“Sure thing, rosebud.”
He pushes the door open for me with a glare that could melt through ice, and I slip inside, steeling myself against what’s going to come next.
“Angel! My favorite! Come in, come in! Have a seat,” Wilson greets me, pointing at a chair opposite from him.
Wordlessly, I take the seat offered to me, right across from the big mahogany table he’s seated behind. He’s leaning back in a high-backed leather chair, watching me closely with those beady blue eyes of his. There’s a Glock on the table, the metal glinting from a recent cleaning. I’m not sure whether it’s there to impress or intimidate me, but I take it as the sign that it is – that he’d be more than happy to shoot me if I gave him a reason to.
“How are you? Healing well?” he asks, pretending to care.
We both know he doesn’t. Not past what I can make him.
“Yup,” I answer shortly, studying him with newfound hatred.
I didn’t think I could despise this guy more but with what Adrienne has told me, I can barely contain myself around him. It’s like I’m one seething container of repressed anger at the moment, just waiting to lash out at him.
“Good, good,” he says absently, almost a bit disappointed. “I took a look at our records and it seems that you’re up to ninety-nine victories now. That’s very impressive, Angel. I’m proud,” Wilson says.
“Thanks,” I counter.
He can take his pride and wipe his ass with it for all I care.
“Your contract says that after you’ve won one-hundred fights, you can be set free. I thought we should have a small chat about that beforehand, seeing as the next fight will be the last one in the tournament. If Lady Luck is on your side, it might just be your last!”
The way he grins at me tells me that it will be, one way or another. I’m more than certain that he’d be equally as happy to see me die in a pool of blood and guts at this point. Looking back, shit starts to make a lot more sense now. I always thought Wilson took a special interest in me, even when I hadn’t fought my way to the top of the dog pile yet.
I guess he wanted to keep an eye on the one man who had a reason to be so close to him but didn’t even know it yet.
All the times I could have killed him over the years play back in my mind and I regret every missed opportunity. I came here voluntarily, having nowhere else to go, but the reason that was is sitting right in front of me, dressed in a three-thousand dollar suit and smirking like the big bad wolf.
“I don’t want my freedom,” I say, and finally I see surprise on his expression.
He wasn’t ready for that.
“What do you mean?” he asks. “It’s in your contract! Your freedom and a million dollars. Earned fair and square.”
I’d almost forgotten about the money. Funny how things that used to look like incentives stop mattering when your life turns into a series of scenes designated to kill you or have you kill someone else.
I shrug.
“My contract says that I can have my freedom, or the equivalent of it. I want someone else’s freedom.”
Wilson frowns, but realization dawns on his expression soon enough. He swings back with the chair a little, touching his fingers together as he considers me with curiosity. I’ve surprised him again. Aren’t I just full of curve balls today.
“And that someone is…?”
“Adrienne. I want you to let Adrienne go. I’ll renew my contract, fight another hundred battles. You can keep the money, just let her go. That’s all I want.”
My scar throbs as I stare into his face. He purses his lips, the corners downturned. A tense silence fills the room and I don’t say a fucking word. It takes too damn much to keep from hurling myself across the table and choking the life out of him. If I had to keep talking with him, I might not be able to contain myself.
And Sage would be so disappointed in me. I smirk a little at the thought.
“Fine,” he finally says, and I doubt he means it. “Win the next fight, and Adrienne gets her freedom in return for yours. But I will not let her leave until after the wedding ceremony. You wouldn’t want her to miss her own mother’s happy day, now would you?”
Fair enough.
“How can I trust that you’ll honor the deal?” I ask.
“I’m a man of my word!” Wilson gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “You should know me well enough, Angel.”
Yeah, I fucking know him. I know that he’s the first rat to get off a sinking ship, and that he’s a vile creature who has been allowed to cause pain to too many people for too fucking long.
But I guess I’ve brought in too much money. I’ve been too good at this. Losing me would not be in his best interest, or so I have to believe.
