by Reina Torres
“You mean drunk?” Frances took another bite. “Yeah, well I can handle myself.”
There was an edge to Frances’ voice that called to something inside of Maggie, something she thought she’d locked away somewhere in the past. “I’m sure you can, Frances, but that’s not the real point.” Maggie curled her hand around Frances’ and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a strong girl and I don’t know enough about shifters to say how strong your lion is, but I’m guessing you could take down a couple of guys bigger than you are.”
Her lips curled into almost a snarl. “Oh, we know we could.”
Maggie almost laughed out loud at the growl in Frances’ tone. “But the point I’m trying to make is that you don’t have to. Not anymore. Cage and I-”
Frances stopped chewing and swallowed as a knock sounded at the door.
For a moment, neither one of them moved.
The fork in Frances’ hand hit the plate with a clatter. “You?”
“I’m here for you, Frances, as long as you need me… as long as you want me to be. I want to help you-”
“Because of Cage?”
Maggie heard the sharp edge of the girl’s voice and she recognized that kind of suspicion. Sometimes it was the help that people offered that made you the most suspicious. It was easier to believe it wasn’t true than to accept help, even at the danger of pushing away the good. And to be fair, Maggie had heard all kinds of fake platitudes when she was Frances’ age. She understood, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out. She tried again, hoping that Frances would hear the truth in her words.
“Because I care. Because I want to help.” She got up and started to walk toward the door to answer the second set of knocks. “Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re all alone… but you don’t want to be.”
Maggie opened the door and gave Brass a smile. “Sorry it took me a minute.”
He shrugged off the apology. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not going to get mad. Especially not at you.”
“Really now?” Taking her coat off the hook, she pulled it up one arm. “Why not me?”
Brass met Frances’ eyes over her shoulder and then looked back up into her face. “Because?”
Maggie knew that Brass was a tiger but knowing that he could turn all fangs and fur she gave him a narrowed-eye stare and a curved eyebrow she’d always found particularly effective. “I really hope you don’t expect to get away with that as an actual answer, Brass.”
As she watched, the other man actually squirmed a little bit and then turned to look at Frances with an expectant look on his face.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Frances shrug and then smirk at Brass. “You’re on your own, Tigger.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Hey,” Maggie glared at him, “watch your language around Frances!”
Frances laughed. “I’ve said worse.”
“And Brass isn’t going to contribute to your vocabulary.”
“Hey,” the tiger snorted, “she taught me a few from England, you should hear the one she said I should use when-”
“Are you done?” Maggie shook her head. “Because if you are here to take care of Frances, I expect you to at least try to act like an adult.”
“Wow, that sucks.”
Maggie tried to ignore Brass’ lack of a filter, especially when she picked up her wallet and keys and stuck them in her hip pocket. “Frances?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you try to make sure that Brass behaves?”
Leaning on the edge of the table the teen laughed. “Brilliant! Will do, Maggie.” Skewering Brass with a look she pointed at another seat at the table. “Sit, Tigger.”
Brass growled deep in his throat, but Frances showed no fear.
“He’ll be good, I promise. He’s just being a pain because he knows who you are.”
Maggie held the door open and turned back to look at the two sitting at the table. “What do you mean?”
Brass looked away from Maggie’s curious gaze, but Frances met her eyes with a smile.
“You’re Cage’s mate, Maggie. It makes all the difference in the world. Tigger won’t do anything to hurt you or be a big enough wanker that you’d lose your temper with him. Because if he did, Cage would rip him to shreds. Quite literally. Right, Tigger?”
Taking the lid off his plate, Brass grumbled at his meal.
“See?” Frances laughed. “Now go and enjoy the fight. Don’t worry about sending him home too soon. I have hours of torture planned for my pal Tigger.”
Truck met her at the back door and guided her in through the ‘backstage’ crowd and opened his hand to offer her a pair of earplugs. “Want these?”
She took a long look at the earplugs and then pushed his hand away. “No thanks.”
The larger man gave her a second chance to reach for the plugs before he gave a weak shrug and dropped them into his jacket pocket. Leaning closer, Truck spoke directly into her ear. “Cage wants me to take you to a place where you can see the fight, but you won’t be too close to the crowd.”
“Is he afraid I’m going to get lost?” Her attempt at humor faded away when she saw Truck’s expression in reply.
“He doesn’t want you hurt. Some of the guys that come to watch this, they like to trade elbows with the other spectators. More often than not, we’re called in to separate people so they don’t spill blood on the floor.”
“Lovely.” Even though they were nearly ten feet from the back of the crowd surrounding the ring, the sound was near deafening. “Looks like it’s popular.”
Truck didn’t have any trouble hearing her words. The black bear inside of him had excellent hearing. “Cage is doing good business here. He keeps the fights fair.”
Maggie kept her eyes on the two men grappling in the ring. They wore tape wrapped around their hands but no boxing gloves. “Are they out of their minds?”
Truck spared the fight a glance before he answered her and guided them to a section of the warehouse that had no one in it. “Some guys get off on bare-knuckle boxing.”
