by Jo Raven
Stay down, Bricks. Don’t get up.
The crowd is coming out of its stupor, the men behind the bars muttering, then cursing out loud. Guess not many placed their bets on me. David beats Goliath, or some such shit. I wonder how often Ash found himself here, staring at the blurry faces beyond the cage, not sure he’d made it another round alive.
Because the crowd is angry. With me, with Bricks, with the club, with themselves. And the winner still hasn’t been announced.
Won’t be, unless I get up. Just the thought of sitting up, standing up, makes me wince. My chest hurts like a bitch. But I can’t stay lying here. Bricks may get up and start on me again.
Get up now, Rafe. Get the fuck up.
Groaning, I roll onto my knees and nearly pass out. The pain in my right side is blinding. I press a hand there, feeling as if my guts will fall out.
Holy fucking shit. My vision narrows to a tunnel, and I struggle to focus, to keep the darkness from snuffing out the light. Have to stand up. Have to find Nino. Have to find Meg.
The blood on the filthy floor turns into a sea of crimson, the body lying in it shrinks, turns into a girl’s body. Carla, my sister.
No, dammit. Focus. The cage. Bricks.
I get up on one knee. Sway. Put my hands down. Sink into darkness, then surface again, because…because…
A portly figure is striding toward me. Before I realize what’s happening, he grabs me under the armpits and drags me to my feet, then wraps a steel-corded arm around me and lifts one of my hands.
“The winner!” he bellows and I realize it’s Johnny. “Put your hands together, gentlemen, for one hell of a fight.”
The applause is reserved. Johnny escorts me out of the cage, and that’s a good thing because my knees are like rubber. He drags me off to the changing room, plants my ass down on a bench and claps my shoulder.
“Good work out there, boy. Good work.”
I squint up at him. “You’re pleased?”
“You bet I am. You fight well. Now, my advice to you, like to all young fighters coming here out of desperation, is to run and never come back. But if you do come back…” He leans until he’s looking me in the eye. “Then ask for me and I’ll be glad to book you more fights.”
What…? “Don’t tell me.” I want to laugh, but that will be a deathblow to my ribs. “You bet on me, didn’t you?”
He winks. “Sure did. You’re a friend of Asher Devlin. Colt may have been the one to recommend you, but I know who you are, and I knew you’d be top of the top.”
I rub a hand over my face and it comes away bloody. “Thanks. Really appreciate it. I’m gonna go now.”
“And your cut?”
“Give it to Colt.”
He nods. “I see. Well, if you think you can walk out on your own, then I’ll be getting back to the fight. Won’t you watch Colt fight?”
“Maybe another time. Got a coupla things to take care of.” I grimace as I shift on the bench, press my hand back to my ribs. “Sir…can I ask you something?”
His gaze hardens, and I wonder if I’m pushing my luck, but I’ll grab any chance I get to leave Asher entirely out of my mess.
“Depends,” he says slowly. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m looking for a woman.” I school my face into a neutral mask. “Her name’s Mara Abelli. Do you happen to know anything about her? Like where to find her?”
Johnny’s face turns to stone. “You’re not the first one to ask me this question.”
Oh fuck. Colt asked him already? What’s this about?
Shit, so this is the moment Johnny’s goons drag me into a back alley and break my neck or put a bullet through me. Screw around with mafia and sooner or later you die.
But Johnny doesn’t call his bodyguards, doesn’t pull a gun on me. Instead, he looks thoughtful. “Mara Abelli.”
Okay. I’m still alive. Pushed my luck so far, might as well push a bit more. “Who else asked you about her?”
He steps closer to me, a flash of something dark going through his gaze. “Nino Gaspari asked about her.”
My mouth’s dry as sand. “And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing.” He takes another step closer. “What is she to you?”
I take a gamble. “She’s the sister of a good friend of mine.”
He studies me for a long while. “A friend, huh?”
I shrug, and even that hurts.
