Chapter Four
The afternoon passed in a haze of anticipation and half-hearted second guesses. I felt like Cinderella before the ball, like I was standing on a precipice, getting ready to make a wild leap of faith. The sun began to set, and the city descended into night once more. I readied myself for my grand adventure, taking the utmost care in every little detail. I slid into the red dress, admiring the way it hugged the curves of my hips and breasts. I swept on some vibrant red lipstick and a smoky eye to boot. My hair hung in loose waves on my shoulders, and the pain from the night before had finally subsided. I had to admit, I cleaned up nicely.
I slipped out of my apartment past Aimee’s closed door. The city was already coming to life for the evening. New York’s nights are really just inverted days, with a whole other set of citizens. Usually, I belonged to the daytime crowd, putting in my hours at work and retreating home for sleep. But that night, I joined the ranks of the nocturnals. I made my way through Alphabet City and the East Village, peering into smoky bars and clubs, not failing to notice the way eyes lingered on me as I passed. As I caught glimpses of myself in darkened windows, I couldn’t help but be pleased. I wasn’t one for dressing up, usually. My daily uniform was decidedly unsexy. But this was a departure. This was the first step toward a whole new life, a whole new Kaela. And this new Kaela knew how to work a little red dress.
My heart began to race as I finally turned onto the Bowery. With each step, I knew I was drawing closer to Anderson, to his secret universe. Door after door passed by, until finally my eyes fell onto a patch of red in the dim street lights. My breath caught in my throat as a tiny glimmer of silver caught my eye. Drawing up before the portal, I recognized the number eight, just like Anderson said I would. This was it, the threshold to an entirely new life. My entire body felt compelled toward that door, like my center of gravity had shifted. As if it was a black hole, the red door pulled me forward with inevitable inertia. There was only one thing left to do.
I raised a trembling fist and rapped on the door. A long moment passed, and I tried to quiet my thunderous heartbeats. The doorknob turned just a hair, and a tiny sliver of blackness appeared as the red door cracked open. There was utter silence beyond the threshold, and I took a deep breath, realizing that it was my turn to speak.
“Cadillac,” I muttered, fighting to keep my voice from raising three octaves. Another second, which seemed like a century, spread out before the door creaked open just wide enough to allow me entrance. My feet moved beneath me as if they were on their own accord. I stepped through the doorway into the blackness beyond.
“This way,” said a deep voice. The door snapped shut behind me, and I was utterly blinded by darkness. I listened as the sound of heavy footsteps filled the darkness. Fumbling and shuffling, I followed along the black hallway, trusting myself to this mysterious envoy. My eyes couldn’t adjust to my surroundings, as there wasn’t a drop of light to be found. We walked and walked, my leader and me, our footfalls loud in the dead silence. We seemed to be heading down the slightest of ramps, down beneath the city. Finally, I heard his steps come to a stop before me. I drew up behind and heard the snapping of a dozen heavy locks.
“Is this it?” I asked.
“This is everything,” he responded, “Enjoy yourself.”
Before my eyes, the world swung open. An enormous wave of sound crashed around me, a chaotic, immeasurable, unknowable scene burst to life before my eyes. An arena gaped before me, cavernous and pulsing with life. I took a tentative step forward in the cacophonous melee. The door slammed shut behind me before I could get a look at the man who’d led me here. I had arrived to the ball, and what a ball it was.
A huge pit sprawled in the center of the arena, and all around tiers of balconies and risers rose. There had to be a thousand people there, milling about raucously. Powerful looking men in fine suits wrapped their arms around stunning women in skintight dresses, looking as if they were the royalty of the underworld; I supposed that’s what they were, in the end. Bright lights swung and flashed, heavy music blared all around, and I felt myself swallowed up entirely. There was no backing out now, that much was abundantly clear.
Step by step, I made my way into the space. It looked like some sort of mother ship—everything was slick and perfect. The walls were lined with bar stations, and scantily-clad waitresses swarmed around them like bees in a hive. As far as my eye could see, there wasn’t an unattractive face to be found. Everyone there looked as though they’d been cloned from the perfect human specimen. A wash of self-consciousness closed around me—surely they’d be able to spot me as an outsider in a heartbeat. There was no way I could compare to the gorgeous women all around me.
