The seating was stadium-style, with each chair upholstered with lush red velvet. The fight floor was surrounded by a tall cement wall that was splattered with blood and various other… fluids.
Harper tried not to dwell on those walls as she and Romeo found their way to their seats in owners’ row, right up front.
She glanced across the pit and caught Archer’s eye. He gave her a mock salute and raised a cup of blood to her. She gave him a curt nod and purposefully turned her gaze into the crowd.
“Why is Archer’s body guard giving you the stink eye?” Romeo asked.
She glanced back over toward Archer and saw that indeed, Sparky the vampire was glaring rather sternly in her direction. She shrugged. “He’s just pissed because I stole his sword.”
“Okay, Riddick told me you’d disarmed the guy, but why the hell would you steal his sword?”
“I like it. I’ve named it Katy Perry.”
Romeo blinked. “Dare I ask why?”
“Because it’s very pretty, yet deadly.”
“Katy Perry is deadly?”
Harper nodded. “Her music makes me want to kill myself.” At his blank stare, she asked, “What? That’s just me?”
He shook his head and patted her knee fondly. “Yep, darlin’. That’s definitely just you.”
Harper shifted her attention to the crowd. The fight fans were a surprisingly diverse group of humans, vampires, and shifters. Every color of the ethnic rainbow was represented.
“It’s like a freakin’ Benetton ad in here,” she grumbled.
“Fighting is the universal language,” Romeo responded with a grim smile.
She’d always heard that love was the universal language, but judging by the crowds packing the stands, Romeo could be right.
There was one thing the UN ad of a crowd had in common, Harper noticed.
Money.
The whole place was full of Rolex-wearing, Republican-looking, luxury-car-driving, trophy-wife-having, Lifestyles-of- the-Rich-and-Famous types. She’d be willing to bet this particular audience could probably cover the national debt with pocket change they found in their collective couch cushions.
Most of them were sitting in their seats with little opera glasses, wearing their finest attire, looking like they were at Madame Butterfly, or some shit. All giddy at the thought of witnessing bloodshed and (fingers crossed) death.
Harper hated every last one of them.
Romeo nudged her with his elbow. “There’s our boy.”
Harper sucked in a sharp breath as the gate at the opposite end of the Arena was lifted and Riddick stepped out.
Her stomach flip-flopped as he moved to the center of the fighting pit with his usual predatory grace, eyes shifting over the crowd restlessly.
But then he saw her and their gazes locked. She leaned forward, hands clenched together so tight that her knuckles ached. Was he having second thoughts about this? Maybe Hunter’s meditation techniques, which she’d taught him earlier that day, weren’t working and he was afraid he’d lose control during the fight. Should they just try to make a run for it? Shit, what if-
Then, he somehow managed to smile up at her with his eyes, even though he didn’t move a single muscle in his face.
She released her breath. He was fine. His blood pressure probably hadn’t even gone up. Unlike hers, which seemed to be jamming to a punk rock concert only it could hear.
Suddenly, from the other end of the Arena, a gate opened and a burst of smoke machine fog puffed out, preceding the most flamboyant fighter Harper had seen since Apollo Creed strutted out to fight the huge Russian in Rocky IV.
He looked to be about Riddick’s height and weight, but was Riddick’s polar opposite in every other way. He had carrot-orange hair and milk-white skin dotted with so many freckles he looked like he’d been splattered with beige paint.
And while Riddick wore a beat-up gray t-shirt, faded, broken-down jeans, and his black shit-kicking boots, this joker wore what appeared to be Daniel-san’s fighting outfit from one of the Karate Kid movies. He even had the weird little headband on, for Christ’s sake.
The fighter moved toward Riddick, punching and kicking the air as if he heard Eye of the Tiger in his head. Every now and then, he’d pause and mean-mug Riddick, who stood stock-still, brow raised, one corner of his lip curled up in a smirk.
Even though the guy looked completely ridiculous to Harper, the crowd certainly seemed to appreciate the show. They were on their feet cheering as if he actually was Apollo Creed.
To each his own, Harper supposed. But this certainly didn’t elevate her already dangerously low opinion of the crowd.
When the two fighters were face to face, one of the most beautiful women Harper had ever seen strolled into the Arena from the same door Carrot Top had entered through. She was about six feet tall, with most of that height being in her legs, with white-blond curls that fell to her firm, rounded tush.
And Harper knew the woman had a firm, rounded tush because she was buck-ass naked.
Again, the crowd went wild.
“That’s Christy,” Romeo whispered in her ear. “The Arena’s equivalent of a ring girl. She’s neutral in all this. Her salary comes from both the Vrykolakas and Lykoi equally. She’ll bang the gong over there to start the fight.”
Harper had a few questions about why an underground fight club would need a ring girl, especially a naked ring girl, but she didn’t get a chance to ask. As she watched, Christy fell to her knees, bones sliding around and popping under her perfect, smooth skin, not stopping until the shift was complete.
Harper blinked. “She’s a tiger shifter?”
“Yep.”
