by Amity Cross
It clattered to the ground, and Max scooped it up as Charlie brought her knee down…then back up into Simon’s face.
Holy fucking shit. She hadn’t needed me at all.
Simon fell to the ground in surprise, blood streaming from his nose, and Max stepped forward, aiming the gun directly at the guy’s head.
“Get out of here,” Max snapped at us. “This is between us.”
Charlie glanced at me, then to Max. “But—”
“This is your free pass,” he snapped at her. “We will have a little chat later, you and I. For now, get out of here, and be thankful you have your life.”
I held out my hand for Charlie, and she stumbled backward, obviously torn considering her job. She wanted to call it in.
“Charlie,” I urged. “You have to forget about it.”
When she still hesitated, I grabbed her hand and hauled her from the room, and it wasn’t until we were out in the hall that she seemed to snap out of it. She walked easier, following me out of the house and onto the footpath. Without a word, I led her down the street, unlocking the car and easing her inside. Rounding the front, I climbed into the driver’s seat, and as soon as my door closed, I reached out, desperate to touch.
“Fuck, Charlie.” I held her in my arms, my heart pounding.
“I’m okay, Rebel,” she murmured. “I’m okay.”
Pulling away, I settled back into the driver’s seat, unsure as to where this was going next. There were so many things we hadn’t said yet and even more that we both had to explain.
We sat in the car in complete silence. A part of me was listening for a gunshot that would signal the end of Simon, but it never came. We never saw Max, either, but it was none of our business. I didn’t want my hands in that argument—those stains would never come out.
“Rebel…”
I glanced at Charlie in the passenger seat. Her shoulders were stiff, her hair hanging forward over her face. Reaching over, I threaded my fingers through it and tucked it behind her ear. That was better, I could see her blue eyes this way.
“Charlie about—”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” I asked. “Let my balls drop off because my girl could get out of a dicey situation on her own?”
“Guys don’t usually like that,” she said with a shrug.
“What, blokes have dropped you because you’re too tough for them?”
“Something like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pussies.”
“Kane—”
“They think they’re tough for dropping you? Shit, all that does is make them insecure pussies. Those men weren’t good enough for you.”
“Kane.”
I glanced at her, frowning at the forceful tone in her voice. “What?”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“For what?” I asked, knowing exactly what she was getting at.
She cast her gaze away, obviously ashamed. “I lied to you.”
“You wanted to crack The Underground,” I said straight up. “That’s why you were there in the first place.”
She glanced at me, her blue eyes betraying her worry. “It would’ve made my career.”
“Would’ve?”
She shrugged. “Simon was going to kill me. Max let me go.”
I still didn’t get it. “And what does that mean?”
“It means that I was in over my head to begin with. It means I still am. It means I’m in it until you get out.”
I held her tightly. “You—”
“Will let it fly… For now.”
“Charlie—”
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” she interrupted. “Everything else I said to you was the truth. All of it.” She sighed, her fingers beginning to worry the hem of her T-shirt. “I didn’t expect to find you there.”
Neither did I.
I began to mull over the last few days and all the things that had happened in such a short amount of time. It only took a split second to turn someone’s world upside down.
All the stuff she’d said to me about my family, about it not being my fault, about wanting me…she’d meant it all? I could be mad at her, and fuck, was I ever, but not for the reason she was probably thinking. She sat there, looking all teary eyed, waiting for me to get up and leave. I’d had a lot of shit in my life, a lot more than most people deserved, but she’d never been able to find happiness in the chaos that was her job. People held it against her for being a cop and being a strong as fuck woman. I could kinda understand how that felt, even though it was from a different perspective.
“You’d drop your investigation?” I asked, reaching for her hand.
Her fingers curled around mine, her thumb stroking my skin. “Until you get what you want. It’s illegal, and I’ve sworn an oath, but you and every other fighter in that place know exactly what you’re in for. Until you’re there under duress…” She shrugged. “It’s a fine line.”
I smiled. Until I got what I came for, she’d put up with it.
“And when I win the Championship?”
She shoved me hard, her tiny hands hardly making a dent. “Then you better get out, Kane Sturgess, because I want to start a new life with you. An honest life.”
A grin split my face nearly in two. “Fuck, yeah.”
14
Charlotte
I’d made a mistake, and I’d almost lost my life because of it.
I was lucky Rebel and Max had shown up when they did because even though I got the gun from Simon, there were no guarantees I would’ve been able to escape. What got me was the fact that even though I’d blatantly gone against my gut and put Rebel in danger by association, he didn’t seem to give a toss.
And two weeks later, he still wasn’t done with me.
The only people at The Underground who knew my real identity were Rebel and Max, and Max had made it clear that if I was found meddling again, there would be consequences. As long as I played the game, the game I should’ve been playing from the moment I fell for Rebel, they’d leave me alone.
Once Rebel was out, then so was I. I knew when I was in over my head, and that’s what made a good cop—knowing when to bow out.
