by Nancy Gideon
“For a lot of nights from the way they acted with each other. Do you want me to find out more?”
He struggled with that question for longer than he should, weighing his reasons for wanting, no, needing to know. Finally, he said, “Find out who she is and what they are to one another. If she’s going to be a problem, I’d just as soon get it,” and her, “out of the way now.”
A quick nod before leaving.
His rum and cola shattered against the impact-proof glass.
So much for Terry’s claim of celibacy.
Time for the tempting little fighter to find out how distracting he could be.
*
“Get ready in here. Someone will come for you when you’re up.” Their grim-faced escort pushed open the locker room door, putting up a hand to bar Nica. “This isn’t a place for females.”
Nica gestured to the sign on the door. Ladies. “I believe I have more of a right than they do.” She pushed by him.
The fact that Cale had no wiseass comment only deepened her concern that something was very wrong. He went to the row of sinks without a word to splash water on his face and drink from his hands. Nica glanced at her husband, brow raised. He shrugged.
“Are you up for this?”
Cale paused, letting the water spill back into the sink. After drying his face on his forearm, he regarded Silas stoically. “I’m here, aren’t I? I said I would be. I don’t need you to tell me what my role is.” His statement held no hint of the mood still hidden behind his dark glasses.
He’d arrived at LaRoche’s place right on time and had said little since then. His phone had rung several times, but he merely glanced at the screen before putting it away. This time, as he took a seat on one of the benches, when it rang he simply turned it off.
A second later, Silas felt his cell vibrate. He murmured a quick, “Back in a second,” and stepped out into the hall. The voice on the other end did a poor job concealing panic.
“Is Cale with you?”
“He is.”
“Is he all right?”
“I guess. Do you want to talk to him, Kendra?”
“No, that’s all right. If he wanted to talk, he would have picked up.”
“Are you all right?”
“I spent the day going on tours of the city and can’t remember a single thing I saw. We had an argument last night. He walked out.”
“Ah. That would explain the guest in our spare room.” When her relief gusted loud enough for him to hear, he asked, “Do I need to kick his ass for you?”
Kendra gave a soft sigh. “No. That’s okay. Don’t tell him I talked to you. But I’d like him back tonight if you can make that happen.”
“I will if I can.” A promise easier made than kept.
*
Cale stretched, put on his brain-bleeding music, and moved through a brisk warm up, but none of the usual things could calm his spirit.
Tonight things would change. And nothing about the life he’d coveted for so long would ever be the same again. The obstacles he’d meet in the ring didn’t concern him. He knew his abilities were equal to the task and his motivation would fill in any blanks. He worried about the conditions he’d have to meet to get there.
It was a small, special venue. Three matches. The winners of the first two would meet in the third. Two rounds. His coming out party. The first combat would be in human form. If he survived it, he’d be expected to return in full Shifter glory to end the final bout. Permanently. And he’d do it with an infamous flare so they’d be clamoring for more.
The diminutive fight hustler O’Leary peeked into the locker room, his smiling dark face preferred over Lee’s icy avarice. “Two minutes, Mick.” To Silas, he cajoled, “Money where your mouth is, Creed?”
Silas glanced at Nica who opened her useless for anything but cash evening purse to count out an impressive spread of Benjamins. “Mama needs a pair of shoes,” she told the little man who laughed in appreciation.
“If he does good this should get you a closet full. The crowd likes him, but they’re still putting their money on the headliner.” To Cale, he called, “Good luck in proving them wrong. You win tonight, your future’ll be changed forever.”
Exactly what he was afraid of.
Now he wished he’d taken that last phone call.
When O’Leary had gone, Silas regarded him impassively. “Ready?”
“I’m a Terriot.”
A wry smile. “Yeah, I know. Always ready to rumble. Don’t play with him. Put him down before he has a chance to hurt you.”
“That’s my plan.”
