by Pearl Foxx
"A baby," Chance said. "They want her back for her genetics. That's some fucked up shit, Verity."
She chuckled. “I hadn't thought those exact words, but yeah, it's pretty fucked up.” She relished the rebellious phrase on her tongue, knowing she could never go back to being the girl who had left the compound. She’d already changed too much.
Chance wrapped his strong arms around her waist and laid his head in her lap. She stroked his hair, letting the silky clean strands as they ran through her fingers. He had a scar on his scalp. Something she never would've noticed if she hadn't been lucky enough to be the one touching him.
"Okay, now you know all my secrets. When are you going to tell me yours?" Chance squeezed her tighter.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "Hopefully, never. Hopefully, you'll always just see me as the man I am today, and never have to know about the man I was. Can you do that? Can you leave me my shame?"
Verity looked into his caramel eyes and nodded. "I think there's enough shame for both of us to go around.”
He sat up on his knees and cupped her cheek with his hands, bringing his lips to hers. It was a slow, gentle kiss, that spoke of secrets and regrets. Maybe together they could survive them all.
Chance pulled away and ran his thumb over her eyebrow and down the side of her face. "You are so beautiful."
Verity blushed and shook her head. "No, I'm not. But I'm glad you think I am."
Together they climbed into bed, chucking their clothes and wrapping their arms around each other. They kissed with slow, intimate caresses, tongues exploring every crease and crevice of the other’s body.
When Chance entered Verity again, it was without any pain or hesitation. He stared at her wide-eyed, moisture filling her vision.
She wrapped her arms around him and reached out with her heart, holding him close, and with her body, pulling him even closer.
They came together in a silent wave of ecstasy. And fell asleep naked and wrapped around one another, waiting for the night to wake them and determine her fate.
Chapter 15
Chance
Early evening was Chance’s least favorite time in Cyn City. It reminded him of just how dilapidated everything around him had become. The city seemed to swell with water, as the sun set. The heat of the day disappeared, leaving behind only molded concrete. It didn't matter how much Chance wanted to do good or be good. This desperate city required that a toll be paid in order to live here.
He wasn't sure what the toll would be to get Verity out of her naïve deal with Garvan, but he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly what the man would ask. The girl beside him walked closely, holding his cybernetic hand with the same tenderness she would any other. What had happened in the last twenty-four hours that would make him consider selling his soul just to save hers?
Somehow, she had bewitched him, and despite the rolling sickness in his gut, he knew he was preparing to pay any price Garvan demanded.
As they approached the entrance of the Ball & Joint, Verity looked up at him with uncertain eyes. "You think he's here?"
Chance sighed. Garvan would never miss the opportunity to keep an eye on an investment, especially one as precious as Verity would most certainly prove to be. "He's here. I've known Garvan a long ass time. He’s definitely here."
"Imogen seemed okay when we left, didn't she?”
Chance looked down at the woman beside him, once again overwhelmed by the kindness she seemed to exude for everyone around her. How was it possible that they were facing this moment where her fate was about to be decided, and her most pressing concern was her friend’s well-being? He squeezed her hand gently, having kept the sensitivity sensors turned all the way up, so he could feel her heartbeat in her fingers, and even the slight tremor of her hand.
“Imogen is fine," he said. "There's plenty of food in the apartment, even if she doesn't want to cook anything, and I told her to feel free to climb into my bed if she wanted to. When we get home, you can sleep in with her, and I'll take the couch."
"She won't sleep in your bed." Verity chuckled.
Chance raised an eyebrow and pulled on her hand, as Verity was about to open the door. "Why not?"
Verity studied him with narrowed eyes. "You’re not to freak out?" She said, pronouncing freak out slightly incorrectly and making Chance smile.
"I'm not going to freak out. After all of this, I promise, I'm not going to freak out."
Verity looked up at him with a sly smile. “Now, it isn’t how I think but to Imogen she wouldn't sleep in your bed because of us, because we've been together."
Chance raised an eyebrow
"We've been together in that bed."
Chance tilted his head to the side.
"Geez, you're going to make me say it. Okay, so us sleeping together in that bed, would make it a marriage bed. At least, from how we were raised."
Chance laughed, big and bold.
Verity looked up at him like he was going to cut and run from the best thing that ever happened in his life just because she used the word marriage. Shit, if she only knew him better, she’d realize how ridiculous that was.
"Is this you not freaking out?"
He wrapped Verity up in his arms. “I'm not freaking out. I’m a little insulted you thought I would, but I'm not."
“Okay, I thought you just might not want anyone to think…”
"That we’re married?”
"Right, it's not true though, and I don't think that way. So, don't think that I…"
"You are adorable when you're trying to explain your weird ass upbringing. Don't worry about it. What we did, we did. I'll never regret it. If somebody wants to think that makes us married, doesn’t mean shit to me. All that matters is what you think, that you’re happy."
Verity looked up at him with a bright smile that made the sun come out from behind the wall, lifting all the moisture from the soggy streets and drying out his lungs. It was like somebody had rescued him from drowning.
