Frustrated, Diego grabbed his duffel bag and strode into the warehouse.
Most of the chairs around the cage had already been filled. He hovered at the back of the crowd, taking in the lay of the land. All looked normal. But there was something in the atmosphere, a sharp anticipation that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
His gaze found McCready in his usual spot behind the crowd, on the other side of the warehouse. Their eyes met, and even from where he stood Diego could see the banked fire of rage in the man’s eyes. Rage directed at him.
Diego swallowed. Was this about last week’s fight with Weston? Or something else? Diego was sure McCready’s annoyance over the fight last week would’ve dissipated by now.
He straightened his shoulders and headed in McCready’s direction. Before he made it two steps, Spider slid into view, blocking his path.
“You’ll be fighting me tonight, DJ,” he informed Diego with a predatory grin. The bottom dropped out of Diego’s stomach. Between McCready’s rage and Spider’s obvious anticipation for the fight, the knowledge that he was meant to die tonight hit him like a punch to the face.
His lungs tightened in panic, but he managed a tight smile as if he didn’t care at all that he’d be in the cage with Spider. As if it made no difference.
“I assume you’ve prepared yourself to lose again, then?” he sneered.
Spider’s jaw tightened in anger. “We’ll see about that,” he growled.
Diego held his stare for a long moment. Spider was the first to break, stepping back with a roll of his eyes.
“See you out there, DJ.” He patted Diego on the ribs with way more force than necessary. Diego locked himself in place so he wouldn’t flinch at the contact on his damaged ribs.
“Oh, and don’t think you can leave before they fight,” Spider added over his shoulder. “If you don’t fight tonight, we’ll do it later, in private.” He leaned in close to Diego’s ear. “And we’ll make that girlfriend of yours watch.”
With that, Spider strode away with a chuckle. As soon as he was out of sight, Diego beelined straight for Doc’s office.
“I need something for the pain,” he told Doc. “For my ribs.”
Doc looked up from his bag to study Diego’s face, then glanced down at his ribs. “You shouldn’t be fighting.”
Diego raised an eyebrow. “You’re handing out judgement now?”
“I don’t know what happened, but I know McCready is angry. You’re too injured to fight your best. And you might damage yourself permanently.”
Diego snorted. “Pretty sure they’re intending me to die out there tonight. A few broken ribs won’t make much difference then, will it?”
Doc swallowed. “What did you do?”
Diego shrugged. “I wish I knew. But I need that last pay check. I can’t leave until I’ve got it.”
“Are you mad? You can’t get in that ring.”
“I have to.” Diego stayed implacable. Spider had meant what he said. If Diego didn’t fight him in the cage, he and McCready would find him later and kill him in front of Rosalyn. Maybe even her, too. He couldn’t allow that. If he kept the fight here, he kept it away from Rosalyn.
Doc stared at him in horror for a long moment, then exhaled. “If you insist. I can numb the area around your ribs, but it’ll make things worse in the long run. You won’t feel if the ribs get dislodged, or if you pierce a lung. I really don’t recommend—”
“Give it to me.”
Doc hesitated, then sighed. He pulled out a needle and small vial from his case. Right before he injected the stuff into Diego’s ribs, he paused. “I don’t want to jinx you, kid. But I like you. So if you don’t make it out…it was nice knowing you.”
Diego nodded, oddly touched. “Likewise, Doc.”
A whistle sounded in the warehouse, signalling the start of a fight. Diego had no doubt his fight would be the last for the evening. McCready and Spider intended to make a big show of his downfall.
He stepped outside the office and hovered at the back of the crowd, watching the fight. A new guy was in the ring, fighting against Chen. He was pretty decent, and clearly had some martial arts training, as Chen did. The two were pretty evenly matched.
Alexei watched the fight from the shadows a few feet away. Diego hesitated a moment, then went to join him. Alexei spared him a glance, then looked straight back to the fight.