His entrance music started up, AC/DC, hard and loud like him. Cale could hear the crowd roar in anticipation. He put his tightly wrapped fist to his lips, whispering, “For you, my queen. Forgive me.” Then, chin high, shoulders back, he strode toward the arena with all the arrogance of his clan behind him.
But it wasn’t enough.
*
“Is he all right?”
O’Leary’s voice reached through the roar in his head like ripples in a puddle during a hurricane.
“He’s fine.” That was Silas, all gritty and fierce. “He’ll be ready.”
“Here’s that money for your lady’s shoes. He didn’t win pretty, but he won big. Feel like reinvesting some of it?”
“All of it.”
“Thought you didn’t like to gamble ’less it was a sure thing. I’ve seen Ivo fight, and he’s had a chance to rest up. He might just tear your boy to pieces.”
“All. Of. It.”
“Okay. Better get him cleaned up. Casper’s on his way down. He don’t look happy.”
The wet towel lifted off his face. Cale squinted up at MacCreedy who’d stretched him out on one of the benches after having to half-drag him from his questionable victory.
“Still alive?”
Cale groaned, struggling to sit up, needing Silas’s help to accomplish it. “Not sure.”
“Get sure. You’ve only got fifteen minutes, and Lee’ll be here any second.”
Nica knelt down in front of him to wash the blood off his face. No sympathy showed in her hawkish features. He didn’t expect any. “What happened?” she demanded.
“He wiped the floor with me.”
“I’ve seen you fight. How did he manage to take you?”
Wasn’t how had he managed to survive the real question?
“It’s the Kick. Hard to put them down when they don’t feel pain.” Cale had looked into those solid black eyes and had seen his own ugly death. “Taking him out was dumb luck. I don’t think I’ll be that fortunate a second time.”
“Are you quitting?” Silas asked, providing a cup of water without a hint of his own feelings on the matter.
Cale drank deeply and replied, “No. I think I’m dying.”
“Don’t just think it.” Casper Lee stepped into view. “If you don’t go out there, I’ll be pulling the trigger on you right here and now. You made some mighty loud noise and some awful big promises to just crawl away whimpering now.”
That sneer had the desired effect. The cup crumpled as Cale’s hand clenched tight. He rose up, steady but not quite as strong as he’d wish, to confront the flashy entrepreneur in his mulberry colored designer suit.
“I don’t whimper, and I don’t quit.”
Lee laughed unpleasantly. “This is the big game, Mr. Terry. There’s no room for half measures or cold feet. These fighters are tuned so tight, they could trigger an earthquake. They’ll do whatever it takes to stay on top. I thought you were someone like that. Was I wrong?”
When Cale didn’t answer, Lee looked to Silas. “You’re the cool head here, the one who understands business. He took a beating in front of everyone. No one is going to expect him to put up much of a fight. You were willing to bet it all that he can. You said you wanted inside. Make that move. Now. You’ll be writing your own ticket if he wins. I can make sure he does.”
Silas regarded him thoughtfully, glancing at Ca
le, then back again. “I want more than just a bankroll. I want in.”
Casper laughed. “Damn you’re cheeky. I like that. Talk to your boy. When we’re sweeping up cash by the buckets full, we’ll come to terms you’ll like.” He turned back to Cale. “I’ve spent time and money toward your success, and that’s not something I give away for free. It’s time to pay to play, Gunslinger. If you plan to go back out there, it’ll be on my terms or not at all.”
Cale hesitated. This was the reason he’d been brought to New Orleans, this rare chance to step inside the inner circle to uncover the unpleasant arrangement Lee had with his rogue brother. His chance to stop James, and for once earn the respect he’d scrambled for since childhood. How could he throw it away?
He’d be a collared animal. Raging like a beast. A slave to the monster Lee wanted to release inside him. If he took that step, he’d be crossing a line. He could never go back again.
His promise to his mate weighing heavily on his heart, he replied, “I won’t do Kick. I can take him without it.”
