“Well, let’s go then.”
“You’re letting me drive?” I ask.
He slips an arm into his jacket. “Unless you have a rather compelling reason for me not to.”
I drop the book to the bed. It’s yet another boring romance I found on the shelf. Whoever M.E. is, they certainly left behind a large library of crap I never intended on reading, but I can’t seem to put down. “No no,” I say, shaking my head. “No reason.”
Charlie holds up a hand. “Work,” he says. Then he raises his other hand, “Reward.”
I smile and hop off the bed. It’s been a week since I arrived here and Charlie has barely let me do anything other than shovel food into my own mouth. Chores being the obvious, and only, exception. The thick, hateful tension between us seems to be breaking somewhat, but I wouldn’t call us friends just yet.
I still hate it here. I wish there was someone to talk to other than Charlie. I don’t enjoy our daily “chats,” the ones where he sits me down at the dinner table and asks me how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking about, and if I still want to take drugs. I’m stuck out in the middle of ass-Jesus nowhere. Of course I want to get high and forget about my troubles, but Charlie has made damn sure that doing so is impossible.
Tobias seems hellbent on not breaking his father’s rules for not engaging with me. Granted, we rarely see each other. He’s gone all night and I’m up all day. There are a few occasions where he’s in the house with us during the day, but they are few and far between — and never last long before he’s on his motorbike again, heading off to who knows where.
“Watch the speed limit,” Charlie warns, shifting in his seat.
I’ve never driven a pick-up truck before, but I’m not about to let him know that. You don’t see large trucks like this in the city. City folk like sports cars and SUVs. We don’t have a lot of use for big, gas-guzzling trucks. It’s strange being up in the air so high, but after a few miles, I’ve gotten used to it. I push the brake slightly, decreasing the speed by a few digits. “So, where are we going?” I ask him.
“You are staying in the truck,” he says. “I have to see a friend.”
“You have friends?” I chuckle.
“Yes, I have friends.” We pull into town and Charlie directs me down Main Street. “Park at the corner here,” he points.
I do as I’m told and take the parking spot, which thankfully isn’t parallel. There’s no way I’d be able to pull off parallel parking in this big beast of a truck. I point the air conditioning at my face to fight the sweat breaking on my brow. “So, I just stay here then?” I ask.
He pushes his door open and steps outside. “Yes.”
“Okay…” I look around outside.
Charlie wanders a few feet down the sidewalk before pausing and turning back to the truck. He gestures for me to roll down the window. “Or…” he mutters up at me, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “If you can handle it…” He grabs five dollars and holds it up to my window. “You can go grab us a loaf of bread from the market.”
“Seriously?” I ask, snatching the money from his fingers.
“If I make it back to the truck before you do,” he warns, “I’ll double your chores tomorrow.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding quickly.
“Bread only.”
I turn off the truck and hop out of it. “In and out. No problem, Charlie.” I watch him walk off in the opposite direction and wait until I see where he’s going. He crosses the street and enters an office with the sign ‘Bradley Jones, Attorney at Law’ hovering above it. I pick up my pace and rush into the grocery store across the street.
I’ve been in here before, so I know they keep the bread in the back, next to the eggs and milk. Charlie’s serious about doubling my chores and honestly, it’s the last thing I want. He’s just started giving me a little wiggle room and I don’t want to blow what little trust he’s formed in me. I keep my head down, find the bread, and grab a loaf before a minute has passed by.
Thankfully, there’s no line at the checkout. I toss the bread down and fish into my pocket for the money Charlie gave me.
“Hey, Claire!”
I look up to see Amy standing behind the counter. “Hey,” I answer.
“This all you need?” she asks, snatching the bread off the belt to scan it in.
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” she says. “Running errands with Charlie again?”
“Yeah…” I check her face again and notice that her bottom lip is split on one side, bruised and scabbed over just like mine was. She also sports the remains of what looks to be a pretty decent, and recent, black eye. It wasn’t there a week ago when I first met her.
Amy catches me staring at her and she quickly looks away. “That’ll be two seventy-five,” she mutters with smiling lips.
I hand her the money. “So…” I say, keeping my voice low. “Where’d you get the…” I point to her face.
She looks at me with shifting eyes. “Nowhere,” she says. “Where’d you get yours?”
“Nowhere…” I mutter.
She hits me with another grin. “They aren’t what they look like,” she claims. “I work out at the local boxing gym once a week. Do you like boxing?”
“Never done it,” I answer.
Her voice gets low. “Do you like watching fights?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
I stare at her with confusion. “What?”
She shifts on her feet, her lips curling slightly until she finally gestures me closer across the belt. “There’s a place…” she begins, “outside of town. Below the abandoned school on Third.”
“What kind of place?” I ask.
She lowers her voice, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “Go around back, take the rear entrance by the stairs. Down the first hall, you’ll see a door marked basement. Then, just follow the noise and you’ll find it.”
“Find what?”
Her smile spreads wider. “There’s a fee, but it’s affordable.” She passes me my change.
I open my mouth to ask for more information, but I catch sight of Charlie out the window behind her. He’s left the law office and is now walking slowly towards the truck. “Thank you,” I say as I grab the bread.
