Prizefight: The Hell Raiders MC Goes MMA

by Aden Lowe

  I sat back to think, not sure what to make of all this new information. At least now I understood why Stella was the go-to man whenever a job required ice water for blood. He’d grown up in a world that permitted absolutely no weakness or softness in a man.

  “Does Kellen know any of this? Or how we’re handling things here?”

  “He ain’t too happy about doing it this way. Thinks it’s too risky. I’ve done this shit my whole life, though. It’s the quickest way to get the info we want. Then we’re out.” He peeled his shirt off. “I’m going to get a shower, then start touching base with some connections here in town. We’ll head out around three to see and be seen.”

  Relief settled into my tired muscles. “I’m going to hit the rack for a couple hours, then. Wake me a couple hours before we need to go out.”

  Stella nodded and gave me a half wave as he disappeared into the bathroom. I headed for the bedroom, and didn’t bother to unpack my bag. My stuff didn’t need hanging up, since wrinkles couldn't do it any harm, and the thought made me glad. A life of worrying about making a bad impression because of some lint didn't sound all that appealing to me. I could fall straight into bed and not worry about it.

  I kicked my clothes off and slid under the sheets in just my boxers. The bed felt like a cloud, swallowing my tired muscles. Even if I did hate sleeping in a strange bed, this one was a close second to my own. I was out by the time my head settled into the perfect pillow.

  Chapter Two

  Elena:

  For the ten millionth time in two weeks, my thoughts went to Ryker, and the night I spent with him. I'd never experienced anything like him in my life. Since him, Royse had set me up with every kind of jerk imaginable, and I had no clue why. At the moment I nursed a split lip and black eye to prove it. None of it made sense. Sure, I've had my share of bad dates, but they were usually pretty rare. Maybe my lucky streak had ended.

  None of that mattered though. I fixed mom’s lunch on the little two-burner stove in our one-room apartment. That was what mattered. I managed to keep a roof, even a shitty one, over our heads, and something like food in our bellies. The occasional split lip or black eye meant nothing next to those things. I steadfastly refused to let my brain go to the other parts of it. How many men I let stick their dicks in me, or how much I moaned and groaned for them, didn’t matter either.

  At least I wasn't doing it on the street. I knew several girls not lucky enough to have arrangements with Royse, and they had it far worse. No wonder they had to hit a little somethin’ before they went out. Without protection, a working girl on the street turned into a living, breathing target for every sick fuck in the country. The right to say no to anything fell right out the window.

  Mom made a sound that told me she was awake and in pain. “Morning, baby.”

  “Good morning, Mom. You ready to eat?” I poured the generic canned soup into a bowl for her and grabbed the crackers. Shit. She should be eating better than this. Fresh meats and vegetables, stuff like what Ryker made for me the other night. That might as well be gold and diamonds, though. Not like I’d ever afford either of them.

  “You go ahead, baby. I’m just going to the bathroom. Still tired.” She pushed off the bed with a groan that broke my heart and shuffled to our little bathroom.

  When she came out, I was ready, taking her arm. “Come on, eat a little for me. You’ll rest better.” I led her toward the rickety table and helped her sit.

  She took a reluctant bite. “You should be out having fun, baby, not sitting here with me.”

  The bright smile I gave her was fake as hell, but she wouldn’t notice. She never did. “Don’t worry, Mommy, I have plenty of fun. Now eat for me. I have to get ready for work soon and I won’t be home until late.” I made a mental note to check that she had snacks and drinks in the little box on the nightstand. Otherwise she wouldn’t eat or drink the entire time I had to be gone.

  She ate a few more bites while I made silly small-talk, then pushed back and said she was full. The smile she forced to her lips looked as fake as my own, and made her thin face look even more fragile. I gave her her meds, thanking God once more she’d qualified for free health care. I remembered all too well the days with no medication to ease her suffering.

