Wild Ones (The Lane)

by Wyllys, Kristine

  “You said it was a breeze!”

  “Of course I did. What did you expect me to say? That it took me an entire day to track down this fucker so don’t waste my hard work? Come on, dude. It’s called being humble. It’s kind of a new thing. You should try it. All the good-looking kids are doing it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds pretty lame though.”

  “You would think so. But don’t go trying to change the subject. Call him. Say, ‘Hey, Baby Dick. This is Bri. I’m sorry I’m a lunatic and Jax had to work really, really hard to get your number for me so I could say all this. Also, just so you know, his dick is massive.’ I saw that shit, Martin. He’s hung like a motherfucking horse, so I’m gonna need you to lie here. But you should do it for me.”

  “You want me to talk about your dick?”

  “Everyone should talk about my dick. Epic poems should be written about my dick.” He pointed his spoon at me for emphasis. “And Luke Turner should know that my dick is bigger than his. And you said so. He needs to know that he should have crippling penis envy.”

  I laughed halfheartedly, then glanced down at the cell clutched in my hand.

  “Do I go to the fight?” I hated the weakness I could hear in my voice but it was Jax, and Jax was the only one who almost knew me.

  “That depends. Do you like this dude? No bullshit Martin answer either. Do you like him?”

  I glanced up at him and shrugged. “As much as I can like anyone, I guess.”

  Jax nodded. “Then go. For God’s sake, you’ve been a badass chick for as long as I’ve known you. Don’t be a victim now.”

  From anyone else that would have pissed me off, but I gave Jax so much more leeway than anyone else I’d ever known, even if his words did sting some. Mostly it was the truth ringing in them. The truth usually hit the hardest.

  “Yeah, okay.” I sighed as I stood up and started walking back toward my bedroom. “Wait.” I stopped to look back at him. “What about you? What happened to not trusting him and warning bells and bubbling drinks and all that?”

  He gave me a look before making a show of slurping another noodle. “He’s still suspect, but, you know, supportive friends and all that. Besides, wasn’t it you that said you had it covered?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, then, Wonder Girl, go cover it.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” I nodded firmly as I clicked the send button and raised the phone to my ear. Jax gave me a thumbs-up and that crooked smile before turning back to whatever it was he’d been watching on TV as I moved farther down the short hallway and out of his sight. “I’m gonna do this.”

  Chapter Ten

  The line rang three times before Luke answered.

  “I don’t know how you got this number but you need to call my manager,” he barked by way of greeting. “I don’t do scheduling.”

  My stomach turned in on itself and it took real effort to not hang up right then. Fucking boxers.

  “Uh, hey,” I said instead, something like hesitation creeping into my voice. “It’s Bri.”

  During the awkward, heavy pause that followed, I almost hung up again. Fuck apologizing. Only the weak did that shit.

  “I want to ask how you got this number, but I think I like the mystery of it more,” he finally replied. “What’s up?”

  “I was just calling to, uh, you know—I just wanted to say. Aw, damn.” I laughed and it sounded a little frantic. “I suck at this.”

  “Obviously.”

  “God, you’re charming. Look I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I’m...I’m a bitch sometimes.” I took a deep breath then rushed on before he had a chance to speak or I talked myself out of what I was going to say next. “AndIwanttogotothefightwithyou.”

  There. I did it.

  Luke was quiet for a minute.

  “What made you change your mind?”

  I found myself feeling thankful that he had understood and I didn’t have to repeat myself.

  It was a good fucking question though.

  “I don’t know. I just want to go. With you.” I cringed a little because God, that felt pathetic, but it was the truth. I wanted to go with Luke. I wanted Luke and as much as I hated the idea of once again sitting in creaking metal chairs, smelling sweat and cheap perfume, I wanted to be there with him.

  “Okay,” he said after a second and I breathed a little easier.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be there at eight.”

  I grinned before catching myself, sobering quickly, the magnitude of what I just agreed to hitting me like a fist to the gut. “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  “I can’t believe I let myself get talked into this.” I pulled the top of my sleeveless dress a little higher on my boobs.

  Standing next to me, Luke gazed out into the crowd, searching for something.

  “No one talked you into anything, sugar. You called me.”

  “Right.” I frowned then rose up on tiptoe, attempting to see what he was seeing. People were pressed in tight all around us. The gym that Luke’s manager almost owned, he’d explained on the way over, was packed, and I felt as though I were suffocating in the middle of it.

  Someone bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled forward, grabbing Luke’s shoulder to keep myself from falling. He caught me by the elbow and as soon as I was steadied, we both turned, matching glares on our faces, but there was no way of knowing who did it, not with the crowd constantly shifting the way it was. Taking care to make eye contact with those closest to us, Luke wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in tighter to him. I caught the sigh of relief before it was able to climb out of my throat.

  “Anyway, I can be pretty persuasive,” he continued as if nothing had happened, steering me deeper through the mass of bodies.

  I slipped my arm underneath his suit jacket and gripped the back of his shirt hard enough that I was sure my knuckles were turning white. I hated this. I hated it so much that expressing how deeply I hated it was almost impossible. It drove everything else from my mind.