Shit. Harper hadn’t even known there were tiger shifters. Bears, rats, wolves, coyotes…sure. But tigers? That was a new one.
And Christy was as beautiful in tiger form as she was in her human shape. She had snow white fur and big blue eyes that scanned the crowd as she ran a quick lap around the Arena.
She paused as her big blue eyes latched onto Romeo.
She hissed, then tossed her head and finished her lap.
Harper glanced over at Romeo, who had the grace to look a little embarrassed.
“Did I mention it was Christy who got me invited to Archer’s table in the first place?” he asked.
Harper pursed her lips, not bothering to respond. Given the tiger’s reaction, she imagined it hadn’t been a friendly breakup. Shocking.
Christy shifted back into her beautiful, long-legged self by the large, ancient Chinese gong and hip-bumped it to signal the start of the fight.
Riddick fell into his usual easy, loose-limbed fighting stance. Daniel-San, on the other hand, unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches and mid-air acrobatics, all while making weird Bruce Lee noises.
Romeo snorted. “Talk about Enter the Dumbass.”
He wasn’t lying, Harper thought. Sentry had taught their slayers early on that fancy tricks and aerial maneuvers were fine for the movies, but utterly useless in a street fight.
She glanced back at Riddick, who didn’t even bother to move away from the flailing fighter. His eyes just tracked his every exaggerated movement until finally, he was within arms’ reach.
When Daniel-San stopped moving for a split second, Riddick hit him with a right hook to the jaw that sent him sailing comically through the air, back at least six feet. He landed on his back, releasing a huge, wheezing puff of air as he hit the ground.
And he didn’t get up.
One, two, three, four, five…yep, it was over.
The crowd went so silent, Harper could hear the steady, low hum of the fluorescent lighting in the Arena.
Riddick glanced down at the fallen fighter, then up at her. He shrugged.
And with that, the crowd found their voices and went absolutely wild, cheering and screaming and waving their arms.
“Sev-en, Sev-en, Sev-en,” they chanted.
Riddick shook his head in disgust and turned his back on the crowd, wa
lking back to the locker room.
His obvious disdain for some reason excited the crowd even more, and Harper had to cover her ears to block out the dull roar of the bloodthirsty fight fans all around her.
“Will all the fights up to his last one be this easy?” she yelled in Romeo’s ear.
His answering smile bordered on pity. “No. The real fights start tomorrow.”
Well, shit.
Romeo could be a despicable bastard, and he’d lied to her a million times. And now was when he started telling the truth?
Chapter Nineteen
Mischa stepped into the elevator at Dresden Labs and lifted her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.
Damn, but being nice to Leon had zapped her energy.
Hunter stepped in beside her—way too close, in her opinion. She subtly inched away.
“Why the hell are you cowering away from me?”
Shit. Apparently she hadn’t been subtle enough. “I-I’m not. I was just—”
“You’re just cowering, as if I’m going to throw you against the wall and drain you dry.”
If you ever throw me against a wall, dry won’t be a problem.
She blinked. Shit, where had that thought come from? Even Harper would’ve found that thought completely classless.
When she didn’t reply, he grabbed her upper arms and hauled her up against him, close enough that she could see a tangled mess of anger and hurt and frustration in his eyes. “I’d never hurt you, for Christ’s sake. If I wanted to, I could have done it twenty years ago. When are you going to realize that I’m not a complete bastard who doesn’t deserve you?”
Oh, boy. How to explain that she already knew he’d never hurt her, and that she was the complete bastard in this scenario?
But then again, he’d just argue with her. Maybe it was better to leave him with his delusions.
She sucked in a deep breath, purposefully not looking into his beautiful eyes, and said quietly, “Never. I’m never going to realize that. There’s no way I could ever be with you.”
The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. Mischa could hear the rush of her blood, could feel the lie burning on her tongue. After a thousand years or so, he let her go. Then he calmly turned away from her and…punched a hole through the elevator wall.
The second his fist pierced that wall, the elevator ground to a halt and was tossed into pitch darkness. Mischa stumbled forward and had to brace herself against the door to remain upright.
“You broke the elevator,” she accused, shocked.
She couldn’t see him, but she could feel that he’d moved to the opposite corner of the elevator. “I broke more than that, I’d say.”
“What do you mean?”
“Call someone. I’m betting the entire power grid for the city shut down.”
She frowned. “That’s not possible. You probably just hit a wire or something.”
But just in case, she pulled out her phone and dialed her neighbor, Mrs. Bianchi. It was seven o’clock, so Mrs. Bianchi would probably cuss her out for interrupting Jeopardy. The crazy old bat thought Alex Trebek was hot.
“What?” Mrs. Bianchi snarled into the phone.
Mischa smiled. “Hello to you, too, Mrs. B. Is everything OK?”
“No, the power went out right before the Daily Double.”
Mischa was nonplussed for a moment, but eventually managed to make minor chitchat with Mrs. B for a moment or two before disconnecting the call.
And still, Hunter remained silent.
She pulled up the flashlight app on her phone and aimed it in the corner. He was standing with one elbow braced against the wall and his forehead in his hand.
