Road Warriors (Motorcycle Club Romance Collection) (Bad Boy Collections Book 4)

by Faye, Amy

"And you think you can talk him into all this? Like, what, some kind of long con?"

  "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. You think I'd call him out if I didn't have a real idea?"

  "Well," Caroline said, shrugging. "I mean, maybe you would. How would I know? You do a lot of stuff that seems crazy."

  "And it usually works, right?"

  "Not so far, no."

  He smiled at her for a second, and then took on a mock scowl. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

  "I'm talking about trying not to get yourself killed, here."

  "But Caroline, I love getting myself killed."

  The sound of footsteps coming down the basement stairs took them both out of their mood. Caroline tried to guess how many there were. It had to be more than one or two, unless they'd all tumbled down the stairs uncontrollably.

  The door opened and the old man stood there. His severe expression fixed on the two of them and he slipped the pistol out of his pants without any apparent effort. As if it were the most normal thing in the world, and he were perfectly satisfied to do it.

  "You wanted to talk?" Shannen nodded his head. "Fine, let's talk, then. And make it quick."

  "I want out," Shannen told him. She expected there to be some kind of follow-up, but he didn't continue.

  "I'm sure you do," Coogan answered. "But I don't think that's reasonable to expect."

  "Second, I want you to back off me and mine."

  "Are you listening, or is this all just for your benefit?"

  "That includes Caroline. Her father, too, unless he's too dumb to avoid getting in with your boys a second time."

  "That's quite a big request," Coogan told him. "I'm supposed to do all of this, and all of it because you asked me? It's not as if it's my daughter's wedding day, boy-o. I don't know what gives you the idea that you can get all this just by asking, but I suppose I have to admire your spunk."

  "Oh, I'll give you something, but first you need to know my terms. Can you agree to them, or no?"

  "Meaning, what? Am I capable? Yes, I can back off your girlfriend if I want to. You haven't exactly given me a good reason, though, I have to warn you."

  "That's what I called you down about. I figured you could have guessed what I wanted just by thinking about it for a second, but I wanted to be real clear on that before-hand. You feel me?"

  Coogan's eyes fixed on him, but he didn't change his expression. Caroline found the expression unsettling, the way that he could look at them both like they were just walking corpses, and in the end it wouldn't be the tiniest bit of trouble to dispatch them when the time came. If it unsettled Shannen, though, he made no sign of it.

  "You're right, I could have figured that all out by myself. You're wasting my time, I guess, is that it? If I let you go, you'll stop wasting my fucking time?"

  "I can make you money."

  "Oh? What kind of money?"

  "Easy money, but the numbers will depend on you."

  "Oh yeah?"

  Shannen nodded. "Yeah."

  "And how can you do that from inside this little room?"

  "I can't," Shannen admitted. "You're going to have to let me out for this to work. But I think you'll come to see things from my perspective on this, if you just listen for a minute."

  "Okay, I'm listening."

  "You're a smart guy. You can google a guy's name, so I figure you've got at least an inkling who I am. Why I'm here."

  "In town for a fight, they tell me. Big fight."

  "It would be easy for you to make some good money if you knew who was going to win the fight, wouldn't it?"

  Coogan looked at him flatly. "Yeah, that would be easy. Why? You looking to take a dive?"

  "I have it to understand that you usually would pay a fellow for that sort of thing."

  "You'd be right to think that," Coogan agreed.

  "So what if I were to do a little pro-bono work? I go down in the second, and you're home free. What about that?"

  Coogan looked at him sourly and thought about it a minute. "And what promise do I have that you won't fuck me on that plan, the way you've tried to fuck me on everything else? I put a bunch of money on you to take a dive, and you win the fight, and I'm out thousands of dollars. It doesn't pay to bet on a guy who hates your guts, does it?"

  "No, I suppose it doesn't," Shannen agreed. "Except that I know better than that. I get screwy, and it's not just me that has trouble. More than that, it's not just Caroline, either, is it? I hate to drag you into this, babe, but I think everyone here already knows you're already involved."

  Caroline stirred from the place she'd taken, her nerves well past shot from lack of sleep as much as anything else.

  "So you're putting the girl up as collateral?"

  "Not hardly. But you were going to use her as a threat, and I'm telling you that I'm wise to it. You want to do it, then do it, but don't pretend I don't know about it in advance, you feel me?"

  Coogan's cheeks puffed out and then he blew out his mouthful of air, and scratched at his head of thin gray hair. "So let's say I agreed. You've been missing the better part of a week now. Your manager going to let you fight looking like that?"

  Shannen's face split into a grin. "My manager does what I tell him to do. You hire employees very often who don't listen to you?"

  Coogan looked over at something out of view, as if he were sharing a knowing glance with someone that she couldn't identify. "No, I suppose I don't," he answered, without looking at them.

  "So you understand, then. Do we have a deal, or don't we?"

  Coogan looked at him, and Caroline suddenly realized he'd never put the pistol back into his pocket. He caught her looking at regarded the pistol, holding it up to look at the slide like he hadn't realized it was in his hand.

  "Deal?"

