CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC
Page 37
“You don’t have anything to prove.”
“I think I do,” Peyton replied. “I’ve done more for this club than this bitch ever has, and I’m tired of her mouth.”
He turned Honey loose. “The pit,” he growled. “Five minutes.”
Honey smiled. “After I kick this bitch’s ass, I’m going to fuck you while this whore watches. You like an audience, right?” Honey smiled again, then pulled his mouth down and kissed him passionately until he pushed her away. She glared at him. “So that’s how it is? She gets a lucky shot, and you throw me out on my ass? I’d have taken her if you hadn’t stopped it the last time.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Someday you might even believe it,” Peyton smiled
“Don’t stop us,” Honey sneered. “Give me my chance. Promise me you won’t stop us until one of us gives up or is unconscious.”
“It’s your ass,” Peyton added helpfully.
“Will that shut you up about her?”
“Yes, Babe. I just want my shot.”
He nodded. “You’ve got it. Nobody will interfere.”
Honey smiled. “I’ll show you, Babe. I’ll show you,” she said as she turned and walked away, giving her hips extra swing.
“The pit?” Peyton asked.
Ironside nodded. “The pit is a twenty by twenty square behind the clubhouse with about eight inches of sand it. It’s where members go to settle their differences. If you get called to the pit, rank doesn’t matter.”
She swallowed hard. “Are there any rules?”
“Just those the people fighting agree to.”
“You ever been in the pit?”
“A couple of times, but not in the last six or seven years. It doesn’t get used often any more. I think the last time we had a pit fight was three, maybe four years ago.”
“What was it over?’
“What do you think? A woman.”
“What happened?”
Ironside smiled. “They kicked the shit out of each other. The winner fucked her right there in the pit, then never touched her again.”
“Some more of that bros before hoes shit, right?”
He snorted. “Something like that. Are you sure you want to do this? I can stop it.”
“I want this.” She grinned. “I have a lot of pent up anger. If I can’t take it out on you in the bedroom with my pussy, I’ll take it out on her in the pit with my fists.”
He grinned, his cock beginning to harden. “You could stay the night.”
She smiled. “I’d like to, but I haven’t got the time. I’ll need to fight and run.”
He stroked her ass. “You could fuck and run.”
She giggled. “That would take a lot longer than this will.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Word spread fast. Everyone at the clubhouse was at the pit, waiting, when Peyton and Ironside stepped out.
All the club’s women wanted a glimpse of the mystery woman who had bruised up Honey’s face. She had tried to spin what happened to her in the bar, but when they heard she had called out the woman for a rematch, they wanted to see if was actually just a lucky shot, or if Honey could kick her ass if given the chance.
Everyone in the club had heard about Dolch’s phone call, and the members had a hard time believing Ironside had actually taken a Saracens woman as a lover, as Honey claimed. Most believed the rumor that said the woman was actually a Knight and was risking her life working as a mole.
Regardless, all the women knew the real issue: Honey was fighting to keep Ironside, and they wanted to see if this mystery woman could take him away from her. The men were there simply to watch two sexy women beat the shit out of each other.
Peyton swallowed hard as the crowd parted, allowing her access to the pit. There were at least sixty men and women arrayed around the arena, most of whom she’d never seen before. The pit was a large square made from two four-by-four inch beams stacked, with the area inside filled with loose, freshly-raked sand. She stepped up to the pit, and toed her sandals off before stepping into the square. The sand was warm and soft on her feet, and she wriggled her toes to see how deep the softness went. Finding no bottom, she toed the beams and found they were coated in a soft, springy material. She pressed in harder and felt the firmness of the wood underneath, but the padding would offer some protection.
Honey pushed through the crowd and stepped into the pit. She had changed into cutoff jeans and a loose shirt, unbuttoned and tied in a knot above her navel. “Ready to get your ass kicked?” Honey sneered.
“Maybe. When’s she going to get here?” Peyton asked as she stepped away from the edge.
The crowd rumbled in laughter.
“No rules!” Honey cried loudly. “No rules, and no stopping! The fight goes until one of us gives up or is unconscious!”
“Fight naked!” a man’s voice called from the crowd, a roar of approval following a moment later, even by some of the women.
Peyton glanced at Ironside, but he stood stone-faced, giving her no sign. He’d told her the rules were whatever they chose to make them, and he had no say in what happened. The pit was off-limits to officer interference. The only time he could, or would, step in was if one of the combatants blatantly violated their agreement. If there were no rules, he couldn’t legitimately stop the fight until one of the women surrendered or was unconscious as agreed.
He was pretty sure Peyton could take Honey, and he had to admit, he wouldn’t mind seeing her and Honey fight naked in the sand, especially knowing how hard they were probably going to go at it. In the last four weeks, Honey had developed an obsession with Peyton. It had started with losing the fight in the bar, but then Dolch spilling the beans about their fucking had only made her obsession more virulent.
