by Abby Niles
“I think you’ll be happy,” Mitch added.
Ella followed the two through crowd. A surprise. She assumed she was being lead to her “area.” She was reluctant to see what Gabe considered a “freakin’ rockin’ surprise.” Images of a dirty, unsanitary room came to mind. Soiled sheets, gauze just sitting out. An infection’s dream come true.
Gabe opened a door and moved aside so she could enter. The harsh smell of bleach assaulted her nose, and she blinked at the immaculately clean room. Wow. They weren’t messing around. A gurney sat against a wall, with a stainless steel surgical tray beside it. A box of gloves and gauze sat on a small counter that included a sink and medical disinfecting hand soap.
“You’ll find you have everything you need here to perform simple procedures,” Mitch said.
“Simple procedures?” This entire night had been surreal and went against everything her imagination had conjured up. Now they just wanted her to perform simple procedures?
“You stitch them up, check them for concussion, and make sure it’s not an injury that needs hospital intervention,” Gabe said, reverting back to the shrewd businessman. “If it does, you come to us and we’ll take it from there. The goal is to keep attention off of us. Swarming a hospital with men needing simple medical care will not achieve that goal.” Then he grinned and flashed her another thumbs-up. “Cool?”
“Yeah. Cool.”
“There you go.” He lightly slapped her on the back, and she stiffened at the physical touch but did her best to shake it off. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
We’ll take it from there.
With these two, she had no idea what that would entail, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. She didn’t know how far they were willing to go. They would order three men to gang up on someone and threaten a woman, but they wouldn’t let someone who needed medical care die just to keep their club covered up…would they?
Nothing about this sat well with her.
“I’ve got to go mingle. I’ll check on you later, Kel-Kel.
With that, Gabe left the room, leaving her with Mitch. The silence was heavy between them. Neither man had made her feel physically threatened. They were smaller men. Not the tall, bulky kind that always put her on edge. If they were to come at her, she believed she’d have no issue taking them down. That was the problem, though. They wouldn’t attack her themselves. They were wealthy and powerful, with a slew of men for hire. They were a threat on a different level, and no amount of training had prepared her for the likes of them. She hated the feeling.
Mitch continued to study her with his steely gaze.
Under his scrutiny, she lifted her chin and held eye contact.
Never show weakness. Never allow intimidation. Always exude confidence.
She refused to cower.
“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, Kelsey,” he finally said.
“Gabe explained it to me. You wanted me. You went to any lengths to get me. And you will go to any lengths to keep me.”
He gave a nod of approval. “My cousin and I prefer to keep things fun. If things get serious, then things get ugly. So let’s not, okay?”
Though the words had been spoken lightly, almost conversationally, the warning was clear in his voice.
“As long as you don’t give me any problems,” she said, “I won’t give you any problems.”
A gleam of respect lit his eyes. “I say that’s a fair deal.” He started for the door. “If you relax a little, you’ll find that we’re not bad guys. You may even start to like us.”
Not a fat chance in hell of that happening. Anyone who bullied other people to get their way was first on her shit list.
He stopped at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Watch the fights, have a drink, have some fun—it’s on us.”
Again. So not happening.
The music suddenly shut off, leaving only the buzz of conversations from the attendees outside the room.
“Who’s ready to watch some fucking awesome fights tonight?” A male voice yelled through the speakers. Thunderous cheers followed.
“That’s my cue. Like Gabe, I’ll check in on you.” Then he was gone, leaving the door open behind him with a clear view to the two men entering the cage.
As the announcer droned on about the first match and the men fighting it, Ella inched toward the door, feeling as if a weight had settled on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
The two men met in the center of the cage, gloved fists raised. One jabbed out, landing the punch with a loud crack on the other’s chin. Her entire body froze as tingling erupted under her skin.
The fist had come out of nowhere. Right in the mouth. The force sent her slamming into the wall, her head whacking it. Hard. She’d been stunned motionless. Tasted blood. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t tried to escape.
Another blow to the face sent one of the fighters stumbling back.
The sharp, stinging yank of her hair. The breath-stealing fist to her gut. Blind panic. Scurrying backward. Trapped in a corner.
Dots formed in front of her eyes and she swayed. She gasped for air. The agonizing sounds in the background intensifying the memories. Making them real again.
A foot to the stomach. Curling up in a ball. Repeated strikes. Praying for help, for him to stop. The man she’d been dating for two years, living with for six months, was no longer recognizable. Just like a switch, he’d turned into a monster.
She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t be here. She stumbled forward.
Fingers latched around her arm. She immediately jerked back. “No!”
“Kelsey.”
The use of her fake name jolted her back to the present. She inhaled sharply, blinking. Lance’s face came into focus before her, and a sense of relief, of being safe, washed over her instantly.
“Jesus. Are you okay?” Concern tightened his face.
“Yeah. Yeah. I-I’m fine.” She concentrated on her breathing to slow her heart rate, refusing to think about how Lance’s presence had immediately made her feel secure, especially since he was the reason she was here in the first place.