  With my mother all tucked in again, already sound asleep, I ate the rest of the soup rather than waste it, then started getting ready. The hot water had been broken for so long in our building I’d gotten used to icy showers, telling myself cold water was better for the skin. I’d picked that up on some stupid TV show at one time or another, I guess, but pretending the choice was mine made it a little easier to bear. In reality, I knew full well we were lucky to have running water at all.

  Life hadn’t always been so bleak. My father walked out when I was really little, but Mom made it with hard work and determination. Back then, she worked in a factory making floor mats for cars, and we lived in a decent little apartment. It hadn’t been Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous, but it hadn’t been bad either.

  Then, my freshman year of high school, Mom got sick. I mean, really, really sick. She nearly died several times those first few weeks, running a high temperature they couldn’t get under control, and had no idea what caused it. Her work was really good, gave her extra sick leave and everything.

  But in the end, it didn’t matter. The fevers let up, but that was about the only improvement. Now, almost ten years later, we still didn’t know what caused it, or what kept her in constant pain. Maybe if we lived somewhere with fancy doctors, and could afford them, we might have found out. We had no other family, so I had to leave school to take care of her, and before long, that turned into trying to keep food and a roof, too.

  Somehow, with sheer luck and the kindness of strangers, I kept it together for a few years, but it kept getting harder and harder. Finally, the eviction notices piled up and the landlord ran out of patience. He kicked us out, and because we had nowhere to go, we lost everything but what I could carry.

  Partway through our first winter on the streets, I heard of a guy who could help with situations like ours, if he liked you well enough. I cleaned up in a convenience store bathroom, lied to Mom and left her at the library to stay warm, and went to see him.

  Growing up like I did, with no time for boys, I was a virgin until the day I went to see Royse. He seemed to like me well enough. After he took the only thing I had left, he gave me money and told me to come back the next evening, he would have work for me. I’ve been a whore ever since.

  Things could have been a lot worse, though, and I tried to make the best of it. Until the night Royse set me up with Ryker, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it. That night with him made me want more, though. I needed to find a way to get out from under Royse’s thumb and do better for Mom and myself.

  I had a cheap-ass cellphone Royse gave me so he could reach me when he wanted to, but I decided to use it for more. For the past week, I left the apartment early every afternoon in my one pair of decent jeans and a nice shirt I got for a nickel at the thrift store. Now, I had applications in all over town. If I could get something part time, I might be able to save enough to make a real start for Mom and me, and get away from Royse.

  The one thing I had going for us was my GED. I’d studied every morning at the library until I managed to take that test and pass it. That piece of paper provided a ticket to the rest of the world. Or so I’d thought at the time. My ambitions had changed quite a bit since then. Now, instead of college and a big career, I would settle for a part time waitressing gig.

  I checked on Mom one last time before I left, careful to lock up behind me. Our neighborhood wasn’t one where you left anything to chance, ever. Heading down the stairs, I stayed quiet and paused on the landing before I reached the first floor. I listened carefully, but no sounds came from Juaquin’s door.

  Heart in my throat, I hurried on. I darted past the door in question, open as always. A hand snaked out and caught my arm, and no matter how hard I p
ulled, I couldn’t break his grip.

  “Why you wanna be like dat, mama? Come party wit’ me.” Juaquin dragged me against him and towered over me. “Got some real good shit.”

  I forced a smile and faced him. “No thanks, Juaquin. I gotta go, late for work.”

  He grinned, gold teeth flashing against his dark skin. “I done tol’ you, mama, you don’t need ta work. I be happy to take care of you and yo’ sick mama, too. Make sure she don’t hurt no more.”

  My heart pounded behind my eyeballs and I’m pretty sure he could see it. The man scared me pissless. He’d never threatened me, but Juaquin was the closest this neighborhood had to a drug kingpin, and he had a bloody rep. Refusing an offer from him was a quick way to piss him off. And still, if the need came up, I thought I could count on him for help in a bad situation.

