Jackson is breathing almost harder than me. “Dude, do you have to give me a heart attack?”
“You sound like Jimmy.”
“Somebody has to. What the hell was that, letting him grab you in a choke? You know better than that shit.” I smile at his comments, which have been missed.
The referee steps back out to the center after consulting with the judges. He calls me the winner of the round. I’m relieved. Part of me wasn’t sure.
In the next minute, the whistle blows again and I’m across the mat in seconds. My arm moves through the air, connecting with his torso. He returns a few jabs as we turn, trying to get the best angle. He grimaces, blaring the pointed teeth through his transparent mouth guard and some ripe breath in my face. I surge forward and hit his side repeatedly. He lands a punch across my jaw before I pull on his torso, forcing myself back onto the mat. He tries to scramble away as he lands on his knees, but I pull him down on top of me, my legs coming up and locking on his shoulder. He attempts to pull back, his knees doing most of the work, but I refuse to loosen my hold. Let the whistle blow. I have him. He turns his face toward my arm and a thought runs through my head, I wonder if they call him Sharky for other reasons. But I dismiss it as soon as it comes. He’d be called on it immediately if he took a chunk out of my arm. Still the thought is scary, as close as he is to my skin.
A minute later, the longest minute ever, the whistle blows to end the round. I sigh, releasing him. The guy stands but moves and looks back at me. He’s pissed and surprised. The look confirms my previous thoughts about this fight. I was supposed to lose. It sickens me that I would even consider giving this to him.
Moments later I’m in the corner with Jackson again as the referee names me the winner. With the new thought, I’m tense. I scan the crowd, landing on Trinity and Christina. Relief floods from knowing they’re still safe. On the other side of Trinity sits Parker. I see fear in his face. No other word could describe that look. Of course, I hope that it’s for the fight that is inevitable, but really I know it’s a reaction to what’s coming—and not in the cage.
I brace myself, aiming for the center as soon as the signal for the last round sounds. Sharky looks mad. Trying for a leg sweep I react, stepping back at the last second. He surges forward and tackles me to the mat. It was unexpected. His fists begin jabbing my chest. I roll out from under him, giving him the perfect chance to take me in a choke again. Fuck! I don’t dwell. Instead, my body moves forward and back as I try to maneuver out of his arms. He says into my ear, his ragged breath breaking up the words, “You think you’re a bad ass. We’ll see who’s standing at the end of the night.”
I push back with every bit of strength I have left. He falls to the side, bracing his hand on the mat for support. It releases his tight grip. I twist, pushing him all the way down and sinking him to his back. I’m able to get back to my knees. He has already scrambled to his feet by the time I’m facing him again. He shakes his head, looking over my shoulder and no doubt trying to spook me. I ignore it, letting my anger surface. Thoughts of what happened years ago in that alley come back to me. It was so unnecessary. I wouldn’t want to be on top like this, controlled and manipulated, with someone telling me when I can breathe, practically.
I cross the mat and sink my hands into his arms. I tighten my grip, my fingers squeezing for pain. A huff escapes his mouth as he punches me in the gut. He places his hands on my shoulders and falls back, taking me with him. This is gutsy and I’m ready. As soon as I’m down, I scramble to mount him. My fists clench and move, successively slamming into his abdomen. All he can do is try to block the blows. But I’m pissed. Everything surfaces in that instant—all the things I should have done to avoid all this and how stupid and selfish I’ve been. The whistle sounds, but it barely registers until a hand is squeezing my shoulder and pulling me off. I look down at Sharky. His eyes are scared; his mouth is bloodied and his arms are still raised in defense. I frown, not remembering hitting his face. The pressure on my shoulder tightens, encouraging me to get off of him. But I lean in first, whispering, “I’ll always be the one still standing at the end of the night.”
