Prizefight: The Hell Raiders MC Goes MMA

by Aden Lowe

  I dragged my phone out of my pocket, trying to gauge how much time I wasted looking around here while Elena made her way back to a monster. "Hey, man, I got a problem." I explained to Stella what I suspected.

  "A'ight, man, I'll head over to his place and watch for her. Call you when I got something." He ended the call.

  A deep breath filled my chest and I nearly choked on it. This was not how it was supposed to go. For the first time in my life, I wanted to protect someone other than my Brothers, or my mom and sister. I wanted to make shit better for Elena. I didn't stop to examine the thought, only acknowledged it. Life sure as hell jumped up and grabbed what I wanted right out of my hands, though, just like always. Good to know some things never changed.

  Well, I always worked my ass off for everything, so why should Elena be any different? All I had to do was figure out how the fuck I was going to get her back and make her mine. I had no intention of letting life keep this particular prize from me.

  I climbed in the Chevelle and cranked her up. Whatever way I found to get Elena back, I had to be where she was going so I could make it happen. For the first time since I got the car running, I didn't take a few seconds to just enjoy the rumble of the engine. The realization startled me as I put her in gear and eased out of the lot. Was I going to be one of those dickless bastards that gave up everything he loved just for a piece of ass? Not going to fucking happen. Elena was far more than just a chick to fuck, even though I refused to acknowledge it at the moment.

  I took my time leaving town, winding through the side streets, just in case Elena hadn't managed to get far yet. No luck, though, so I headed on back up the River toward the bridge, taking my time. With any luck, I might find her walking along the road.

  By the time I reached the bridge without Elena magically appearing on the roadside, I started to sweat. If she made it all the way back to Royse before I could get hold of her, things were going to be ten times worse that if she'd just done as she was told.

  Royse's building sat right in the middle of the bad part of town, where historic buildings had been leveled to make room for high-rise low-income housing a few decades ago. All around it, a thriving community had boarded up and left for better places, leaving abandoned buildings and houses that had once been nice to fall into decay as poverty tightened its grip on the surroundings.

  It all made the perfect storm for a monster like Royse. He came in and bought the last of the historic buildings just when a push came to save it from being torn down. Of course, the people who lived in the area didn't give a shit if the building fell in. The effort to save it came from the wealthy part of town, people who had the luxury of preserving good things from the past.

  From the outside, at least, Royse had the building restored to its hey-day, and I heard no expense was spared to get the inside just as perfect. While he did it, he gave the neighborhood a hefty injection of money and hope, and for a little while, at least, things improved. A lot of folks depended on him for their daily bread during the restoration, and he found a way to keep some of them on after the work finished.

  And in the process, he sunk his claws deep into every illegal thing that went on in the neighborhood. Not an eight-ball, rock, dime-bag, or anything else, sold without his blessing. Not a whore spread her legs without him getting his cut. He expanded from there until every illegal activity in the city and much of the surrounding area went through him.

  For the first time, I wondered where the money for the restoration project came from initially. An average Joe didn't just wake up one day and decide to spend millions renovating a condemned hotel. I filed the thought away for future examination, if needed.

  Unless I missed my guess, I needed to break Royse's stranglehold on southern Ohio to get Elena and her mom free, and that move wouldn't make me any friends in the local criminal community. They were happy to continue living on his dole, as long as it didn't cost them anything obvious.

  As long as he remained untouchable, he would continue to threaten Elena, and me. Even though Elena thought her going back to him would fix everything, I knew better. I defied the motherfucker. He wasn't about to let that go. A man like him didn't make a rep on letting people get away with insulting him in his own damn house. At first glance, I thought his greed would be stronger than his need to make an example of me, but the more I considered it, the more I realized how that could have been a deadly mistake.

  Taking the Chevelle through Royse's 'hood seemed like the mother of all bad fucking ideas, but I couldn't think of another choice right then. Time wasted on finding another ride might mean the difference between Elena alive and unharmed, and Elena dead, or worse.