  I widened my smile and patted his hand. “Aw, that’s sweet of you, Juaquin, it really is.”

  He let me pull away. “One o’ these days, mama, you’ll get sick of sucking dick for Royse. When you do, you just come to ol’ Juaquin. Lady like you shouldn’ hafta do that to keep her moms safe.” He smiled, almost kind looking. “Don’t forget, now, baby. You gots my number, call anytime.” He released me and went back into his apartment.

  I got the hell out of there and didn’t slow down for a whole block. Less than a week ago, that man had one of his slingers come up short for the second time. He cut the guy’s finger off. The whole area knew his brutal reputation and no one crossed him. So why the hell did he keep trying to be nice to me? He never asked a female twice if he decided he wanted her. They were all eager to get their hands on his drugs, and never said no. Yet I turned him down regularly, and he still offered to help me. I didn't get it.

  Several other people gathered at the bus stop with me, waiting for a ride that never made it on time. Rather than make eye contact with any of them, I stayed firmly in my thoughts, trying to figure out Juaquin’s game. My run-ins with him happened at least once a week, always with the same offer, and I always refused. And somehow, he hadn’t slit my throat yet.

  The bus finally showed up and I got on with everyone else. The dollar store on Second and a coffee shop down the street both had Help Wanted signs still in the windows, and I hurried to get my applications in.

  The manager at the dollar store took my papers and looked me up and down, wearing an expression that promised she drank vinegar for breakfast every day. “Where you working now?”

  My heart caught in my throat. “I do odd jobs when I can find them, cleaning and stuff like that.”

  Her look grew harder. “Never had a real job?”

  “No, ma’am. I had to leave school to take care of my sick mother. I worked hard and got my GED, but I haven’t been able to find a regular job yet.” Some little scrap of pride urged me to just turn around and walk out, but I stayed put.

  “Your mother still sick? You still taking care of her?”

  Again, I wanted to run. “Yes, ma’am. But she doesn’t need someone with her all the time now, so I can work.” I took a shaky breath. “I’m a hard worker, ma’am, and I’m good with people. All I need is a chance.” A silent prayer ran through my mind.

  The woman smiled. “You be here at ten in the morning. I’ll give you that chance.”

  Sudden tears burned my eyes. “You mean it?”

  “Of course I do, honey. See you then.”

  “Thank you so much! I won’t let you down.” The tears rolled over. If only this woman knew how much her words meant to me, how they could change my life.

  Happiness floated me down the street. Finally! Juggling work at the dollar store with nights for Royse might be tricky, but it should only take a couple of weeks. Once I got a pay check, I could get out from under his thumb.

  While I made plans for how I would work and save to make things better for Mom and me, a big part of me trembled with fear. If Royse found out what I was doing, he would blow a gasket. He hated to lose. I had to make sure he didn’t suspect.

  I stopped off at the thrift store and bought two more nickel shirts. They weren’t anything fancy, but I couldn’t show up to work in the same clothes every day, so they’d have to do. To celebrate my good fortune, I stopped and treated myself to a canned soda from the machine outside the little grocery store.

  The cold, sugary goodness filled me with energy and I nearly skipped to the library, eager to share my good news with my one friend. Mrs. Carrington, the middle-aged lady that ran the little library knew my whole story. She’d been the one to encourage me when it seemed like getting my GED might never happen. Plenty of times, Mom and I wouldn’t have eaten if not for Mrs. Carrington’s kindness, even though she didn’t have anything extra herself.

  I pushed into the dim coolness and took a deep breath of books. That scent of paper and ink would always be tied to good things for me. Behind the counter, Mrs. Carrington looked up from the stack of books she was sorting, and gave me a broad smile.

  “Good morning, Elena. My goodness, you look chipper today.”

  “You won’t believe what just happened to me!” The long habit of dropping my voice to a near whisper when I came in those doors served me well and I managed not to scream out my news. “I got a job!”