I move away to join Jackson in the corner for the final call. The referee heads to the center, calling out. “Greylan Pace is the winner.” I can’t help the smile that spreads. It feels good to be on this side once again. I raise my arms to shouts from the crowd. My eyes move to my girls. They are both on their feet, yelling and whistling. Scanning the rest of the row, I see that the other seats have emptied, including Parker’s. My heart speeds as I turn toward Jackson, keeping them in my sight. “Hey, the girls…Parker’s gone.”
He nods. “I’m on it.” He glances back. “Be careful.”
I nod as I slip a grey t-shirt over my head, after discarding my gloves to the side.
I’m alone at the edge of the cage, basking in this win. I miss Jimmy and even Meyer in that moment, because they were such a big part of my fighting. I wish it could be like it used to be before that fateful night but…never. It’ll never be like that again. A big bulky man dressed in a black suit steps up to me as I leave the cage. His clothes look to be busting at the seams with his large frame. It’s rather comical. I’m probably grasping for something else to think about, because I know what his presence symbolizes.
“Mr. Luciano would like to see you.”
I look across the room, spotting a glimpse of Jackson with Trinity and Christina. As long as they’re safe, I’m fine. I nod as he turns, leading me to a side door on the opposite end of the arena from where we entered. As we make our way through the thinning crowd, many people squeeze my arm in encouragement and speak congratulations. I focus on moving my legs forward. This could be it for me. Luciano might decide I don’t deserve to live after this little display of my own will. More than anything, I want to take them down and make sure they can’t do this to anyone else. But who am I kidding? This is organized crime. Fighting is a tiny part of all they’re involved in, I’m sure.
Stagnant air hits my face when we pass through the metal door leading to an alley behind the arena. That night slams into me because of the similarities. The dumpster is on one end, with boxes and garbage piled up around it. Water is running down the side of the building from a leak somewhere, flowing to the dirty ground and pooling at my feet. Panic rises. I don’t want this to be my end. I just found Christina and I’m not done fighting, not in the least. The man turns for the first time to make sure I’m still following him. His mouth spreads in a smile. “He don’t make appearances in alleyways.”
As if on cue, a long black car pulls up at the end of the alley. Now my heart is starting to beat faster, and I realize how really deep I am. I look back the other way, regretting not running when I could. It’s a dead end surrounded by tall buildings on three sides. As much as my brain says to flee, I follow the guy to the car, ready to fight.
Chapter 26
He opens the door to the backseat, gesturing me in. I look back one last time and debate whether I should make a run for it. But I have to face this part of the plan. We knew he would summon me at some point. It was a toss-up, actually—either a bullet through my head or a meeting. I’m glad he chose the meeting, but still I’m apprehensive about coming out of this unscathed.
I slide in as the door closes, bringing darkness. The big man scoots into the front seat, joking with the driver about the fight. I didn’t even catch the comment. My heart is beating so fast and loud, I’m not sure I would be able to hear them if they were speaking to me directly.
The driver is just as big as the passenger. His shirt strains as he maneuvers the car. I glance out the window as the lights and buildings of the strip pass by. Soon we are on a two-lane road leading away from the city. I try to steady my breathing with shallow gulps of air, but it’s useless. I’m a fighter but, against guns, I’m no match.
I realize ten minutes later where we’re headed, and dread settles in my middle. The warehouse, Frank’s and Chris’ fighting ring. Thi
s is not what I expected. Now I’m sorry I ever dragged them into this.
The car pulls right up to the dingy door, propped open by a metal chair. A tall man stands at the entrance guarding it. I don’t recognize him, so he’s probably with Luciano. I have a very bad feeling this is not going to go well. Regret for the whole plan starts to creep up. Maybe I should have dealt with my choices. Dragging all of these other people into this was a terrible idea.
The door opens before I have a chance to set my mind straight. I climb out, ready for the worst. The same guy pushes his hand out, indicating I should enter first. I walk past the bouncer at the door. The handle of a gun peeks out of his waistband, but I don’t need encouragement. We walk down the long drafty hall to the empty main room. It seems very large. I’ve never been here without all of the crowds. I scan the scarred walls and floors before landing my stare on the ring. Standing in the center is Chris. His glasses are gone and blood is rolling down from his temple. His hands are behind him, possibly tied together, and his bare chest has a long gash across it beginning at his shoulder and extending toward his navel. He has taken a heavy beating, and he’s still conscious. My chest heaves again with the weight of everything that’s now coming down.
