Lonely is the Night

by Stephanie Tyler

  “In on betting?”

  “In on a fight,” Reid said, and was met with total silence.

  “It’s street fighting. Scrapping. No fancy shit allowed,” Keegan told him finally.

  “Hey, I live for a good old-fashioned bar fight.”

  Keegan snorted and told him to hang on. Ten excruciating minutes of pretending to wait patiently later, he got back on the line, told Reid, “Go to Prospect—building 403. Benny will get you one fight. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “And the other thing we talked about?”

  “No confirmation but the rumors are rampant. They’ll fight her tonight.”

  “You’re sure this isn’t OA funded?”

  “Nah. They wish they’d thought of this. We’ve been kept out, except for a fight here and there.”

  “I owe you.”

  “Again,” Keegan emphasized. “One of these days, I’m going to take you up on it.”

  “I hope so,” Reid said quietly, even though Keegan had already hung up. Keegan had gotten involved in a motorcycle gang called the Outlaw Angels when he was just fifteen. He’d passed the initiation, and from that point on, there was no getting out. Not unscathed, anyway. These days, he was still semitrapped by the OA—he’d gone rogue by permission but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be called in to help the MC whenever they deemed it necessary.

  A hell of a life. He and the others had offered to break Keegan free, help him disappear, but Keegan never took them up on it. He disappeared for months at a time, came back, tended bar, etc.

  The man always came through. He went into the living room, handed Jack back his phone. “You’re being watched. What’s that all about?”

  “Nothing good, but they’re not telling me shit.” Jack held up his official cell phone. “I’ve been told not to report to work. To hand in my badge and gun. To not leave the city.” Jack ran his hands through his hair. “I’m betting they think Grier and I had something to do with Benji’s disappearance. Which means you need to go before they take you in for questioning.”

  “Yeah, I was planning on that. Do you have a throwaway phone I can contact you on?”

  Jack nodded. Pulled one that was still in a box out of a drawer, powered it up and gave Reid the number. “I doubt I’m going to be able to use it. Just find her, Reid. I’ll handle the heat, whatever it is.”

  “I put Dylan’s number in there. Memorize it. If you have one phone call, he’s better than a lawyer any day.” Reid pulled his bag’s long handle over his head and across his chest. “I’ll go out through the basement.”

  “There’s no real exit—ah, forget it.” Jack waved him off and Reid chuckled as he left. He took the stairs, heading down each flight cautiously, not wanting to come face-to-face with a fed or the like who might’ve followed him here. Though he doubted it. These guys had probably been on Jack since he left the scene at the hotel.

  Now, he walked into one of the bars along the strip and out the back entrance and lost himself in the maze of alleys and back entrances until he was far enough away. No one had followed and that was good. For Jack, it wasn’t—meant the man couldn’t help to find his partner, and Reid knew how frustrating that was.

  He also knew he was deliberately not thinking about Grier at the moment. Because thinking about her could cause him to lose focus, to worry about the very real fact that she might be hurt.

  He shook it off and grabbed a cab to the building that was across town. No time to waste, according to his watch. And when he got to the section of town that looked like he should be walking around carrying at least a piece of metal pipe, the driver gave him a good-luck-on-surviving smirk as he hightailed the cab out of there.

  The building Keegan directed him to looked deserted, which Reid supposed was the point. He ambled up to it, not bothering to look at the men who seemed to be coming out of the woodwork to assess him.

  One of them stopped Reid about ten paces from the front entrance with a beefy hand on Reid’s chest. Reid looked between the hand and the man’s face. “You really don’t want to put your hands on me.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “I’m a crazy fuck just home from war.”

  The man’s eyebrows went up and he’d no doubt seen a lot of former soldiers in just that shape. “Just protecting my stuff, man.”

  “No harm. Benny’s expecting me.”

  The guy turned to look at who Reid supposed was Benny. “You Reid?” he called out, and when Reid nodded, he motioned him forward.

  “You might be crazier than Keegan said you were. I told him you’d never survive coming here alone. I thought you’d come escorted by some of the OAs.”

  “Figured I wouldn’t bother them.”

  Benny stared at him with a hard look, then handed him a blank card, told him to be back here at midnight to check in.

  “You’re the third fight—right after the women’s match.” Benny looked him up and down, sizing him up. “Guy you’re fighting’s big. Former Marine. Force recon.”

  “Crazy motherfuckers,” Reid muttered.

  “Keegan says you’re a good guy. He never says that.” With that, Benny shut the door in his face, nearly lopping his nose off.

  “Wonder what would’ve happened if he hadn’t said it?” Reid said out loud. His phone was starting to annoy the ever-loving shit out of him. He had an hour before he had to be back here, so he turned to the man who’d stopped him. “Anyplace to eat around here?”

  “You’re fighting?”

  “Yeah. So let me correct my question—anyplace I can eat around here that I don’t have to fight before the fight?”

  He turned around to look at the other men. One of them nodded and the beefy-handed guy turned back to Reid. “Restaurant a block down on the corner. No one will bother you.”