“Listen, Rafe Vestri. I like you, and you’re a buddy of Asher Devlin. I knew your family, know how they were killed. I don’t think you’re kidding around or bullshitting me. This is a serious matter. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods. “Tell your friend to visit the Red Jet Café in Grand Rapids, Michigan.”
And then he’s turning and striding away.
Huh. I repeat the names in my mind, rewind what he told me. Push it around in my mind and freeze.
Does Colt know that Nino is interested in this girl? Suddenly it seems like one hell of a coincidence that he’s working here, the same place Nino frequents, that he’d seen him, noticed him, found out his name and brought me in.
What’s going on here?
A clock ticks. I glance up. It’s mounted on the wall over the door, a cheap, white, plastic one with the logo of a drug company.
Time.
I quickly untape my hands and get up, keeping a hiss between my teeth. I pull on my sweater and jeans, my jacket, and leave the duffel. More pressing matters to take care of right now.
Like find Nino before he vanishes.
Then deal with all the rest.
Chapter Seventeen
Megan
Raf meows and takes another swipe at my nose with his tiny paw. He sniffs at my face, pulls back, perplexed, sniffs again.
I put another piece of chocolate in my mouth and sigh. “No chocolate for you,” I inform him. “Stay away.”
Raf won’t be swayed. He takes a break to lick his leg, then tries to burrow under the covers with me.
“Stop it.” I nudge him away, then stroke his head behind the ears and he curls up on my pillow, purring.
Outside my bedroom window, the sky is dark with clouds. It’s raining or maybe snowing, can’t quite make it out from my angle on the bed.
Rafe… The apartment has never felt so empty before. So dark and cold. I wish he were here. I wish he held me, right here, in my bed. I miss his smell, his voice, his laughter, the intensity of his gaze.
Can’t believe he’s really going to that fight club, put his life in danger. That he won’t change his mind.
I’m so afraid for him.
Maybe I shouldn’t have walked out like that. We could have talked more about it, but I kinda lost it when he seemed determined to go.
And wouldn’t you, in his shoes? Would you be able to forget about it and go on living as if nothing happened? As if you wouldn’t mind letting the murderer of your family go unpunished and roam the streets, free?
Damn. I probably would have gone after the guy, too. You have to face your fears to overcome them, and he decided to do just that. He said he’d tell me everything—and he did. He came clean.
And I walked out.
That’s bad.
Hey, I needed to get out, to clear my mind, think things over. That was quite a lot to drop on a girl, right? Especially since, in the past few days, he’d gone from hot to cold and back so often it made my head spin, and showed up at my doorstep half-dead the other day. It’s normal to be worried, to be afraid.
God, I love him.
I’ll talk to him. Tell him I understand, that I’m with him. That I’ll wait.
But first…work. Oh crap, I have to go out. Stuffing my face with chocolate and staying under the covers all day sounds like a great idea, but it isn’t possible, unfortunately.
So I get up, shivering, and go to get ready for work.
***
I can do this, I decide as I clear tables and serve customers, trying to keep a s
mile on my face. I can support Rafe in what he needs to do and not freak out.
Violence. Blood. Death.
Stop it.
He won’t die. He’ll be fine. Zane says Rafe’s an awesome fighter. Asher and Tyler have been training with him for the past year, and he’s like a black belt in muay thai and jujitsu, or something like that. Nothing to worry about.
Right?
Right. So shut up, mind. If anyone can pull this off, it’s Rafe. I’ll call him after work. I’ll be calmer by then. I hope…I hope he hasn’t changed his mind—about me. About wanting me. About being together.
Shit. Enough.
I try not to think about it as I work—not that I succeed. It’s a quiet Saturday evening, and for the first time I wish for more customers, more work, anything to keep my mind off Rafe.
Anything to leave the fear behind, the gut-wrenching dread that everyone I love will leave me, that I’ll be alone. That everyone will end in a pool of blood, dead and gone. That it’ll be my fault for not stopping them, not doing more.
