No Fear

by Heather Allen

  “You do? What’s that?” I lean in to kiss her forehead.

  “You’re thinking about ditching the plan. But Grey, you can’t. This is our life, and it can’t be controlled by others. It’s not fair for this to be held over your head.” She pauses. I’m not going to share my thoughts just yet, because I’m undecided. This woman, my reason for living, was threatened; I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I know that we’ve already been given chances. It wouldn’t be so easy to come back from it next time. A sigh escapes my lips with these thoughts.

  “I know that look. You go away in your head, and I’m not sure what you’re thinking. Don’t do that, you’re a fighter. Stay true to that.” She persists.

  I hover over her lips a moment before covering them with my own. What would I do without her? What did I do before her? I was a mess.

  She pulls away suddenly, her brows rising.

  “What?” I ask.

  Her mouth widens in a smile. “I just noticed something.”

  “And that is…”

  “You haven’t had any night terrors in a while.” She is fully awake. How someone goes from sound asleep to ‘go’ that fast, I haven’t a clue.

  I nod. “Night terrors?”

  “That’s what they are. You, terrorizing yourself.”

  “I guess. Maybe I found my cure.” I pull her into me, savoring her closeness. I have to keep her safe or I’ll have more night terrors, and they won’t be about the accident years ago. Next time it won’t be an accident.

  An hour later, a knock on the door interrupts our invasion of the kitchen. No one has been to the store, so the choices are limited in the hunt for food. We settle on bagels with cream cheese and coffee.

  I answer the door, already knowing that it’s Jackson. I asked him over so we could talk about things. It really bothers me that they put Meyer up to that. I wonder if he came back on his own, or if they went after him and forced him into it. And if the latter is the case, we might be worse off than I thought; and I might never be able to get out from under the mob.

  “Hey, Grey.” Jackson looks tired as he steps into the foyer. I want to ask him about Andy and whether he’s gotten any further in convincing the kid to go professional, but we have more important things to deal with first.

  “Hi, Jax.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good. Strong and stubborn as ever; she thinks we should go through with everything, no matter what.”

  As we stroll back to the kitchen, he states, “I have to agree with her, champ. The only way is to put up a fight. If you ain’t learned nothin’, you better know that.”

  I shake my head and sit down at the table with them. Somehow I always seem to be the one they have to talk into things, and I’m the fighter. Something’s wrong with this scenario.

  “What about Meyer? Do you think they put him up to it, or did he come up with some hair-brained scheme to get back into their good graces?” Jackson asks.

  I hadn’t considered whether he had done it on his own.

  “Not sure.” I shrug, looking over at Christina.

  Through her bite of bagel she mumbles, “Oh.” Her eyes widen as she rolls it over in her head. I guess she hadn’t thought of that, either.

  Shaking her head, she admits, “Now that you mention it, maybe it was all Meyer. Maybe they had nothing to do with it.”

  We all sit silently for a few minutes, thinking over this new possibility.

  Christina is the first to speak. “He seemed uncomfortable the whole time, constantly scanning the road, and he didn’t stand still the entire time in the warehouse. I tried to plead with him to come and talk to you, but he refused. He kept insisting that you need to listen to him this time. Stop fighting.”

  The more I think about it, I doubt Luciano asked him to make any threats, which came at an odd time. Meyer wouldn’t know I have a fight tonight, or whether I was told to throw it or not. It’s typical that he would do some shit like this, but now I’m even more pissed off at him. If I ever see him again, someone will need to hold me back from killing him.

  “I think it was all Meyer. It makes sense that he would do something like that. The only thing that doesn’t sit right is why he would even bother? If he had gotten lost, why would he come back and risk it? If he was already safe, I know him; he wouldn’t budge.”

  Jackson’s face screws up in thought. He can’t decide, either. Finally, he looks at both of us. “It really don’t matter at this point. We’re gonna fight and win tonight, right?”

  A wide smile crosses Christina’s face as she nods. I don’t know how she can be so happy after what happened yesterday. I love her even more for it, though. I know more than anyone else how unstable Meyer is. We can’t trust anything he says.