  "Do we have a deal," Shannen repeated. "Or don't we?"

  Coogan pocketed the pistol and held out one rough, leathery hand. "We have a deal, assuming you hold up your end of yours."

  Caroline looked over and hoped to high heaven that nothing went sideways, because she was in too deep for anything else.

  43

  In some ways, it could almost have been called a better plan. The fact that Caroline had to qualify it all, well, that went to show exactly how little the difference between a bad plan and a 'better' plan could be.

  For one thing, this one had more points of failure than the last one. There were no less than a hundred possibilities she could name in that exact instant. That was more than she was really ready to think about at all, she knew, but she wasn't about to start thinking too hard about their chances if she could avoid it.

  Still, the thoughts ran through her head regardless of whether or not she wanted to let them, and it didn't exactly help either way. She swallowed hard, and the thoughts kept going as she tried to stifle and ignore them.

  First, they were assuming that Coogan was good for his word. He'd told them he would let them go, but there really wasn't anything stopping him from reneging as soon as the money was his. That was if everything else went well. They just had to trust a criminal that he would let them go, no questions asked, and Caroline was the furthest possible thing from certain that they could do that.

  Second, they had to assume that Shannen, if he did everything right, wasn't going to get himself killed right there in the ring. His injuries had barely managed to even close up, and the internal wounds were no doubt worse than those outside. If he took a particularly bad blow to the ribs, it would just tear open that hole inside him, and then whether it tore the skin or not he'd have internal bleeding to contend with.

  Of course, then he had to try not to win the fight on some absurd lucky punch, and had to make sure that he wasn't getting himself knocked out too soon, either. It was a precise dance of things that all had to come together just right, and she didn't know how they could be sure that any of it would happen, but in particular she didn't know how they could ensure that it was all going to happen smoothly, seamlessly,
with nobody noticing that it had been a facade all along.

  That would be the hardest part, probably. Avoiding the state boxing commission noticing the fix. Of course, it was also possible that Coogan was going to pay them off, and they wouldn't have noticed if he'd taken a well and truly obvious dive. It didn't pay to take risks.

  They drove in silence for a while. With Coogan's men driving, he wasn't about to start running off at the mouth, and Caroline had long since gotten used to the silent rides to and from the house. It would have been stranger to speak than not to.

  Her heart thumped in her chest, hoping that everything was going to be fine, fearing that it wasn't. Shannen's hand on hers made Caroline jump, and then she looked at him.

  He looked like he'd been tenderized with a hammer, but he smiled at her softly, and she allowed him to try to comfort her. It wasn't his fault that it wasn't going to work, so she might as well encourage him to do his best, right?

  The car eased up to a stop, and the side door opened, and Caroline got her first good look that wasn't through a blacked-out window, providing little more than shapes along the side of the road.

  She'd expected a larger venue. It was always possible that the weigh-in took place in a completely different location, rather than taking place in the arena, but she'd just assumed. If she wasn't right, then it was fine, but if she was, then the arena wasn't very big. What sort of title fight was he in again?

  They started guiding Shannen out first. She followed along behind, as if they were all part of Shannen's entourage. As if his actual entourage wasn't waiting for them just inside the door as they walked in.

  Well, she wasn't in a position to complain, she reminded herself. Nor was it all that strange. If they managed to pull it all off, then there was no problem. This wasn't a point of failure. This was just a formality before the fight. If he came in under weight, and he would, then the fight was on. That was as far as Caroline knew, anyways. Perhaps there were hidden depths and traps here as well, things she didn't even know she was supposed to be worried about.

  Her eyes swept the hall as they walked in, looking for reporters, or cameras. They apparently didn't make it this far back. Nobody was there to take photos. They were taken forward into a dressing room to allow Shannen to get changed. Caroline thought that she probably shouldn't have been allowed in, but they did. Coogan's bruisers waited outside.

  Shannen started to undress quickly, but he gave Caroline a severe look regardless, until she realized that he was waiting for something from her. Some confirmation, or something.

  "What's up?"

  "You look nervous," Shannen told her, as if he thought she needed to be told how nervous she was. That was a laugh.

  "I am."

  "Then let's leave. I know a back way, and Sal can keep those guys out there busy long enough that we can be in a car and moving before they know we're gone."

  Her eyes widened. They could do it, too, she guessed. The facility seemed to have a dozen entrances visible only from the street. If they had a few back ways, maybe a couple of side entrances, there was no way that Coogan could be watching them all. And yet, the way that her guts twisted up into a knot told her immediately without needing to think that she wasn't confident in it.

  "But what if we get caught?"

  "We won't get caught."

  Caroline's brain hurt. "And even if we do get away, somehow, then what?"

  "What do you mean, then what?"

  "He'll come after us," she said, nervous. "He'll come after us without a second thought. You saw him. He's crazy. He's a killer."

  Shannen frowned. "No, he won't. I guarantee, he'll stop chasing us if we leave town."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "Because outside of his territory, his name means nothing, and he doesn't want to start a gang war. That's how."