  I took a minute to stop and pull my little Smith & Wesson .40 out of the glove compartment and chambered a round. With the weapon riding all inconspicuous, tucked under my thigh for easy access, I pointed the car toward the bad side of town.

  One of the few changes I made to the inside of the Chevelle during its restoration was a dash-mounted CD player, because at times, I refused to stomach any more classic country. For this little ride, Pantera seemed like a better choice than the Golden Oldies show. Didn't need a punk-ass thug thinking he could knock over some old fucker and grab a cherry car. So with Walk blasting through the open windows, I rolled slow down the street.

  If Elena made it this far, she should have come this way. I needed to find someone to ask, and looking for trouble seemed the surest way of doing that. A slinger and his runners staked out a corner, but I passed them. She would avoid them, and they weren't likely to have noticed a non-buying bitch walking down the sidewalk.

  In front of a boarded up business, I spotted a thin chick walking toward the next block, where the traffic was a little better. I slowed down even more and made a show of checking her out. Dark hair hung in a limp ponytail down her back, and a skimpy tank top framed thin shoulders. Her short shorts might have once been white, or even tan, but they had seen better days long ago.

  The woman noticed me, and offered a smile before she stepped off the curb. "Hey baby, you looking for some fun?" She leaned in the open passenger window as I stopped the car.

  I pulled a fifty from my pocket and held it where she could see it clearly. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Hot chick, early twenties, red hair. You seen her?"

  Her smile faded. "Baby, I wish I could say yes. I need that money bad, but I ain't seen her. I been busy though. You might try El Chapo and his girls, two blocks down. They be out early." She moved to pull back.

  I held the money out. "Thanks for being straight with me, sugar."

  Her jaw dropped but she reached to take the money before I could change my mind. "Baby, you can ask me about your frien's any night. I'll even throw in a freebie for your fine self."

  I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, sugar. You have yourself a good night, okay?" As soon as she cleared the car, I let it roll again.

  El Chapo, huh? Sounded like the kind of thug I normally went out of my way to avoid just to keep from killing them. And now I had to find one, and actually speak to him. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.

  Traffic picked up a bit, most of it stemming from the drug trade, but some legitimate, too. A convenience store, which seemed to double as a grocery, had a steady stream of customers. Looked like mostly people walking to do their shopping. One woman, so heavy her many rolls flowed into one another, walked along, shepherding three kids ahead of her. All three carried several bags in each hand, while the woman kept her hands free to wield the long stick she used to keep the kids moving.

  I shook my head with disgust and cruised on by. Bitches like that needed to be taught some respect for kids. That shit pissed me off like nothing else. At the moment, though, I had a bigger priority and no time for giving lessons.

  On the next block, I watched for the pimp the girl called El Chapo. Surely, a punk who gave himself that name would stand out, even in a crowd. And he did.

  The swagger gave him away first. Fucker walked like he had ba
lls the size of milk jugs or something. I slowed down and when he came closer to a street light, what I saw left me completely unimpressed. Dirty blonde hair hit the tops of his shoulders, and a matching attempt at a goatee looked like something dead on his face. He kept tugging at pants with the waistband lower than his damn ass, and an oversized sports jersey hung loose halfway to his knees. Fake gold chains covered his thin chest like a suit of armor.

  Two girls strolled along behind him, on the lookout for their next trick. Right away, El Chapo noticed my interest and nervously smoothed his goatee.

  Good. I wanted the punk off balance. I stopped and lifted a hand to signal him to approach.

  Boy followed orders real well. He came within a couple feet of my door. "Yo, man, you lookin' for somethin'?"

  "Just information, my man. You got any of that?"

  He shrugged and shifted from foot to foot. "El Chapo know ever'thing that go down in this 'hood, man." A nervous grin settled on his face. "Ever'thing got a price, you know what I mean?"

  I grinned, the same one I gave an opponent in the cage right before I went for a takedown. "I got the price, if you got what I need."

