Sons of Justice 9: Fighting Chance (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  She gulped. “The rum. It must have been the rum.” She thought about Romano’s way of getting her to kiss him. Tasting her drink and then tasting her lips. She felt heated, aroused, and Talia laughed.

  She took a sip from her drink.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that and deny it all you want, but this is Repose. When men set their eyes on a woman and she shows equal interest, it leads to being claimed. Wait until Cesar catches wind of this, never mind Brazille, Lauren, Thylane, and the others. You won’t be single much longer, and with those men, they’ll dominate your world and then some.” Talia fanned herself. “Lucky lady indeed.”

  Merica was at a lost for a reply to her. She didn’t know what would come of this, if anything at all, but if she went out with them on Tuesday, was she basically saying she was interested in a ménage? Were these men just looking for sex? They hadn’t been in town long. Did they accept the same rules as others in SoJ and residents of Repose? She wanted to feel badly for making out with them. Like maybe a little slutty so she wouldn’t do it again and could deny that it was more than that, but she couldn’t. She liked them. A lot, but she feared a lot, too. This was a mess. A mess she could avoid right now if she didn’t meet them on Tuesday.

  Her focus now went to the two cowboys that joined them. They flirted, and she gave soft fake smiles that didn’t reach her heart and her soul. Not like when she’d spoken with Romano, Greco, Ricci, and Rossi as they surrounded her and took turns kissing her. She was in big trouble indeed. Especially as the night went on and she regretted walking away from them and missed feeling their hands on her, never mind their lips. She’d just added a whole lot of extra stress to her life and aggravation to her mind. Now what?

  * * * *

  “You win the matches, and it gets you to the next event. You’re both in different weight classes, and Torch said he’ll back you the money one last time, but if you lose, you owe double. You’re still in debt to him five grand a piece,” Lucky said to Brick and Burrow. They looked at one another and nodded.

  “We’ll win. We’re ready,” Brick said, and they warmed up by the side. It was a shithole warehouse where tonight’s illegal cage fight was held. Lucky nodded, gave a thumbs-up to one of Torch’s men, and Brick knew he and his brother needed to win. They had to, or they would be in further debt with Torch. If they fucked up, it would mean a good fifteen grand a piece they would owe him.

  “Kick their asses,” Lucky said and walked away.

  “We don’t even know who we’re fighting,” Burrow said to him as they warmed up together.

  “Who cares? Focus on winning and doing whatever is necessary to achieve a win. It’s do or die in there, Burrow. We have no choice. We can’t take care of Kerry without this money. We’re fucking losers, with no jobs, no income, and we can’t bring her down. We want this, remember that. Together.”

  Burrow nodded.

  “Then winning for Kerry is our focus.”

  A few minutes later, as the crowd cheered and cursed out the loser of the match, Brick saw who his opponent was, and holy fuck, there was no way the guy was his weight. He had to be thirty pounds heavier, all muscle, and looked ready to kill.

  “That’s the guy they had to tear off of Walter two weeks ago before he killed him. Fuck,” Burrow said to him.

  Brick looked at Burrow. “I have to win or die trying. We can’t lose this. We have to go on. We have to.”

  “Kick his ass. Do it,” Burrow said to him.

  Brick headed toward the makeshift cage. As he stepped up people heckled him, but he tuned them out. He tuned out everything, even the blood and remnants of other fights on the mat he now warmed up on. He stared at the guy, his opponent. He had to win. It was do or die. He had to.

  * * * *

  Burrow watched in horror as his brother took shot after shot to the face. His opponent was a nasty, sneaky fuck, jabbing Brick in the balls and acting like a maniac, but Brick wasn’t giving up. He was fighting for his life, bloody, beaten down, and Burrow saw when the tables turned, when Brick knew he had to give it all he had, and with one punch, one perfectly targeted punch to the guy’s nose, and blood splattered. The guy fell back out cold. The crowd cheered and yelled, and his brother leaned against the chained cage, barely even able to stand as he was declared the winner. Burrow jumped into the cage when the door opened, and he helped his brother out. There was blood all over his face, eyes both swollen.