She cringed. “And some like seeing the shifters fight?”
“That’s about it. We have stuff for everyone’s interests.” He pointed off into the darkness to the other side of the warehouse and she saw the barely distinguishable outline of another ring, but this one was almost twice as high. “Cage’s fight will be over there.”
Maggie shook her head. “No.”
“You should know-”
“I don’t want to watch this.”
“He’s not going to get really hurt. That’s not why they do this.”
“Then why?” She wasn’t sure she even heard her own voice above the raucous crowd. “Why would he willingly get hurt?”
“Well, I can’t answer for Cage,” Truck told her, “but I do this to get the wild side out. I let it out, so it doesn’t eat away at me from the inside.”
The crowd erupted into cheers and boos, depending on which side of the fight they were cheering for. The crew for each of the fighters got them out of the ring and started them toward opposite doors on the same wall.
As the noise died down a bit, Truck stepped closer. “Just stay at my side. No one will give you any trouble if you’re with me.”
Maggie spared a glance at Truck, standing at her side. The man was easily six feet and seven or eight inches. He made nearly everyone in the room look like a ninety-eight-pound weakling, even the men with bulging biceps and necks that looked like tree trunks. “Stay close to you. I think I can handle that.”
Overhead lights clicked on over the caged ring and all of a sudden the gathered crowd around the first ring were now rushing to get a good position around the cage. Within moments the original area was empty except for groups of folding chairs and left-over trash from solo cups and paper from the concession food.
As the lights in the original area lowered, a crew of young men rushed in with brooms and dumpsters to clear the space while the crowd
finished jostling for a good seat or place to stand.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The announcer called out over the PA system and Maggie winced when she realized that she was likely the only woman in the room. “The third and final fight of the evening is one you’ve all been waiting for! Our contender comes to us from Chicago! This fierce competitor has decided to try his luck in the cage tonight…”
The crowd seemed to laugh or jeer as the fighter emerged from one of the locker room doors. Bare-chested, with a thin pair of athletic trunks held tight to his abs by a thick elasticized waistband like an old-time fighter. And someone had taken the time to oil up his skin to shine in the lights.
“Let’s hear it for Derrick Kendall!”
The crowd gave an enthusiastic welcome, a few shouting out such gems as, “It’s your funeral!” or “Kick his ass!”
Maggie reached out and grabbed Truck’s arm. “What kind of a shifter is he?”
“Grizzly bear.”
Maggie nodded slowly. “And Cage is going to be okay?”
“Just watch,” Truck gave her hand a pat, but neither the gesture or his words took the weight off her shoulders.
“And now, the one you’ve been waiting for,” the announcer seemed to be taking particular pleasure working up the crowd, using his tone and inflection to make the most of the relatively short intro, “our resident clawed combatant, a man with nerves of steel and claws of death! Let’s hear it for Cage Gamble!”
The crowd started to chant, at first in countered rhythms that made it hard to hear the word, but in moments they’d managed to coordinate their timing and she heard his first name clearly.
A shadow filled the second doorway and the cheers were near deafening. Maggie suddenly wished she’d taken Truck up on his offer.
The cheers shortened down to a single word, “Cage! Cage!” Over and over they continued as Cage jogged through the crowd. Security stepped in to open a path through the assembled patrons up to the corner of the cage where they had the reinforced door that would both let him into the ring and keep him inside when the fight started.
Once he was inside he turned around and stared through the crowd. She didn’t know how she was sure, but she knew he was looking right at her. Where she was standing was an area almost entirely dark and tucked away behind the crowd, and most of them on their feet.
She stood stock still and held her breath, reciting any sort of prayer that she could remember as Cage turned in one wide circle to look at the whole crowd.
Maggie saw him standing in one corner of the ring, encouraging the crowd to shout out and make some noise. She saw how his opponent glared at him, the anger in his eyes. She tightened her hold on Truck’s arm and prayed that Cage would make it through the fight, and that she would too.
Because, right then, Maggie wasn’t so sure she would be able to watch what was about to happen.
But for Cage? She would try.
Chapter Eight
Watching one of the crew set the large lock on the door of the cage, reality sank in like a knife through Maggie’s skin. Cage was in there and he was going to stay there until this was over.
And how long that was going to take, Maggie didn’t know.
She couldn’t even seem to form the words.
The two men were a study of contrasts. The other fighter was all flash and dancing feet, swiping fists, and snarling teeth flashed as he trotted around the ring.
And Cage. He just stood there.
Even when the other fighter stepped behind him, Cage didn’t move. He was like an immoveable object, his feet planted right through the concrete rather than on the floor of the caged ring.
Maggie sucked in a breath as the other man swung a fist at the back of Cage’s head. It was a feint. Not a real strike, but the crowd went wild. The shouts and screams flew through the air and so did the beer, splashing out of solo cups.
It was going to make the floor sticky. She’d cleaned up her share of spilled beer off a floor, but that wasn’t what had her terrified.
Cage. Damn it, Cage.