  He came in closer, still doing his anxious shuffle thing. "I gotta see the green up front, man, you know I mean? I don't front nobody nothin'."

  I slid another fifty from my pocket and held it up. When he reached for the money, I pulled it back. "Not until I get the info, you know what I mean, my man? I don't let nobody fuck me over."

  He paled a little. "A'ight, man, what you needin'?"

  "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Cute chick, early twenties, red hair."

  A speculative look crossed his face. "I might have seen somethin' like that."

  I added another fifty. "I need to know when, where, and where she was going."

  "I don't know, man. Talkin' out of turn is a good way to get dead, you know what I mean?" He started to step back.

  "So is not holding up a deal. So you better start talking if you want to keep breathing."

  He put his hands up. "Look, man, I ain' lookin' for no trouble. Bitch come struttin' up my street like she fuckin' own it, maybe twen'y minutes ago. I aks her who her daddy, and she say Royse. I let her pass, you know what I'm sayin'? Ain't no bitch worth dyin' over." He glanced around, as if he feared someone might rat him out to Royse. "That all I know."

  I nodded, processing his words. "Okay, I'll let you off this time. If I find out you held out on me, I'll gut you like a Christmas pig. You know what I'm sayin'? Get it real clear, mother fucker." I held out the two fifties.

  "I ain't messin' wit' you, man. I got a nice little gig going here, got my block, got my bitches, you know what I'm sayin'? I don't want no part o' no Royse shit."

  I slapped the money in his hand and drove away. Shit. How the fuck had she made it there so quickly?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elena:

  After a couple of minutes, a second man came and led me through the lobby, and the soles of my new shoes squeaked on the marble floor. The place looked like some kind of fancy hotel from one of the old movies I sometimes had a chance to watch. Highly polished wood tables held big vases of fresh flowers under beautiful paintings. A few leather chairs were arranged in front of a huge fireplace covered by an ornate brass screen, and a polished wood counter stood to one side, as if waiting for guests to register.

  I kept trying to swallow my fear, but it refused to stay down. The man led me down a broad corridor lined with huge paintings in gold frames alternating with heavy looking wooden doors. Near the end, he pointed me to a single wood chair against the wall.

  "Wait here. I'll see if Mr. Royse has time to see you now." He tapped at the last door and went inside, closing it softly behind him.

  With nothing to break up the silence in the hallway, I drummed my fingers restlessly on the arm of the chair. The sound echoed, drawing my attention upward. All my life, most of the buildings I'd been in had those stupid ceiling tiles that were supposed to muffle noise. This corridor had a high ceiling, with fancy swirls in the plaster, and elaborately carved moldings. Big chandeliers hung every so many feet.

  The sense of stepping back in time almost made my skin crawl. I liked old buildings and historical stuff, but having it all look brand-spanking new? That was creepy as shit.

  "Excuse me, Miss?"

  Fuck, I hadn't even heard the door open. "Yes?" I jumped up. If my hands didn't have scorch marks, I'd be surprised.

  "Mr. Royse is quite busy at the moment. I'll escort you to where you can wait for him." This guy seemed about as different from the first one at the door as my grocery list was from Ryker's.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak after my stupid thoughts decided to remind me of Ryker at exactly the wrong moment. Thinking of him that way meant I had to do whatever it took to save him. I took a deep breath and followed the man, determined to go through with this.

  We went back through the lobby and down another corridor, just as fancy as the first, but at the end, instead of another oversized painting, a set of double wooden doors that matched all the others I'd seen waited.

  As we approached, the door swung open and a man who looked almost exactly like my escort waited. "Here we are, Miss. Mr. White will see you the rest of the way. Mr. Royse will come to you when he has a moment."

  The new guy, Mr. White, held out a hand to invite me through the doors. I went, and waited for him. "This way, Miss."

  Marble stairs led up several floors, with black wrought-iron railings. Another short flight of stairs went down, but they were regular concrete with a plain railing. And that's where Mr. White led.