  “I did it,” he said.

  “You did, man. You did,” Burrow said but felt sick to his stomach. What the fuck were they doing here? How had things gotten so bad? How did they get roped in deeper and deeper to this cage-fighting thing? Was there something else they could do? Some other means of making money and doing what they loved?

  He felt the shove to his back.

  He turned to see Lucky.

  “You’re next. Win, or you’ll owe double.”

  Burrow squinted. “What? No, how do you figure that? Brick just won.”

  “Yeah, well, Torch thought it was too easy of a fight. It’s double or nothing now, and if you lose, you owe thirty grand plus interest.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit.”

  Lucky shoved his finger into Burrow’s chest.

  “Win or else.”

  Burrow brought Brick over to a chair and to the bag they’d brought with medical supplies. As he helped him, the other fight started. Burrow would be fighting in the one after that.

  “Go. Get warmed up. I’ll be fine.”

  He stared at Brick, all bloodied and battered.

  “Kerry is going to flip when she sees you. How the fuck are we going to explain this one?”

  “We’ll make something up. We’ll come up with something. Just win, man. Fucking win.” Brick held the towel to his face.

  Burrow got up and rubbed his jaw. He turned to the left to see who he was facing, and he knew the guy well. He was a tough, crazy dude from Houston. He had to beat the guy. There was no way they were going to be in debt thirty grand. He was shocked, as the fight that just started had finished already. A knockout and the crowd booed, unhappy for the quick match. He walked toward the ring, glanced back at his brother’s face still in the towel, and he felt sick but determined to win. Maybe they could come up with something else. Some other way of making ends meet? Their debt to Torch would be over tonight, and they would be clear and free. He was about to get into the ring when he felt the slap on his shoulder.

  “Kick his ass, man. I put money on you and your brother,” the guy said, and he needed to do a double take. That was the guy Rodge that Merica’s mom was dating. A fucking loser and a half, who hit on Merica and definitely wanted her in his bed. The sick bastard.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” Burrow said and then got into the cage.

  “Beat his ass, Burrow,” he yelled to him as the door to the cage closed behind him and Burrow’s opponent growled at him. The bell rang, and Burrow started to fight. For his life, for his brother, for Kerry.

  He was determined to win, and despite taking several shots to his ribs and to his face, he came out on top, the match turning into a grappling fight on the mats. He got the guy in his hold, a chokehold, but the blood made their bodies slick, and he lost his hold. His opponent got him under him and was putting in an arm bar of his own, but Burrow slipped out, twisted around, and had him in a hold that could tear his arm from its socket. The guy tapped out, and as they said to release him, and he did, the guy countered with an elbow to Burrow’s jaw, shocking him. Instead of calling the fight, letting Burrow win, they got the call to continue, and Burrow had to fight his way back to a win. Torch must have wanted him to lose so he would owe him money and still be in debt to him. He fought hard, and the guy finally gave up as Burrow was forced to put him in a hold that literally broke the guy’s arm. His roars of pain couldn’t even be heard through the excitement of the crowd.

  He shoved him off, and Burrow stood up, roared in anger, and exited the ring with people cheering and slappi
ng him on the back as he headed toward his brother. Brick stared at him, eyes nearly closed they were so swollen.

  “Ya win?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but barely.”

  “Don’t matter. It’s done,” Brick said, and he knew what his brother meant. It was over. They weren’t going to continue to do this. Or so they thought.

  “Next week. Burrow, you only for a private event. I’ll send you the address and time,”

  Lucky said to him.

  “No, we’re done. Our debt is over, and we’ll take our winnings and be done tonight,” Burrow said.