  The whole suggestion seemed obvious when he said it. "But then how can I come back to town, to see my Dad? I don't want to belabor the point but he's not doing that good, and I don't think we have the money to move him across the country."

  Shannen frowned at that. "You're not wrong."

  "If you think you can't do it, I mean, we'll do what we can."

  He let out a long breath. "I can do it."

  "I don't want you to get hurt."

  He snorted. "Jim Jones is not going to hurt me."

  Caroline's eyebrow raised. "He's the champ, isn't he?"

  "I suppose, a little longer now that I'm not going to win the fight next week."

  "You sound so certain you were going to win."

  "That's because I was going to win. You want me to pretend I thought there was a chance I would lose? I can, if you want."

  She couldn't help smiling at that. "Calm down there, cowboy. I just wanted to know what you were talking about."

  "Sure you did," he agreed. "Obviously. Come on, help me get these trunks on."

  He didn't look like he needed any help at all, but Caroline let herself enjoy the feel of his skin against hers until he was dressed. The clothes fit him tight. Apparently, mixed martial artists don't wear boxing trunks. They wear clothes that might as well be fighting nude. Shannen seemed completely comfortable with it. Then again, she had known that from the first time she'd ever met the man.

  "You ready?" Her voice sounded unsteady, and she didn't know whether it was the upcoming fight making her nervous, or the strands of arousal, that made her feel off-balance.

  "I'm ready. Not looking forward to the questions, though."

  He let out a long, loud breath. "I can do this. No problem. I'll get a rematch, at some point."

  "Yeah," she agreed. "And you'll be fine."

  "Yeah, I mean, that part was obvious," he told her. Caroline wanted to punch him. The difference between a guy getting knocked out and a guy getting killed was less than he seemed to think. Take a solid hit the right way, and you'll stay standing, holding your head, saying 'ow that hurt.' On the other hand, take it the wrong way, and you might never stand up again.

  It might have been the nurse in her talking, but the whole sport seemed like a recipe for concussions and getting people hurt so bad that they never really recovered.

  Shannen straightened, pulled her into a hug, and pressed his lips against her head. The worries in her gut didn't vanish, but she couldn't hold onto them forever.

  "Go on," she told him. "You've got this."

  And she told herself, whether she believed it or not, that he did.

  44

  Caroline sat in the seats and watched with a feeling in her gut that she didn't want to think about. The ring sat empty for a long time, and it had already been a long time. Music played, too loud, through the speaker system. The entire venue might have sat ten thousand, and if things went the way that they seemed to be going, Caroline had little doubt that they would be able to fill nine out of ten of those seats.

  Her stomach twisted up and she felt like she was going to be sick when Coogan settled into the seat beside her, his face as pinched and his expression as flat as it had ever looked. He seemed like he was here because he had to be, and he was going to make the best of it.

  Caroline imagined that she probably didn't look much like that. If anything she was going to look like she was here against her will and didn't know how on earth anyone could possibly get over it. The fact that it meshed so well with how she was actually feeling didn't hurt.

  "What happens now?"

  The old man looked over at her as if he were surprised to hear her speak. With the slowly increasing volume in the venue, she was a little surprised he heard her, as well. He took in a deep, slow breath and then finally decided that she might as well get an answer, apparently.

  "Now we wait for the fights to start. Your boyfriend's fight is the second to last, but there are going to be eleven. Five main events, four under card fights, and two dark fights that won't ever make television. Which is probably for the best, to be honest."

  "Is this a particularly big event?"


  "No."

  "So how long is that?"

  "Three five minute rounds, one minute between... an individual fight shouldn't take more than half an hour. But then, there's time between. You should just relax. I'm sure everything's going to be fine."

  Caroline wished she could feel so confident herself. It might have gone a long way to making her feel better about the whole thing. There had to be some kind of blood lust in these people, that they actually wanted to see guys beat the hell out of each other in a cage. But then again, blood-thirst was, apparently, the order of the day. After an eternity, the first round began. She was close enough to practically smell the sweat that was already starting to form on the fighters before they ever entered the cage.

  They were small guys, probably as light as she was, but if there was an ounce of fat on them then she couldn't see it. One of them even had his head shaved, so he had to have been saving weight there, as well. They moved in fast and started swinging hard. The men seemed to treat the punches like mosquito bites, more or less ignoring them.

  The kicks were a little harder, hard enough to hurt. Eventually they started rolling around on the ground in some sort of abstract mating ritual, or something. Caroline had to fight from laughing as neither succeeded in getting any kind of hold on the other, neither landing any decisive blows. If this was the level of competition, she thought, maybe there wasn't going to be any 'beating the hell out of' anyone going on here.

  A bell rang and the men separated easily, going back to their respective corners and talking, too quiet to hear anything. The music continued to pump into the room loud enough to drown out any sort of thought, never mind any conversation she might have wanted to have below a shout.

  But the only person there to have a conversation with was the old man, and she had more than enough talking with him from the very beginning.

  The second round went the same as the first, and the third the same as the second. In the end the referee got over the loudspeaker and announced the the one in gray trunks had won the fight. If there was any difference between the performance of the two men, it was a subtlety lost on Caroline.