"Okay, good then. That's all that matters to me too."
Chance dropped Verity’s hand and reached for the door. "Follow my lead with Garvan, and just, try to play cool."
She scowled at him. "I’m cool." She whined, swaying her hips as she walked into the cacophony of the club.
The music slammed against him, and the lights overhead throbbed with a strobe that offset the base beat vibrating through the floor. The girls on stage danced their hearts out. The cages were full and credits were flying. It seemed like the spending spree from last night hadn’t been canceled after all, just rescheduled.
As they approached the bar, Priya grabbed Verity by the arm. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"I'm not on for another hour," Verity insisted, giving Priya back as much attitude as the woman put forward.
"That may be, but you can tell we’re dying here."
"I only just got here.” Verity pulled her arm out of the other woman’s grasp, surprising both Chance and Priya. “I need to talk to Garvan. I'll be back to help as soon as I can.” Verity strode away leaving Chance in her wake to stare after her impressed.
Well, Shit. That was hot.
"What crawled up that bitch’s cunt?"
Chance caught the growl in his chest before it escaped. “Me, so watch your fucking mouth."
"I see. Does little miss perfect know just what she's bought with that ass of hers?” Priya asked with a wink before turning away, giving Chance no opportunity to respond.
He followed Verity toward the office in the back where Garvan typically worked on daytime business. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"He won't be up here," Chance yelled into her ear over the music. "Let's go downstairs."
Verity narrowed her eyes at him, and he could practically feel the question on her lips. What was downstairs? What did it have to do with him? What were the fights all about? He was pretty sure she was about to learn a whole lot more than she wanted to about who he really was, and t
here wasn't shit he could do about it.
Verity followed Chance down the winding staircase behind the hidden door at the end of the bar. She kept her hand on his shoulder, bracing herself against the steep incline, and he imagined quite a bit more than that. The girl appeared to have no self-preservation skills whatsoever. She didn't seem scared, nervous, or even intimidated by the fact that there was an entire section of the bar she hadn't known existed until just then. He wanted to scoop her up, carry her away from this part of his world, and make good on the promises his heart had made even if his head hadn't caught up.
At the bottom of the steps he swung open the heavy metal door. He looked into the room and imagined how it must appear to Verity, as if it were the first time he'd entered the space. Brighter than someone would expect from an underground fight club, at least the room was clean.
"So, this is where you fight?” She asked with an innocence that tore through his heart.
"I don't fight."
"I mean, this is the club. Where the fights happen."
Shit. He ran a hand through his hair.
Verity shrugged and stepped further into the room. No fucking fear. She walked through the open empty space that just waited for the hungry crowd to fill it with their screams for blood. The old concrete had been scrubbed clean thanks to the crew Chance insisted Garvan hire. Having fights in a space already stained with blood gave their bad reputation an even worse one.
"Not what I expected," she said pulling on the cage wall. “Somehow everyone made it sound like the most awful thing in the world. I kind of expected there to be blood everywhere and like body parts strewn about, and I don't know, sniper towers for when fights broke out." She turned to Chance with a smile so bright, his heart clenched.
If she only knew. He could almost hear the countdown of the time he had left with her.
She rattled the cage a little. "I don't think I'd want to be in there though, walking inside with no way out until you or the other person taps out. I don't imagine I'd be very good fighter."
"You’d do fine,” Chance admitted despite the sick feeling in his stomach. “Being a good fighter isn’t about who can hit the hardest. It's about who can play the long game, who can fight the smartest.”
Verity looked at him with a beaming smile he didn't want. “And you think I'm smart?"
"Well shit, sugar, yeah. You're the smartest person I know."
“Present situation excluded, of course," she said with a frown.
"Of course."
Chance opened his mouth to tell Verity to just run, get the fuck out here, leave him behind, and never turn back. But Garvan stepped out of the back hall before he could say a word. It had been Tane’s office before he left for fuck knew where and Chance took over. But Tane was long gone, likely never to return. Lucky bastard.
Garvan donned his predictable attire, tight fashionable pants and a dark colored button up.
“Chance,” the kingpin said his name like his presence hadn’t been a surprise, and this was the plan all along. “What in the world are you doing here?”
"I was talking to Verity, and she mentioned your generosity. I just wanted to stop in and make sure all the terms were clear.”
Garvan frowned, as if Chance had insulted his good name. “Now, what would lead you to think anything about our arrangement wouldn’t be on the up and up?”
Chance swallowed the snort that threatened to escape from his throat.
“Only because I’ve met you, brother,” he said, risking safety and sanity for this woman who had wormed her way into his heart.
Garvan responded with a tilted head and a deceptive smile. “Well, I'm delighted to see our newest employee has made such loyal friends here already.”
Chance fisted his hands at his sides, but all it took was one look at Verity to know he needed to keep his fucking cool. He wasn't fast enough to kill Garvan. His men wouldn't be far even if they were out of sight.
“No offense intended.” Chance nodded, and Garvan gave his slickest most oily smile.