“See you tonight,” Amy mutters with a full smirk crossing her face.
I turn back to look at her one more time before pushing the door open. I look around for Charlie again and see him just across the street. I sprint fast, bolting through the nearly abandoned street and make it back to the truck a few seconds before he does.
Charlie pauses and stares at me with amused eyes.
“There was a line,” I say as I climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. I hold up the bread and smile.
He chuckles and moves to the passenger’s side.
Chapter 4
Follow The Noise
I sit quietly in my room and wait.
Charlie’s been in bed for a few hours now, just long enough to get into a really deep sleep. And for what I’m about to do, I need him to be really, really deep in sleep.
I leave my room and close the door behind me. It took a long while for me to talk myself into doing this. Charlie’s just starting to trust me and if I get caught sneaking out, all of that will be over. But the more I thought about it, the more my curiosity overwhelmed me.
I step lightly down the stairs. Charlie keeps his truck’s keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Luckily, he hasn’t had the mind to hide them from me at night. I pull them off the hook and silently walk out the front door.
The headlights stay off until I reach the turn for the highway. My heart races, scared of getting caught. I keep with the speed limit, hoping not to attract any attention to the truck I literally just stole.
Earlier, I watched the street signs in town, hoping to find Third Street. Unfortunately, I didn’t, but I did see a First Street. Where there’s a First, there’s a Second, and, hopefully, a Third.
The town is desert
ed, just as I expected at an hour like this. I turn onto First Street and travel south through town. I take the next street over and smile when I find Second Street. I pause at the stop sign and spot a car speeding up the street crossing mine. I wait for them to pass and I don’t have to wait long. The vehicle charges through the intersection with the windows down, ignoring the stop sign in the process. Music blares out of it, along with the whoops and hollers of those inside.
I quickly hit the gas and turn the truck to follow them. My gut tells me they’re here for the same reason I am. I come within distance of their license plate and spot the words St. Louis County. I’m guessing people from St. Louis don’t make it a habit of traveling out to towns in the middle of nowhere unless they have a good — and fun — reason for it.
I follow them through town and just as I suspected, they lead me to Third Street. A few miles later, we reach an abandoned school just outside the city limits, just like Amy described earlier. It’s old, unkempt, and surrounded by other cars. I park in the back and watch as three people tumble out of the car I followed here. They’re laughing, obviously inebriated, but they head towards the back entrance like they’ve been here a hundred times before. I climb out of the truck and follow them up the stairs.
Their voices echo through the halls. I keep my distance and follow them, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. They don’t seem to notice me, but if they have, they don’t care. They pull open a door marked basement and it falls closed behind them.
I pick up my pace and pull it open.
Follow the noise.
By the time I’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, I’ve lost the travelers from St. Louis, but I can hear the screams and shouts of voices echoing through the dark hallways. I make my way through the black, relying on my ears to guide me until I finally come to a set of double doors with a bright light shining out from beneath them.
I push the door open and my jaw drops.
It’s an old basketball court, disheveled from years of abandonment and disuse. A circular stage, shaped like an octagon, sits in the center of the arena, surrounded by a chain-link fence — obviously tossed together with whatever pieces they could find at the local junkyard. The lights flicker above it, just barely hanging on with what little electricity it still pumping into this place.
Two fighters stand in the center with their fists engaged in fighting stances. As my eyes land on them, one takes a firm punch to the jaw and falls flat to the floor. I flinch and my own hands fly to my mouth as I watch the blood spill off his teeth.
“Hey, Claire!”
I look up to find Amy stepping into my view. She appears entirely different than before, sporting a tight tank top and denim shorts. I blink, noticing her tight and toned body, which was well-hidden before behind long sleeves and pants. “Amy…?” I greet, shouting about the roaring crowd. “Hi.” I look around. There has to be at least fifty people cramped together in this makeshift arena.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” she says.
“I almost wish I hadn’t…” I say.
“Entrance fee is ten dollars,” she says, holding out her hand. “But for you, I’ll take five. It’s your first time, after all. I like to be gentle.”
A body slams into the fence and the crowd goes wild. I reach into my pocket and pull out the wad of cash I brought with me. I give her the money and look back to the ring as the same fighter takes another fist to the jaw. “What is this?” I ask her.
“It’s an illegal MMA fighting ring, obviously,” she jokes as she stuffs my money into a large, glass jar. She twists the lid back on and holds onto it tightly against her breast. A metal whistle hangs down from a chain around her neck. I say nothing in response and stare back at her with confusion. “Mixed martial arts,” she explains.
“I see…” I look at the ring, unable to take my eyes off it. “Are there any rules?”
She shakes her head. “No — well, no weapons. Fists and skin only. The fight goes until someone is knocked unconscious or taps out.”
The crowd lets out another scream as one fighter lands a serious jab against the other’s throat.
“Are these locals?” I ask, scanning their wild faces.
“Oh, hell no,” she answers with a giggle. “Well, a few, like myself. The others come from all over the state just to bare witness to the best fighters in the whole Midwest.”