Begrudgingly, I nod.
“It’s settled, then,” he announces, back to grinning easily. “I will have the papers drawn and you can sign them later tonight. Pleasure doing business with you, Angel.”
We both stand up and he reaches his hand to me across the table. I look at it. All those years ago, I took that fucking hand and I signed my life over to him. If I touch him this time, I might just rip it from its socket.
So I turn around and walk out, Sage meeting me in the hallway.
“Let’s go,” I tell him. “I have a fight to get ready for.”
Number one-hundred is going to earn me a freedom. The only one that matters. Adrienne’s.
Seventeen
Memphis
“Another day, another dollar,” I mutter to myself, getting an awry look from Sage in return as he walks me down the oddly quiet line of spectators towards the cage.
I think I’ve scared the fuck out of them with what happened last time. Not that I can blame any of them, I don’t think I’m a pretty sight when I lose it the way I did with Sawyer and Salem. But it was them or me and I have a girl to fight for.
Instinctively, I look for Adrienne, and catch a glimpse of her light blue dress in the balcony as I’m let into the cage. I smile at her and she waves at me, hiding it from Wilson as she does so. Still the sweet little thing she always is.
Wilson better let her go after this bullshit or I won’t hold back the next time, I think, almost absently as I let myself be sucked into looking at her for the few moments that I’m allowed.
Wilson’s grinning like a maniac next to her and as usual, I want to punch his lights out. No sign of Valerie today, which is probably a good thing. The wedding is soon – might even be today, I haven’t really been paying attention while trying to get my strength back for this fight – and she must be busy with preparations for her ‘happy day’.
I guess I should be thankful that Adrienne was allowed to come to the fight at all, considering everything. With her here, I think I have a good shot.
What am I saying? I always have a good shot. I guess the nerves are getting to me for once. This time, the fight really isn’t only for me. It’s for Adrienne, only for Adrienne. Her one ticket to get out of this dump. That’s the gift I want to give her.
And I will, I add to myself, tearing my gaze away from her soft blues.
I frown, noticing that the cage isn’t exactly as it should be today. The crowd stirs as the other guy’s shown in. I recognize him. Travis Wells. Scary motherfucker.
I’ve seen him fight a few times during the tournaments, but only the ones I haven’t been in or where we’ve been separated into different leagues. They sometimes do that if the owners don’t want to lose their prized fighters. I’m not sure whether I should be touched or worried that Wilson’s so gleefully allowing me to go together with Travis.
He must have about as many kills at this point as I do.
A low murmur follows him as he walks down the path to the cage and then enters, tossing me a cocky smirk. Good old Travis. Always looking like he needs a good ass-kicking. I might just be the man up for the challenge.
I have to be.
Joe Pescopi climbs into the cage with us and the crowd hoots to welcome him. He
raises his hands and greets his ardent ‘fans’ and I roll my eyes. Travis seems to be of the same mindset, thought he seems to be a little jittery. I frown. Odd.
“Hello, fight fans! I’m so glad to see all of you here tonight!” Joe slurs, clearly a bit drunk already.
He never gets in the cage with us so that can only mean bad things. I glance at the middle of the octagon, considering the two wooden pots on a stool there, with straps of linen cloth stacked up next to them. My stomach churns. I think I know where this night is headed and I don’t like it one bit.
“We have something special for you planned tonight! With our host Mister Cobb’s wedding coming up soon, he’s been extremely gracious in allowing us to use his facilities, but he also wants to give you a tasty treat for the finals! Tonight, it’s not just man versus man, but there’s a twist.”
Fucking yes there is.
Joe motions at the two canisters and both I and Travis take a step closer, recognizing them for what they are. One is filled with heated glue and the other with shards of broken glass in various sizes. Travis smiles in a feverish way and my expression goes stiff and steely.
They’re going to make us fight each other with glassed-up knuckles. Just to make sure there would be no end to the blood.