I wince, wanting to look away, but I force my body forward to face this. Anger rises after a few moments. It infuriates me that this man thinks he can control all of these people. Luciano stands on the edge of the ring, smug in his stance and expression. He glances over as we walk closer. He’s dressed in a three-piece, navy blue suit. Not a strand of his salt and pepper hair is out of place. There is only one other person up on the mat—a tall, thin man with shaggy dark hair—who I recognize immediately, and my heart falls. He looks over, scared out of his mind, as I start to piece together what is happening. Grasped in his hand is a long baton of some sort, which is obviously the weapon that was used to put the marks on Chris’ body. Meyer’s wide brown eyes meet mine, unflinching, like he’s trying to tell me something. I look away, disgusted.
I follow the man up the steps and climb through the ropes. I want to whale on Luciano for putting me…all of us…in this position.
“Greylan Pace, our guest of honor, is here. He steps forward, looking up as if trying to find the words. Then he meets my stare with fury and something else—maybe craziness, if you were to ask me later. Because to do this, to dedicate your life to making others miserable, you must be crazy…or a sociopath. Maybe he’s both.
Before he can lecture me, I try to reason with him. “Look, Luciano. Chris has nothing to do with this. Let him go. I’m the one you have issues with.”
The big man behind me moves, and suddenly pain emanates from my side. I turn, ready to hit him, but he has pulled out a gun. My eyes narrow and my fists clench. Fucking dickhead.
“Greylan, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.” He starts walking around the mat, looking first at Meyer and then to Chris. He moves behind Chris and kicks the back of his legs, forcing him to his knees. The blood pumps faster through my body with fury. I want to beat this man down.
“Well, we had a plan, but it seems you don’t follow orders too well.” He muses as he walks around the mat again. He stops in front of me only inches away. “You have made a big mess of things. Because of you, I’ve lost a lot of money.” He throws his hands in the air in exaggeration.
I stare into his eyes—green, matching Mollie’s. But his are dead; there’s nothing left in them. It takes everything I have just to stand there and not wrap my hands around his neck to squeeze what life is left out of him. I’ve regretted killing Theodore James for so long now. I’ll have to live with that until I die. But I’d feel no remorse over killing this man. The world would be better off.
“What do you suggest I do to get my money back? Do you have half a million dollars to make up my losses?” He squints and comes even closer, his warm breath on my cheek.
I remain silent. But over his shoulder I see Meyer shift on his feet. He’s way out of his element. I know he’s not a killer like these people; but if he stays here, I have a feeling he’ll be one when he leaves. What the fuck; why didn’t you just stay gone?
“Well, Greylan, what should we do about this little problem?”
He walks over to Meyer, pulls a gun from his waist, and points it at Meyer’s temple. “Should we end Meyer’s misery? He ran away, but he did the right thing by coming back. Or did he?”
I step forward, ready to leap at him. “No, you can’t.”
He shifts, moving to Chris and pointing the gun at the back of his head. “Or maybe we should kill this guy. This fight ring is a thorn in my side as it is. My fighters think it’s okay to double dip. It’s bad for business.” He cocks the trigger and my heart stops. I have to hold everything back so I don’t leap across the mat at him.
Luciano turns away as if bored already, with the gun pointed to the floor at his side. “I just don’t understand. You are obviously valuable to us. Why can’t you see what we went through to get you? With the potential you have, you think you can do whatever the hell you want.”
“Luciano.” This is it. It’s time. I hadn’t expected this scenario. It’s dire, and most likely one of us won’t be walking out alive. But I have to try.
He looks over, his glassy eyes squinting in question.
“I didn’t sign on to lose. You have to know that. Please let Chris go. He didn’t have anything to do with my decision to fight here.”