  “Winnings? No, you still owe money. Your winnings didn’t cover the thirty grand. You’re not even established names yet. Do a few more fights, and you’ll be up there in numbers.”

  “That’s bullshit. We both won. We saw the people betting. Where’s the fucking money, Lucky?” Burrow demanded to know.

  Lucky lifted his shirt, revealing his gun.

  “Don’t you fucking talk back to me. I’ll pop you one. Take you out of commission and your debt will climb higher and higher.”

  “What fucking debt? We’re even, and should be getting paid money tonight for fighting who we fought and beat,” Brick said, now trying to stand on wobbly legs. It was obvious that he didn’t see Lucky’s gun.

  Burrow grabbed onto his brother and held him by his side.

  “You owe thirty grand still. Pay that and then you’ll earn money,” Lucky said, smirking as he walked away.

  “No, Burrow, they fucked us. People were betting so much. It’s bullshit. We’re killing ourselves here, and we still owe. This is fucked up,” Brick said.

  “We’ll find a way to get the money,” Burrow said and helped Brick back into the chair.

  “How? Tell me how, man. We have to keep fighting. We have to.”

  “And what? Keep getting fucked by him?”

  Burrow looked up and saw a guy standing there listening to their conversation. He knew who he was. A guy who worked for Castle, a loan shark, a man who backed fighters for money and a competitor of Torch’s.

  “I’ll handle it. We’ll need to get you cleaned up.”

  “Kerry is going to be so upset.”

  “I know, man. I know. But I’ll handle it,” Burrow said and stared at the guy who worked for Castle. He nodded at him, and the guy stepped forward and handed him a card.

  “He’ll expect your call tomorrow,” the guy said, and Burrow took it and nodded.

  He didn’t have a choice here. They were in debt to Torch, the slimy fuck, and he had heard that Castle ran a cleaner team of fighters and had guys scoping out new men with potential. Obviously his guy there thought Burrow had potential. He needed to man up here and take control of the situation. Let his brother recoup and rest. He would train and call Castle tomorrow. Things had to change. How much worse could things get, really?

  Chapter Three

  Merica walked down the hallway at the gym looking for Flick. He said he was checking out one of Sal’s classes. Flick would spot check every so often to ensure the classes were going smoothly. She saw him standing by the glass divider that looked onto the mats where some sort of grappling and hand-to-hand martial arts class was going on, but before she got to him, the sounds of yelling the words, “yes, sir,” in sync caught her attention. She glanced through the small glass window on the door and could see everyone at attention. The class was small. Four men and one instructor who she couldn’t see from where she stood. One guy stepped forward for the line and immediately got into a stance that looked like he was ready to fight. Then he was on his ass, and she caught sight of Hook. Hook then reached his hand out to help him up and then showed the guy step by step how to counter the move Hook had made on him. She watched. He was calm, straight-faced, and helpful.

  She continued to watch for several minutes interested in the techniques the men were learning. One after the next, they tried to counter Hook’s attacks and failed, but then he taught them how to counter correctly, and they continued to practice. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice her, but she wasn’t looking at the men now. She was looking at Hook, the way he moved so quickly and how his muscles flexed, how those tattoos made him look lethal, and mostly how he taught the class. He was really teaching them. So when he turned and looked right at her, she stepped back then figured she didn’t want to look like she was drooling over the guy. She looked back through the window, at his eyes glaring at her, and she nodded as if she were checking up on him. She saw the change in his expression, and she walked back down the hallway to talk to Flick, who stood right there.

  “Oh God, I didn’t even hear you approach.”

  “I see that. Find something that interests you?” Flick asked and winked.

  She tilted her head at him. “Stop trying to get me to take classes here. I told you how I feel about it.”

  “I want to change that perception of yours. You can help me, too.”

  “Oh really? How?” she asked.

  “By doing a class here and then telling your friends to come try one out.”

  “Hello, you’ve got a lot of women coming here to take the self-defense classes.”