“Something will happen tonight,” the big Russian said.
“I know,” Diego told him. “But it’s me they want, so don’t worry.”
Alexei glanced at him again, then nodded. “Don’t let them win.”
Diego sighed. “I’ll do my best. But in case this is the last you see of me…” He hesitated. “Can you let my girl know what happened? Don’t let her think I ran out on her.”
Alexei smirked. “Good. You fixed it.”
“Yeah. So will you? I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”
Alexei slanted him a look, then gave a short nod before looking back to the fight. Diego sighed in relief.
“Who’s the new guy?” he asked, mostly to distract himself from what was coming. It was an added cruelty that Spider had warned him they’d fight and then delayed it to the last possible moment. It gave Diego time to worry, to lose what little focus he had.
“Wyatt.”
“Any good?”
Alexei shrugged. “I could beat him.”
Diego didn’t say anything to that. It was probably true. The guy was tenacious, though, particularly for his first fight. He’d already been knocked down twice while Diego watched, but kept getting back up.
And each time he did, he shot a glance to McCready. It was odd, almost like he was reminding himself of something that kept him fighting.
Diego shook his head. He didn’t have time to speculate on other people’s fights. He had to focus on his own.
He went to a back room and stretched. But his mind wouldn’t empty. Instead, it was filled with Rosalyn, and all the regrets he’d have if he died tonight in the cage. His heart ached at the thought of never seeing her again.
He loved her.
Diego blinked at the realisation. It shouldn’t be possible after so short a time, but he did. He loved that she both challenged him and comforted him. She was both soft and sweet, but feisty and tough all rolled into one.
And he might never see her again.
He couldn’t do that. He had to at least tell her how he felt, in case he didn’t get another chance.
Diego tore open his duffel and found his phone. He dialled her number and paced the room impatiently as it rang.
“Diego?” she answered the phone. “Where are you?”
He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of her voice, clinging to that instead of his reality—in a cold, dark room waiting for his death. “Rosalyn, I love you. I need you to know that.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “What? Diego, what’s happening? Where are you?”
“I can’t say. I just needed you to hear it. I love you, okay?”
“Diego—”
He hung up, unable to listen to whatever it was she might say. She might convince him to leave the fight, and he already knew he could deny her nothing. But he had to stay and fight—for her.
She called back, his phone vibrating in his hand, but he switched the phone off and dumped it in his duffel.
Weston’s looming form appeared in the doorway. Diego met the man’s gaze and didn’t react to his shit-eating grin.
“Time’s up, lover boy.”
Diego gave a sharp nod and strode out the door.
The anticipation in the crowd had ratcheted up a few notches since he’d left. They watched, breathless, as he made his way to the cage. Where was their boredom? Their objectivity? Had they been told that he was intended to die in the ring tonight?
Given by the bright interest in their eyes, maybe. Surely that would skew the betting? He narrowed his eyes. Whatever. Not his problem.
Spider
was his problem. And Spider wasn’t yet in the ring.
Diego strode to the opposite side of the cage to the door, and turned to wait. He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, not looking at the crowd or McCready. He couldn’t afford distractions. Given Spider and Weston’s trick with the brass knuckle in his last fight, he had to assume they’d do something similar this time around.
Spider finally appeared, strolling towards the cage as if he had all the time in the world. They were really milking this fight, trying to draw out the anticipation. Or maybe just draw out his nerves. Either way, it was working. The crowd was rapt with interest in both Diego and Spider.
Diego bounced on his feet as Spider reached the door of the cage. Spider paused and bared what remained of his teeth to Diego in a grin. Then, he tore open the door and charged directly at Diego.
A belated whistle blew in the background as Diego leaped out of the way. He aimed a punch at Spider’s kidney, but he must have expected it. Spider stepped out of the way and slammed his fist into Diego’s cracked ribs.