  Reid wondered if they had some kind of signal to assure him that, but on the walk down, no one even moved as he walked by. When he caught sight of the small restaurant with the dirty sign and covered windows, he answered Dylan’s call as he walked.

  “I’m fine. Everything is under control.”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear as the string of curses shot out from the man’s mouth more vehemently than Reid had ever heard them. And he’d thought he’d heard it all.

  Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Dylan formed real words that needed a response. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

  “Headed to grab some food.”

  Dylan sighed and Reid was glad he wasn’t in spitting distance of the man. “I spoke to Keegan.”

  “You didn’t threaten him, did you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Dammit, Dylan, you’re going to burn my contacts.”

  “He’s my contact too,” Dylan pointed out drily. “So is Teddie. Practically had to waterboard her to get her to tell the truth.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “Kell’s pretty persuasive,” he said seriously. “And stop avoiding the question—what the hell are you planning?”

  He filled Dylan in, in short order, about the fighting ring and his plans for the night.

  “Your ribs—”

  “Already hurt,” Reid told him, as he entered the diner and the waitress winked and waved for him to sit anywhere. He pointed to his coffee cup and she filled it and handed him a menu.

  “You’re not even listening to me.”

  “I am, D. But I have to do this.”

  “You can’t do it alone. We need time.”

  “There is none. They’re fighting her tonight—in about two hours. I’m in. I’ll call you as soon as I get her out.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I’m going to need a safe place to hide for a while. With room service.”

  Chapter Four

  “Benji, come on in,” Mark told him. “How’s our fighter?”

  “Which one?” Benji asked, knowing that question could be enough to get him slammed—again.

  Mark’s fist tightened on the
desk in front of him but all he did was smile. “You knew this was the only way. Think of this as a side project. We kill two birds with one stone and you and I get to split the million riding on your fight.”

  Benji was planning on keeping his mouth shut, but Mark needed him, so he went for it. “We promised we weren’t going to do that again. It was too much trouble the last time. I didn’t sign on to this job to force people to fight—there are more than enough willing to do so.”

  Mark eyed him and then pulled out his gun, made a show of taking the safety off. “You’re questioning me now? After you fucked up and let them get to you?”

  “Ah, come on, that wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know there was an undercover cop in the crowd that night?”

  “It’s all arranged for the marshal to take the fall. She’s going to look like she was in on it. Marco and Sal already disappeared. After the fight, they won’t find you. We’re all set to go about our business as usual.”

  “I still don’t think we should have her fight.”

  “I don’t pay you to think.”

  *

  The SWAT team descended minutes after Reid left, broke down Jack’s door while he sat calmly at the table, facing them. His hands were in full view and he blinked at them for a second before they all started screaming that he needed to surrender.

  Apparently to them, that meant belly down on the floor. He did so and they yanked his arms behind his back, cuffed his wrists so tightly together his fingers went numb. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in this position, but he’d always thought that after the last time, it wouldn’t happen again. He was on the right side of the law now.

  Apparently, no one here believed that. “What are the charges?” he asked casually, his cheek against the hardwood floor. He really needed to dust under the stove more often.

  “Shut up” was the answer he was given. Not a very satisfying one either. He was just thankful he’d gotten Reid out of here in time before everything hit the fan.

  “Where’s the guy who was here with you?” one of the officers demanded of Jack as he heard the rest of the team tearing through his apartment.

  “I’ve been alone.”

  “Bullshit. We had heat sensors trained on the building. We watched you two through the walls.”

  “Maybe you saw my shadow?”

  That earned him a slam across his cheek. “You’re already fucked, Jack. Might as well come clean.”

  But Jack wasn’t saying a word. Would call for a lawyer as soon as he thought someone would listen. And finally, after wrecking every square inch of his place, they dragged him up roughly and shoved him into the back of the truck.

  At least they’d covered his head with one of their jackets so the press couldn’t get his picture. They kept it on him for the ride and he just kept telling himself that he’d been through worse.

  Because he had. Would the people who had access to that information, to that part of his life, be doing the investigation?

  He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

  *

  Two hours later, after eating some of the best homemade Tex-Mex he’d ever had, Reid headed back to the abandoned building. It looked like a different street now, with cars lining it—nice cars too—and a line of people, not all of whom looked like fighters.

  Big bouncer types strolled along the line, pulling out people who had cards. Reid was taken to the front, where Benny took his card, hole-punched it twice and handed it back to him. Pointed at a red door and turned back to the other people beginning to shuffle in.

  Once Reid was inside the red door, the card was collected and he was led to a locker that contained what he’d need for the fight, including an A-shirt and shorts that bore the name of the league.

  According to the schedule taped on the locker door, he fought at three, right after Grier. She wasn’t listed under her real name but he’d find out if Keegan’s intel was right soon enough. The first fight was scheduled to start in ten minutes, according to the announcement.

  He looked around as he changed, trying to get his bearings. He wanted to search around, but once inside the locker room, which appeared to be equipped with a one-way entrance that locked behind him, he could only go to the training room, the showers or the main room that held a couple of old couches and a closed-circuit TV. He could see the ring, the crowds. Most importantly, the exits.