It’s time to move on, leave the past behind.
Only the past, as it turns out, doesn’t want to cooperate. My cell phone rings as I’m carrying a tray stacked high with dishes and cups to the kitchen. A quick look tells me it’s Mom.
I almost drop the tray. Mom hasn’t called me since I left home more than a year ago. I try calling her once every other week, but she rarely picks up.
My pulse is thundering in my ears as I quickly put down the tray and take the call. Bad news, my mind chants, has to be the bad news I was dreading.
Vaguely I hope she’s mixed up the dates and thought it’s my birthday today, but I know I’m never that lucky.
“Mom? Hello?” I pass the cell to my other hand and push the door open, heading out into the back street. “Are you there? Are you okay?”
“Meggie? That you?” Mom’s scratchy voice is like a punch to my stomach. I sink down on the step, not caring for the wet and cold, and struggle to hold back tears.
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”
“Fine, baby. I’m fine, and I met this wonderful man. His name’s Jim and he takes real good care of me.”
I close my eyes. Crap, another man, and I’m not there to look after her. “Does he, really?”
“Really, Meggie, don’t you worry about me.”
“How can I not?” I clamp a hand over my mouth, because my voice is turning into a wail. “How can I not, Mom?”
Will I ever be rid of guilt for leaving her side?
“Listen to me.” She sounds sober. Can’t remember the last time she was sober. “I got bad news.”
Oh God. I rub a hand over my eyes. “Of course you do. What happened now?”
“Carson.”
I flinch at the sound of his name. The ex-boyfriend I sent behind bars. “What about him?”
“He’s out of prison.”
I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes out. My blood turns to ice. He’s out? So soon?
“He’s been paroled,” Mom goes on.
Oh holy crap.
“Be careful.” I swallow hard, lick my dry lips. “Mom, if he comes after you…”
“Not me, Meggie.”
“What?” I study the dirty sidewalk, unable to concentrate. “What do you mean?”
“He knows where you live.”
“That’s not true.” I shake my head, my heart hammering. “He can’t know that. Only you know where I live.”
“Baby… I told him.”
I’m on my feet and walking down the sidewalk before I even realize what I’m doing. A wind cold as knives is blowing. “What? Why the hell would you do that, Mom?”
“Oh Meg…” She sighs. “It was last year, before I met Jim. One of Carson’s friends visited me, and we got to talking. I don’t remember much, except that we talked about you and I told him where you are. So Carson has to know and I’m afraid he’ll…”
Her voice fades in the buzzing that starts in my ears. I stop walking and lower the cell from my ear.
I turn slowly. I think I see a tall shadow step back into an alley and vanish in the dark.
Now you’re being paranoid. Carson just got out of jail… Right?
I bring the cell back up to my ear. “Mom? When was Carson released?”
“A few days ago, baby. Just be careful.”
I swallow against a throat gone tight. Disconnecting, I turn around and run back into the café.
***
My heart won’t stop pounding. Every time the door of the café opens, I think Carson will walk in.
He can’t be that stupid. He has a restraining order, I’m sure. They explained this to me back then, that when he gets out of jail, he isn’t allow to approach my mom or me.
Doesn’t mean he won’t try, though. He’s one crazy bastard.
But he won’t. No. Will he? Would he travel all the way from Philly here to terrorize me and exact some sort of twisted revenge?
Shit.
My hands shake as I carry trays and take down orders. There’s an itch between my shoulder blades, as if someone’s watching me, but every time I turn around, I don’t see anyone.
The thought of walking to the bus stop on my own terrifies me. Maybe this once I’ll call a cab to take me home.
And then what? Should I take a cab every day, spend all my money like that? I can’t let fear rule my life.
God, I wish Rafe were here… I itch to call him, ask him to come pick me up, make me feel safe.
Jesus. Calm down, Meg.