Pain shot through him, blinding him for a moment. He fell to his knees with a thud. A chaser followed when Spider’s fist plowed into his face and Diego collapsed backwards.
Every breath sent dizzying pain through him, but Diego focused on one thought bounce through his mind: move.
He rolled out of the way just as Spider’s foot came down where his face had been, tasting dust. He kicked, catching Spider’s knee. Spider grunted as his knee twisted, then turned eyes of blazing fury in Diego’s direction.
Diego scrambled to his feet as Spider advanced, trying to get his hands up in time to block any punch that might come his way. Instead, Spider charged him, catching him around the middle and slamming him back into the wall of the cage. The structure wobbled precariously, as usual not bolted down.
Spider punched him on either side of his torso, and Diego didn’t get his hands up in time to block. The pain was slowing him down, making his head spin. Spider grinned confidently, already starting to think he’d won.
But Diego couldn’t let that happen. He had a woman to go home to.
He inhaled sharply and gripped Spider behind the head, bringing his knee up at the same time to strike at his kidney. Then, for good measure, he head-butted the guy in the nose. Blood dripped from Spider’s nose as he stumbled back.
Diego advanced on Spider as the guy scurried back. Diego had a second to wonder why the guy was retreating, until Spider’s back hit the cage. Weston stood behind him, grinning.
Diego froze. What the fuck were they going to do?
Weston held up a baseball bat so Diego could see it. Then, he winked and threw the bat over the wall of the cage.
Spider snatched it out of the air and spun it menacingly. Diego’s chest squeezed.
The crowd watched in tense silence as Diego and Spider bounced on their feet, each waiting for an opening. Diego had to get in close so the bat would lose its main advantage—range—and then disarm Spider as soon as possible.
Weston still hovered in the distance, which told Diego he might have more tricks up his sleeve. It would be better if he could take both of them out at once.
He eyed the cage, considered how it had wobbled earlier.
Maybe.
Spider swung, and Diego leaped out of the way. Or tried to. The bat caught him on the shoulder with a dull thud, then slipped up and struck him in the jaw. Diego’s neck whipped around from the force. His neck and jaw ached, and a ringing sounded in his ears.
Spider swung again, backhand this time, aiming right for Diego’s head. Diego ducked, then charged straight into Spider, getting as close as he could. He let out a flurry of punches into the guy’s torso. Then, while Spider was distracted, Diego turned and ripped the bat out of Spider’s grip.
He kicked Spider square in the solar plexus, sending him back into the cage. It tilted precariously, but didn’t fall. So, Diego raised the bat, and rammed in deep into Spider’s stomach.
The cage tipped, and Spider’s eyes widened in surprise as he began his inevitable descent backwards. Weston scrambled back out of the way, and fell into the crowd. Irate rich people stood and tripped over themselves and each other, trying to get out of the way before the cage fell on them.
The cage finally landed with a deafening crash. The skyward side hovered in the air for a moment before the whole thing collapsed in on itself, falling on top of Spider.
Diego winced, panting. But he’d done it. He’d won.
He glanced around at the shocked faces of the crowd, frozen now that there was no barrier between him and them. He bared his teeth at them, satisfaction welling in him as some flinched back in fear.
He must look savage to them, bloodied and bruised. He was on the verge of collapse, but he held himself upright, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing him fall.
A hand clapped on his shoulder. Diego spun around only to come face-to-face with McCready. The blood drained out of his face as he caught sight of the man’s expression.
And he knew that the nightmare of this evening had just begun.
Chapter 15
Rosalyn arrived at the warehouse and almost fell out of the cab in her haste. Diego had to be here. After that phone call, she’d known immediately.
She had to find him.
He’d sounded so odd on the phone. Had he found out about the article? But if he had, why would he say he loved her? It didn’t make any sense. Something was going on, and Rosalyn had to figure out what it was.
She burst through the door, bracing herself for what she might find. But there was only an empty space where the cage and spectators should be and the scent of stale excitement. Something had happened here.
