Downfall

by Jay Crownover

  I spit out my mouth guard and growled, “Fine. You win. I’m out of here.” There was no way in hell I was laying a hand on that girl.

  I was turning around to walk back to the locker room when the man who set this up grabbed my forearm in an iron grip. “Not so fast, kid. You don’t get to just forfeit and walk away. You win, you get the money. You lose…”

  I frowned, realizing I should have asked for more precise details before agreeing to this mess. “I lose and they get back the money they paid. I know the drill. I wouldn’t have agreed to the fight if I couldn’t afford to lose.”

  The dark head shook in the negative and the old man let out a scoffing laugh. “No, kid, their terms are different. Your boss should’ve laid it all out for you, but he’s convinced you’re unbeatable.” Normally, I was, but this was not a twist I was expecting. “If you lose, their terms are you leave town immediately. No coming back. If you lose, they expect you to get gone.”

  I balked. “What?” Leave the city? That was impossible. Almost as impossible as fighting fairly against the small woman watching me with careful eyes. “I can’t do that.” There was no way I was leaving my mother here, and I wasn’t willing to walk away from Orley and Noble so easily either. “I never agreed to those terms.”

  The man next to me sighed and narrowed his eyes at the older man openly mocking my surprise and refusal to fight. “You agreed when you said yes to the fight. You win, we get a stupid amount of money… lose… and you have to agree to go.”

  I looked at the woman, then back at the man who had brought a lamb to the slaughter. “Who is this guy?” And why did he have such a personal vendetta toward me?

  “Channing Vincent. He’s old money and deeply involved in local politics. He’s a corporate raider. Buys up struggling business and devours them from the inside out. Makes his money on other people’s misfortune.” The lyrical voice sounded almost impressed.

  I snorted. “Don’t you do the same thing?”

  Unsurprisingly, the man next to me nodded. “Yes, which is why you shouldn’t take this gauntlet he threw down lightly. He clearly wants you out of the city. You need to know why. If you have to go through the girl to get that information, then do it.” He turned and walked away without another word. He stopped next to a very large African American man and bent his head to speak softly. The bald, well-dressed man had been the head of the Devil’s security for as long as the man had been running the underground. He was a misleadingly gentle giant, and I could tell by the way he was glaring at the rich men across the room that he wasn’t any happier with the turn of events than I was. Sure, someone like the Devil could go through an innocent woman to get what he wanted. I wasn’t wired that way. If I was forced to hurt the girl, I had no doubt my conscience would never get over it. Any wounds I left on her would be nothing compared to the ones I ripped into my own morality.

  But what choice did I have?

  I couldn’t leave the city or my obligations.

  A bet is a bet, even if the terms sucked. Nothing about any of it had to be fair. That was the risk you took when you banked on something illegal for a good portion of your income.

  Growling a long list of swear words under my breath, I shoved the mouth guard back in and slowly stomped my way to the center of the roughly drawn circle. I kept my eyes on the girl as she followed suit. When she was standing directly in front of me, our size difference was even more acute. I towered over her and had to outweigh her by a solid hundred pounds, if not more. I wouldn’t even fight a man if the difference were so obvious.

  The girl lifted her eyebrows and very quietly muttered, “They know you don’t want to hit a girl. This is a set up. That old rich guy wants you gone.” She popped her mouth guard in so the conversation had to end and stuck out her taped-up hands for me to touch.

  With little other options, I lightly bumped her fists with my own and tried desperately to figure out a way I could take her down without actually hurting her. I hoped the regular rules might bend in this particular situation. No one wanted a dead girl on their hands…. Did they? Sometimes, when dealing with these guys, it was hard to tell.

  I was so caught up in my own shit I had no time or self-awareness to prepare for the flying roundhouse kick that immediately took me to my knees. I landed on the concrete with a thud, ears ringing, head thundering from the impact. The girl bounced lightly on her toes a few feet away, watching me warily. Shaking away the fog, I climbed to my feet and watched as the girl dropped into a low, professional martial arts pose. I wasn’t sure if it was Taekwondo or karate since I only knew the basics of both, but this chick was trained and she could do some serious damage. My roaring head was proof of her abilities.

