Prizefight: The Hell Raiders MC Goes MMA

by Aden Lowe

  Juaquin shrugged. "Fine with me." He worked his way through the rest of the food on his plate.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Elena:

  Being led down to my mom's room for lunch creeped me out. Mr. Green was as nice as the other people who worked for Royse seemed to be, but the whole thing just seemed weird, on an epic level. I knew better than object or say what I thought, though. People around Royse who did that ended up beat half to death, or just dead. I'd both seen, and heard, it too many times to count. Keeping my mouth shut seemed like the best option.

  Praying wasn't my thing, but I offered up a few words to ask that Ryker and Stella got my message through Juaquin. If they didn't bother, I was fucked. Nobody would rescue me, and I would have to live with whatever kind of crazy Royse planned. That thought made my stomach burn, a feeling I was getting used to lately.

  Mr. Green opened mom's door for me, and I tapped at the door before I went in. "Hi, Mom, how're you feeling?"

  She looked up from where she sat in the big plush recliner. "Hi, sweetie. I'm glad you came." A smile curved her lips, but didn't reach her eyes.

  I ignored warning bells going off in my head. "I thought I'd have lunch with you, if that's okay."

  She nodded. "It'll be here in a few minutes. I asked them to hold it for a half hour so we could talk."

  My eyebrow went up. "That sounds serious."

  "Well, it is." She straightened the throw covering her legs. "Mr. Royse came in a while ago."

  "Oh? And what did he want?" My pulse raced. Why the hell did my mom want to talk about Royse?

  Her graying hair curled over her shoulder as she shook her head. "He stops in to check on me every day. He was very upset today." One hand came up as if to silence me. "Why in the world did you tell him you had a cat?"

  Anger raced through me, and my face went red-hot. "What?" I took a breath. "Mom, what would you know about a cat? You were always asleep or just zoned out, or whatever. You barely noticed if I was even there. So, yeah, I had a cat. At least I could talk to him sometimes and know he heard." Wherever all that bitterness and anger came from, there was still plenty more, but I managed to plug the leak. And part of me couldn't help wishing I really did have that fictional pet. Someone would have known I was alive, anyway, and cared, even if only that I came with the food on time.

  Her brows went down in a frown. "Don't talk to me like that, young lady."

  I took a deep breath and tried to keep a handle on my temper. "I'm not being disrespectful, Mom. Just stating a fact."

  Her face flushed, and my mind went back to my childhood, bringing back details I had chosen to ignore the last several years. She pointed at me. "You listen. I nearly worked myself to death trying to take care of you. I won't have you speak that way. And to be so mean to Mr. Royse? What happened to the girl I raised?"

  I couldn't help it. The bitter laugh escaped and my self-control snapped. "Mean? The girl you raised? I don't know, Mom. I haven't seen that girl in so long I don't even remember her. What I do remember is having to beg strangers for help. And when that failed, I remember your kind Mr. Royse raping me, then turning my ass out. That's how we had a roof over our heads, even if it was a shitty one, and food in our bellies." I stood up. "I've lost my appetite."

  Mr. Green had left the door unlocked when he left, so I slammed through it and practically ran down the hall and back up to the lobby. When I got to the elevator, I realized I wasn't sure how to make it work. Rather than wait around, though, I turned the dial and hoped for the best.

  Back inside my suite, I sat on the fancy sofa and seethed with fury. What had that been about? Angry tears rolled down my cheeks as I replayed my mother's words. It occurred to me Royse had decided to use her as a weapon. Instead of threatening to not help her, he could easily still be the good guy if he convinced her I was ungrateful or disrespectful.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Miss? Are you okay?"

  I hurried to wipe the tears away and stood to face Mr. Green. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, you weren't anywhere in sight, and I was in a hurry, so I just came back up on my own." The smile I gave him was shaky, but it was the best I could manage right then.

  "Apologies, Miss. Next time, I'll wait outside the door for you."

  "No need. I'm sure it won't happen again."

  He nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

  I sat for a minute, trying to calm myself a little, but with no luck. I was glad my mom had less pain now, but I couldn't forgive her for what our survival cost me. How could she act as if none of that mattered? Tears stung my eyes and no matter how hard I blinked, they refused to stop. A sudden sob gripped my chest, and I slipped to the floor and gave in. Time meant nothing while I cried my heart out, grieving for what should have been.