For lack of a better idea, I made my way toward the pit. The air was thick with noise and the smoke of a hundred potent cigars, but somehow it wasn’t oppressive. My senses were heightened as adrenaline surged through my veins…I was overcome with euphoric anticipation. A golden railing encircled the pit, and I lay my hands on it gingerly. I peered over the side into the fighting ring. The floor was covered with sand, almost as though they were trying to capture a second Coliseum within this space. I tried to prepare myself for the show, but couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to see Anderson down there.
“Hello there,” said a silky voice behind me.
I whirled around, surprised to be addressed at all in this place. A smooth, elegant man in his fifties stood before me, flanked by two enormous gentlemen. His face was tanned, lined but very handsome. His black hair was slicked back and shimmered softly in the arena lights. The suit that he wore was perfectly tailored, and draped perfectly on his toned body. He was altogether one of the most intimidating and alluring men I’d ever seen.
“Um. Hi,” I managed to say with a nervous smile. The man’s bright blue eyes were boring holes through me, and I was half afraid that he was about to throw me out on my ass. He’d be able to sense that I was an outsider, I just knew it.
“You must be Kaela,” he said kindly.
I just stared at him, my mouth working wordlessly for a moment. “Oh. Yeah,” I said finally. “How did you...?”
“Anderson told me to be on the lookout for a beautiful newcomer to our little circle,” he went on. “And it seems that I have found her.”
I blushed at having been called beautiful by Anderson himself. My bashfulness did not go unnoticed by the charming man.
“You really are new to this scene, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Very,” I said honestly, “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”
“I’m Robert,” the man smiled, “Robert Hunt.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “Anderson told me all about you.”
“Did he?” Robert asked, as a smile spread across his face. “Anderson is a good boy. I’ve known him all his life. I only want the best things in the world for him, though he hardly needs my help to achieve his goals.”
“From what he has told me, you’ve helped him quite a bit,” I said.
“That’s very sweet,” Robert said. “You seem very sweet, Miss Kaela.” He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if he were examining an interesting new species.
“Oh. Well...” I stammered.
“Roy,” Robert said to one of the big, silent men at his side, “Go and fetch Kaela a drink, would you?” he turned to me with a smile, “What’s your poison, dear?”
“I would love a tequila and ginger,” I said tentatively.
“You heard the woman,” Robert said. His man disappeared back into the seething crowd. “Come with me, sweetheart. We’ve got the best seats in the house set aside for you.”
“Oh,” I said, “I guess that you...come here often?”
Robert let out a laugh and rested a hand on the small of my back. The sudden contact made me jump. “I better come here often,” Robert said, “It’s sort of my hobby. And I come out to support Anderson, of course. I’m a manager of sorts for him.”
“Really?” I aske
d.
“Oh yes,” Robert said, “Anderson couldn’t give a damn about money or prestige, he just wants to get down there and fight. I make sure that all his best interests are protected. I suppose I’ve been his guardian, in a way.”
The crowd parted before Robert like a school of fish for a shark. A thousand eyes stared at me wonderingly, surprised to see a new girl by Robert’s side. I felt buoyed by his confidence, like I had just been given a seat in the inner circle. He led us to a raised box on the far side of the pit. The spot offered a perfect view of the entire arena, and held two plush theater seats. Robert gestured to one, indicating that I should sit. I sunk down onto the cushioned seat, feeling for the world like a visiting princess in a strange kingdom. Robert certainly seemed to be some kind of king there.
The thug Roy returned to our side with two drinks in tow. I happily accepted the drink, feeling as out of place as I did. This was a far cry from slinging coffee to deadbeats, that much was for sure. Robert watched me, smiling fondly. His eyes lingered a bit too long on my chest and waist for my liking, but I told myself that he was harmless. This was the man who had raised Anderson, after all. He couldn’t be that much of a creep.
“I’m very glad to see that Anderson has taken an interest in someone,” Robert said.
“Has he?” I said stiltedly, “Taken an interest, I mean?”
