Yeah, nothing compared.
So she looked the part, but she had no idea if she would leave the Under looking kick-arse, in fact she was pretty sure she’d be carried out on a stretcher, but at least she’d have the money for Midge’s meds.
She strode down the old railway lines, dodging bodies until she came to the platform with the neon fist flashing above it. The ramp was blocked so she skirted the crowd and hoisted herself up the side using her powerful arm muscles. Working out sucked, but she did it every day, and it paid... It should pay, she hoped.
The platform was rammed, bets were being exchanged and the air was filled with a coppery scent. People shoved and cursed, trying to get closer to the main event.
She could see the arena; a section of railway lit up and cordoned off. If you hit the ground you risked smashing your skull open on the tracks.
Going down was not an option.
One fight. One win, that’s all she needed.
Each fight was paid, it wasn’t much, but it would be enough for meds.
She shouldered her way toward the sign up desk which was more of a sign up pile of crates, but whatever.
Two balding, paunchy men with flat caps and rollups dangling from their mouths sat guarding the grey tins of money. You’d think, considering the mob mentality that could take over at these events, they’d be afraid of getting battered and robbed, but she guessed that’s what the two monolithic guards that stood at either side of the men were there to deter.
“Hey, I need to sign up.” She kept her tone casual, her body relaxed.
One of the men looked up from his counting and blinked slowly at her with his mismatched eyes—one blue one brown. Then he burst out laughing.
“Ned, look ‘ere.” He nudged his partner, who looked up from his note counting, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He grinned, showcasing tobacco-stained teeth. His eyes were also mismatched—one blue and one brown. On closer inspection she realised they must be related, brothers, maybe even twins.
Once they’d stopped laughing at her she repeated her request.
The first guy shook his head. “This ‘ere is fighting, love, not fucking. You wants the whore house on platform 1.”
She contemplated using the whole ‘client number, Salvage will cut you off’ line with them, but knew in her gut it wouldn’t fly. These guys had money, connections. Hell, for all she knew they funded insider operations that used Salvage as cover. Garret did send operatives down here a lot. She opted for cocking her head and plastering her most defiant look on her face.
“Do I look like a whore?”
Ned grinned wider. “Too lean, not enough tit. Nah, let her fight if she wants. It’ll be entertaining.”
His brother looked dubious. “You really wanna fight, girly? Why?”
“I need the cash.”
He looked her straight in the eye, as if looking into her soul. She shifted uncomfortably. “You know the rules?”
For a moment she was stumped. “I thought there were no rules?”
His grin widened. “You got it, girly.” He licked his pencil. “Name?”
“Star.”
He looked up and quirked a brow. “Nice. You’re in. Good luck.”
“Um, which fight, and how much do I get?”
He frowned. “Thought you knew the rules? Don’t make me cross your name out, I hates a messy sheet.” When she stared back at him blankly, he sighed. “You fight until you drop. If you win, you fight the next one. You fight until you can’t fight no more, you gets it?”
Shit! This was not good, but what choice did she have? Garret would have gotten her the meds, but Garret wasn’t here, he was on a secret op and she had no way of contacting him.
The man was waiting with his pencil poised and the expression on his face said she should walk away, but Star was not a coward, nor was she a quitter.
“I’m in.”
“Suits yaself. You’re up next, after Ryder. Might be a while, the guy can take a beating like no other, but he’s gots balls, I tell ya, keeps coming back once every couple of weeks, just like clockwork.”
Star inclined her head and moved off toward the arena to wait her turn.
Her stomach trembled with anxiety, but she summoned Midge’s pain-etched face and the anxiety melted, replaced by determination.
Chapter Five
The women lay across the bed, a heap of bodies, sated yet always ready for more. His cock throbbed, buried balls deep in the last of the group. He kept pumping, feeling the build up of tension, the clench and then the sweet release. He grit his teeth, not wanting to cry out, not wanting to feel.
She gasped and moaned under him, but he knew it was an act. This was all about him. He didn’t play, didn’t do foreplay, he fucked and walked away. It was purely physical and a necessity before a fight.
He withdrew and wiped his cock down with the warm wet flannel provided.
The woman crawled away and one of the others took her place.
He waved her away. “I’m done.”
She pouted and he sighed. “Money’s on the table.”
He turned away, pulling up his jeans to stare out the window. They were high up, maybe four storeys. It was one of the few buildings that hadn’t been knocked on its arse; an apartment building, he believed they were called, and now Giselle’s tower of delight. The woman had some great marketing skills. People came from all over to Rubble Town just to fuck.
“Same time next week?” Marie purred, flipping her golden locks over her shoulder.
“Maybe.” She was a beauty alright, soft golden skin, green almond eyes. They all were. Madame Giselle only employed the best and Ryder was a long time favoured customer. He knew they gossiped about him, about how insatiable he was. He knew they wondered what was wrong with him. He wondered the same. He’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t have a heart, not really, and he’d decided that he didn’t care.
He did what he needed in order to assuage his body’s demands, but that was all. He took no pleasure in the act and he cared even less about giving it.