“You sure? You seemed upset,” he said, lifting a lock of her hair between his fingers.
The action soothed her even more. “I spooked myself out in my room.”
His brows furrowed. “Your room? Wait. What are you doing here?”
The question sharpened all her senses. The roar of the crowd. The smell of the smoke. The cage in the distance. The question wasn’t what was she doing here, it was what was he doing here. Why hadn’t it even crossed her mind she’d see Lance tonight? Maybe because it seemed like he was in trouble with the McNealys—not buddies with them.
Ignoring his question, she asked, “Do you usually hang out with people who order three men to jump you?”
He didn’t seem offended over the comment. “No. Not usually. But they offered me a deal I couldn’t pass up.”
And then it all clicked into place. “You’re one of the fighters.”
“Guilty as charged.”
She wondered how many times he’d been found guilty of something. Nothing in his behavior made her feel like he was forced here. He was relaxed and talkative, like being in an illegal fighting ring was completely natural. Maybe it was. She didn’t want to know. The less she knew the better. But this was just one more reason why she needed to keep away from Lance, no matter how much her body wanted to get closer.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
The McNealys’ warning to keep her mouth shut whispered through her mind. Lance might seem like he was in the “in” crowd, but she’d also seen him on the outs with the McNealys. For her mother and best friend’s sake, it was best to skip the whole coerced thing. “Gabe and Mitch hired me.”
For the first time, a frown turned Lance’s mouth. “Gabe and Mitch? Didn’t you just move to town? How are you on first name basis with them?”
“I d
id just move here, and I have you to thank for this job.” She gave her best attempt at a smile, to hide the jab behind those words. “Seems they looked me up after I jumped in the other day, found out I was a doctor, and offered me this position.”
“Wait. You’re a doctor?”
“Guilty as charged,” she parroted back his earlier words. “They seem like two nice guys.”
He worked his jaw back and forth like he was trying to figure out how to say something. “You really don’t want to get mixed up with the McNealys, Kelsey.”
“Oh. You mean the same way you’re mixed up with them?” At least he acknowledged this wasn’t the greatest crowd of people to hang with.
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because I’ve known them for years. I knew what I was getting myself into. You don’t.”
Having known these guys for years meant that Lance hadn’t made a simple mistake that had ended up with him on the wrong side of a fist. It meant he’d known what the McNealys were capable of and still associated with them.
Not very comforting, and it only solidified the fact she didn’t want Lance to know anything about why she was here. She’d play dumb if she had to. “You’re talking about a guy who’s stoned out of his mind and the other one who couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Don’t underestimate them. They’ll use whatever means necessary to get what they want.”
He’d just confirmed what she already knew. “I’m just here to sew a few stitches and check for concussions. What I don’t understand is, if you know all this, why are you here?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “I’m not known for making the best decisions. In fact, you probably want to stay away from me, too.”
The confession stunned her speechless. He was confirming everything her gut had already told her. Lance was trouble she didn’t need.
The announcer came over the speaker. “Gals and gents, this fight is over by a brutal knockout.”
Lance sent her a tight smile. “Time for you to get to work.”
…
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, Lance scowled over the fourth fight of the night. One of the fighters was standing over his grounded opponent, kicking him in the head. A completely illegal move that the so-called ref inside the cage didn’t intervene to stop. He’d seen that a lot tonight, and it knotted his stomach.
The crowd was eating it up though. People were yelling and shaking their fists in the air, encouraging the onslaught. Lance wished the ref would do his fucking job and stop the madness. So far, he’d seen no reason for there to even be a ref in that cage. All he did was stand back and wait for someone to either be knocked out or tap. Then he announced the winner.
His gaze strayed to the closed door at the back of the warehouse.
A doctor.
He had to give the McNealys credit for having a medical professional on site. Not that it had anything to do with concerned for the welfare of their fighters. Knowing them, it was just an extra measure they’d taken to keep any unwanted attention off their newest endeavor.
The cousins had built a large, loyal following by offering the best entertainment in three states. With their carefree attitude and safe environment, they were well liked and even respected. It was just the unfortunate fuckers like himself who got to see the uglier side to the cousins.
Kelsey didn’t belong in this world. Fuck, he didn’t belong in this world anymore, but he kept getting sucked back in. Though this time, at least, it was for a better reason than to gamble away his life.
I have you to thank for the job.
Kelsey’s comment kept replaying in his mind. She had no clue why Ralph and his posse were ganging up on him. All she’d seen was a man in need…and she’d helped.
The thanks she got for that was to be drawn into the McNealy world—because of him. She seemed oblivious to the danger she was in, which wasn’t shocking with the way Gabe and Mitch came across. But their laid back personas hid cold businessmen, who looked for weaknesses then exploited them to get what they wanted.
And Kelsey was hiding something.
He had no doubt about that now. He’d seen the blind panic on her face, eyes that hadn’t focused on anything around her. Months ago, he’d seen that expression on Mac’s face as he’d rushed out of Gayle’s hospital room. The past had gotten the better of his best friend. And earlier tonight, Kelsey’s had gotten the best of her.