“Um…did you really…?”
He lifted his head and glanced back at her, one brow raised. “Did I shut down the power for the entire city? Maybe even half the state?”
He’d said it so calmly, using the same tone someone would use when asking, “Would you like fries with that?”
But the question was soooo much more complicated than that.
“Did you?” she asked, doing her best to mimic his calm tone. And probably failing miserably, if the weird crackle in her voice was any indication.
He sighed. “Yes. Happens when I lose control of my emotions. Fortunately, that hardly ever happens.”
Jesus, if the city’s access to electricity depended on her keeping her emotions in check, everyone in town would have to adopt an Amish lifestyle. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep that much power contained. “This has happened before?”
He looked reluctant to answer, but eventually said, “A few times. Once last year.”
After she ran away from him, she instantly realized. The power had flickered out the second she hit the lobby of her building, leaving him alone in her bed. It hadn’t been restored for hours.
The fact that someone like her could make a man like him lose control…it was almost more than her brain—and heart—could handle. It was completely illogical.
You don’t have time for this, her brain reminded her. You have to help Harper.
Her heart spoke right up with, Leon will be working on the antidote as soon as the power’s back on. There’s nothing else you can do right now. Might as well bask a little in the glow of knowing he feels something for you.
Never one to be outdone, her body mentioned sagely, There’s always time for a quickie.
Way to keep it classy, body. Way to keep it classy.
At least her heart and brain were in agreement on that one.
Mischa eventually decided that she’d always listened to her brain before. Why stop now?
“We can’t stay in here all night. Can you turn the power back on?” she asked.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. When I’m in control, I can’t turn the power on or off. When I’m out of control, it’s more like an energy surge that overrides anything in its path.”
Now she understood why he was enough of an expert on relaxation and meditation techniques to help Harper control her psychic ability. So, on top of being ungodly hot, he was also a good friend and, apparently, some kind of Zen master.
There was really no getting around the fact that she’d been a shit judge of character all these years, believing every piece of crap lie Sentry ever told her, especially about Hunter.
“The power will come back on when I’m completely under control again.”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He tunneled his hands through his hair. “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me why you won’t give me a chance. I know there’s…chemistry between us.”
Mischa snorted inwardly. Understatement of the year.
“Give me one good reason why you can’t be with me,” he challenged.
She did snort out loud this time. “I bet I can give you twenty.”
He straightened and moved toward her, extending a hand. “I’ll take that bet.”
She narrowed her eyes. This felt like a trap. “You want to bet that I can’t come up with twenty reasons why we shouldn’t be together?”
“Yep,” he said, hand still extended. “If you can’t come up with twenty irrefutable reasons, you go out with me. A real date. Dinner, dancing, movie…whatever you want.”
Shit, she hadn’t been on a date in so long she wasn’t sure what she liked to do anymore. Did she still even enjoy dancing? She used to. But she couldn’t really remember a Friday night in recent years that didn’t involve a good book and a hot bath.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
“And what do I get if you lose?”
“I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”
The words hit her like a baseball bat to the chest. The thought of him just being gone from her life was…well, it was almost unfathomable.
But that’s what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
She swallowed hard, then took his hand. “Deal.”
His answering smile was way more wolfish than she would�
��ve liked.
Chapter Twenty
Riddick quickly became the crowd favorite in the Arena. The cheering hit deafening levels when he entered. People chanted his number, and a few women tried propositioning him. The most brazen one wrote her phone number on her breasts, which she flashed at him when he entered the Arena for his second fight.
She skulked away quietly when he pretended he didn’t notice. Or, maybe it was after Harper threatened to rip out the skank’s fake-ass hair extensions and strangle her with them.
But anyhoo, as Romeo had promised, the next two fights had been much more eventful than the first.
The second fighter, a human with some serious ninja-like martial arts moves, managed to stay conscious for a full five minutes before Riddick caught his leg mid-kick and twisted, dislocating the knee.
The third fighter was a wolf shifter. He lasted eight minutes. Riddick eventually got a hold of him and choked him out MMA-style, but not before the guy partially shifted and raked his claws across Riddick’s chest.
“Do it,” Riddick growled, taking a deep swallow from the bottle of whiskey Harper had picked up after the fight.
Harper had to look away as Romeo poked the needle through Riddick’s skin and started stitching him up. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” she asked, feeling more than a little queasy.
“Naw. Leave it to Dr. Romeo, Harpy. I got your boy toy covered.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dr. Romeo sounds like a bad porno title, you jackass.”
“Is there any such thing as a bad porno?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Harper ignored him. “Riddick, are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” he said, voice tight with pain.
Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. God, she hated this. Absolutely hated it. He was hurt because of her. Because of her stupid ex-partner and the stupid poison he’d pumped into her bloodstream. What if the next fighter managed to seriously hurt him?
“I don’t want you to do this anymore,” she blurted out, turning to face him. “I think we should run. Mischa has a good lead on an antidote, and I say we take our chances with that.”
Harper Hall Investigations Complete Series Page 33