He was stuck here on this planet, in this body that he hated, and now he would allow it to be punished.
Leaving the women to get dressed, he walked out of the room and headed for the stairs. He ignored the moans coming from behind the doors he passed, but faltered at the door by the steps.
A muffled scream followed by a sound he knew well; the sound of a fist meeting flesh. This time the scream pierced air.
Dammit! Ryder stood outside the door, fists clenched. It was none of his business, none of his-
“Please don’t hurt me, please-”
“Shut the fuck up!
Dammit! Ryder raised his fist and pounded on the door.
The beating stopped, replaced by the clear sound of sobs.
The door opened and a man stood there, tall and broad. His eyes reminded Ryder of a fish—dead and staring.
“What do you want?”
Ryder craned his neck to look into the room. He could hear the sobs but couldn’t see who was making them. He knew most of the whores here. The man stepped into his line of vision.
“I said what do you want?”
Ryder stepped up until he was nose to nose with the guy. “I want you to get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”
The man’s lips curved in a sadistic smile. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you fuck the hell off!” He slammed the door in Ryder’s face.
Ryder breathed deep and even, the rage writhing in his chest trying to break free. Shit, all that sex for nothing. It was back, strong and wanting to explode. Behind the door the beating resumed, louder and more violent.
Crap, this was him, he was doing this, he was making this happen.
The woman screamed and Ryder lost it. He rammed into the door. The wood splintered and the door flew off its hinges. Ryder flew onto the man, yanking him of the female and throwing him across the room so hard the building shook.
The woman cr
awled off the bed, screaming and sobbing, her face a bloody pulp. She crawled across the floor and out of the room.
Ryder turned to go after her but the dead-eyed man was up. He barrelled into Ryder from the side, propelling him across the room and into the wall.
Rage climbed up Ryder’s throat, its claws trying to prise open Ryder’s mouth, tying to escape. Ryder shook his head. No. Never again. He went limp.
The man pummelled him like a tenderizer and Ryder took it, absorbing the blows, taking back the rage.
“What the hell!”
The pummelling stopped. Dead eyes looked up, his lips twisting in a cruel smile.
“Get out!” Giselle stood in the doorway, her hair piled atop her head in a messy style, her face twisted in disgust.
Dead eyes stepped back. “Yeah, and who’s gonna make me?” He looked Ryder up and down. “Not much of a security guard you got here.”
Giselle’s eyes flickered to Ryder, her lips compressing in fury.
Dead Eyes took a step toward Giselle and stopped as two dark shadows loomed over her shoulder.
Brim and Stone, the twin monoliths of pain. They could easily make it in the ring, but they served only Giselle. She’d taken them in, raised them as her own when their parents had been killed after the invasion. They were her boys and they liked to play.
Brim cracked his knuckles, but Stone looked ready to explode.
Giselle held up her hand. “Go see to Kara, Stone.”
Stone clenched his teeth and for a moment Ryder thought he would argue, something that was unheard of, but Ryder wouldn’t have blamed him. Kara was Stone’s woman. She was off limits. It made no sense. Why had Giselle offered her to Dead Eyes unless…fuck! The dead-eyed guy was a walk in. How the hell had he gotten past security?
Brim’s expression said it all. He’d left his post, this was his fault. His fault that his brother’s woman had been violated, beaten right under their noses.
“Ma, let me...” Brim said.
Giselle lifted her chin. “This is a clean business. You walked in once and I’m letting you walk out alive. You walk in again and you’ll be leaving in pieces. Now get!”
Dead Eyes swallowed, shooting Ryder one last sneer before brushing past Brim and down the stairs.
Ryder sagged. Damn that hurt. And he had a fight in less than an hour. He shook his head to clear it.
“Thank you,” Giselle said.
He had no idea how old this human was. Sometimes she looked fresh and young, and on others she seemed ancient. Tonight she looked old, her dark eyes filled with wisdom.
Brim just shook his head in confusion. “You could have taken him, man. I know you could.”
It was Ryder’s turn to brush past and down the stairs. Yeah, he could have taken him, he could have broken him, but to do so would be to let his nature win. It would let them win, and he would never let them win again.
Chapter Six
Star had to use elbows and shoulders and a few glares to make it to the front of the crowd. She could just about see the fight in the arena, but she could hear it fine.
The thud of punches was like a bass beat. It sounded artificial, engineered; surely no one could take that much punishment and still be standing. She had to crane her neck to see. but finally she got a view of the fighters.
Big guy with a hairy face and grinding teeth pounding on an even bigger guy with abs to die for and an arse so tight you could bounce pennies off it. She couldn’t get a look at his face, it was draped in shadow, but his hair was short—buzz cut. He was braced solidly, legs slightly apart, arms at his sides as the gnashing guy punched him in the stomach repeatedly.
Star winced. That had to hurt, but Buzz Cut took it, blow after blow and then he hit back, one two, and an uppercut. Gnasher went flying. This was Buzz Cut’s chance, he could pummel Gnasher, but Buzz Cut staggered and fell to his knees, giving Gnasher time to get back up and attack. This time he went for the face.