“Yada yada yada, This dude has caused me to lose more money. He’s at fault for other things, so it’s just convenient that you are involved too. So let’s get to the point.”
He pauses. I take the opportunity. “Can we make a new deal?”
He frowns and, for a moment, I think he might shoot all three of us down with the crazy look that passes. But he looks thoughtful after another second.
“Fine, let’s hear what you have to say.”
“I want the next fight with Parker, and you can get your money back.”
He laughs. “And are you going to lose this one?”
I shake my head. “Nope, think about it. I’m the underdog. You could put some big amount out there and they’ll all bite, because Parker is your golden boy.”
He seems to growl his next words. “You have some delusion in that mind of yours. Maybe you’ve been hit too many times. Once Parker loses, I don’t have a top fighter any longer. And not to mention I know your sister might not be happy about this deal you’re making behind her back, against her husband.”
The mention of Trinity makes my heart skip a few beats. Bringing her into this is the last thing I want. She needs to be as far away from this mess as possible. And now I know without a doubt that I have to tell her.
“What if I told you I have a brand new fighter, better than both me and Parker?”
Up until now I could see in his face that, no matter what I said, he had already made his decision. But the mention of Andy seems to perk his interest. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to mention Andy. Jackson still hasn’t worked his magic yet, but I realized I had to have something he wants or he wouldn’t listen.
He begins pacing with the gun still in his hand, clasped behind his back. I’m hoping the fact that I’m back on the radar in the cage means he can’t take the risk of killing me…but the other two. I’m scared out of my mind for them.
“Okay, Pace. I’ll bite. I want to see this fighter in action. I’ll make a deal, my deal. I’ll trade him for you. Parker stays and you lose when you’re up against him. You can leave gracefully, but I’m not giving you this lightly. You fuck this up and someone will die.”
He turns away like he’s going to leave the ring. But then, as if he realizes he’s not done, he turns back to eye Chris and Meyer.
“I almost forgot. The fighting ring I could forgive; it is, after all, pretty addictive once you’re into it. But I can’t forgive my own accountant stealing money from me.”
He hands the gun to one of his thugs, looking over at Meyer. Fear
covers Meyer’s face, and I realize what’s going to happen. The man raises it and I surge forward, but the pop of the gun makes me stop. Blood sprays across the white mat and Chris’ body crumples to the floor. My stomach lurches, making me turn away.
Luciano calls back as he leaves the ring. “Pace, make a plan with Mollie for me to see this fighter of yours. Oh, and if you’re lying to me, it might be you next time.”
He walks across the room with his thugs in tow. The big guy near me pulls the baton from Meyer’s grasp and yanks on his arm to make him walk ahead of him. I look up to his eyes one last time. He’s so done, but there’s nothing I can do for him. He calls back, “Sorry, Grey. I tried but I failed.”
No, I guess I failed. He told me to do what I was told, but I ignored him. Will this be the last time I see him? Maybe, but I’m still so angry that he would mess with Christina and threaten her that I let him go.
When the building is clear, I get off the mat as soon as I can. I can’t look at Chris’ lifeless body. Frank is going to be destroyed. I hurry to the other doors, toggling each handle and looking for a room with a phone, but there’s none. When I stagger out into the warm night, I’m thankful for the air. My chest heaves as the scene repeats through my head. I can’t believe he killed Chris.
Chapter 27
When I walk into the house, a flurry of movement and noise moves toward me, and Christina is sobbing in my arms seconds later. I look over her shoulder at Jackson’s still figure at the other end of the hall. Relief is all over his face, but I can tell he’s uneasy. I can only imagine what he’s getting from the expression on my face. I can’t stop picturing Luciano holding the gun to Chris’ head…and afterward.
“Oh my god, Grey. I was so worried…I can’t do this anymore.” Christina speaks through her sobs. I rub her back as Jackson strolls toward us. I look behind him and my heart goes wild again. “Where’s Trinity?”
No Fear Page 16
