Dead Zone (Blue-Eyed Bomb Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  “You got a big mouth for a tiny girl.”

  “I’m five-nine, so I’m not sure I’d call me tiny exactly, but…”

  “This your first time here?” he asked, ignoring my reply.

  “I’m pretty sure you’d remember seeing a tiny girl like me here before, wouldn’t you?”

  His bulldog-like face seemed to lighten at my reply, as if it had somehow amused rather than insulted him.

  “You know the rules yet?”

  “Well I failed at the first one, which was to keep my mouth shut—”

  “There’s only one rule here: you fight if you’re called out.”

  A shot of cold sweat streaked along my spine. I did not like where our conversation was headed.

  “Totally didn’t get that memo, unfortunately.”

  He leaned in close to me, the hard lines etched into his face so deep, I wondered if he’d scowled since the day he was born.

  “I challenge you.”

  Even with the fight still raging inside the cage, all the men around us were silent and staring at us. Apparently our standoff was even better than the main event.

  “You want to fight me?” I asked. He nodded once, his wide smile menacing as could be.

  “I’m going to crush you.”

  “Well that does sound appealing, but I think I’ll pass on that.”

  “You don’t get to pass on it,” he said, snatching my arm in his punishing grip. “Those are the rules.”

  As my rage grew, it became more and more apparent that Nyx wasn’t about to nuke him for me, which stood to reason and all. Damn nulls.

  I tried to pull my arm away from the man-beast, but I soon realized that wasn’t going to work. Instead, I opted for a swift knee to the nuts. Supernatural or not, it worked every time. Alek and Nico could easily attest to that.

  He slumped forward, releasing my arm, but the second I made a move to get away, he swept my legs out from under me, sending me crashing to the ground.

  “Best get used to being on your back, bitch. I’m going to make your life hell.”

  I sprang to my feet, ready to tee off on his nuts again, but was stopped by Jenkins jumping between us.

  “There you are,” he said, sounding sweet but looking anything but. “Everything okay?”

  “Just teaching my new friend some manners,” I said, wiping the dirt off my leather pants.

  “You should kiss that pretty face of hers goodbye, Jenkins, because I’m about to rearrange it permanently.”

  “Not out here you’re not,” Jenkins replied. Nulls or not, his energy was lethal in that moment, and even the ogre seemed to take notice.

  “I challenged her. She has to fight.”

  “Afraid not, big guy. I beat you to it.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked both men, who were ignoring me entirely.

  “I said I challenged you first,” Jenkins said. “We’re up next.”

  He shot me a wary glance, and I got his message. Play along like a good little girl.

  “Great. I’ve wanted to kick your ass for a while now.”

  At that, he laughed. “Then we should go and get ready.”

  “Don’t think this is over, bitch,” the ogre shouted as we walked away. “I see you here again and your ass is mine!”

  I blew him a kiss over my shoulder as I walked away. Jenkins couldn’t see me do it, so I smiled with satisfaction. Then the reality of where we were going slammed into me and wiped it away.

  Jenkins held out his hands to a man who immediately began to tape them in a flurry of movement, then turned his attention back to me.

  “Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

  “I really don’t think this is my fault—”

  “You had one job,” he continued, his lament plain. “One job!”

  “We could just leave. What’s he going to do about it?”

  “You can’t break the rules, Sapphira. Not after you’ve been called out.”

  “So I was going to have to fight tonight regardless?”

  His eyes narrowed at me. “I’d hoped to get in and out of here before anyone really took notice of you. Seems you made that impossible.”

  “Jenkins,” I started, my tone incredulous, “I’m like the only girl in this place. I was going to get noticed regardless.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? They’re not here for that. These guys are here for the thrill of the fights. The rush. Not some hot chick in tight black pants.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can leave if I want to. They’re not going to stop me. They can’t…”

  I overemphasized that last word.

  “Right, but if you play that card, then your chances of finding out what you want to know on the down-low are slim to none. So make your call, big mouth. You wanna drop the ball, or man up and get in the cage with me?”

  “I don’t ‘man up’. Ever.”

  “Fine. Then woman up, pussy up, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but make your choice because you have about five minutes before I’m dragging your ass into that cage and beating some sense into you.”

  A menacing smile tugged at my lips. “You can try.”

  His expression soon mirrored my own. “I’m going to.”

  Five minutes later on the nose, Jenkins and I stepped through the chain link door to the cage. The crowd, once deafening, had grown almost silent except for a few murmurings. My guess was that they were shocked by my presence in the ring. In fairness, I was too.

  “Rules are simple,” Jenkins said as he walked in beside me. “Drop your opponent three times to win. Or a knockout—those are always popular.”

  “Anything off limits?” I asked, flexing my hands to break in the tape wrapped around them.

  “Nope. Everything is fair game.”

  “Hope you’re wearing a cup then.”

