by Hawk, Maya
“I show up. I fight my opponent. I get paid. That’s my extent of the involvement.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know, Titan, if it’s a front for some kind of organized crime. Maybe drugs are being exchanged? Maybe people are being trafficked? You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes or what the men exchanging money are doing with that money afterwards.”
“I think you’ve seen too many Dateline episodes.”
“You’re being ridiculously irrational right now.” She steps toward me, her hands wringing the air. “Seriously. Do you want to go right back to where you came from? Because this is how you go back. Did you do this before? How do you even know how to fight?”
“No, and I learned while I was locked up. Anyway, I’m only doing a few fights,” I say. “They’re five minute fights, Jordana. I’m in. I get paid. I’m out. A few more of these and I’m done. I’ll have enough saved to finish my degree, and I’m out of here.”
“What if someone gets hurt, Titan? What if you permanently injure someone? They can come back and sue you and press charges and…”
Her voice trails as her eyes water.
“Look,” I say, stepping toward her and placing my hands on her arms. I’ve never been good at comforting anyone before, but it’s no excuse not to try. “I get that this is your passion. I get that you’ve dedicated your entire college career to researching the fucked up criminal justice system we have in this country. But I’m not going back. Trust me. I’m not an idiot. I’m smart about this.”
Her eyes roll. “You sound like a fucking convict right now.”
“Princess, I am a fucking convict.” I smirk. “But that’s beside the point. A few more fights, and I’m done. Promise.”
Not sure why I need to promise a girl I’ve fucked all of three times that I won’t fight anymore, but I do it anyway.
“These underground fighting rings,” she says. “Do they ever video tape you?”
Her head tilts to the side, and her body shivers beneath my touch.
“No cell phones or cameras allowed,” I say. “That’s one of the rules in the basement.”
Her hand clutches at her chest as her eyes close. “And the guys you fight, they agree to this, right? You’re not picking random people from bars and-”
“God, no. Jordana. Fuck. No.” I know exactly where she’s going with this. “It’s an organized operation. Fighters fighting fighters. Willing opponents.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“Now stop worrying about me and get your hot little ass out of here.” I slap give her ass a squeeze and lean over her to grab the door.
She’s going to be worrying about me tonight. I can sense that much.
I shake my head and grab my shoes and head across the street for the fight the second I see her car pull away.
Kyle’s waiting at the bottom of the basement stairs. “Shit. You’re here now. Thought you were going to pussy out.”
“Never,” I say.
“Good.” He places his hand around the back of my neck. “See that big son of a bitch over there?”
On the other side of the low-lit room is a guy easily a good few inches and twenty pounds bigger than me.
“Talk about stacked,” I say, not that I doubt my skills, but I want Kyle to think I’m doing him a solid here. I kind of am anyway. This sure as fuck won’t be easy money.
“Fuck, Titan. He’s all muscle, but you’re light on your feet,” he says. “I’ve seen the way you float. You’re fuckin’ Mohammad Ali. You got this.”
“Two grand?” I want to make sure the terms haven’t changed. Earlier today he finally came back and said he could to two grand if I win, and he’s giving me five hundred just to fight.
I couldn’t say no.
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, still bitter from having spent his morning making this happen. At least it got him out of doing oil changes for a couple hours.
Spectators and attendees from all walks of life filter into the basement a few minuets later. They all pay their covers and they see the bookmaker to place their bets.
Stepping into the makeshift ring to face my opponent, I know two things to be true: I’m going to be sore a hell tomorrow, and I’m going to win only because I refuse to lose.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – JORDANA
Kent is out doing a home check. He said I couldn’t come because I’m not armed, but I think he just wants me to sit at his desk and catch him up on paperwork. I’ve never met a man so allergic to work before. He claims he prefers the face-to-face part of his job, but all he ever does during his appointments is lecture.
He’ll take some notes and then shove it off in a plastic stacker bin on the side of his desk for me to do later.
I regret choosing this agency for my internship.
And no wonder Kent was so popular with the interns. He doesn’t make you do any real work and you still get offered a job at the end assuming you didn’t rub him the wrong way.
So far he likes me.
But I think it’s because I put up with his shit.
I’m caught up with his paperwork around ten Wednesday morning, but he’s not scheduled to be back until the afternoon.
With nothing else to do, I peruse the database, playing around and trying to get a better feel for the kind of information it holds. These things are meant to help parole officers. Records of police reports and psych evaluations. Personal criminal records. Infractions and misdemeanors. All of it is right here, guarded behind a security wall and a password in the district’s system.
Biting my lip and glancing toward the door, I look Titan up in the system once more. I didn’t recall seeing anything before about a history of fighting. Just that one willful injury charge when he beat up that drunk driver who was out on bond.
I soak up everything there is in his case file, which isn’t much. Ten minutes later, I’m convinced he’s telling me the truth and doesn’t have a history of underground fighting.
For a little while, I get lost in thought, residing deep inside my head. This town is small. People talk. I can’t help but wonder if someone involved in that fighting ring might know the person who beat up my brother.