  I had just found my balance when she started another attack. Her feet moved so fast it was almost impossible to keep track of them, and her tiny fists felt like hammers when they made contact with my chest and ribs. I played defense, blocking kicks and punches as she moved to the outer edge of the circle. With a roar of frustration, I finally managed to duck under one swinging leg and get close enough to wrap her in a submission hold. I took her to the ground with an arm around her throat and one of my legs keeping hers immobile so I didn’t get kicked in a place guaranteed to bring me down. I tightened my hold until I could hear her breath struggling to escape.

  I spit out the mouth guard and lowered my head closer to hers, hoping she could hear me over loud pants.

  “Why does that guy want me gone? How does he even know who I am? Stop dropping your guard after you advance. You fall back a step after every kick. You need to move in closer to your opponent, not give them an opening to recover.” I released her and used my core muscles to lift myself off the cold, hard ground.

  The girl followed suit, rubbing at her neck as she also spit out her mouth piece. She shook her head and rubbed under her nose with the back of her hand. She made a low noise and rushed at me. I thought she was going to go for my head so I automatically lifted my hands to block my face, leaving my ribcage wide open. There was no way she didn’t break bone when her kick connected. The pain was blinding and immediate. I lashed out before thinking. I heard the sound of my fist make contact and blinked in surprise. The girl’s nose was gushing blood and sitting at an odd angle.

  I gasped and immediately reached out. “Fuck! Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I groaned when I tried to take a step toward her. My ribs screamed in protest and the sharp stab of pain made bile rise up toward the back of my throat.

  The girl spit out a gross blob of blood and saliva. Her eyes narrowed and she threw a right hook that would’ve knocked my head around in one-hundred-and-eighty degrees if it connected. Instead, it glanced off my cheek and rattled my skull just a little.

  “He wants you out of the way so he can get to his granddaughter.”

  I stopped moving, ice running cold through my blood. “His granddaughter?”

  Since her target was still, it was really easy for the girl to execute a perfect leg sweep and take me down to the ground. Her weight on top of me was slight, but the elbow she pressed on my Adam’s apple was sharp and pointy. It was my turn to struggle to breathe. I was changing my mind about her being a fair opponent. She was better than half the guys I usually went against in this circle. She thought about what she was doing, she was smart, and skilled, which made up for her lack of size. She was crushing my windpipe without any hesitation.

  “Yeah. The old guy swears his granddaughter has been kidnapped and he can’t go to the police. He’s been shaking down every lowlife and junkie on the streets for weeks looking for information. I don’t know how you fit into the equation, but he insisted that you need to get out of the picture.” She was struggling to keep the upper hand. I used my greater weight and strength to shift her off my throat. Her gaze landed on mine and something dangerous flashed in them. “If I feel like I can’t win this fight, he paid me an extra fifty-thousand dollars to take you out permanently. There’s a switchblade in my boot.”

&nb
sp; She rolled to the side and moved the opposite way. Both of us were sweaty, bloody, and tired from making the fight look far more dramatic than it actually was. By now it was clear this girl could do as much damage as I could, but she was holding herself back the same way I was. That didn’t mean she wasn’t putting on a good show. I took a kick right in the center of my back, making my messed-up ribs howl in agony. I moved so I could catch that deadly leg and pin it to the ground. I lifted over her and grabbed a handful of her short, dark hair. Normally I would use the hold to smash my opponent’s head on the unforgiving cement. With her I used it to pull her face closer to mine as I narrowed my eyes.

  “I’ve got too many people counting on me to let you stick a knife in me. They’re why I can’t leave this city. I can’t lose this fight.” And when I was back on my feet and Channing Vincent was no longer a thorn in my side, I was going to track down whoever sold Orley out. My money was on Skinner. He was already pissed I beat his ass for harassing her, and there was no way he would turn down some quick cash in exchange for information.