Rosalyn strode over to where she estimated the cage was usually set up and glanced down at the floor. Drying blood splattered across the concrete, and Rosalyn squeezed her eyes shut. In her week with Diego, she’d almost forgotten how brutal this place was. And Diego’s stories of men who’d died in the ring had never felt so real.
She swallowed. Is that what happened to Diego? Had one of the other fighters—Spider maybe?—killed him in the ring? The fight had obviously finished long ago, since no one remained in the warehouse. So why hadn’t Diego come home? Or called her? Let her know he was okay?
Fear clutched at her chest. He had to still be alive. He had to. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him on the phone, but she loved him, too. It was too soon, and too much, but the truth was there like an accusing weight in her chest. She’d fallen for him, as impulsively as she did everything.
But that same impulsiveness might have gotten him hurt or killed before she had a chance to tell him. Hopefully no one associated with these fights read the Journal but these days who knew? The article had been a hit online. Anthony was thrilled, though Rosalyn was still mortified he’d run the wrong article. The one that was more a personal piece on Diego than a look at underserved communities.
Anthony was already making noise about giving her other assignments, but Rosalyn was resisting. Why, she couldn’t say for sure. This was her dream, everything she’d worked for all these years. But the insidious feeling of guilt had poisoned her moment of triumph. And Anthony’s betrayal was the nail in the coffin. She didn’t want her dream if it meant selling her soul.
Rosalyn glanced around, searching for a clue. The place had an empty feel, but maybe Doc or another fighter was still around.
She strode over to Doc’s office with a powerful sense of urgency dogging at her heels. She was somehow sure Diego was in a lot of trouble—that he needed her—and she had to find him.
Doc’s office was empty, but there was another one farther down she hadn’t noticed before. She crept towards it, dread pooling in her stomach. What would she do if she did find Diego and he was in trouble? She couldn’t exactly help him fight his way out. Or if he’d found out about the article and didn’t want to see her again?
She swallowed at the thought.
She should hav
e told him. Well, she shouldn’t have written the damn article in the first place, but once that mistake was made, it was made worse by the fact that she’d lied to him. She should’ve come clean. Now, the lie was far worse because it had festered for days.
She’d been so distracted with it hanging over her head, she hadn’t truly enjoyed her time with Diego. And he’d probably noticed, too. She’d created such a mess. Unintentionally, but it was still her mess. And she had to step up and fix it.
First by finding Diego.
She squared her shoulders and crept toward the beckoning office door. Light crept out from under the door and into the hallway. As she got closer, the faint sound of muffled voices reached her ear. She almost sighed in relief, sure one of those voices was Diego. But it was still possible he was in trouble.
She hesitated outside the door, pressing her ear against it. She shut her eyes to focus, straining to hear. But the muffled sounds didn’t distinguish themselves.
She reached toward the doorknob, then stopped herself. Not wise. Better to wait until they came out. She stepped back and away from the door, her heart thundering at being so close to potential danger.
And she stepped right into the muscled body of the last person she wanted to see—Weston.
Diego tapped his fingers against the arms of the cheap plastic chair he sat in. McCready sat across the matching table in his own disposable chair. His unimpressed gaze travelled from Diego’s fingers to his face, never once changing expression. But when their eyes met, a spark of challenge entered McCready’s gaze when Diego didn’t immediately back down. An answering call—the urge to fight—leapt within Diego, but he ruthlessly repressed it.
Something was happening here. Now wasn’t the time to piss off the guy who held Diego’s life in his hands.
McCready hadn’t talked to Diego immediately after the fight. He’d made Weston drag him into this office and stand guard while McCready went off to play host to the rich bastards that had watched Diego nearly get killed and had gotten more excited than he’d ever seen them at the prospect.
It was fucking ironic. Diego was the one in the cage, but they were the animals.
Caged Warrior: Underground Fighters #1 Page 11