  Beaming, she came out from behind the counter and enveloped me in a hug. “Oh, Honey, tell me!”

  I spilled it all, including my fears about Royse finding out and my earlier encounter with Juaquin.

  “Honey, you deserve some good in your life. God will take care of making sure that man doesn’t find out. Just let Him take care of it for you.” Deeply religious, Mrs. Carrington practiced what she preached. She never considered herself better than anyone else, and she was kind to every single person lucky enough to come into her life. She knew exactly what I had to do, and she never once made me feel dirty or bad because of it.

  I treasured her for the rare gift she was. “Today, I think I can actually believe that.”

  She smiled again. “Now all you need is for Him to put a nice young man in your path. Maybe that boxer, or someone like him.”

  I laughed. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m completely satisfied if this job works out. I’m not greedy.”

  “Honey, you take my word for it. Every woman needs a man that can set her on fire like that, no matter how it starts out. You get a chance at him, you grab it with both hands.” She gave me another hug. “Now, I’ve got some books to shelve. You need any help finding anything, you just let me know.”

  I thanked her and set off on my search, trying to decide what it would be this time. I might have missed out on high school, but thanks to Mrs. Carrington and the public library, I probably had a better education than I could have hoped for from the school system. I even knew which fork to use if I ever found myself at a fancy dinner, since I'd read one of the etiquette books.

  Chapter Three

  Ryker:

  I stood with my back to the wall, trying to look as bored and disinterested as Tavis and Desmond's men. Stella finally managed to get a sit-down with the Deuces OGs. As an Enforcer, I don't usually get included in the power meetings and bullshit that goes on with the heads of MCs and other crews, and I was absolutely not interested. Politics bored the fuck out of me. But in my cover as Mr. Staladknovski's bodyguard, I didn't have much choice.

  Rather than the mind-numbing exchange of nonsense and trash-talk I expected, I learned Stella knew how to get shit to the point. Even more interesting, he spoke with an Eastern European accent and no trace of his usual southern drawl. Everything about him was always redneck as hell, but suddenly my Brother seemed like he'd be equally comfortable at some high society gala. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

  In a suit that probably cost more than I could make in a month of good fights, Stella sat straight and perfect in the cheap folding chair. "Gentlemen. I am here on behalf of the Staladknovski Family to inquire about certain goods our information indicates you have access to. If an amenable arrangement can be reached, w
e would be interested in acquiring these goods from your…organization."

  Desmond, clearly in the bad gangster role, sat back and crossed his arms. His dark gaze missed nothing, especially not the Cartier watch with its alligator band. Hell, even I knew that thing cost more than a lot of houses. "What makes you so sure the Deuces want to make any kind of arrangement with you or your family?"

  "You would like to wear a watch worth more than one hundred thousand dollars, yes? Five thousand dollar shoes? A twenty thousand dollar suit?" He waited for a flicker of greed in Desmond's eyes. "I see, you would. Then you see how a business arrangement with my family could be profitable, I'm sure."

  Desmond shrugged and stared for a moment. "Why the Deuces? You got that much green, you can get any fucking body to sell you what you want."

  "You are new, and hungry. You will work harder than an established enterprise to meet our needs."

  Desmond exchanged a look with Tavis, who shrugged. "What you got in mind, man?"

  Stella's shoulders tightened, just the faintest bit, and instantly put me on alert. "I am in the market for certain types of hardware. Which I am told you have access to."

  Tavis scowled and I suddenly readjusted my assessment of who the bad gangster was in this pair. "Look, homes, I ain't tryna jack you or nothin'. But quit beatin' aroun' the motherfuckin' bush and say it straight out, or I bounce."

  Stella stayed silent for a long moment. "Fine. My people tell me you have access to guns in the quantities I need."

  "Guns, huh? When my boys tol' me you was askin' around, I checked you out."