  After he’d scoped those out quickly, he turned his focus back on the locker room, which now contained two other men. Saw the giant fucking Marine named Hal he’d be be fighting. Hal had a giant Marine Corps tattoo on his biceps and actually looked at him with something akin to glee in his eyes when he pointed to Reid and mouthed, “You Reid?”

  Reid nodded and Hal snorted. “We’re gonna have us some fun tonight, ain’t we, boy?”

  “Did you star in Deliverance or is that shit part of your act?” Reid asked.

  “You want to get punched before we start?”

  Reid didn’t answer, because he saw Benji enter the locker room. He was headlining tonight and he seemed tense. Reid wanted to go to him, ask about Grier, but that would get them both killed.

  Instead, Reid decided to make friends with the giant instead. “How young do they fight ’em here?”

  Hal shrugged. “I’ve seen some kids who are definitely underage. Women are always legal, though.”

  Yeah, because that made all the difference in the world.

  “They’re not sold into slavery—they sign up,” Hal told him, as if sensing the disapproval, and Reid guessed they kept the sold-into-slavery part a pretty big secret. “Money’s damned fine. Better than the shit the government sends me. What branch were you?”

  “Army.”

  “Army’s a bunch of pussies.”

  “We learned everything we know from the Marines.” Reid smiled. “Why’d you get out?”

  “Failed a psych exam one time too many.”

  Reid’s ribs ached at the man’s words. “Awesome.”

  “What about you?”

  “Same.”

  Hal swung an arm around him. “Yeah? Then the crowd’s gonna love us, Army.”

  Chapter Five

  Grier hadn’t been sure she’d be able to keep the power bar down, but she needed the energy. She chewed and swallowed small piece after small piece, then sipped a little water to force it all down. The entire building seemed to be shaking with the force of the crowd converging. At first, she thought it was her trembling—which she was—but she quickly realized there was a packed house and they were hungry for fighting.

  She couldn’t tell if there was anyone else housed down here. The hallway was dark and she could only see her own reflection in the glass. She assumed that the man with the rings didn’t do this kind of kidnapping much, figured she was a very special case, meant as a message to any other witnesses thinking of coming forward.

  Even Benji couldn’t help her now. These underground fights moved locations constantly—it was hard enough for the fans to find them, let alone the police. All the operations were kept separate.

  “We’re ready for you.” She looked up at the craggy face and then down again at the hand with the heavy rings. He watched her do it and laughed a little. “Come on, honey—let’s see what you’ve got.”

  It would do her no good to struggle with him. There was no escape down here. No, she’d have to fight in the ring and then get the hell out. Flag someone in the audience. Hope that Benji’s conscience got the best of him, although she knew that last option would never happen. Tonight, he was fighting for his life, just like she was.

  “What are the rules?” she asked the man as he gripped her elbow in his hand. They walked up stairs and along a wide, well-lit corridor. She glanced into the rooms along the way, saw other fighters, obviously there of their own free will, warming up, taping their hands.

  He laughed, but he didn’t answer as he shoved her through a door. She caught her balance as she heard, first, silence, and then yells from wha
t appeared to be a large crowd.

  She was in the main fighting ring and the lights blinded her to the audience, to everything but the ring in front of her. A man she guessed was supposed to act as her trainer helped her in but said nothing. She squinted and saw the other woman haul herself up over the ropes as the crowd went wild.

  Her stomach churned. The woman was obviously in good shape. Bigger than Grier. But she’d never backed down from a fight yet and wasn’t about to start now.

  She walked across the ring into the middle, getting her footing on the soft mat. It wouldn’t protect much if she was thrown down. And getting slammed against the ring itself would hurt too—enough to break a rib. She’d taped her knuckles and that was all she could do. The only other protection was her fists.

  The ref called their names over the mike—Grier was introduced as a rookie named Tara Lynn from Kentucky. She got a smattering of applause and a wolf whistle, which slid up her spine like a poisonous snake looking to bite.

  The other fighter was introduced as Sonia and that got the crowd yelling and stomping their feet. Sonia was, according to the ref, next in line to fight the current champ if she won tonight’s fight. And she cheated, according to Benji, which was pretty impressive, considering how hard it was to cheat in a game that had no rules.

  The ref motioned for them to come together in the middle of the ring. They shook hands. Sonia glared at her and Grier pulled her hand back. The ref held on to each of their shoulders and then blew the whistle and backed away.

  She circled Sonia, who jabbed at her. Remained calm. Most of the drugs were sufficiently out of her system now, and she felt clearheaded for the first time in days. Angry too, but not enough to cloud her vision.

  Sonia aimed a left hook. Grier ducked and open palmed her nose, pushing upward, although not as hard as she could’ve. A dirty move. A kill move, if done with enough force. As it was, Sonia doubled over in a howl of pain. Grier used that to elbow her in the kidneys twice and then kicked her legs out from under her.

  Once she had Sonia pinned, the crowd’s roar in her ears, Grier understood how this could be addictive for some. The yelling could actually spur you on. Knowing that people took bets on you, that your money could double or triple because of a night like tonight …