He’d texted me that morning asking me to meet up with him for a little bit of training. Knowing him, I was prepared to be put through my paces big time. Standing outside of Pulse Fitness, the newest fighter gym in town, I took a deep breath.
He’d said it was run by a past Underground Champ, and he’d had starry eyes, so what could I say? Definitely not no, so I changed into my gym clothes and headed down to Abbotsford, in the daylight for once, and wondered how many ways he’d try to torture me. I’d done my fair share of training, including things like self-defense and cardio, but nothing like he did. MMA, boxing, heavy weight training…that stuff was beyond me.
Stepping inside, I took in the cavernous space filled with all kinds of gym equipment and breathed in the scent of leather and paint. How new was this place exactly?
“Charlie!”
I smiled as I heard my name on Rebel’s lips and found him at the far end of the gym waving me over.
“Hey,” I said as I came to a stop in front of him. He was half-naked as usual, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts and a wife-beater that hardly covered his pecs. “Nice place.”
“I know, right?”
Dumping my bag against the wall and kicking off my runners, I asked. “So what are we doing?”
“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asked with a grin.
“Me?” I retorted, pretending to be offended. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, buddy.”
“Game on.”
Squaring my shoulders, I stepped up to the plate. “Watch your back, Sturgess.”
With a smile, he cupped my face in his big hands and planted a kiss on my lips.
We now had the space to get to know one another without boundaries or unknowns between us and it was a heady thought. I’d never had it with another man and
certainly not as fast. We’d fallen for each other and clicked instantly. Comfortable was something that now came easy.
“You got time to hang for a while after this?” Rebel asked.
I tilted my head to the side. “Hang?”
He laughed, looking more handsome every day. “By hang I mean go at it back at mine.”
I burst out into laughter, shaking my head. Men. “Shit, yes.”
Yeah, we had time.
STEEL
#5 The Beat and The Pulse
1
Holly
Staring at the message on my phone, I shoved down the urge to hurl the stupid thing across the dark street.
The message notification taunted me like a red flag in front of a bull.
I just need to know you’re okay.
I stood around the corner from the Emergency department of St. Vincent’s Hospital in Melbourne, leaning against the brick wall as the clock neared three a.m. I didn’t mind working all-nighters. It kept my mind off some things and on others that mattered more than the stupid asshole who was messaging me on Facebook from the other side of the world. Why the hell hadn’t I blocked him yet?
Rolling my eyes, I pressed delete. The only reason that piece of shit wanted to know the state of my mental well-being was for his own sense of closure. Well, fucked if I was giving it to him.
Pushing off the wall, I smoothed down my blue scrubs, straightened my white coat, and fixed my unruly red hair back into place. Time to go back to work doing what I did best. Forgetting.
Tires squealed loudly, and I curled my lip in distaste. Idiots. Hooning in a hospital zone.
Rounding the corner, I stumbled as I caught sight of a man lying on the footpath. Not just lying there…he was strapped to a spinal board. What the hell?
The roar of an engine pulled my gaze upward, and I was just in time to see a dark colored van rounding the corner as it disappeared into the night.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and my heart hammered wildly in my chest as I rushed forward and fell to my knees on the concrete beside the man. He was covered in blood, his face torn and already swollen. Pressing my fingers against his neck, I felt the faint flutter of a pulse, and I said a tiny prayer. Thank fucking hell.
He began to moan, his body trying to rouse from unconsciousness, and I leaned over him. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, pressing my palm against his forehead. “I’m a doctor. I’m going to help you.”
He moaned again, trying to open his eyes, but I laid my other hand over his heart. “Don’t try to move. Hold tight, okay? I’m going to get some help.”
Rising to my feet, I sprinted into the ER and practically screamed at the assembled patients, doctors, and nurses who were bustling around with their own problems. Three in the morning was still a nightmare in here, but it was a nightmare any time of the day…just the depth varied.
“I need some help here!”
2
Josh
You know what they say about the light at the end of the tunnel?
Well, it’s all bullshit. There is no light…just bitter disappointment.
My eyes opened a crack and light flooded in, blinding me. I was drowning…numb and cold.
Blinking, a white ceiling came into view. I didn’t recognize it, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what my name was or why I was here. Or where here was.
It took me a moment to work out I was Josh Caplin. I was a fighter. I fought for money.
The last thing I remembered was toeing the line in the cage at The Underground. It didn’t look anything like this white ceiling. That place was a shithole, but it was the only shithole I belonged in.
I was too tired to give a fuck. Darkness seemed like a good idea. Better than struggling. Better than trying to fight.
Yeah, darkness sounded real fucking good.
The cage felt different tonight.
The crowd was fidgeting, and the air crackled like it was charged with electricity.
Maybe because an old champ had come back for a taste of blood. Ash “Maverick” Fuller stood before me in the cage, looking every bit the formidable beast everyone had made him out to be. If this was the real world, he’d be in the heavyweight division, and I’d be down in the lightweight, but we weren’t. We were in the asshole of the fighting world where none of that shit mattered.