  He flashed a smile as he strolled over to his corner. For all his bluster and bravado, I could see his unease from across the cage. He didn’t want to fight me—not even a little. He’d done what he’d done to spare me the beating of a lifetime and was now stuck having to square off against me himself instead. Apparently he didn’t think much of my skills. What he didn’t know—couldn’t have known—was that I’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat since I could walk. In a house full of males, I hadn’t really had a choice, birthright notwithstanding.

  The guy officiating for us looked uncomfortable as his gaze darted back and forth between Jenkins and me. I gave him a reassuring nod before rolling my head around to loosen my shoulders. Bouncing from foot to foot to stay warm, I stared Jenkins down. I didn’t really want to hurt him either, but I would if I had to. Getting my ass handed to me just wasn’t an option.

  I hated losing.

  “Let’s get it on!” the ref shouted, backing out of the way as Jenkins rushed toward the center of the cage.

  I held my guard tight, just as I’d been trained to, but kept the rest of my body loose and limber and ready to strike when a window presented itself. My father had always said my gifts were my speed and my ability to see an opportunity the second it appeared. So that was the plan: play defense until Jenkins fucked up and then lay him out.

  His range was better than mine because of his height and reach, but without his werewolf attributes to lean on, he was slower than I’d expected. That was going to work out perfectly.

  I felt him out for a bit, baiting him with light jabs and pulled kicks. I needed to draw him in. He was heavy on his lead leg. The second he committed to throwing a real punch, I planned to sweep it right out from under him.

  And then it came. A right cross barreled at my face. Bracing for impact, I threw my leg out behind his, connecting at the ankle, and slammed right through it. He went down hard.

  The crowd went silent.

  “I get no love,” I muttered to myself as I backed up per the ref’s instructions.

  Jenkins stood up, assessing me across the cage. Then he smiled, letting me know he had zero intention of letting
me drop him again so easily. We were about to brawl—for real.

  Since there were no actual rounds—no judges or timekeeper—we would essentially battle until one of us lost, which was grueling when you were somewhat well matched with your opponent.

  Jenkins knocked me down with a brutal body kick that knocked the wind out of me for longer than I wanted to admit. The ref seemed as though he wanted to stop the fight because of it, but I waved him off, looking that gift horse in the mouth. That would have been too easy.

  Jenkins dropped me again with another kick to the same side. I was pretty sure I felt a rib break that time, but I was back up and on my feet before the ref could even check on me. I flashed him a look that could kill, and he signaled us to fight on. Smart man.

  Knowing I was hurt, Jenkins seemed like he just wanted to end the fight to get me out of there and beyond the nulls’ boundary so I could heal. But I didn’t want or need his pity. I had my own plan.

  I saw him shift his weight right before he threw a third body kick that would have surely ended the fight, and this time, I was ready for him. The second his foot left the ground, I cut mine underneath him and took out the leg he was standing on once again, dropping him to the mat in an inelegant lump.

  Two to two. Only one more knockdown to go.

  The ref called to resume the fight when Jenkins stood up, and the two of us looked at each other for a second, wondering how the match would play out. I had no plans to lose, and I could see the same determination in his eyes as he stared at me across the space. I’d have one shot at winning. I had to choose my opportunity wisely.

  He barreled toward me, looking as though he planned to sack me and throw me to the ground, but I snapped my leg up in a front kick originally meant to hit him in the abdomen and smashed him in the face. His head snapped back with a crunch, and for a moment, I thought I’d broken his neck. Even with my blow, his forward momentum continued. With my leg hooked over his shoulder, he plowed into me and took me to the ground underneath him, my leg bent up and around his neck and back.

  It was a compromising position to say the least.

  The ref ran over and pulled Jenkins off me, throwing his arm up in the air as he declared him the winner.

  “Bullshit!” I shouted. “He went down too!”

  “You hit first,” the ref said, looking a bit wary of me as I launched myself off the mat. The motion caused a sharp pain in my side, but I ignored it, my anger keeping it at bay.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jenkins said under his breath. “Let’s go.”

  “I want a fucking rematch,” I said. Jenkins closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest and shaking his head.

  “Rematch! Rematch! Rematch!” The crowd’s shouts echoed in unison through the old metal building. Apparently they weren’t happy with the outcome of our fight either.

  “Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?” Jenkins asked, still shaking his head.

  “Back to your corners,” the ref announced, pushing Jenkins toward his before ushering me to mine.

  “Wait? Right now? We’re doing this now?”

  “Club rules,” the ref explained. “All rematches are honored at the time of the fight. Good luck.”

  I exhaled hard, pulling my rib in the process.

  Maybe Jenkins was right.

  Maybe I really did need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As much as I would have loved to say I’d beaten Jenkins’ ass, I didn’t. In fact, he knocked me out in the first minute with a haymaker. Part of me thought he did it just to end it quicker and get me out of there. Another part thought he did it to teach me a lesson. Either way, I found myself propped up against one of the walls of the fight club with Jenkins flashing a light in my face. I batted it away once I had control of my body. It was healing fast, which let me know I was outside of the nulls’ radius.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, both his words and his energy emanating sincerity. “I could see you were hurting.”