  "Where are we going?" My heart pounded harder as every movie I'd ever seen about the bad things that could happen in basements filtered through my brain all at once.

  "Mr. Royse asked that you wait with your mother. Her room is this way." He stepped off the bottom step and turned to the left, hitting a light switch as he went.

  Of course, I followed. This part of the building was entirely different from what I'd seen of the rest. Painted block walls led on forever, lit by big lightbulbs inside wire cages. Pipes of various sizes ran along the low ceiling. Every ten or twelve feet, there were big metal doors on both sides.

  At the fourth set of doors, Mr. White stopped and pulled a huge bunch of keys from his belt and sorted through them until he found the one he wanted. He unlocked the door on the left, and held his hand out to gesture me forward.

  I paused before going in the door, wary of what I might see. Rather than the gloomy dungeon I'd started to expect, the room before me looked like a cozy bedroom in a nice house might. I stepped through the door, only a little surprised when it immediately closed behind me.

  Thick beige carpeting covered the floor, and the walls were off-white with pretty floral border and feminine pictures on the walls. A recliner waited to one side, some books on a table beside it. A big bed sat centered on one wall, covered with fluffy blankets and pillows.

  Most important, my mom sat in the bed, leaning back against some pillows, and watching the huge TV mounted on the wall across from the bed. Her eyes shone with life like I hadn't seen in them for years, and her cheeks had some color. She hadn't seen me yet, giving me time to take it all in.

  "Mom?"

  She jumped a little, startled, then smiled broadly. "Elena, I'm so happy to see you! Mr. Royse said you would be here soon."

  My thoughts derailed, and jumbled into one another. "H-he did?"

  She nodded. "Come give me a hug. I can't believe you're finally here!" My mother hadn't shown that kind of emotion since…well, ever. At least, not that I remembered. The only feeling I could remember her expressing was hopelessness—not for our situation, but for her pain. She gave up long ago on ever finding freedom from it.

  I went to her and wrapped my arms around her, careful not to hurt her. She returned the hug, squeezing hard, shocking me yet again. "Mom? What's happened?" Her wasted muscles and thin arms shouldn't be capable o
f that kind of strength. Hell, only a week ago, she could barely hold herself up long enough to shuffle the few feet to the bathroom.

  "Oh, sweetie, when Mr. Royse's man came to the apartment and said he was there to bring me here, I was terrified, but he promised I would be okay. I saw a doctor, Elena, he came here!" Her face flushed with so much excitement my heart raced for her. "He ran some tests, but said he knew what was wrong with me! I'm on medicine now that helps, and I don't sleep all the time. I can't believe it, Elena! Your Mr. Royse has been so good to me."

  Tears stung my eyes, and I didn't even react to the pronoun she put in front of Royse's name. She lived in a constant state of confusion, and I'd learned to just ignore little things like that. "I'm glad you're feeling better, mom." I came here expecting to find her dead, or at least worse than before. What the hell was I supposed to do now, knowing she was in the best shape she'd been in since she first got sick? I owed Royse. Any bargaining space I might have to protect Ryker just went up in smoke.

  "Come sit with me and watch this show. I've found so many shows I didn't even know existed." Her attention went back to the TV and within seconds, it totally absorbed her again. At least that part hadn't changed. Just like a flick of a switch, the real world turned to nothing for her, same as always.

  The damn tears refused to stay put, and spilled over my lashes. It was crazy, I'd shed more tears over the last few days than in my whole adult life. For the first time, I felt truly alive, and Ryker gave me that. Before him, I just went through the motions, trying to keep the body alive. My soul sat and waited in a hard little shell, and when I met Ryker, that shell cracked.

  What the fuck was I going to do? Damn, I was so sick of that stupid question. Always before, I knew, because choices didn't exist. They still didn't, but I felt like they did. The whole situation screwed with my head. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my thoughts, getting nowhere fast. My heart and mind kept running back and forth, between my mom and Ryker, and finding no answers that saved them both.