“Oh yes,” Robert said, “Anderson is a boy of few words, but I can tell from the way that he talks about you that he’s quite taken.”
“Oh. Good,” I said, turning my attention toward the ring. Inside, I was crying out in joy—maybe Anderson really was interested in being more than a friend to me. My thoughts wandered back to the night before...to how wonderful it had felt to stand beside him without a stitch of clothing between my body and him.
“You’re blushing again,” Robert said, calling me out.
“I’m just excited to be here,” I told him with a smile. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Just wait until the match starts,” Robert said, “Then you’ll know what real excitement is.”
I took an eager sip of my drink and scanned the expanse of the arena. All around the pit, people were beginning to gather, and the air was buzzing with heady anticipation. The enthusiasm was contagious, and I felt my body begin to respond. I’d never even seen an arm wrestling match before, so why was my body acting so intrinsically engaged by this whole thing? I supposed it had to do with instincts buried deep inside of me.
Suddenly, the lights in the arena shifted, illuminating the pit and throwing the rest of the space into darkness. A cacophonous cheer went up all around me as a thousand people pressed forward for a better view of the fighting ring. The sudden surge of humanity was overwhelming—I was glad that Robert had whisked me into this protected box seat. All around in the darkened arena, people were chattering and cheering, worked into a frenzy of anticipation and something that I knew in my bones to be bloodlust. For the first time, I felt a stab of worry strike me in the gut. The animalistic way these people were looking forward to the fight made me wonder whether I should be praying for Anderson’s safety.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said a booming voice that rang, amplified, throughout the darkened arena, “Welcome back to our fine establishment. This is sure to be an exciting match, tonight. Please welcome to the pit, our defending champion, undefeated in his last 48 contests, The Brooklyn Barbarian, The Harbinger of Sorrow, Anderson ‘The Shatter Man’ Cole!”
An ear piercing roar went up all around me, rattling the very foundations of the arena. A sudden blare of spotlights flashed to encompass the fighting pit, and brutal death metal music surged through the speakers. I leaned forward, my heart nearly beating out of my chest as I clutched the railing, as the staggering hero that was Anderson strode into the pit. I let out an involuntary moan as he made his way forward. His chest and arms were entirely bare, and his rock hard muscles were on full, excruciatingly fine display. Even from afar, I could count his abs one by one. The rippling panes of his chest and the bulging, innumerable muscles of his back and arms came together in the most perfect form I ever could have imagined…And oh God those tattoos.
He grinned up into the crowd, his eyes lit up with a furious excitement. His every muscle seemed poised, on a hair trigger and ready to react. There was a grace to his movements that only made his obvious strength that much more appealing. I wondered what it would be like to have him on top of me, that brilliant excitement turning into ecstasy as he thrust and drove powerfully into me, giving me a taste of that powerful grace. What would it be like to feel those rippling muscles under my hands even as I felt him sinking further and further inside of me...?
“And now, tonight’s worthy challenger,” the overhead voice went on, interrupting my sinfully dirty thoughts. “Hailing from Virginia Beach, undefeated in his last 13 contests, Ladies and Gentlemen it’s my privilege to introduce to you Erik ‘The Pit Bull’ Maelstrom!”
Another deafening wave of sound, voices and music, crashed over the arena. My eardrums strained against the force of the riotous noise. I tore my eyes away from Anderson as another figure entered the fighting pit. My blood ran cold as I took in my hero’s opponent for the evening. Erik Maelstrom had none of Anderson’s easy grace—he was a hulking mountain of a man, and seemed a good foot taller than my already sky-high hero. He was even broader, too; a barrel-chested wrecking ball of raw power. His fists were like hammers, ready to smash Anderson into submission. My hands tightened around the railing until they ached, as a sudden freezing panic swept through me. I had the absurd impulse to throw myself into the ring, put my body between Anderson and this boulder of a fighter he was supposed to go up against. Who had decided that this was a good idea? Why was everyone cheering when my savior was in such imminent danger?
I heard a warm laugh beside me as Robert lay a hand on my shoulder. “This is your first fight, I gather,” he said, “Don’t worry. Anderson knows how to take care of himself, you’ll see. The boy is practically undefeated.”