  “You weren’t persuasive. You were an ass. And naked,” I grumbled, making him laugh.

  “Same thing.”

  I glared up at him and he grinned back at me.

  “You’ll love this,” he promised, and I could tell he believed it. It was obvious by his posture and the lightness in his step that he loved it and someone not loving it was unfathomable to him. It was in the shine to his eyes and the relaxed expression on his face. He was comfortable here, in this place of violence, more so than he was on the other side of those doors. I didn’t have much of a heart but I had enough of one that I couldn’t bring myself to say that there was no way I could ever love anything about any of this. Including him.

  Up ahead, close to the ring with its cracked posts that had clearly seen better days, I could just make out the sight of the trio I’d seen him with before. They stood together in a loose circle, watching the crowd, the people passing by giving them a wide berth.

  Crew Cut—Theo, Luke whispered in my ear as we approached—spotted us first. He was grinning widely, excitement radiating off him. I imagined the turnout had something to do with it. Money always had a way of putting that look on people’s faces.

  The other two didn’t look nearly as thrilled, especially once they noticed us, or more specifically me. I wonder if they believed I was in on an elaborate scheme to derail Luke, if they were the ones who had originally put the thought into his head. Or if maybe they just didn’t like me. Maybe I should have cared, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I rarely ever cared if people liked me or not. The part of me that should care was broken or had never developed in the first place.

  If Luke noticed our icy reception, he pretended not to. Or possibly he didn’t care either. Which
ever the case, he led us straight over, his gait still easy and relaxed.

  “Place looks good, Theo,” he said as we drew even with them, and it was obvious this was exactly what Theo wanted to hear. His smile widened, stretching the part of his scar near his mouth until it was white and shiny.

  “People love violence,” he said cheerfully. “Pay out the ass for it.” He turned to me, grin still in place. “How are you, darlin’? Luke said you weren’t coming.”

  “He persuaded me.” I pinched Luke’s side with the hand hidden beneath his jacket. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  The guy next to Theo snorted in a derisive kind of way. It was a sound full of scalding contempt and Luke shot him a grim look.

  “Something on your mind, Brandon?”

  Brandon made eye contact with me and I realized he was the dude in the ball cap the night I got jumped, the one who’d been irritated with me even then. Barely suppressed hostility raged in his glance, and I wondered if this would be a theme between us. He smirked, as if he read my mind and was confirming my thoughts, then turned back to Luke. “Nope. Just wondering if I should put some money on the table after all.”

  Luke frowned but didn’t reply.

  “No bets tonight,” Theo said. “We’re staying clean.”

  The third spoke up then. “You giving us a cut?”

  “I’m letting you stay employed. Isn’t that enough of a cut?” Theo responded but it was said in a joking manner. It was easy to see that despite his tough appearance, Theo was the softest one of the group and easily the most likeable.

  “I’m Cameron,” the third said, addressing me. He stretched out his hand and I accepted, expecting him to shake it. Instead, he brought it up to his lips, kissing it lightly. Next to me, Luke growled.

  “Relax, Turner. I’m just being a gentleman.”

  This time it was Luke who snorted.

  “Yeah. Your idea of chivalry is offering to let the chick be on top first.”

  “Good point.” Cameron grinned. “So, Bri, is it? Would you like—”

  “Rice,” Luke snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t fucking think about it.”

  Cameron grinned wider. “Sorry, dude. Just trying to prove chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

  “Keep it up and you will be.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned to Theo. “They always like this?”

  “More often than not.” But he didn’t look annoyed by it. It was more indulgent and I realized that these three were Luke’s friends. Not just his team or his entourage or whatever, but his actual friends. His boys. That was two more than I’d ever had. Ever wanted, to be honest.

  Theo glanced down at his watch. “You should find your seats. Fourth row. Middle.” He looked up at the one named Brandon, a sharp look in his eye, and suddenly I could believe that this boy, though not much older than me, owned this bloody place. I’d seen the exact look more than once on Joshua King’s face. It was the look of a businessman, both calculating and shrewd. “Stay close to them. Johnson’s supposed to be here tonight.”

  All three tensed up and Brandon gave him a terse nod as Luke’s fingers slipped down the few inches to my hip and dug in.

  “Johnson?” he all but snarled. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  Theo shrugged. “They paid. King’s orders.”

  Hearing Joshua’s name connected again to these boys gave me pause. Next to me, Luke straightened into a rigid stance, and it was easy to tell he didn’t like Theo’s answer.

  “I don’t like it either,” Theo confessed, correctly reading him. “But we’re all looking to recruit.”

  Luke merely arched an eyebrow, the hand on my hip flexing.

  “You’ll still be top,” Theo assured him. I got the impression they were being vague on account of me. They didn’t need to bother. Not that I told them that.

  Luke nodded then pulled me with him to follow Brandon, who was already making his way through the crowd to our seats, parting the sea as he went. Behind us, Cameron brought up the rear.