His cock began to harden. It was the stuff of fantasy that two strong, sexy, women were going to be fighting, possibly naked, over him. It’s too bad Peyton had to return to the Saracens’ clubhouse, because if she won, he might fuck her right there in the pit, even with everyone watching.
“What’s the matter?” Honey asked, pulling Peyton’s attention away from Ironside. “Too much for you?” she taunted, unknotting the shirt but leaving it hanging.
“Na-ked! Na-ked! Na-ked!” the crowd began to chant, breaking the word into two hard syllables. Without a word Peyton unbuttoned her blouse and began to strip, throwing her clothes out of the ring, Honey doing the same as the crowd roared their approval.
Honey was wearing only her tied on top and shorts, so she was quicker getting undressed. “No rules, bitch!” she snarled as she charged while Peyton was still removing her panties. She knew Peyton’s fists were deadly and she had to get in close and stay there.
Peyton was standing on one leg, slipping her panties off, when Honey attacked. She tried to get her foot down, but she became tangled in her panties and was already beginning to fall as Honey hit her. They went down, tumbling over each other in the sand. With her panties around her ankles, Peyton couldn’t twist to throw Honey off. Honey reared back while loading up to deliver a fist. In desperation, Peyton put her hand up to block. She caught Honey’s arm as she loosened the blow, slowing the delivery, but it still hurt like hell as it crashed into her cheek.
As Honey drew back to hit her again, Peyton grabbed her hair, pulling her down, burying her face in her tits as she kicked frantically to free her legs. Honey began to drive blows into her side as she finally cleared her feet, digging in with a foot and pushing hard, tumbling them over. Honey dug in and continued their momentum, rolling them over again until she was once again on top.
Peyton released her opponent’s head, and as Honey rose, jammed her hand under her chin to force her head back. Honey grunted as Peyton tried to break her neck, raking her nailed over Peyton’s chest.
Peyton cried out in pain as she heaved with her hips, throwing Honey to the side. As the woman toppled off she rolled with her, grabbing her by the throat and pressing in. Honey’s eyes bulged, her teeth bared in a feral snar
l as she grabbed Peyton in the same manner.
***
“Jesus Christ,” Kicks muttered, but Ironside didn’t look away, transfixed by the drama in front of him. Peyton and Honey were legitimately trying to kill each other. He wanted to step in, wanted to break it up, but the club had rules, and he had to abide by them just like everyone else.
The two women kicked and squirmed, unable to breathe, each trying to get on top of their opponent while straining to prevent the same. Peyton couldn’t take it anymore and shoved hard back, sacrificing her hold to break Honey’s. She rolled away and popped to her feet, Honey doing the same.
The two women stood, covered in sand, bent at the waist as they coughed and gasped for breath. “Not so easy now, is it, bitch?” Honey taunted then coughed again.
“Try that shit now that I have my legs free,” Peyton grated, motioning her forward with the flick of her hand.
Honey took her invitation and barreled in. Peyton threw her best punch, but Honey blew right through it, willing to take the punishment to get in close. Honey hit her again, screaming in rage and pain, driving her to the ground with her momentum. Again they tumbled, grabbing each other into headlocks as they first tumbled, then struggled to their knees, then their feet, bent at the waist as they pushed and shoved. Their arms locked around their opponent’s head, the women grunted and strained, the muscles in their powerful legs rippling and bulging, their feet pushing up piles of sand as they dug in, until Peyton twisted Honey to the side. They teetered on the edge of balance, the two women crying out in effort until, with a cry of defeat, Honey couldn’t hold her balance any longer and tumbled back to the sand.
Peyton fell with her, dragged down by Honey’s hold, but then dug in with a foot and pushed Honey over onto her back. Driving with her legs, she rose, arched her back, braced on one leg, then fired a knee into Honey’s crotch. Honey shrieked in pain, releasing her headlock as she rolled to her side, both hands on her crotch as she curled up around her hands.
Peyton scrambled to her feet, whirling to face her opponent, then realized Honey was out of the fight. “Give up?” Peyton demanded, standing over her defeated opponent.
***
Ironside tensed. The moment he heard the word he was charging in to break it up. The entire crowd had groaned in sympathetic pain when Peyton kneed Honey in the pussy and they were mutterings in the crowd that Honey was out for the count. He wanted to feel sorry for Honey, but she had brought this on herself, and all he could feel was relief that Peyton was unhurt other than a few scratches.