“But...That guy is huge,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the men in the pit.
“Huge doesn’t mean strong,” Robert said, “And it doesn’t mean fast. Try and enjoy yourself, dear. This is the fun part.”
The overhead voice drowned out the roar of the crowd long enough to say, “Gentlemen, the fight starts...NOW!”
A blasting horn pealed out a long note, and time seemed to slow all around me as the men flew into action. I watched as Anderson’s muscles coordinated themselves into a flawless leap, carrying him across the ring. Maelstrom, for his part, charged forward with a sudden burst of momentum, his pounding steps seeming to echo throughout the entire arena. Erik raised a fist, looking to catch Anderson in the chest, but my hero skated by the lumbering man like a matador dodging a raging bull. Anderson landed lightly and pivoted back toward Maelstrom, a wicked grin affixed onto his lips. Erik stopped just short of colliding with the wall of the pit before he fumbled to a stop, turning back toward Anderson with a look of surprise. It was clear that Maelstrom was used to winning fights by brute force alone, but he’d need more than that to defeat Anderson. He’d need finesse.
Anderson crouched like a coiled spring, his every muscle tense and focused. I felt a surge of adrenaline race through my body as he unwound, flying forward across the pit. He moved like a dancer, making these incredible feats of strength look effortless. He was beautiful, and terrifying, and deadly, all at the same time. Before Maelstrom could even move a muscle, Anderson jumped and swung his leg around with a sweeping kick, catching the bigger man beneath the chin with a devastating blow. I gasped as Erik’s neck snapped back, and the cracking sound is one I’ll never forget…for a moment I thought his jaw would fly straight off of his face. The fighter reeled backward and Anderson struck again, this time sweeping the bigger man’s legs out from under him. He went down with a thud, sending up a cloud of sand as we hit the floor.
The crowd was raging all around the pit as Anderso
n retreated across the circle, putting space between him and the fallen man. Anderson clearly could have pinned the guy right then and there, ended the fight in a matter of minutes. But it was obvious that Anderson wanted to prolong the battle, play with his opponent a little bit more. I could see that it wasn’t a quick, violent defeat Anderson was after. He was all about strategy, tactics, and well executed entertainment…his job was to fill arenas after all.
The smart, intuitive moves he made were precise and fine-tuned. He stood crouched on the other end of the pit as Maelstrom straightened up once more. With a roar, the big man came charging back toward Anderson once more.
This time, Anderson slipped right under Maelstrom’s arm and pivoted quickly. He leveled a swift, strong kick against the small of Erik’s back, sending the huge fighter sprawling out in the sand again, a look of surprised fury plastered on his face. They were right beneath us, and I found myself up out of my seat, peering over the railing to get a better look at the fight. I didn’t notice at first that I was cheering along with the rest of the crowd—my cries of delight and encouragement were as intuitive as breathing. Watching the fight was the most absolutely exhilarating experience of my life. I felt my muscles tense and relax along with Anderson’s, as if our bodies were in sync.
As if he could sense my longing attention, Anderson let his gaze travel up into the crowd and land on me. The breath left my lungs as he gave me a quick smile and a devilish wink. I very nearly toppled over the railing into the pit as I went limp with desire for that brilliant fighter, that rippling god of a man.
My gleeful cheering turned into a scream of terror as Maelstrom lunged toward Anderson and got a grip on his leg. Anderson fell onto his back, taken by surprise. The second he’d spared for me had cost him dearly. For a moment, Anderson was blocked from sight by the sheer mass of Maelstrom falling on top of him. But just as Erik was raising a fist to pummel that gorgeous face, Anderson brought his legs up hard and flipped Maelstrom head over heels into the sand. This time, Anderson didn’t hesitate. He came down on top of Erik like a pile of bricks, pinning him to the sand and landing blow after furious blow. Erik tried to knock Anderson from his powerful position, but the falling punches were too much. I watched as blood began to stream from Maelstrom’s nose and mouth, his arms and legs moving less and less.
Shattered (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) Page 5