I blink, feeling queasy, as the same fighter takes another bloody punch. “What do they get out of this?” I ask.
“Underground fame and glory, baby!” she smirks. “And this.” She holds up the glass jar.
“The winner gets the entrance fees?”
“I take a bit off the top for organizing the event,” she says. “Then the local on-duty cop takes a bit for his silence. The rest gets stashed away for the final tournament fight and the winner of that takes home everything.”
“You pay off the cops?”
“We used to host these fights in Rolla, but the cops there were total pricks. The ones here in our tiny town are a bit more… persuasive.”
I scan her face again, staring directly at her big, bruised eye. “Do you fight, too?” I ask in surprise.
“I like to hit the gym with the guys every now and then,” she says, nodding her head. “I’m not super competitive about it though. I just think it’s fun. You should try it sometime. There’s nothing like it.”
“I think I’ll pass,” I say, staring at the purple ring around her eye.
“Suit yourself.” She looks back to the fight in progress. “Excuse me. It looks like he’s gonna tap out…”
My eyes fall back to the ring and sure enough, the fighter on the floor taps furiously against his opponent’s knee. The opponent, clad in white, blood-splattered shorts, has him pinned to the floor with his knee pressed against his throat. Silence falls on everyone, leaving the sound of gurgling in the air.
Amy enters the ring and shoots a warning glance at the fighter on top. He lingers on the other fighter’s throat, seemingly disinterested in his plight, and puts a little more force on his body before bouncing off of him.
I inhale deep, not realizing that I was holding my breath the entire time. A few guys enter the ring to the help the beaten boy off the floor while the winner in blood-splattered shorts walks around the ring with his red fists held high, drawing the shouts of the satisfied crowd.
“That’s another win for Pike the Punisher, last year’s reigning Alpha from St. Louis!” Amy shouts, gesturing towards the fighter as he steps off the stage. I watch with wild adrenaline, sliding further into the crowd, closing in on the stage with a morbid curiosity.
Amy signals to the crowd to silence them. “It’s the final fight of the night, folks,” she begins. The crowds goes wild, firing off shouts of excitement and disappointment at the idea of their fun ending so soon. “But it’s the one you’ve all been waiting for!” She points to the left as a fighter enters the ring. He’s as short as I am, but built like a truck from head to toe.
“In this corner, we have Burt the Brute from Jefferson City!”
This fighter is obviously popular, as the crowd begins a loud and slow chant of his name as he paces around the stage.
“And in this corner,” Amy continues, pointing to the right. She waits a moment and the crowd goes silent again. “We have our very own, Tobias the Untouchable!”
I freeze and my eyes fall on him as he steps into the ring. The piercing shouts for him rattle my ears, far louder than any other fighter so far.
Tobias stands still, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black shorts. My eyes once again take in his body. The bruises have faded to a subtle blue, but I can’t say the same about his thick muscles. I bite my inner cheek, completely entranced by him. He doesn’t pace back and forth like the others to draw the crowd’s attentions. He lets them come to him, his face frozen solid like a marble statue, and the crowd adores him for it.
Amy backs out of the ring and closes the cage behind
her. She grabs a whistle hidden on a chain around her neck and brings it to her lips.
A sudden wave of fear trembles me. Blood still lies splattered beneath their feet inside the cage. I look up at Tobias again, remembering the mess of a fight I witnessed just moments before. I want to shout out and stop him, but it wouldn’t do any good in a crowd as loud as this.
Amy blows the whistle and the fight begins.
Burt moves in fast, his fists knocking blows at Tobias with hard precision. Tobias stands his ground, blocking each one of them, keeping his hands in front of his face at all times.
“Come on, pretty boy!” Burt cries out above the crowd. “Let me mark up that handsome face!” He lands a punch against Tobias’ already bruised ribs. Then another. And another. I see Tobias pushing out his hips, allowing for the Brute’s fists to rough him up.
He doesn’t even flinch. He waits with wide eyes until Burt drops his form. It’s only for a brief moment, but it’s long enough for Tobias to strike. His bare fist connects with Burt’s jaw, sending him backward into the fence. He hits him again with a flurry of moves, almost moving fast enough to be a human blur.
Burt stumbles forward and shoves Tobias backward. Tobias moves out of the way, but keeps a tight grip on the Brute’s arm. He swings him around and slams his knee into Burt’s stomach, sending him toppling to the floor.
I stand on my tippy-toes, begging to get a closer look at them both, but I can barely see what’s happening. The next thing I know, Tobias is on his knees, somehow knocked down by a sneak attack from Burt. I cringe as Burt digs his sharp nails into Tobias’ back. Tobias twists around to break free of him and slams Burt backward against the cage again. His fists collide with Burt’s face and a red mist spills into the air.
The crowd screams for him and chant’s Tobias’ name over and over again until Burt tumbles to the mat in a silent clump.
I stand still with shaking knees, watching Tobias’ dark face. His eyes twitch back and forth behind his fists, still raised in a fighting stance, waiting for Burt to get back up. But Burt doesn’t move.
Amy climbs into the ring and taps Burt’s cheek. “Aye, Burt!” she shouts.
Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance Page 21