Lee smirked. “Big talk for someone about to be strangled by his own words. You’ll die in that ring, and I’ll be out my investment. I’m not about to let either of those things happen.”
Cale looked to Silas where he never expected to find support. He braced for MacCreedy’s disdain, for his sneering condemnation as he gave his head a slight shake.
What he got was a jolting surprise as Silas said, “I guess we’re out.”
Before Cale could overcome his astonishment, Lee gave a nod to the two burly Shifters standing at the door. One caught Silas about the neck to yank him off balance while the other pinned his arms and drew a blade. The wicked point went, not to his throat, but to his inseam where it pressed to a femoral artery. Nica’s quick step forward froze at the first sight of blood.
“A word and your manager bleeds out before you can beg for his life. What’s it going to be, Mr. Terry?” Casper asked with cold clarity. “The drug and the collar or a mop and a casket?”
Cale weighed grim options. If he broke his word to Kendra, he’d lose her. If he allowed Silas to die, same outcome. No win for him. But he could save MacCreedy and become, if not true blue friend, then at least a martyred ally.
He put out his hand and quickly swallowed down the capsule Casper placed in his palm. Even before he drew a full breath, the remembered heat boiled through him, scorching along the channel of his veins, burning muscles and tendons. A magnificent, powerful heat. He closed his eyes, letting it consume him, hating the way his body embraced that claiming fire. The heavy weight of the controlling collar about his neck no longer mattered. He’d lost control the instant the chemicals entered his system.
Cale opened his eyes slowly. The world seemed to pulse in time to his rapid heartbeat.
A knowing smile spread on Casper’s face. “Take Mr. Creed and his lady to my box. We’ll watch the match together then do some renegotiating.” After the uneasy pair was pulled from the room, Casper turned back to Cale, his expression almost tender. “You’ll thank me for this, Mr. Terry, for letting you become what you were born to be. A warrior. A champion.”
A killer.
*
Seated together front row center, hands tightly clasped out of sight, the MacCreedys got their first look at the competition. Huge, with muscle stacked upon muscle, Ivo the Terrible was cause for alarm. The crowd greeted him with the blood lusty cheers due an obvious favorite that increased in volume as he flexed. And changed. No mystery. No theater. No hocus pocus to hide the fact that the fighters they’d come to see were not human. This audience knew exactly what they were getting. Which was why the payoff was massive.
Cale approached without flash or fanfare, stepping almost quietly into the arena to encourage a lukewarm reception.
“Show them, Mick,” Casper Lee encouraged in a whisper.
On cue, Cale let loose an eardrum-splitting cry that rattled the unbreakable glass and his opponent’s nerves as he transformed. Becoming not a just a dog of war.
But a God of War.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They rode toward the Quarter in silence, MacCreedy using the rearview to keep an anxious eye on their passenger in back.
Cale sat motionless, yet seemed to vibrate with compressed movement. His quick breaths jerked and stuttered. Hands dangling limply between spread knees twitched and trembled. He kept his head down, but the memory of his hugely dilated pupils had Silas increasingly worried.
Noting his unvoiced concern, Nica pointed. “Turn here.”
Frowning at her suggestion, Silas complied. The road led, not toward the city, but far from it, narrowing, roughening as signs of civilization grew few and farther between. Finally, nothing but darkness and tangled scrub edged the bumpy lane.
“Pull over.”
Shooting her another puzzled glance, Silas steered off the edge of the road where ground sucked at the tires and the smell of dank bayou overwhelmed the senses. He shut off the engine and turned to her fretfully. “I’m a city boy. There are few things I dislike more than two-tracking in the swamps away from street lights and a good restaurant.”
She smiled at his agitation. “Relax, hero. I’m not asking you to get out of your comfort zone.”
Cale finally looked up to murmur, “Don’t tell me. This is where I get out.”
Nica glanced over the back of the seat, smile cool and narrow. “This is where we get out.”