  "Miss? Are you okay? I knocked, but you didn't answer." Mr. Green came close. "Miss?"

  I tried to wipe my tears and get control of myself, but the harder I tried, the harder I cried. A gentle hand touched my shoulder, and like an idiot, I practically climbed up the poor man so I could cry all over his nice suit.

  After a minute, he wrapped his thin arms around me and made soothing noises, and held me for the longest time, until I wore myself out. "I'm so sorry." The crying had faded to hiccups, and shame set in. "I've ruined your jacket."

  "Don't worry about it, Miss. My wife and daughter have done the same, more than a few times." He gave a soft chuckle. "Something you want to talk about?"

  Yes, I did, but I couldn't say too much. I shook my head. "Just my mom. I gave up everything to take care of us while she was sick, and now she acts like it was nothing."

  He was quiet for a minute. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure." I braced myself, fearing what he might ask.

  "You don't want to be here, do you?"

  Startled, I looked up into kind blue eyes. "No, I don't. But Royse brought my mom here, took care of her, made her better. I don't have a choice. And now, after everything he did to me, he acts like I'm his girlfriend."

  Mr. Green nodded. "I thought as much." He looked around, as if worried someone might hear. "You have someone else?"

  Did I? It hit me all of a sudden. I wanted way more from Ryker than a rescue. I wanted a future with him. "Yeah, I do. He tried to help me get away, but I came back because of my mom. He probably doesn't want anything to do with me now."

  Another knowing nod. "He drives a black sports car?"

  My heart bruised my ribs. "Yeah." How could he know?

  "He was watching the building. Be ready when he comes back."

  "What?" My mind raced.

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Be ready. He'll come for you. I'll help however I possibly can."

  The tears threatened to come again. "I… I can't leave. My mom—"

  "Will be fine. If he can't use her for leverage, he'll order her killed. But don't worry, none of us here would kill a defenseless sick woman. We'll make sure she gets out." His words refused to sink in.

  My head spun. Could any of this be possible? Or just a trap? "But I've seen what happens when he orders somebody punished. His men like it."

  He nodded again. "They don't work here. They're involved with his illegal businesses. The rest of us aren't like that. They come and go here, because he has various offices in the building, but usually, it's just the staff—a chef and kitchen help, housekeeping, and an attendant for each floor."

  All of this seemed so strange, completely at odds to what I knew about Royse. "So, I could just leave?"

  "Oh, no, it isn't that simple. The security man, the one who usually is in the lobby, won't let you just leave."

  My heart sank a little with disappointment. I nodded. "I understand."

  "Good. Now, since you missed lunch with your mother, I brought you a tray. You should eat, and keep your strength up." He patted my shoulder and left with hardly a sound.

  I decided to take his advice, and found the tray on the small table in the entry
. I brought it into the room I'd come to think of the as the living room, to an oval table with four chairs by the windows. When I took the cover off the tray, I just stared for a minute, stunned. Instead of the sandwich I sort of expected, a grilled chicken breast sat atop what looked like rice. Little green balls, which I suspected were Brussels sprouts, lay to one side on the plate. A small bowl held a fresh salad, and another plate was covered with fancy crackers with thin slices of cheese and meat.

  There was enough food on that tray to last me a week. I took a couple of bites of everything but the Brussels sprouts. Those things just didn't look as if they were meant to be eaten. It all tasted delicious, but there was no way I could eat it all. I put the cover back on the tray, unsure what I should do with it.

  Exhaustion won out, and I left the tray where it was, and went to the soft bed in the bedroom. Someone had been in while I was out with Royse, and made the bed even though I left the blankets straightened when I got up. I felt guilty for undoing the work by pulling the blankets back, but tiredness forced the issue.

  Sleep took over as soon as my cheek touched the pillow. Screwed up dreams made me toss and turn while Royse and his henchmen chased me through my sleep. I woke breathing hard and calling out for Ryker.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ryker:

  It took more time than I wanted it to. My instincts kept insisting I should just go to Royse's building and walk in with guns blazing and take Elena back. Every time I put that suggestion up, Stella shot it down fast, saying we needed a plan that included her mother. I got that, but at the moment, I didn't give a shit about the old lady. I just wanted my woman safe and sound in my arms.

  By this point, I wasn't fighting it. Elena was my woman, and I had every intention of telling her exactly that, as soon as I had her back. We would deal with the details once she was safe again.