I carry the piled-on trays back to the kitchen, wipe my hands on my apron. I don’t need anyone taking care of me. I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.
Besides, Rafe may be done with me, and God, does the thought hurt. Even in the middle of this mess, in my panic, I can’t stop thinking about him.
In fact, the more I think about him, the more difficult it gets to breathe. A weight is crushing my chest. I rub at it, leaning back on a kitchen counter.
As soon as I’m done here, I’m calling him—to talk. To meet. I need to see him, make sure he’s okay, because that bad, bad feeling is back, twisting my insides. Like a blade it turns and cuts through me until I’m gasping.
Crap. Screw waiting.
I drop everything and head outside to call, the job be damned. If they fire me, then let them do it. Rafe is all that counts, and this weight on my chest, this feeling of wrongness won’t let up until I hear his voice and I know he’s fine.
The head waitress gives me the stink-eye when I pass her by to grab my purse with my cell phone, and mutters something about talking later.
Clenching the cell in my hand, I nod and brush by her, on my way out. I stumble outside, turn my face up to the night sky and take a deep breath of cold, humid air. Then I take my cell out of my pocket.
It starts ringing, and I almost drop it in shock. Jeez.
What a crazy night.
Zane’s name flashes on the screen and I have to swallow twice before I can answer.
“Dammit, Zane,” I mutter. “You scared me.”
“Why?”
“I thought…” I bite my lip. Zane’s a friend, and I need to tell someone about this. “There’s this guy, my mom’s ex-boyfriend. He beat her up, almost killed her, killed the baby, and I…” I choke on a sob. Crap, have to hold myself together. “I reported him to the police and he was put into prison, but today Mom called to tell me he’s out. He’s in Philly, but I’m scared.”
“I understand, girl,” he says quietly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him if we can.”
“Thanks.” I wipe a hand over my mouth. “When you called I thought something bad had happened to Rafe. Don’t know why. I’m crazy, huh?”
He says nothing, and I moan quietly, backing away until my back meets the brick wall of the building.
“What is it?” My hand is shaking so badly I think I might drop the cell. “I’m freaked out as it is tonight. You’d better start talkin
g.”
“Rafe told you about the fight club, right? He said he did.”
“Yeah, he did. Why?” Oh shit, no… “It’s tonight, isn’t it? He’s going there tonight.”
“Meg, he’s already there,” Zane says, his voice faint over the line. “He’s fighting right now. I just thought you should know.”
God, no. “Are you there with him?”
“A few streets down from the club. Waiting here in case he needs back-up, but—”
“I’m coming over. Give me the address.”
“Girl, no, that’s not a good idea. Place is crawling with mobsters and shit. Rafe’s going after this guy who may have killed his family, and things might get ugly.”
“All the more reason for me to wait for him with you. Don’t ask me to stay away.” I push off the wall and start undoing the knot of my apron one-handed. Rafe may be hurt. I need to be there. “Tell me where to find you.”
“Damn.” Zane grunts. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”
I close my eyes. “You have no idea.”
“Thought so.” I can hear a grin in his voice as he rattles out the address. It’s not very far from here.
“I’m on my way,” I say and start walking away from the café, toward Rafe. Soon I start running to get there as quickly as I can in the cold drizzle, ignoring the looks passers-by give me.
I don’t even think about Carson. The crippling fear that held me earlier is gone in a rush of excitement. The closer I get to Rafe, the lighter my heart feels, and if that isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is.
Then again, I should know it’s in that precise moment, when you feel like you’re flying, that you trip and fall.
Chapter Eighteen
Rafe
My arm wrapped around my ribs, I stagger out of the changing rooms, looking for Nino. I push past other fighters, one of them unconscious, carried by burly bodyguards. The door to the main hall with the cages is open and I walk through, plunging into the jeering crowd.
A glance at one of the two cages shows me two unknown fighters. Guess Colt’s fight is over. Nobody pays me any attention as I shove my way through. Everyone’s attention is on the fight.