The McNealys couldn’t find out what that something was or she’d never get out of this situation. They’d use it to keep her here. Lance sure as fuck wasn’t going to allow that to happen. It was his fault she’d been brought into this in the first place. It was now his responsibility to keep her safe from the McNealys…and himself.
A movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned to find Mitch headed toward him. “You’re on next, Black,” Mitch said as he stopped beside him. “We need to discuss a little issue first. Due to an unforeseen event, we’ve had to tweak the agreement Ralph relayed to you.”
Lance clamped his jaw tight. “What kind of tweak?”
Mitch shrugged. “It seems we may have been a little too hasty in offering you payment for both wins and losses.”
“So I only get paid for wins now? You know I don’t fight for fucking free, right?”
Anger brightened Mitch’s eyes. “You forget yourself, Black. You came to us. You owe us. You signed a contract with us. If we want you to put on a goddamn pink tutu and fight in that cage, you’ll fucking do it.”
“Or what?” Lance shoved away from the wall and pushed his face into the other man’s. “You two are the ones changing the fucking rules two years into an agreement.”
Mitch didn’t even flinch. Those steely cold eyes stared straight through Lance, reminding him that the McNealys were not men you wanted to cross when you owed them money.
“Don’t fucking test me, Black. You’ll take the changes to our agreement like a good little bitch or it might be time for us to have a chat with your ex-wife. You feel me?”
Lance froze. Motherfucking assholes. They knew exactly where to hit him to bring him to his knees—or in this case, receive his full cooperation. “You’d really go to Piper?”
“I don’t like your attitude right now. I think you need a reminder of what, exactly, you have to lose if you really piss us off.”
“You’re a piece of shit.”
Mitch shrugged. “Think of me how you will. All I care about is my money. If we have to go to your ex-wife and let her know you’re playing with the evil McNealys again, we will. I could give two shits if you see your daughter again, but I’d say you do.”
“Fuck you,” Lance said through clenched teeth, knowing they had him backed in a corner. Piper held the key to his daughter, and if she ever found out he was involved with the McNealys again, he’d lose Skylar.
“Good. We’re on the same page.”
It took every bit of his self-restraint for Lance not to punch the smug smile off the other man’s face.
“Now get ready,” Mitch said as he started to walk off. “You’re going to need it. This isn’t the kind of fighting you’re used to.”
Lance glanced at the cage. The grounded fighter had somehow made it back to his feet. Blood saturated one side of his face from a wound on his forehead, and he was unsteady on his feet, swaying alarmingly. The other fighter didn’t even have to do anything. The guy collapsed to his knees and tapped the canvas with his opponent a foot away from him. The ref ended the fight.
This isn’t the fighting you’re used to.
Mitch was right on that. Though they’d made the fighters wear gloves, which Lance had been glad to see because it showed that Gabe and Mitch weren’t being completely stupid, nothing was considered an illegal move. Of the four fights he’d watched, he’d seen eye gouging, head-butting, and groin shots. In regulated fighting, each one of those moves would’ve resulted in a point deduction. Not here. The more violent it was, the
more it was encouraged. It made him sick. MMA had worked so hard to distance itself from the human cockfighting stigma, and here he was, participating in one.
His training would put him at a disadvantage, because he refused to degrade the sport he loved by resorting to cheap moves to win. He couldn’t say his opponent would feel the same, though.
Might as well get it over with. His opponent was Kelvin Johnston. That was the extent of what he knew about the man. Cards had been passed around so the patrons could place an educated bet. He’d refused to touch one. He’d spent too many years distancing himself from the thrill he’d received from placing a bet to add to that temptation now.
Lance tugged off his shirt then headed toward the cage. Once there, a guy helped him tape his hands then slipped the fingerless padded gloves onto each hand. He flexed his fingers, stretching out the black leather. Popping his mouth guard in, he started to warm up his muscles by hopping from foot to foot.
“On to the final fight of the night,” the announcer yelled into the mic. “With a record of twenty wins and four losses, Lance Black!”
Blocking out the screams from the crowd, Lance ran into the cage then side-jumped around the perimeter to his corner, eyes locked on the massive African-American man waiting outside to be introduced. Something wasn’t right about this, and again dread knotted his stomach.
“And with a record of fifteen wins and one loss, Kelvin Johnston!”
As the man stepped into the cage, Lance lowered his arms. What the fuck?
Kelvin was the epitome of a brick house. There was no way in hell the man was in the light-heavyweight division. There had to be a seventy-pound weight difference here.
When they met in the middle of the ring, Lance had to crane back to look Kelvin in the face. The motherfucker had to be a good six inches taller, which said a lot, considering Lance was six feet tall.
You only get credit if you win.
So this was the unforeseen event. Though he highly doubted that it had been “unforeseen” at all. All the other fights had been evenly matched. This had been deliberately set up so Lance would lose. He guessed the McNealys hadn’t heard the phrase “the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Losing wasn’t an option.