A rusty laugh. “Where no one will ever find my body.”
“That’s a thought,” she mused. “But not the one I had in mind. I was thinking of room for you to run the toxins out of your system, out here where there’s no one you can harm.”
“No one but you.” Silas’s disapproving stare went from his pregnant wife to the dangerously edgy Cale. “I don’t like this.”
Her hand brushed his taut cheek. “I can keep up with him better than you. We can’t take him back into the city like this. You know I’m right.”
He looked back at Cale, eyes glittering fiercely to warn, “No harm will come to her.”
Cale snorted, muttering, “I’m more concerned about me than her.” He shoved the door open and stepped out into the dank air, hating the place, these circumstances, and himself for what he’d done this night. But he knew Nica was right. He couldn’t return to Kendra still pumped from the drug racing through his blood. He was too unstable, and there was no way to hide it. He stared glumly out into the darkness then down the twist of what could barely be called a road, hoping for the later as he asked, “Where to?”
Nica joined him and nodded toward the unknown and unseen as she pulled her hair back into a severe knot and eased out of her heels. “You first. Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
“And I shouldn’t worry about that?” He gave a fatalistic sigh and let the meager grip on his self-control fall away, surrendering to the violent storm of energy the way he had in the arena earlier that evening. Where he’d ripped through everything in his path with a mindless brutality.
The taste of his opponent’s blood returned to fill his mouth. He ran, becoming what Lee released within him, a mindless, instinct-driven creature, as basic and fierce as the ones who’d spawned his clan, who’d known nothing but marauding and massacre and lived for the thrill of it.
What he was born to be as a son of Bram Terriot.
That immense primitive power carried him deep into the heart of savage surroundings. He plunged through snarled thickets filled with predators like himself, spurred onward by the urgent war drum of his heartbeats. And by the sound of Nica MacCreedy ever at his heels.
He gave up trying to shake her. She was as relentless as he, driven. Her persistent shadow goaded him to an exhaustion so great, the strength in his legs folded even as the wildness in his heart howled for him to continue on.
She found him on his knees, slumped over, wet brow resting on crossed arms. Breaths tore from him in huge, raw gulps as tension trickled down into loose tremors, l
eaving him vulnerable in body and spirit.
“Is that all you’ve got, Shape-shifter?”
“Every last drop. Is this where you kill me, Assassin?” There was no fight left in his hoarse question.
“That would be too kind a fate for what you deserve, for what you did to Silas and his family.” She crouched beside him and got to the purpose of their isolating race. “Why are you here, Shifter King?”
“You told me to get out of the car.”
“Here in New Orleans,” she clarified.
“Silas called me.”
“That’s too simple. What do you owe him that’s greater than what your own people demand?”
“Why do you care?” he groaned, denying her the truth that shredded heart and soul.
“I don’t. Throw your life away. Turn away from the clan that looks to you as their leader. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then why are you bitching at me about it?”
“Because I don’t like puzzles I can’t put together.”
He chuckled, her irritation bringing a small measure of satisfaction.
His amusement sparked wariness. “Is this some trap to spring on him when he’s just begun to trust you?”
“Silas doesn’t trust me any more than you do. He sees what he’s always seen, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I’m tired of trying.” Cale sighed wearily and rested his brow atop clasped hands. Had he ever been so empty, so beaten, so resigned? “They’re going to kill me, you know. I’m never going to go back home. I’m going to die here fighting Silas’s fight.”
She studied him for a long, silent moment then scoffed, “And you’re just going to let that happen?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I do.”
“You’re going to abandon your family? Don’t you care what becomes of your mate?”
“That’s the only thing I do care about. I’ve made her my queen. She’s stronger than you give her credit for. She’ll hold my family together when I’m gone.”
“Not without your heir.”
That cold truth carved through his pride, spilling it from him with eviscerating cruelty.
“You’ve failed to provide her with the one thing that would guarantee her safety.”