  The girl cackled and wrapped her hands around my wrist. I wasn’t expecting her to get a knee in my gut or for her to use the momentum of my body when I folded over in pain to flip me neatly over her head in a somersault. Once again, I was on my back looking up at the pipes and heating ducts which crisscrossed the naked ceiling. This time she put her foot on my throat and steadily pushed down.

  “If I let you win… I die. So, I can’t lose this fight either.” She shook her head and looked down at me with obvious remorse. “I’ve seen you fight. I’ve honestly always looked up to you and would have loved to have an honest shot at trying to take you on. I hate that it has to end like this. But it does have to end.” The pressure on my neck grew until it felt like all of her weight was standing directly on my windpipe. I locked my hands around her booted ankle and tried to shove her away, but my busted-up ribs made getting the leverage I needed nearly impossible. Plus, I was starting to get lightheaded. Things were starting to fade in and out of my vision, and I could practically feel anger radiating from where the Devil stood. It had to kill him he couldn’t intervene, and he was probably a little pissed that I was getting my ass handed to me by a girl.

  Underneath the leather of her boot, I could feel the hard metal of the knife she warned me about. Of course I would never think to use it on her, but if I could get my hands on it, I was pretty sure I was past the point of reason and could use it on the lunatic who set all this in motion. I had a sinking feeling deep down in my gut that the next time I asked Orley to tell me her last name it would be the same as the bastard who set me up. The only granddaughter I could have possibly have come into contact with recently was Noble. If this asshole was the reason Orley had gone into hiding in the first place, I had first-hand proof she had good reason.

  Wheezing and probably turning purple, I put more effort into freeing my throat, but the girl wasn’t going to move. I was going to have to hurt her in order to get her off me. I could see strain and remorse written all over her ravaged face, but if it was her or me… well, it wasn’t a choice I wanted to make, rather one that I had to.

  I bent my knees so I could get the leverage I needed to push free. I also switched my grip from her ankle to her knee. It wouldn’t take much to jerk the joint out of the socket if I moved the right way when I pushed to my feet. She clearly anticipated the move, because she immediately started to try and escape my new hold. She was slippery, but I was desperate. I refused to let go, even when I felt muscle and bone start to shift under my hands. A dislocated bone was no joke. I hoped it would be enough to get her to tap out, but if it wasn’t… well, I would do what I had to do… just like the Devil.

  She screamed. I swore. We were both red with exertion and miserable about the situation. I could feel her body resisting my movements, but it was close. In a second she wouldn’t be able to use her lethal leg anymore.

  “POLICE! Stop what you’re doing. Everyone put your hands in the air.”

  The booming voice made me release my prey instantly and roll over onto my back so that I was staring at the ceiling. The girl dropped to her knees and put her hands behind her head with her fingers interlocked. Clearly, she was not a first-timer when it came to dealing with the law.

  The man in the pinstripe suit calmly walked to the center of the circle where I was sprawled and watched as another man, one who was huge, bigger than me, even, sauntered into the mostly empty space. He was dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, but the gun on his belt and badge hanging around his neck were very formal and serious. I recognized him right away. He wasn’t just a cop. He was my boss’s older brother and one of the few people in law enforcement the guys on the wrong side of the law trusted.

  I would bet my left nut the dark-haired Devil staged this little bust in order to keep me from having to do something I would regret down the road.

  The big man pointed at me and the girl. “Get up. Go get cleaned up then come back here and explain what in the hell is going on.” He shifted his gaze to the older man and narrowed his eyes. “And who are you? You’re not a regular at the fights. Let me see your identification.” The cop stuck his hand out and stared coolly at the rich guy.

  The older man immediately stiffened. “I want my lawyer.”