Fighting and assault are two different sides of the same coin, and a man doesn’t beat another man to death for no reason at all without knowing how to do it. Jerome was a kind soul. He never would’ve made anyone upset. He was quiet. Kept to himself and his close group of friends. Stayed out of trouble. Got good grades. He was my mother’s pride and joy until his life was blown out like a candle.
Whoever assaulted and killed my brother knew what they were doing. He wasn’t that badly beaten. The autopsy report said it was a quick blow to the head that did him in. He had barely a bruise or cut or scrape anywhere on him. The police said whoever did this to him knew what they were doing.
I pull up my phone and search the local paper’s website. This morning, I’d overheard some of the parole officers in the break room discussing a random assault that happened last weekend.
A twenty-five year old Hispanic male leaving the Hammerhead bar was attacked within inches of his life and left for dead. No suspects are named but the assault fits a pattern of similar crimes happening in the area over the last several years.
There has to be a connection.
And Titan’s going to help me piece this together.
He doesn’t have a choice.
***
“I’m going with you to the next fight,” I say to Titan Thursday night. I’m standing in his doorway just a hair past eight o’clock. Judging by the black eye and the way he favors his right leg, I’d say the last fight was brutal.
He rakes a scraped knuckle through his hair. “The hell are you talking about?”
I push past him, showing myself in, and take a seat on his bed.
“If you came here to get laid, I’m going to stop you there.” He favors his left leg as he hobbles toward me. “Gotta rest for a night.”
“I’m not here for th
at,” I say, outwardly denying the fact that I could easily be down to fuck right now if he weren’t in such poor condition. Even gimped up, he’s still sexy as sin. “I was thinking about that string of random assaults in this town and how no one can figure out who’s doing it.”
“Right,” he says. “They’re random. No motivation. No rhyme or reason. Nothing predictable about when they happen.”
“I think my brother was the first victim,” I say. “And the police think, or at least they thought during the investigation, that whoever killed my brother knew what they were doing. And clearly whoever is attacking these men outside bars knows what they’re doing.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with you coming with me to the fights,” he groans, lowering next to me on the bed. “But you’re not going with me. It’s not safe for you.”
“I’m going,” I say. “All I need to do is make small talk, start asking around, get a feel for what these people think of the attacks. This is a small town. The rumor mill here is huge. I just need to tap into it.”
“Okay, Nancy fucking Drew.” He huffs and laughs before reaching for his ribs on his left side.
“Laugh all you want, but this might be the only chance I have.” I can’t finish my thought. The idea of living the rest of my life not knowing who did this to my brother floods my heart and steals my words.
And my poor mother. She deserves to know. I at least want to try, if only for her sake.
“I gotta clear it with my guy first,” Titan says. His hands drag across his face and he yawns before rubbing his eyes. His deadpan tone leads me to believe he has no intentions of going to bat for me if this guy says no.
His yawn makes me yawn, and the thought of curling up to him and staying over crosses my mind.
“I’m going,” I say, before I have a chance to change my mind. He’s not in any condition to entertain my dirty thoughts tonight, and lying next to him without jumping his bones would be pure torture.
“It’s up to my guy,” he says. “And if it were up to me, I’d say no.”
“Thank God it’s not up to you.” I fold my arms. “And you better push for me, Titan. Don’t accept ‘no’ for an answer.”
I hold no weight. I know that. He knows that.
He crawls back, sluggishly, until his head hits his pillow.
“I’m going to the next fight,” I state one last time, rising up to leave. I don’t care what his guy says. I’ll be there, even if I risk my internship. Even if he doesn’t want me there.
It may be a long shot, but I know there’s a connection. I feel it in my gut.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TITAN
“I know someone,” I say the next morning the second Kyle walks in. “Wants in on the next fight.”
Kyle stops dead in his tracks, uncapping his Mountain Dew and cocking a half smirk. “How well do you know them?”
He takes a swig, leaving his mouth half-gaping like he’s too lazy to swallow properly.
“Pretty well,” I lie. Only thing I know about Jordana is she has Grade A pussy to match her Type A personality. But there’s honesty in her eyes. I see it. There’s something refreshingly pure about her, and maybe that’s because I haven’t come across her type in a long while. “She’s into watching fights. I told her what I do. She wants to see one.”
“Nah,” Kyle says. “Doesn’t work like that.”
“What, you want a background check on her?”
“How do I know she’s not a cop?”
“Because I’d never fuck a cop.” Going that route is going to be my best bet. If he thinks she’s nothing more than a piece of ass, it makes her less of a threat.
“Damn.” Kyle pats my shoulder, his puny knuckles digging in to my flesh. “Fresh out of the clink and boy’s got game. Didn’t take you long to find some pussy, did it? Wouldn’t be willing to share any of that good stuff now, would ya?”
My blood boils, hot and molten through my veins.
“Not really into that.” I grab a drill and duck beneath a hoisted Buick.
“Fuck, Titan, I don’t mean double teaming. I mean like let me have my way with her, and I’ll give her back to you nice and broken in.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that Kyle’s view of the finer sex is a bit on the less-refined side.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I ask.