The Underground wasn’t made for sunshine and rainbows. No, it was blood…and glory for those who made it out the other end.
Maverick’s gaze met mine as he toed the line opposite me. The tattoo that covered his entire chest and torso made him look meaner than he actually was, which only served to psych his opponents out. Shaking my head, I didn’t let it get to me. Being lighter meant I had some advantages. The rest of that stuff was just mind games—the only ones I wanted to play were strategic and in the moment.
“Maverick,” I said with a polite but curt nod.
Maverick grunted like an arrogant asshole, and I narrowed my eyes.
Max held up his hand, eyeballing us. “You know the rules. Give ‘em a good show.”
He dropped his hand, and I lunged, not giving Maverick a chance to strike first, but I’d underestimated the hulking giant. My right fist flew too high as I went for his temple, and he ducked. When his shoulder smashed into my chest, I gasped for air, stumbling to the side.
I was forced off balance at Maverick’s back, and I didn’t have enough momentum to bring myself back and strike. Like lightning, he twisted and kicked.
His shin slammed into my stomach, and I fell flat on my back, the lights overhead blinding me. Desperately, I kicked out, sweeping my foot, hoping I’d bring the fucker down. When my ankle connected with flesh, I lunged as the mountain was toppled.
Raising my fist trying to get a KO, he bucked and pushed at me. Then I was falling back again. Motherfucker.
My vision was filled with nothing but Maverick’s fist, and I winced as it connected, pain splintering through my cheekbone. Kicking and struggling, I tried to free myself, but he had me pinned under his superior weight.
The crowd roared, chanting for a KO, feeding the adrenaline of the beast that held me in place like a helpless little lamb.
Fuck that. I wasn’t weak.
With a roar, I shoved him hard, and he fell to the side. A split second later, my foot was colliding with the fucker’s stomach. He curled in on himself like a little girl, and as I stood over him, he reached out—his hand like lightning—grasped my ankle, and yanked.
I fell hard, harder than before, and my head collided with the concrete. Stars exploded in my vision, my ears roaring with the sound of blood rushing through my veins.
While I was dazed and confused, Maverick dived on me.
His fist smashed into my temple, and I grunted in pain, the reflex hurting my pride more than my head. I tried to grapple, but I couldn’t grasp his arms…there was too much blood. His or mine? Probably mine.
Maverick hit me again, his fist smashing into my face. Was it my eye? My jaw? My cheekbone? I didn’t know. Everything was numb, but still, I fought. My stupid fucking pride was stopping me from tapping out. I’d never quit.
He hit me again. It was like he’d lost his grip on reality.
And he hit me again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get out of the way. I was totally fucked.
I spat blood onto the floor, my vision blurring, my entire body feeling numb and very far away.
Then darkness. Just never-ending darkness. It sucked me under, and I was glad because darkness was better than this.
There was that white ceiling again.
I almost regretted surfacing from the black because it was the best bloody sleep I’d had in my entire life. I wanted to go back. The darkness was uncomplicated and easy. Much better than this futile life bullshit.
My eyes were scratchy like they’d
dried out, and my throat and tongue felt like I’d swallowed a pile of dirt.
They called me Steel. Strong, dependable, hard as nails. I was meant to hit like a sledgehammer and cut through flesh like a sword, but right now, I felt rusty as fucking shit.
Putting two and two together, I realized I was in a hospital. The air stunk like disinfectant and stale piss. The sounds of people moving around were muffled by the curtain that had been swept around the end of the bed, giving my pathetic ass privacy from prying eyes.
Something didn’t feel right, but I palmed it off as being groggy from whatever drugs I’d been pumped with. My limbs felt heavy, I could hardly open my eyes, and my strength—which I always had shitloads of—was nonexistent.
Turning my head, everything was white and pale blue. Tubes and cords ran from my body into alien looking machines that beeped as they recorded whatever it was they were used for. A woman stood beside the bed, checking the buttons and screens, her fiery red hair tied up into a messy ponytail. A nurse probably. A nurse with fire for hair.
I breathed deeply, my throat feeling like sandpaper as oxygen rasped along it and into my lungs. Coughing, I closed my eyes as they began to water.
“Here,” a female voice said. “Have some water.” A straw pressed against my dry lips. “Just a little at a time, okay?”
I sipped, the water going down like a dream, and I glanced back up at the nurse. What was her name? Ginger? Maybe it was Embers, Sparks, Firecracker…
Looking down at myself, I realized I must look like absolute shit. I couldn’t see my face, but I reckon it was black from the pounding I took. The hospital gown wasn’t very fashionable, but at least it was something.
“Welcome back, Mr. Caplin,” the nurse said, putting the cup of water onto the table. “I’m Dr. Walsh. I’m your orthopedic surgeon, and I’m the lucky person in charge of those broken bones of yours.”