She heard the taunts that were thrown at the ring by the spectators and then she heard another voice above the rest.
Truck touched her arm and she barely kept herself from calling out in fear. “Hey, it’s okay,” he told her.
“Why is he so loud?”
He gestured at a point above the stage and she fixated on it to keep from looking at the fighters in the cage. There was a dark microphone cluster hung above the stage.
“Oh good,” she sighed, “at least we have it in stereo. How long do one of these matches- oh God!”
She dug her fingertips into Truck’s arm and heard a grunt from him as the other fighter flew at Cage.
But just as quick as he moved, he was down, his back hitting the floor with a heavy thump.
The crowd jumped to its feet again, whistles and rough shouts filled the air. Other fighters would have been celebrating the first take-down she presumed, but Cage kept his gaze on the man, his steps measured as he walked around him.
“Just get this over with,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear a word she said. “Please, Cage, be careful.”
She saw a certain stillness move over him as if the cage was some kind of time warp, slowing things down. And as her heart seemed to pound against the wall of her chest, threatening to break straight out of her ribs, she saw Cage turn and look straight at her.
In the dark.
Behind over a hundred screaming spectators.
He saw her, and he winked.
And time sped up to normal and she felt her knees go weak.
The man on the ground kicked at Cage, tangling their legs together, bringing them both down to the ground.
“No!”
Maggie took one lunging step forward and then she stopped. She felt hands on her shoulders, someone holding her back.
Truck.
“Just hold tight, Miss Fordice. Hold tight.”
“No, no… make it stop!” She turned toward Truck, struggling against his huge hands. “Get him out of there! Please.”
“Just watch. He’s good.” Truck’s chuckle was deep, resonant. “He’s real good.”
She didn’t know why she did it, but she dragged her eyes back to the ring and looked into the bright white lights. Cage was up and, on his feet, along with the other fighter. They were taking shots at each other.
Chest. Gut. Head, Kidneys.
“Is nothing off limits?”
Truck leaned close again. “They’re shifters, we can take worse. Much worse.”
The other fighter got in a punch that threw Cage up against the chain link fence.
“Please tell me when this gets better.”
“I dunno about better,” Truck’s voice was filled with humor, “but things are about to change… right about… now.”
Maggie’s throat started to ache. “What do you mean?”
Truck folded his arms over his chest and nodded at the ring.
Maggie felt the energy in the room shift. She had no idea how many shifters were in the room watching the fight, but all of a sudden she could feel their power as if she was standing beside a live wire or one of those electrified fences about to overload.
It was like a hum. A vibration with a mind of its own, reaching out and arcing from one person to another like a flame catching through tinder in a box of dry wood.
She could almost feel the hunger in her own body. The thirst for blood.
And somewhere underneath it all, a call from something primal inside dying to get out.
Then, as if a door had been opened in the room, the air rushed in and the heat caught flame and there in the cage… a grizzly bear and a jaguar rushed at each other.
She’d never actually seen Cage, or any other shifter, change their shape before, but she doubted she’d ever see anything like this ever again. There was nothing to compare it to. She’d seen horrible thunder storms where the air seemed to shimmer with sparks.
She’d seen any number of crazy things in her head when she was suffering through detox.
But nothing seemed to equal the rush of energy that surged over her. Through her.
And when the grizzly reached out a broad paw and took a swipe, she saw the jaguar leap and twist into the air, his own claws extended.
With a howl, the bear recoiled and stumbled back, red blood matting his chest. The sleek lines of the jaguar dashed past her vision and she followed him with her eyes and the wild beating of her heart.
Riled, the bear pushed away from the wall and lunged again at the big cat and came up empty.
With a swish of his tail, the jaguar turned a hard right and with his paws on the chain link, he flew at the back of the bear and knocked him down onto all four legs.
The bear howled his outrage and turned on his side, lifting a paw up into the air, he caught the jaguar under his chin.
The crowd surged toward the ring and security had to forcibly push people away.
Maggie could only stand there in horrified silence.
Please. Please.
The words echoed in her head.
A quick swipe of a paw opened the bear’s cheek, spraying the floor of the ring with warm red blood.
Maggie was dizzy, breathless. “Tell me he’s going to win.”
Truck took hold of her arms and pulled her up against his side. “He’ll be just fine.”
She wished she had his faith. Cage was amazing, with his rock-hard muscles and near legendary, if secret, service record, but she was sure that nothing like this happened during his training.
The violence grew in speed as well as viciousness after that. Claws flew, teeth flashed and just when Maggie felt as if she would run screaming from the room, it was over.
The grizzly, nearly twice the size of the larger than normal jaguar, was rolled onto his back, his chest heaving from exertion. And the jaguar, rose to his feet, swaying the littlest bit before he rebounded and crouched down.
One of the security guards tossed something over the fence and into the ring and as she watched, the jaguar, bleeding from tears in his flesh, shifted. Cage was suddenly there, crouched in the same place, blood coating the same places where the jaguar had been injured. He had something in his hand and as he shrugged it on she saw that the security guard had thrown him a robe.