  “They’re on the prowl.”

  “Listen, I have this spreadsheet here, and there are two fees I don’t understand where they came from.” She showed him the sheet. He stood right next to her, and she pointed it out and was explaining what she found.

  “That would be for something Celia ordered for the office. The part for the printer.”

  “What part?” she asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I think it’s in the closet in the office.”

  “A part that makes it work so I don’t need to bend over the front every time to get it to make copies as I hold the plug and the button at the same time?”

  “Sorry, I kind of like it when you’re bent over the printer,” he said, shocking her. The door opened where Hook was teaching. He had dismissed his class. The guys eyed her over, and she recognized a couple of them from town.

  “Hey, thinking about taking that class?” one of the guys, Spence, asked her.

  “No. I don’t take any classes here. I work in the office.”

  “Really? Shame, I’d be your partner. We could learn together,” he said to her, eyeing her over.

  “It looks a bit fast and advanced for my liking.” She looked at Flick, who was smirking and staring at something behind her.

  Spence’s eyes widened slightly.

  “You going to be hanging out this weekend at The Station? I keep seeing some of your friends there but not you.”

  “Not sure. I’m quite busy working.”

  Again he glanced up behind her.

  “I’ll see you around then, maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink?”

  He winked at her, eyed her body over, and then joined his buddies and walked away.

  “Stay clear of him. He’s a player.”

  She heard the deep, hard voice and stirred in place then glanced over her shoulder at Hook. He stood there, arms crossed, wearing a lethal expression. Those tattoos along his arms and that beard so wild and fierce kind of made him look out of place at the gym where most men didn’t have facial hair like that. It made him look wild, untamed, and aggressive.

  “I need to head to class. That part is in the closet if you want to try and fix that printer, or maybe Hook can help. But I do seriously like watching you bend over the printer, Merica. It makes my day,” Flick said to her and then walked away.

  “Nice, Flick. Keep it up and you can find a new bookkeeper,” she said to him as he walked away laughing.

  She turned to look up at Hook in an accusatory manner. “So did you know about the part, too, and just not tell me?”

  “What part?”

  “For the printer. The one that would apparently fix it and also help me to not bend over the damn thing nearly breaking my back to copy papers.”

  “Didn’t know.”

  “Hmm, oh well, I guess
I’m going to go try and fix it then.” She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

  She gasped, and her expression of fear obviously got to the guy because he released her arm immediately. It was the craziest sensation, having him grab her arm, touch her, and the spot felt warm, and her belly tingled despite how fearful she was of Hook. That beard, the tattoos, those dark, cold eyes, my God. She stared at him. Why would his aggressive, sharp attitude turn her on and make certain body parts alert to full attention status?

  “What’s your interest in my class, or were you just there to flirt with the men?” he asked. She opened her mouth and then closed it as her mind thought of reacting.

  “First of all, I don’t flirt.”

  He appeared as if he clenched his teeth. He eyed her over, and she straightened her shoulders. She looked good today. She wore a flared black skirt, heeled boots, and a sleeveless blouse that accentuated her breasts. The deep V showed a bit of cleavage, but she wore strands of pearls to disguise the cleavage, only giving a hint of the depth of it. The heels did nothing to give her height over or even with Hook. The man was tall and big.

  “Secondly, I was just checking it out. Looked interesting and seemed more military than the other classes. I noticed that you take the time to teach each of the students. I assume it’s because that’s a private class.”

  “Less people, better results, but only for the serious students.”

  “Hmm, makes sense.”

  “Have you had any self-defense training?” he asked her. She shook her head. He eyed her over.

  “You should.”

  “Haven’t had time or found the right place to feel comfortable.”

  “Don’t feel comfortable here?” he asked.

  “Not really. We discussed this, remember? A certain type of woman comes here for training. I’m not interested. So if you’ll excuse me.”

  She turned to walk away but felt him following her.