  Chapter 25

  By the time we have to leave for the arena, Christina is frazzled. I knew the calm wouldn’t last. She kicks me out of the bedroom so she can get ready. I don’t object. Instead, I wait for her downstairs, trying to get my own misplaced energy out with mindless TV. There aren’t any football games on, so I settle for some show about zombies. It reminds me of Meyer last year when he told me about the mob. It was the first fight I had to throw. He was a walking corpse back then, his guilt eating away at him. I shake my head, trying to forget, but I can’t help the worry that creeps up. I’ve known him for most of my life through so many things, and he goes and does this shit. What the hell was he thinking? Has he completely gone over the edge?

  Clicking on the wood floor brings me out of my thoughts. Christina stands in the doorway, one hand on her hip, one on the doorframe. She tilts her body and looks at me through hooded eyes. I scan her skin-tight jeans and white tank top, my voice barely registering, “You probably shouldn’t look at me that way, because I’ll have to take you upstairs and have my way. We’ll have to throw the fight because of technical problems with my body.”

  She throws her head back, laughing, with her long blonde strands cascading back over her shoulders. I don’t know if my statement was at all wrong. I cross the room, pulling her into me and taking over her mouth with my lips and tongue. We kiss and I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to make it out the door, but she pulls back, with her hands pushing on my chest. “Hey there, Rookie; you got a match to win. After that, baby, you can have anything you want.”

  This time I laugh, grabbing her hand and kissing the smooth skin along her knuckles. “You are such a tease.”

  As if all that weren’t enough, she releases my hand and walks toward the door in front of me. She emphasizes the swing of her hips as she walks on golden, two-inch heels. I have to remember not to look at her while I’m in the cage tonight. Just thinking about later could cause me to lose.

  ***

  We pull up to the valet in front of the arena. As we climb out of the truck, I spot Jimmy T waiting by the side of the building. I scan the rest of the area, looking for Trinity, but they haven’t arrived or they’ve already gone in. We cross the sidewalk, coming close to Jimmy. His eyes dart left and right, reminding me again of a caged animal trying to find a way to escape a hunter.

  I slap him on the back. “Hey Jimmy, how’s it going?”

  He frowns before looking over at us. This is definitely not Jimmy behavior.

  “Not so good, buddy. I think, I think I’m gonna have to scoot out of town for a while.”

  This is not news I wanted to hear, but it doesn’t surprise me. Out of curiosity, I ask, “By any chance did you have a visitor yesterday?”

  He looks around again and his gaze lands on mine. I know just from the look that he got the shit scared out of him, and I’m pretty sure who did it.

  “Did our old friend Meyer pay you a visit?”

  He nods, looking to Christina for the first time since we walked up. Meyer must have told him what he did.

  “Dude, are you gonna let that shithead rule what you do?”

  “They sent him, Grey.” Jimmy looks like he’s gonna have a heart attack. He pulls out a c
igarette and lights up. He takes a long couple of drags before speaking. “I can’t do this shit. I’ve been around them, Grey; you haven’t. They’ll kill you if they find it necessary.”

  I’m not surprised by his words. He has the same mentality as Meyer—to save his own ass first. But I remind him anyway. “Did you forget I got up close and personal with Luciano’s thugs?”

  “Naw, I didn’t forget. I just, I can’t do it. I won’t tell them about your plan, but I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Maybe it’s time for a clean break.”

  This news is disappointing, but it doesn’t have any crippling effect on what we have going. I nod, not bothering to speak any more. If he wants to leave too, then so be it. Christina is about to protest as I pull her away and lean to her ear. “Don’t waste your breath, he’s out. I had a feeling this would happen.”