  “What’s the deal with Johnson?” I asked quietly. Luke tipped his head at a group of guys, his eyes roving, searching the faces of everyone as we passed them.

  “He’s my top opponent.” He kept his voice low, as well. “Dirty fucker. Hasn’t beat me yet, but he doesn’t stop trying.”

  “Dirty?” I gave him a meaningful look. It could mean one of two things.

  “Out of the ring,” he elaborated and I nodded. I knew guys like that, once upon a time. Rumor was my da was one.

  “If he always loses, why is he top?” I asked.

  Luke shrugged. “We’re the best in the ring.” The ring being the circuit, I assumed. Though either definition would have applied.

  Brandon had already gotten to our seats by the time we got there and Luke, eyeing the guys already at the end of our row, nodded at Cameron behind us, indicating he should go first. Once he did, Luke gently pushed me forward.

  “I want you between me and Cam,” he muttered and though I thought about making a snarky reply, I kept my mouth shut for once and nodded, squeezing past the legs of the guys on the end, whose mamas had taught less manners than my ma taught me.

  I went down as far as I could, sitting down next to Cameron, wincing as the backs of my thighs came in contact with the cold metal seat. Suddenly, I felt like a little girl again and it was my ma and Christian I was squeezed in between, not Luke and Cameron. I focused my eyes on the concrete floor beneath my hooker boots, reassuring myself with the sight of them resting on it. Last time I had been in a place similar, my feet couldn’t touch, and even back then, it had made me feel vulnerable. Not in control of anything that could happen, which was an accurate feeling, considering I hadn’t been.

  Luke scooted his chair closer to mine and his arm came up around my shoulders, his hand cupping the back of my neck, effectively breaking the hold the past was trying to lay on me. I looked up at him, admiring his profile, the hard set of his jaw, the lighthearted air that had hung over him gone since learning this Johnson was around. He was on edge, his knee bouncing, the hand on the back of my neck flexing slightly, digging into the tender flesh back there. That was okay with me. I liked this Luke better.

  “Hey.” I nudged him with my elbow. “It’s fine.”

  He turned to look at me sharply, his eyes roaming down, drinking me all in, before they moved back up to my face. “No,” he said, his voice stony. “It’s really not.”

  I was about to ask what he meant when Theo moved down the aisle, stopping next to him.

  “We’re about three minutes to the bell,” he announced as he sat down.

  Luke turned to him and said something in a low voice. So low that even sitting as close as we were, I couldn’t hear it.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Theo said quietly. “He’s not stupid.”

  Luke made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like he disagreed.

  “Even if he is, he’s pretty outnumbered,” Theo pointed out gently, and I was once again struck by the contrast of this scarred boy and his soft voice. “I don’t think he’d risk it. Even if the rest of his crew came with him. You forget, he’s on my turf and I won’t put up with the shit.”

  Luke nodded and sat back, but didn’t look satisfied. I watched them both carefully, trying to decipher what just took place. Obviously Luke was concerned about Johnson, but the exact whys of it, I couldn’t figure out.

  “Here’s the ref,” Cameron suddenly piped up next to me. “Hey, Theo. Which one are we watching?”

  “The smaller one,” Theo answered, leaning forward. “The big one is an ox. No grace. I’ve watched him before.”

  Cameron nodded and settled back.

  In the raised ring the two fighters came up and moved to their respective co
rners with their crews. Even from that I could see what Theo was talking about. The bigger guy had the muscle, but his movements were clumsy and awkward. The little one had a certain agility to him, even just sitting there listening to his trainer. Theo was obviously good at what he did in order to pick that up. Then again, owning both a gym and managing someone like Luke, he’d have to be.

  The ref stood in the middle of the ring and beckoned the two fighters forward with a quick, deliberate wave. Last-minute preps were done—mouthpieces shoved into place, gloves adjusted—before they came forward to meet in the middle, falling into stance before the signal was even given. These weren’t novices. They’d been around, done this before.

  The crowd around us hushed, the only real noise coming from the squeaks and protests of various chairs as their occupants shifted in their seats. In the ring, the ref was going over the rules, basic shit like nothing below the belt, gloves only, no holding, and when he was done he made the two touch gloves. It was a little too much like a punch and less like the good-natured tap it should have been, but that, from what I could always tell, was pretty typical. They were trying to psyche each other out, get an edge over the other. I wondered if it ever worked.

  And then the ref was gone and a bell rang. I tensed, waiting. The gym was so quiet you could hear the fighters’ feet hitting the canvas as they circled one another, then the littler one leaped, swinging, driving the bigger one back and on the defensive. A smart move, both in the ring and outside it. I should know. I, too, believed in attacking first.

  It was hard sitting there, watching the two go at it, the sounds of gloves striking flesh dully, the boos and cheers from the crowd every time one got a decent hit on the other. If I closed my eyes, I was sure I would hear my ma’s voice, whispering her prayers while she clutched the old cross from Grandma O’Connell. It was the only time I ever saw her feign religion, but God must not have been too upset about that, since He always seemed to honor her prayers, letting Da stumble away from another fight, maybe not unscathed but still walking.