell yes” it was better for me if she left because Nassir appeared by my side.
“Time to roll, lover boy.”
I gave Dovie one last look and stepped around her into the crowd. I rubbed my hands briskly over my shaved head and tried to shut down the noise and the smell of sweat and anticipation. I brushed off pats on the back and high fives and growled at Nassir, “What’s that guy jacked up on?”
He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Clean fight, my ass.”
“Did you really expect anything else?”
Not from him.
“Keep an eye on the girl, Nassir. If anything happens to her in your house, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
There were only a few people between me and the raw circle.
“You better make sure you make it out the victor if you want to ensure her safety.”
I gave him a dirty look and he just offered that perfectly crafted smile at me. I wanted to punch him, but just then there was a roar worthy of the Serengeti. The last of the barrier between me and my opponent ducked out of the way and I was hit with the equivalent of a human bulldozer. I smacked into the cement hard enough to have my ears ringing and to have Big Bird dancing an Irish jig above my head. I grunted when I felt heavy jabs on either side of my ribs, but it was hard to hear anything above the shouts of the crowd and the bellowing breath of my attacker in my face.
I got a hand around his throat and shoved him up and off of me, not to the ground, but far enough away that I could throw myself up to my feet. He wasted no time in lunging at me again, only this time I was ready for him, and caught him across the middle with a well-placed knee that had him buckling over. He was strong, but the narcotics were making him frantic, not able to predict my next move, so I felt no remorse in clipping him hard across the side of the face while he was hunched over. A spray of blood out of his mouth followed the blow, and angry gasps and shouts from the crowd echoed off the rafters.
I jumped back as he suddenly surged upward and rammed the crown of his head right into my unprotected gut. That hurt. The wind whooshed out of my lungs and blackness started to tinge the edge of my vision. It set me off-kilter enough that I didn’t rally enough to block his next punch, which split my cheek clean open. I tasted my own blood in the aftermath and it made me furious.
He swung a wild kick at my legs and missed. I grabbed one of his arms and wrenched it up behind his back. I cranked on it just hard enough to hear a loud pop and let it go. I didn’t want to break it, but jacking up one of his hands would save me more of those brutal body blows. I spit out a mouthful of blood and gasped as his free arm suddenly snaked around my neck. I don’t know how he got that kind of leverage, but he sure as hell was using it to his advantage. He squeezed and squeezed and I clawed at his skin until it was slippery with blood. I couldn’t breathe. He was straight choking me out.
Right before it was all said and done, I threw my head back as hard as I could because I could hear him snorting out breath in my ear. Luckily I had a superhard head, because even over the screaming crowd and the blood rushing in my ears, I heard the thin bones in his nose snap and the furious howl that followed. The second nose in as many weeks that I had broken, only this guy wasn’t Benny. He was juiced up and out for my blood. I jumped back as he barreled, unwieldy, toward me. My head hurt, my ribs had to be bruised, and the rusty taste of blood from my face and my newly reopened lip cut was filling my mouth. Someone in the crowd threw a beer bottle in the circle and it shattered at my feet. I guess maybe I should’ve thought first before tossing that glass over the railing.
I dodged him once, and then once again, and landed a solid blow to his knee with a kick on his last pass. I was getting tired, but he had chemical fuel to keep him going, even though his face looked like raw meat and his dislocated wrist was hanging at a weird angle at the end of his arm. It needed to end . . . like now. I was trying to put together the best way to make that happen, pinpoint his weakness, when he bent down and pulled something out of the side of his boot. I swore loudly and took an involuntary step back when the switchblade flicked open. The sight of the weapon literally made the crowd erupt. More glass and liquid I didn’t want to try and identify rained down on us. This wasn’t going to go well for me.
He charged again and I barely escaped the blade. I felt the razor-sharp tip skim across the taut and sweaty skin of my abdomen. I backed up, keeping one eye on him and one eye on the knife in his good hand.
“Shit.” His eyes were all kinds of crazy and out of control. He had to be hurting as much as I was, but there was no sign of it behind the glassed-over and vacant gaze due to the drugs. He parried, I moved. He thrust, and I jumped back. I realized the only way to get this over with was to let him get close enough for me to get the knife out of his hand.
I took a deep breath, stepped into his next forward motion, felt the blade slice cleanly across my ribs, high, close to my armpit, and locked my arm down so that he was stuck. We were now eye-to-eye. His nose was beyond fucked up and he was huffing and puffing like a bull. He wasn’t going to go down without a serious effort. I twisted, used the leverage I had despite my side being flayed wide open, and bent, and bent until I heard the bone crack and the knife clatter to the ground at our feet. He howled, screamed, and struggled to get me to let his now-useless arm go. I refused until he toppled to his knees in front of me, blood and snot smearing the black paint all across his face.
I put my knee under his chin so he had
to look up at me.
“Hurt?”
He screamed a litany of swearwords at me.
“Seriously, dude. Are we done?” I squeezed the broken arm even tighter next to my gushing side. I was losing a ton of blood.
He made another noise and tried to grab for me with the hand I already dislocated. I sighed. I shoved him back and delivered a swift, nasty, totally dirty kick to the face. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell over like a baby rhino taking a tranquilizer dart.
I heard the crowd go nuts, heard my name, but it was taking everything I had to stay upright. I saw Nassir nod at me, saw the circle start to tighten around me as the monster’s entourage tried to rouse him. I needed air. I needed to get the hell out of here.
Suddenly all I could see was wide green eyes full of concern. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding a lot.”
She handed me my T-shirt, and instead of putting it on, I bunched it up and stuffed it against my side. I felt the blood seep through the fabric instantly.
“I’ll live. I need to get my money from Nassir before he comes up with another stipulation or brilliant plan.”
She bit her lip and moved my hoodie to the side to show me a thick envelope in her other hand.
“I had Brysen count it while you were fighting. He handed it to me before you even threw the first punch. He must have been pretty confident you were going to win. It’s there, minus his cut.”
I blinked because her voice was going in and out and I was having a hard time keeping her face in focus.
Better When He's Bad Page 9