***
Honey whimpered in pain then lashed out with a leg. “Fuck you, bitch!” she screamed, her voice more animal than human as she kicked at Peyton. The kick connected solidly with Peyton’s shin, jolting her foot out from under her and knocking her down. Peyton screamed in pain, grabbing her knee as she rolled away. As she struggled to her feet, favoring her damaged leg, she realized her knee was hurting like a bitch but working. If the shot had been eight inches higher, it would have probably wrecked the joint.
As Peyton realized she was uninjured, Honey hit her again. They went back to the sand, their hands tangled in their hair as they hissed and snarled. Using her good leg, Peyton pushed and twisted, rolling over to come to rest on Honey. Honey released Peyton’s hair with one hand and grabbed at her face, Peyton catching the wrist before the nails could bring blood.
The two women strained, twisting their opponent’s heads to the side, they bodies pressed together as Honey strained to claw Peyton’s eyes out, and Peyton strained equally hard to prevent it. Peyton released her grip on Honey’s hair, using the strength of two hands to power the claws away from her face.
Honey, realizing she wasn’t going to be able to mark Peyton’s face, tried to jerk her hand free, but couldn’t. Honey released Peyton’s hair and threw herself off the woman, trying to get free, but Peyton grimly hung on. She grabbed one of Peyton’s wrists to clear her hands as she leaned back and pushed against the sand with her legs, trying to power out of Peyton’s grip. Peyton suddenly moved with her, causing Honey to fall to her back. Peyton allowed Honey to pull her wrist free then jerked her arm back to break Honey’s hold. She immediately grabbed Honey’s wrist again with her free hand and straightened her arms, forcing Honey’s to cross, before driving them into sand across Honey’s throat.
“Give up, bitch!” Peyton snarled as Honey screamed and bucked, trying to throw Peyton off her chest, but with her hands pinned at her ears, her arms crossed, she simply didn’t have the strength to power out of the hold.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Honey raged, lunging with her hips.
Peyton hung on, keeping Honey’s hands pinned as she raged and struggled, until the fight suddenly went of her and she began to weep. “Give!” Peyton demanded.
Honey shook her head, refusing to yield but unable to escape.
“That’s it,” Ironside called, stepping into the pit as he waved his hands.
“No!” Honey shrieked, struggling anew, screaming in effort.
Peyton let her go before jumping to her feet and stepping back. As Honey scrambled to her feet, Ironside made a grab at her, but she dodged, throwing herself at Peyton. Peyton fired a right jab into Honey’s face, snapping the woman’s head back as her nose exploding in a spray of blood. She went to the ground in a heap, sobbing softly as she curled into a fetal position.
“Fuck!” Peyton cried, taking another step back and spinning in a slow circle, shaking her hand before clasping it to her chest.
Several members of the club moved into to check on Honey but Ironside ignored her. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“I hurt my fucking hand!”
He couldn’t help but chuckle in relief. “How’s your knee?”
Peyton took a couple of steps. It hurt, but she knew now she she’d be able to walk it off. “It’s fine.”
Dolch stepped up, her clothes in his hand, and gave them to her.
“Thanks,” Peyton said, smiling as Dolch gave her a nod then stepped silently away.
“Come on,” Ironside said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Whiteshirt stormed into kirche. “What’s the damage?” Ironside asked.
“All the cameras, lights, editing equipment and servers are smash to all to shit. $250,000 worth of equipment, fucked! They also destroyed the sets. What good is fucking Peyton if she can’t tell us shit like this is going to happen?”
“I’m sure she’s doing the best she can,” Ironside snapped.
“Well it’s not good enough! How did they know about the BKS? It isn’t even fucking open yet! We have a fucking mole, and I think I know who it is!”
“Who?” Ironside asked.
“Who do you do you think? Peyton!”
“Peyton?” Ironside cried.
“Who else would it be?”
“Why do you think it’s her?”
“You’re shitting me! You told her about BKS, right?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell her where it was.”
“How hard would that be to figure out? Check the listings for warehouse property that recently sold and do a little snooping. I’ve been saying this all along, you can’t trust that bitch!”
Ironside sighed. He was getting tired of Whiteside blaming everything that went wrong on Peyton, especially after she’d proven her worth. “And all the stuff she has told us about? You think the Saracens are feeding us that to set us up for something? If they are, they have some deep fucking pockets and don’t give a shit about their brothers.”
“Maybe she’s a double agent.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Whiteshirt! Really?”
“All I know is we weren’t having these problems until she wandered into the bar. That makes me very suspicious.”
“And the Saracens losing a shipment of guns had nothing to do with it?”
“I think it has everything to do with it. I think she was sent in to find out if we did it.”
“Maybe they didn’t believe her.”
“You’re fucking crazy! You think she’s some super spy, but then they don’t believe the intel she reports back. You can’t have it both ways, Whiteshirt!”
“And I think you’re thinking with your cock!”