“This mouth is for kissing slutty-ass bitches,” he says. “And licking juicy-ass pussies. Ain’t seen my Mama in twelve years. That dumb bitch left us for some rodeo clown and never looked back.”
That would explain his lack of decency. Every man needs a good woman to teach him how to be a half-decent human being once in a while.
“Kyle!” KJ grabs his brother’s attention and points him to a red Lincoln waiting to be pulled into his bay.
“Can I bring her or not?” I ask before he scampers away.
His hands hook on his sides and his neck extends as he pauses. “Shit, Titan. If she’s with you, she’s fine. If she causes any trouble, your ass is on the line. And don’t let it fuck up your game. You lose a fight because she’s there, and you’ll be paying me.”
“I don’t lose. You know that.”
Kyle trots away to attend to the Lincoln, and my stomach hardens. I don’t want Jordana to come. I don’t want her anywhere near that dingy basement and the kind of men who pay big money to watch a man beat another within an inch of his life. I’ve seen the way the women who’ve dared to enter that rat’s nest are feasted upon. There’s something about watching fights that gets them all riled up, like animals, and every woman they see in there is fair game.
It’s gotta be all the testosterone in the air.
But I’ll never hear of the end of it if I don’t let her come at least once. And, shit, as long as I’m there, she’ll be protected.
***
“Fight is Friday night at nine.” I pull Jordana into my apartment late that night. It’s becoming a regular thing, her popping by every evening just past suppertime. The weirdest part is I don’t even mind anymore. Plus it’s nice to know I don’t have to work to too hard to get laid on a regular basis.
Plus it sure beats fucking my calloused hands.
“Don’t be late.” I yank her into my arms and slam the door behind her. A hint of a smile crosses her pouty lips and disappears as quickly as it arrives. “You’ll come with me. You’ll stick with me. I want you in my line of sight the entire time. You’ll sit where I can see you.”
“What’s all this?” Her head cocks. “Is this you worrying about me? Because if it is, you’re kind of losing your edge a little and I have to say–”
“Stop playing.” I clear my throat, my jaw tensing. “The guys in there, they’re going to take one look at you and see you as fair game. For all intents and purposes, you belong to me in there.”
Her dark eyes flutter as she pulls in a soft sigh.
“I appreciate your concern, but I think I can handle myself. I’m a big girl. I’m educated, trained to recognize that look in someone’s eyes just before they’re about to get into trouble.”
Yeah. Me too.
“You go on my terms or you don’t go at all,” I say.
“Am I allowed to talk to anyone?”
I think she’s joking, but I can’t tell for sure.
“I’d prefer that you not.”
“Trick question,” she says. “I am talking to people. That’s the whole point of me going. I’m going to ask around, get a feel for the kind of people that go to these things. Maybe get a lead.”
I roll my eyes. She’s not going to find what she’s looking for there. Most of them are gamblers, alcoholics, and suburban dads looking for an escape that won’t get them in a heap of trouble with their wives. Underground fighting is the least evil of all their other options.
“Fine,” I growl.
“Now are you going to rip my clothes off or do I have to do it myself?” Her tongue rakes across her upper lip before a smile captures her mouth.
&nb
sp; “You’re insatiable.” I slip a finger under the waistband of her leggings and yank her toward me, leaning down to deposit a bite of a kiss. “And I fucking love it.”
I don’t love anyone. At least not anyone currently inhabiting this earth. And I don’t tend to love anything, really. Material possessions are frivolous. Hobbies are a waste of fucking time, things people do because their lives are as empty as they are pathetic.
But I’ll be fucking damned if I don’t love the way she makes me feel…
Wanted.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – JORDANA
I avert my eyes the second I see Thad strolling into the break room the next morning. My body clenches before folding into itself. The sight of him repulses me. He’s everything I’m supposed to want and yet he’s nothing I want.
“Hey, Jordana.” His smooth voice cuts through the tense, office air.
I force myself to meet his gaze and offer a slow nod. Engaging in conversation with him is probably what keeps him coming back. He thinks he still has a chance. I’m not sure what day and age he thinks we live in, but where I come from if a lady rebuffs you once, you leave her be and move on.
“Haven’t seen much of you this week.” He pours himself a cup of coffee I know he’ll never touch. “Kent’s been keeping you busy, I assume.”
“Yeah,” I say, stirring creamer into the cup of coffee I poured seconds before he waltzed in here. The mug is warm between my palms, and I lift it to my lips. I’d rather take a scalding hot sip than utter another word to him.
“Feels like you’re avoiding me.” He chuckles like he’s joking, but I know he isn’t. “Almost.”
I shrug one shoulder. It pains me to be standoffish to him, but I’m not sure how else to move forward from here. The last thing I need to be doing is giving him more hope.
“What are you doing Friday?” he asks before I leave the room.
I stop, my shoulders falling. I’m faced away from him. “I have plans.”
“With your boyfriend?” he asks.
My heart leaps and a jolt of pain zips down my belly. Does he know or is he bluffing? Has he seen me with Titan?