  She follows as we enter through a grand lobby, drenched in plush red carpet. The doors to the venue spread over an entire wall, each guarded by someone dressed in a black three-piece suit. I turn toward the holding rooms, pulling my ID out to flash at anyone who asks. We walk down two long halls before coming to a short one with narrow doors on each side. The fourth one down has my name etched into a gold plaque. I grab the handle but, before I can turn it, Christina grabs my other arm, pulling to get my attention. I look over to meet the icy green stare of Luciano, who is standing at the entrance to the hall. He holds his arm up, tapping his watch. Then a wide smile makes its way across his face. He nods and turns away.

  Now I’m even more confused and pissed. I hate that guy. I twist the handle, trying to get into the privacy of the room as soon as possible. Christina seems just as hurried. She pushes on my arm as if trying to get me to go faster. When we’re in, I scan the room for anyone else. We’re alone.

  “Grey, what was that about?” Fear fills her words.

  I shrug, looking around. A couch lines one wall. On the opposite side is a series of cabinets. I open them, trying to take my mind off what just happened. My shorts for the fight are in there along with my gear. I grab the shorts and head for the bathroom, suddenly feeling a huge weight on my shoulders.

  “Grey, why won’t you talk to me?” Christina is hurt.

  I turn back, interrupting my progress, to pull her into my arms.

  “I don’t know what that meant. I’m frustrated and scared just like you, but we have to do this.” I lift her chin; her eyes are clouded, she’s unsure. “You know that, right?”

  She nods into my hand. I kiss her hard and move toward the bathroom, determined to stick with this decision. The outer door opens. Jackson walks in, nodding to me before I close the bathroom door, glad to have a minute to myself. I brace both of my hands on the counter that runs the length of the room. My eyes meet the brown ones staring back at me in the mirror. What the hell am I going to do? This has gone beyond anything I anticipated, I’m at a total loss. Too many things are at risk.

  I have to come to terms with all of this and what it means. Luciano is known for these threats. Tapping his watch. I’m not sure what kind of threat that was, but I’d bet it’s his way of letting me know that he still controls things. I lean over the sink, splashing water onto my face, as cold as I can get it. I need a shock to the system. This is decision time.

  When I leave the solitude of the bathroom, Christina crosses the room in a split second and her arms are around my torso. She demands, “Greylan Pace, no matter what, you’re going to win, right?” Obviously Jackson squashed any worry she had.

  Jackson’s voice sounds through the silence before I can respond. “Hell, he’s already made up his mind. No need to worry, Chrissy.”

  My brows quirk, distracted. “Chrissy?”

  She smiles shyly. “Yeah, I kinda like it. What do you think?”

  This forces a smile, one that I desperately needed. I lower my mouth to hers proclaiming, “It’s pretty adorable, just like you.” before sinking my lips into hers.

  When we part I look up to Jackson, who’s chewing on a toothpick. “What makes you think I’m already decided on this?”

  “You’re hungry, I know that look and you won’t quit ‘til you’re on top. That’s the way it should be.”

  Glad he’s confident. Right now that only makes one of us.

  “So, Chrissy, how ‘bout we go and find you a spot, smack dab in the center of the arena?” Jackson is the one keeping us all upbeat. In that moment I am so grateful for my trainer. I was an idiot for turning my back on him.

  “Sounds amazing, but only if the champ comes out on top.” She pauses, looking to me.

  Trying to mimic their confidence, I tell her playfully. “I think I can arrange that.”

  Jackson stands, shaking his head at our banter. He grabs her hand and pulls her toward the door. “I’ll find her a spot with Trinity and Parker. I saw them go into the arena a little while ago. Lock this door until I get back.”

  I nod as the room becomes eerily quiet with their departure. After locking the door, I sink into the couch, trying to clear my head. It’s easier said than done at the moment. For some reason, a memory from one of my fights the previous year comes back to me. I can’t even remember who it was I fought, but Parker was the guiding factor in my anger to get the job done. I haven’t had to call upon those thoughts for a long time now. I have a feeling that tonight my anger at Parker and the whole situation might be to my benefit in the cage. The shit he’s allowed to happen with Trinity in the dark has to stop. I have to stop it. I know making this decision is going to break Trinity’s heart, but I can’t see any other way around it.