“What you see before you is the twist! Both fighters will wrap up their hands with cloth and dip them in glue and glass! Is that what you want to see, every hit tearing flesh, every punch bringing blood?” Joe roars, and the throng of bodies howls in response.
Grimly, I wrap up my hands and Travis does the same. He can’t stop twitching and when our eyes meet for a moment, the tall dark-haired fighter looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His eyes are completely bloodshot and his face pale. I know what it means though. He’s been shot up with something.
Suddenly, I think this fight is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than I was banking on.
“You afraid, Angel?” Travis asks, slurring my name a little and drawing it out.
At any other time, I would have reacted to it, maybe even thrown a punch. Now though? I ignore him and dunk my hands in the glue and glass, getting them nice and in there to create gloves of pure, sharp glass. I hold up my hands to him and cock my brow, moving my fingers a little to show the way the light dances off the glass.
“Not as much as you should be, buddy.”
I retreat from the center stage while Travis does his thing and Joe rattles off our ridiculous intros. I don’t think he even knows what he’s trying to say at this point, because over the course of the fights I’ve been a bull and a bear and now I’m apparently a hammer of some sort. Whatever, Joe. You do you, you crazy diamond.
Cracking my neck, I center myself, warming up my feet. Sage and Tommy come in to retrieve the pots and Joe in the process, who won’t shut up. As soon as the door closes behind them and the lock clicks shut, the bell is rung.
The crowd goes insane and Travis comes at me like a freight train, grinning wild and his eyes red and filled with bloodlust. I afford myself one more look at Adrienne and she has covered her mouth with her hands, watching in stunned horror at what’s about to go down.
This is for you, sugar.
I let out a breath and take a step forward, meeting Travis. His first hook goes wide over my head as I duck under it and I counter with a right to the abdomen, making him grit his teeth. He faints a few time with his left, but just as I think I’ve got his rhythm down, he hits me square in the shoulder.
The glass bites into my flesh, leaving blood and pain in its wake. I hiss out a breath and jump backwards. I know it won’t do me any good, but I can’t help but check out the damn wound. A thick line of red dribbles down my right shoulder, the same way that Travis is bleeding on his stomach.
The spectators eat it up. Why wouldn’t they, we’re nothing more than a glorified cock fight to them. They don’t care that there are men in here, fighting for their lives, willing themselves to survive.
Willing someone else to survive.
I want to look up at Adrienne so badly, but I don’t. I don’t want to see the fear in her eyes that is undoubtedly there, seeing me take a wound like that already. And I don’t have time anyway because Travis comes at me, fists swinging.
We meet in the middle again and I try to sweep his feet out from under him, but he dodges my foot and almost catches me in the left knee for it. The fucker’s good, I’ll give him that. Far better than he has any right to be, and it’s like he doesn’t even notice the wound on his abs at this point. I can’t see any bit of the man that’s supposed to be in him anymore, just the desire to win. Or maybe not even that. Frankly, there’s not much going on behind that vacant gaze.
A series of reflexes and trained muscle motions, heightened by the right concoction of drugs and fury. Fucking dangerous.
I catch Travis in the shoulder with my next hit and then in the forearms a few times, leaving horrific gashes in my wake. He doesn’t let me get off any easier, pounding into my raised forearms whenever he gets a chance, trying to go for my face.
That’s the thing with fighting with glass, you’re never safe. We’re trained to keep our guard up, our faces protected, but there’s no use to that if every hit you take regardless brings you closer to bleeding out.
I have to take a few steps back, put distance between us so I could get a chance to breathe. Though I’m giving back as hard as I’m getting, it’s like Travis doesn’t even fucking realize it. Like I could tear him limb from limb and he’d still barely bat an eye at it. He follows me right away, not giving me a moment to catch my breath. I grunt, taking a few more steps back, before blowing forward.