“Then none taken. I'm certain everything will work out for Miss Verity just as she hopes.”
For the first time, Verity glanced at Chance with fear in her eyes.
Garvan held open the door to the back hall and ushered them down to his office.
Garvan sat behind a rusted metal desk with a massive dent in it left by the previous Ring Master. Fucking Tane. Chance wished he was here. That man would know just how to handle this kind of situation without getting himself killed.
Garvan rubbed his hands together and looked over at Verity. “So dear, it seems you're having second thoughts about my generous loan? Do you no longer need the money."
Verity kept her mouth shut and just looked at Chance.
He breathed a sigh of relief thankful she at least listened to that much. Chance pulled out a thick wad of bills and plopped them on Garvan's desk. “Paid in full, plus the full 12% interest as agreed. That’s everything she owes you."
Garvan scowled. “I don't believe this was your loan to pay back."
“And yet, I got the credits, so I'm buying her out. Nothing written against that, is there?" Chance played a dangerous game. Calling Garvan out right to his face wasn't something many people had the balls to do. Right now, Chance wasn't as worried about his balls, as he was about every other part of Verity.
"That's a lot of credits to fork over for some girl you don't even know."
“Knowing her isn't the issue. I'm buying out the loan, we got a deal or not?” Chance scowled hard, daring Garvan to play his hand. They both knew exactly what he had hoped to get out of the situation, and they both knew Chance wouldn’t back down.
Garvan sat back in his chair. The office belonged to Chance whenever Garvan wasn't there, but like everything else in this place, ultimately it belonged to the man in charge. “I'm just curious? What could you be getting out of this deal that I can't offer you? Not more money, she doesn’t have any." Garvan's perceptive black eyes looked them both over. "Is she putting out? Is it pussy? I can get you higher quality than this. No reason you should involve yourself in my business over a quick suck and fuck.”
Chance gripped his chair so hard the wooden arms splintered.
Garvan sat back. He’d gotten what he needed. A wicked smile spread over his face, and Chance knew he was fucked.
"So, there's feelings involved?" He pulled a ledger out of the desk. "Jabbar has been winning too many fights."
Chance’s heart sped up. He knew what came next. He knew it, and he knew that he couldn’t do shit about it. But nausea flooded his system anyway, ripping through him like a steamroller.
"No." Chance said.
Garvan just smirked. "Jabbar’s been winning some big fights too. It's getting hard to keep up. Now I need him knocked down, but I need a sure thing. He needs to go all the way down, and not get back up. A service you’ve provided for me before, so I know you can do it again."
Verity’s gaze jerked to Chance, and he hung his head.
“I said, no,” he insisted.
Garvan closed the ledger. “That's fine by me. But, I don't sell my loans, and I'm calling this one due tomorrow. I’m not taking your money, Chance. Verity has a serious red line in my book she needs to turn black, or she’ll work it off the old-fashioned way.”
Chance clenched his jaw so hard it hurt and stared at Garvan. He knew the man was evil but hadn’t suspected he was this bad. The implications of Garvan's words made him sick.
Verity looked back and forth between the men, her hands held tight together in her lap. “That's not what we agreed," she insisted leaning forward.
Chance wanted to scold her for not keeping quiet like she promised, but honestly, he was impressed she’d kept quite as long as she had. He didn't think he could have, what with everything she’d learned.
“But, you see, little miss, it doesn't matter what we agreed. I'm the one you owe. I'm the one holding the cards. I'm calling your debt in. Nothing in the law
of the upper or lower cities says I can't do that.” Garvan smirked at Chance.
Verity’s eyes watered. “But it's not fair."
Garvan ignored her and returned his gaze to Chance. “So, either let the sweet thing come work for me or step up for real. Not this fucking buyout chivalry bullshit you’re doing now. I want Jabbar on his back, and in case I haven’t made myself perfectly fucking clear, I don't want him breathing.”
Chance nodded his head and swiped his money back up off the desk. But Garvan held out a hand.
“Leave that here. Consider it collateral. You do what you’ve promised, and you’ll get every credit back. And if you don't, I'll keep it and the girl.”
Chapter 16
Verity
Verity sleep-walked through her shift. She wanted to rush home and vomit or scream, but instead, she cleared tables and ignored handsy cyborgs. Because even after all this, she still needed the credits. She floated through a hazy dream covering up the nightmare broiling underneath the surface. Her ability to think clearly had disappeared the moment Chance agreed to Garvan's terms. The man didn't just want him to fight, he wanted him to fight, win, and kill—or be killed himself.
In the world of crime, it probably seemed like an obvious—even ingenious—solution to a problem. Have a person too public to discreetly take out? Do it in the ring during a notoriously violent sport by a fighter who clearly had a reputation.
He’d done it before.
Verity hadn’t let herself examine Chance’s secrets too closely, but the man she knew wasn’t capable of this. Yet Garvan counted on him to get the job done. And who could prove a crime had even been committed? Not that the police would get involved anyway. They were either on the take or in the crowd.