Star felt the impact of the blow reverberate through her bones and a collective gasp filled the air. Buzz Cut slid to the ground and Gnasher raised his arm in triumph. The crowd booed and cat called.
Star turned to the guy next to her, middle-aged with a mouth twisted in disgust.
“Which ones Ryder?”
“The one on the floor. Guy always takes a beating. Honestly, I think he does it deliberately. You saw it, right? When he made that uppercut? The guy’s got power and skill.” He shook his head “Would make a hellavu fighter if he tried. Big fight in a few days, he could clean up.”
Star watched as a couple of guys helped Ryder from the arena, his head hung low, legs dragging. He looked fucked.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing here anyways?” the man asked.
She smiled. “Is that a pick up line?”
He balked. “Gosh no. Happily married I was, bless her soul, and faithful I’ll be till the day I die.”
Star smiled at him, she liked this guy; he was sincere and genuine.
“My name’s Star, and I’m up next.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the arena.
The man looked horrified. “Um…name’s Terry, and, are you nuts?”
Star tried to hold her smile in place, but it slipped.
Someone called out her name.
“Yeah, I guess I am, but I got no choice. Peel me off the floor?” She winked and stepped up into the arena.
Her opponent was a wiry fellow, his arms and legs corded with muscle. He’d opted for shorts and sneakers as his fighter outfit.
Great, now she just felt overdressed. She stepped forward and he threw up his hands in disgust.
“Come on! Seriously? She’s a girl!” he called out to whoever would listen.
“Great observational skills, mate, but it’s your fighting skills they’ve come to see.”
She wasn’t sure why she was goading him. After all, he had the power to kick her arse. She’d had training, all insider operatives did, but she’d never had to hold her own in the field. This was newbie territory, and fuck, she was scared.
And for Star, scared usually equalled mouthing off.
The guy gave her an are-you-serious look and she shrugged, looking sheepish.
“Come on!” She egged him on. “Someone needs to bring back the equal opportunity laws.”
He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked genuinely anxious and she could see this fight slipping away.
“And I do want to hurt you, so what you gonna do about it?” She needed this fight even if she got knocked out. She needed the money she’d get for simply stepping into the ring, small payout as it was.
For a moment it looked like he was gonna go for it, but then he turned his back on her. “I’m not hitting a woman, no way.”
Fucking chivalry!
“I’ll do it.” A guy stepped into the Arena, tall, thick shouldered, blonde with dead eyes.
“I have no problem hitting a woman. In fact, I will enjoy it.” His accent was thick and heavy.
Dirty.
It made her skin crawl.
A sliver of fear skated down Star’s spine. The guy stepped into the arena, his glassy eyes emotionless which only intensified her anxiety.
The noise in the crowd dimmed, then someone shouted out, “Smack the bitch!”
“Yeah.”
“‘Ave it!”
It looked like chivalry had died a quick, clean death. Star exhaled, centred herself and dropped into combat mode, feet slightly apart, elbows cocked, fists curled, ready to dodge, or hit, or whatever.
Dead Eyes stepped forward, arms hanging deceptively loose at his sides, all casual like. His meaty lips curled upwards and then he lashed out, so fast, so sudden that he almost made contact. Star had always been light on her feet. He was quick, but she was quicker.
The air whooshed in her ear, he’d been too close.
She rolled and came to her feet, but he was already barrelling toward her. She evaded again but she knew this couldn’t go on. She had
to fight back, bring him down. He was huge and powerful and if he managed to get a grip on her she was fucked. She remembered her training: when faced with a larger more powerful opponent with no way out, take them down quick and fast—attack first.
She dodged Dead Eyes again. He stumbled and turned toward her for another swipe. She jabbed him in the eyes.
He screamed.
She smacked him as hard as she could across the side of his face.
He fell to the ground, clutching his ear.
Good, it was probably perforated.
She drew back her leg and swung, aiming for his nuts, but he grabbed her ankle the moment before impact and yanked.
She went down hard. Her head hit the ground in an explosion of pain and the world went dark for a moment. Then something landed on her throat, hot and tight, and she couldn’t breathe.
He was choking her.
She thrashed and clawed at his hands.
He was killing her, she couldn’t breathe…
Fuck…
Midge…
Garret’s face swam into her mind, hard-jawed and steely-eyed. He told her to get up, get the fuck up, Crackle! You gonna let the arsehole whip you? Get the fuck up!
Sorry, Garret…sorry…
Chapter Seven
Ryder had his money for the fight, he ached all over and it was time to go home. He was walking past the arena when he heard the yells. “Smack the Bitch! ‘Ave at it!”
His feet veered back toward the ring. He didn’t have to work to get through; the crowd parted for his monolithic frame. Even though they’d just watched him take a beating, none of the observers were willing to try challenging him. Maybe it was the steely look in his eye, the hard set to his jaw, or maybe it was the clenched fists ready to pummel. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see, and what he saw took every ounce of his strength to stay rooted to the spot.
There was a woman, petite, slender, beautiful, in the arena and the man she was up against was none other than Kara’s attacker!
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 178