  Typical. He had no idea how things worked here. Before the cop changed his mind, I grabbed the girl’s wrist and practically dragged her toward the locker room. She protested all the way, insisting the fight had to end. Obviously, she was more scared of the rich guy than she was of me. Once I was in the locker room, I pulled open the locker where my wallet was stashed. I pulled out a couple hundred dollars and shoved it in the girl’s hands even as she continued to protest.

  “There’s a back door no one knows about if you go through the showers. It’s hidden in the third stall. Take the money and lay low for a while. I don’t know what’s going on with that rich dude, but you don’t need to be in the middle of it. Make a run for it.” I grabbed her shoulders and turned her around forcibly. “Go.” I pushed her toward the showers, and after a minute she finally moved.

  Swearing loudly, I kicked a bench, which did my seemingly forever busted ribs no favors. I took a minute to wash some of the blood from my face and to check out my bruising side.

  Fuck me.

  It looked like I was going to owe the Devil a favor after all.

  Orley

  When the call came in the middle of the night asking for a ride, there was no way I could say no. Not after all the ways Solo had stepped up to the plate when I needed something from him. I had to call Erica and wake her up since it was after midnight and ask her if I could bring Noble over for the rest of the night. Erica was groggy and confused with sleep, until I told her I was going to get Solo. The mention that the guy who takes care of everyone else needed help woke the other woman up instantly. She fired no less than twenty rapid-fire questions at me, none of which I could answer. Solo’s call had been rushed and very brief. All I knew for certain was that he sounded like he was in pain, and there was a reason he couldn’t drive himself home. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep from launching into worst-case-scenario mode. But it was so hard to imagine Solo not being in control of any situation I could feel panic and fear trying to overshadow everything else.

  None of my unease lessened when I finally found the warehouse, tucked in a part of the city that made my neighborhood look like Disneyland. The shadows were dark around these blocks; the feel of the abandoned buildings and deserted parking lots was twice as dangerous and desolate than where I lived. Even in the bad part of town, there were places that were worse than others, and it seemed I was collecting Solo from the worst corner on the scariest block.

  He was easy enough to spot when I finally found the remote building. It was in better shape than the others around it. No graffiti decorated the outside, and the exterior looked new. Solo was standing under a burned-out street light. Head bent, th
e hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his ball cap. He had his arms wrapped around his middle and it looked like the pole was the only thing holding him upright. There were two men standing nearby, deep in conversation. Both of them watched my approach with intent eyes. I hoped I didn’t have to get out of the car because the one in the expensive suit made my skin crawl with nervousness, and the large, dark-skinned man hovering next to him looked like he could lift me over his bald head with one hand. I’d barely gotten used to how intimidating Solo could be without even trying; there was no way I was ready to jump in and play in the major leagues with the men currently keeping an eye on him.

  I honked the horn and watched, holding my breath, as Solo painstakingly pushed himself off the pole. He was moving like a ninety-year-old man suffering from arthritis. Every step he took in my direction contorted his face into a grimace of pain. He waved off the large African American man when the giant took a step forward to offer a steadying hand. The man in the expensive suit said something that made Solo wince, but he nodded and stumbled into the passenger door. I leaned across the seat and shoved it open for him, watching with wide eyes as he practically collapsed into the old, worn leather seat. He flicked a sarcastic salute from the torn rim of his battered hat and leaned his head back. Even with his eyes closed, he looked incredibly pale in the low light.

  I didn’t bother to ask if he was okay, because the answer was obvious. Instead, I asked, “Do you need to go to the emergency room?” He didn’t look like he was going to keel over, but he didn’t look all that great either.

  “No. Got a couple busted ribs. They can’t do much but wrap them and give me painkillers. I can do without a thousand-dollar bill from the ER for shit I can take care of myself.” His raspy voice was laced with aggravation and discomfort. He cracked a dark eye open and looked at me. “Thank you for coming to get me. Didn’t think I was up to working the clutch and stick shift.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the empty car seat in the back. “Where’s Noble?”