I come at him hard and fast, chomping down on my mouth guard so it wouldn’t fly out of my mouth. I catch him in the jaw after two faints and a hit to the abdomen and get pounded in my wounded oblique for the trouble. I can feel the barely-healed wound tearing up again and every hit sends pain rattling through me, but I have to ignore it.
I hear what I think is Adrienne’s voice, yelping as Travis knocks me in the jaw. The last thing I see before I hit the springy floor is Adrienne’s shocked eyes as she leans over the edge of the balcony, watching me go down.
I try to roll out of Travis’ path but he’s on me like a hawk. He sits on me, pinning me down by the hips, and pounds at me with this maniacal grin that I can’t even describe. It’s like he’s fucking possessed. His mouth guard flies out of his mouth as he slams punch after punch into my raised forearms, making them quake and the blood splatter around us and on me.
“Angel! Memphis!” Adrienne screams, and she sounds like she’s losing her mind.
“Just give up, you fucker,” Travis snarls, and I fucking ignore him.
I feel the pain begin to fall away and that’s a good thing for now. I twist underneath him and I have to drop my hands to give myself a chance to shove him off. Travis gets a few good knocks at my chest and I howl out in pain as the sharp shards prick through my skin and some of them become wedges in my flesh.
I shove my palms into Travis’ chest and send him flying backwards. He leans back from my hips and I can put enough momentum in the movement to knock him off of me. We’re both up on our feet a second later.
I can feel that rage brimming again within me. Throwing one reassuring glance up at Adrienne, I charge again. I have to do this; I have to give her this. She has to get out of this hellhole before it destroys her. This is no fucking place for her and I don’t care if I have to bleed out in the process, but I will win and I will get her the freedom she deserves.
So I lunge at Travis. I stop trying to defend myself and just go for the jugular. Hit after hit meets flesh and we’re both going at one another like rabid animals. I get a hook on his legs but he jumps over it, grinning. He doesn’t even fucking feel the pain. I send him into the fencing and pound into his face while he tries to hit my jaw and my groin.
The cuts are too fucking close for comfort.
Suddenly, I get an idea. I don’t think I can outlast Tr
avis, not with what he’s hopped up on. But I can take him out another way.
Looking up, I see the gleaming barbed wire, glinting above us. I knock Travis in the face again and a tooth comes flying out. Momentarily, he’s dazed, and I put my hands on his shoulders and one foot on his hip, using him to scale upward.
My hands are wrapped up so I don’t feel it when I grab for the barbed wire and yank it down. Or maybe they’re just so fucked up at this point that I don’t sense it anymore.
The wire doesn’t break, just skims down from where I grabbed it. Travis opens his swelling eyes in time to see me loop the cord around his neck once and then twist and pull. His eyes almost pop out of their sockets as I spin him around, face-first into the cage wall, and hold him there with my knee and elbow as I yank backwards with my right hand.
Blood splutters and juts out from the puncture wounds in his neck as I choke him with the barbed wire. My forearms are shaking and every time I strain them, more dark blood seeps out of the wounds. The crowd is trying to gather closer to where I am holding Travis, like they want to be doused by the blood. It’s sick.
He struggles with all he has, but it’s not enough. I can feel him getting limper and when I pull again, a giant gush of blood flies from the side of his neck, coating my chest and shoulders with crimson. I finally hit an artery.
I let go and he slumps against the fence, slowly falling to the ground, lifeless.
I stand, barely, heaving in breaths, each inhale I take bringing blood from my nostrils or mouth into the back of my throat. I spit it out and it barely makes a difference on the soaked floor.
“Angel!” the crowd cheers, awe and fervent admiration in their voices. “Angel of Pain!”
That’s fucking right.
I turn away from Travis. He didn’t deserve this. None of us do. But I needed to win.
I look up at the balcony and Adrienne’s crying outright, hiding her face in her hands. I didn’t want her to see this, but I had no choice.
Wilson gets up and raises his hands and for a moment, the crowd hushes.
Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance Page 11