  A soft knock followed by Jackson’s low voice comes through the door. I swing it open to let him in. The first words out of my mouth, after he tells me that Christina is safe, are to ask about the guy’s stats. This used to be our usual routine. He’d tell me all about the guys I’d be fighting. Most of the time, I’d spent time watching them fight so I could get a feel for different quirks and tendencies. Now, though, I haven’t had a need to do it in a long time. Realizing this, it feels good going in knowing what I’m up against.

  “Getting closer to the big prize. This one’s big with the crowd. His name is Sharky Williams. He’s won nine, lost four. You might have to work this time.”

  I mull over his words. “Why do they call him Sharky?”

  Jax laughs. “I’ll let you figure that one out on your own.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re following a man in a white shirt with Arena Staff splayed across his back down the hall toward a rear entrance. My nerves are going wild with all the things we don’t know. I’m wondering again if my decision is right. Jackson turns as if he can hear my thoughts. He whispers, “You gotta figure this out, Grey. Get angry again. This time you have a reason for it all. Make it all right again.”

  His words hit me just the way he had intended. This is right, I assure myself. ‘No fear’ continues through my head.

  As we enter the arena, Sharky—the dude obviously named for the large fish tattooed across his torso—is commanding the crowd. His arms wave spastically in the air as they yell and scream in response.

  Jackson says under his breath, “The name isn’t for the tattoo, either.”

  My eyes narrow, wondering what he means, but it really doesn’t matter. With any luck, Sharky will be laid out on the mat soon enough.

  I climb the steps to enter the cage, scanning the audience for my family. Trinity is perched three rows back with Christina’s hand securely in her grasp. They both smile, waving frantically as I spot them.

  When I turn toward my opponent, he has a nasty scowl on his face and I realize the reason for the nickname. All of his teeth are filed to a point, like a shark’s. I look over at Jackson, wondering if this guy is for real. Jax just nods, chuckling at my reaction. Maybe I do have my work cut out for me.

  The whistle sounds. and we both cross the space in two wide steps. His mouth spreads around the guard, and he’s one of the ugliest dudes I’ve ever seen. We latch onto each
other, hands locked on arms in a draw. Our bodies turn three or four times. I wait for him to make the first move. He doesn’t disappoint. He tries a leg sweep, but I avoid the attempt. My own leg lifts in a side kick. His grip loosens, letting me further into his space. I step in, forcing my leg to sweep his. It works. He goes down but only to his knees. I’m pissed.

  An instant later, he’s up rotating in the dance with me. He locks his fingers into my arm again and digs until pain emanates from the spot. I wince as he smiles. He doesn’t look like he belongs in the cage at that moment. I wonder if really I’m fighting someone who has escaped from a loony bin. We turn again, the movement familiar. On the third turn he leans in mumbling, “Theodore James, that was a tough break. Do the right thing.”

  Obviously that was meant to mess with my head, but it has the opposite effect on me. The anger surfaces. My eyes narrow as my body moves in, my shoulder connecting with his chin. His grasp disappears and my leg moves along the mat, forcing him down to his side. I drop on top of him in a side hold trying for a guillotine, but he’s already on his side trying to get in my guard. My body heats up knowing I have to win this, no matter what. I grab his wrist and try for a chest compression. He squirms in my grasp, though, flipping me to my side. My heart speeds with the movement. Terror strikes, but it changes as I look at this guy’s terrible snarl. I can’t let this happen. His arm slides around my neck, pulling tight. I push back, making him lose his footing. His arm loosens, allowing air back into my lungs. But a second later, he regains his momentum and it tightens again. I brace my feet against the mat, pushing back as hard as I can. He falters backward. I twist out and onto my knee. I pull his arm, wrapping my legs around it and falling backward. The pressure causes a grunt from his tight mouth. I know it must hurt. He moves forward, attempting to move from my grip, but I hold on for dear life. A few more seconds and the whistle signals the end of the round. I release him, jumping up and forcing myself back to my corner.