  “Yes, well…I might have not been so quick to demand a rematch if I’d known we’d be doing it right away.”

  He shrugged. “Now you know.”

  “Lesson learned.”

  His eyes roamed over my body in a nonsexual way, assessing what was left of my injuries. He poked my ribs where I’d been hurt in the fight, and I didn’t flinch. That seemed to satisfy his concern for my well-being.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Nah, I think I’ll hang here for a minute. Maybe watch the next fight.”

  Without argument, he plopped himself down next to me, his shoulder brushing up against mine.

  “I really am sorry about that punch.”

  “Everything is fair game, remember? Your words.”

  “Yeah, well, you can say I don’t like beating up on girls much. It’s not really my thing. I prefer fucking them.”

  “Wow.”

  I felt him shrug. “It’s true.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression,” I replied, my tone laced with sarcasm. “I hope you don’t think that’s up next on our agenda.”

  I looked over at him to find him smiling mischievously at me.

  “You sure you don’t want to go a couple of rounds in the bedroom with me? I’ll let you knock me around for payback.”

  I choked on a laugh. “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

  He feigned disappointment, letting out a snort of disgust. “Your loss. I’ll have you know that I’m a highly sought-after commodity.”

  “Your mother must be so proud.”

  At that, he really laughed. “I got her good looks, so maybe she is.”

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes by getting naked, Jenks. I think I’ll try keeping my clothes on with you, if you can handle that.”

  The amusement in his expression fell away, leaving a serious look that unnerved me.

  “First off, I wouldn’t be a mistake. And second, we’ve all fucked up our fair share. Navigating our world is a shitshow at best. You do what you have to to survive. Don’t be ashamed of who you were. It’s made you who you are now.”

  “A loudmouthed bitch who just got the shit knocked out of her?”

  His eyes narrowed, a hint of amber glowing through. “No. A badass bitch who did what I could not. You shut down what was going on at Sinful. You should be proud of that.”

  “That I shut it down or that I did something you and your wonder-dick couldn’t?” I smiled at him, but the seriousness in his eyes wiped it away.

  “I may not understand what you are, half-breed, but I know enough to know that you’re special.”

  I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. “You keep talking to me like that and I might just get naked with you yet.”

  Though I couldn’t see his face, I felt the surge of amusement in his energy.

  “I think not, Sapphira. I think maybe we’re good as we are.” His words were soft and earnest, and they forced me to look back over at him. “Wouldn’t want to mess that up with sex.”

  “It’s Phira,” I said softly. “My friends call me Phira, remember?”

  A slow smile crept across his face. “Phira. Right.”

  “Now shut up so I can watch this fight.”

  We turned our collective attention back to the ring, where a fight was about to start. Shoulder to shoulder, our backs against the wall, we sat in companionable silence, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether the one who had once seemed my enemy was quickly becoming my ally. There was loyalty emanating off of him, which made no sense to me, but I welcomed it all the same. I was certain that if all hell broke out, Jenkins would have my back.

  And I would have his.

  Then I felt that current of loyalty bleed to confusion, and my hackles went up.

  “What the fuck?” he muttered, standing up.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “They never let werewolves fight without me refereeing. I’m Switzerland as far as the packs are concerned. So why t
he fuck are a Northsider and a Southsider in the ring without me? That shit isn’t going to end well at all…”

  He started toward the cage with me tight on his heels. If Jenkins thought something was up, I was damn well going to see if he was right. The last thing we needed was another incident at the club. The PC would have no choice but to shut it down permanently.

  Jenkins plowed through the crowd as the fight began. I tried to watch through the cheering bodies, but it was like walking through a thick forest. I only got glimpses of the brawl. By the time we reached the cage, things were looking grim. One of the fighters was hurting. Bad.

  I hovered at the edge of the mat while Jenkins attempted to get into the cage and shut it down. But he wouldn’t make it in time.

  Inside the cage appeared a ghost—the same one I’d seen at Damascus’ house. Her eyes were full of rage, and her mouth opened wide, letting loose a silent scream that made every hair on my body stand on end. Seconds later, I heard the sickening crack of bone breaking: a neck snapping. The struggling werewolf hit the mat with a thud and never moved again.

  A mixture of confusion and fear bloomed in the expression of the last man standing. His triumph was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that he was about to be on the PC’s radar. Panic overtook him as Jenkins broke into the cage to check the body. His concern-filled eyes soon found mine, and his head gave a slow shake back and forth, confirming what I already knew.

  The wolf was dead.

  The ghost had gotten her vengeance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Needless to say, everything was on shutdown until the PC arrived. I’d texted them right after the fight went awry, and the Fates arrived not long after. They walked in, splitting the crowd like the Red Sea, until they reached the cage. They didn’t acknowledge me at all as they walked up the stairs to the mat where the body still lay. I wanted to go and help them, but I knew I couldn’t. Instead, Jenkins spoke to them privately, just out of earshot, then came to my side and escorted me from the building.

  “We need to line up outside with the others,” he said quietly. “You need to look like you’re just another person in attendance. Got it?”