  "Hey, Ryker, since you're not adding to this discussion, how about you call the boss and give him an update? Better than you sitting here looking like somebody kicked your dog." Stella's words came with a grin, but it meant he was worried.

  I stood. "Yeah, probably a good idea." I slid my phone out of my pocket and headed for the door. I'd rather take my chances with being overheard on the street than counting on a drug dealer not to have his place wired. The sidewalk seemed like a far safer bet.

  Kellen came on the line, and I filled him in as I walked up and down the sidewalk to make a more difficult target for anyone listening or taking aim at my skull.

  "Okay, got a time frame yet?" The wheels turning in Kellen's head practically made my phone rattle.

  "Not yet, but the sooner the better. Can't be soon enough for me."

  "I heard that. A'ight, I'll send some boys your way. You might need backup." He went silent for a minute. "Ryker, she'll be okay, man. You have to believe that."

  Frustration flared up, but I bit back the words on the tip of my tongue. Kellen went through hell with Vicki when they first got together, so he had a real good idea how I felt. "Yeah, trying to stay positive."

  "Good. Okay, keep in touch. Sending the boys to Stella's place when they hit town, but they have your number, too. They'll holler at you before they get there." He ended the call and I headed back inside.

  Stella and Juaquin had a bunch of papers spread over the table and were leaned over, studying them closely, and talking quietly. I moved closer for a better look, more than a little shocked to see a pencil drawing of the front of Royse's building at one end of the table. I bent over to see what they were talking about.

  "This right here don't make sense. If he lives on the penthouse floor, why have two apartments up there?" Stella traced his fingers over what looked like a mirror image floor plan on each side of the building. "Think he has any relatives or anyone else living there with him?" He glanced up at me, like I might know.

  "Never heard of any relatives, or anyone close, but that's not something I'd have heard." Thoughts chased themselves through my mind. Did I know anyone close to Royse? "It's a long shot, but let me call someone. Might be able to find out."

  I grabbed my phone and scrolled to Luke's number. This time, I didn't bother going outside. The conversation wouldn't be related to the Hell Raiders, so it didn't matter who heard. He didn't answer, so I left a message, then went back to the floor plans. Luke would call back as soon as he had a training break.

  In the meantime, I needed to know everything I could find out about Royse's building. "Let's look floor-by-floor, memorize that fucker's lair."

  Stella nodded and pulled the sheet marked 'BASEMENT' to the top of the pile. Most of the rooms there were labeled Storage or Mechanical. "This all looks innocent, until you think about what could be in those storage rooms." Stella looked around. "You got a pen and paper in this joint, man?"

  Juaquin flashed his gold grin. "Course I do. I done tol' you, I'm like a fuckin' boy scout, always prepared." He fished around in a kitchen drawer and came up with a small notepad and one of those free pens everyone steals at the bank.

  Stella started scribbling something down in some kind of shorthand. Whatever it was, I sure as hell couldn't read it. "Okay, we have to assume the rooms aren't going to be used as labeled. Can't very well put 'Holding Cell' on a floorplan for a commercial building or private residence. City inspectors would pitch ten kinds of hell over that."

  "So far, I follow. But where the hell did you learn to write?" The chance to take a jab at Stella refused to be left alone.

  He raised an eyebrow. "Shit, I was supposed to be writing something?"

  Juaquin laughed. "You know what we need?"

  "A tank?"

  "Nah, we need someone who's actually been in there and familiar with it." Dude acted like he'd just given some profound advice.

  "Too bad volunteers ain't knocking the door down to help, though."

  I gave some serious thought to the drug dealer's words, and a spark of an idea started to grow. "Not yet. But if we get word into the right ears that we're looking for someone, they just might."

  Stella straightened and turned to look at me full on. "You think so?"

  I shrugged. "Royse has more enemies than friends. Place that big, if he's actually using it, has to have staff, and people who come and go. He's bound to have pissed off at least one of them."

  "Huh. You have a point. So where do we find these people who hate Royse that much?"

  He had me there. "I'll have to get back to you on that one."

  Juaquin held up a finger. "You know any of the chicks Elena worked with?"

  I shook my head. "I wouldn't even know her except she was part of the prize for a fight I won. I've seen a ton of girls working for him, but never paid much attention. Got all I wanted without paying."

  Juaquin interrupted with a laugh. "Right, ain't no white boy ever got all the pussy he wants without havin' to pay up front. Bitches be smart like dat."

  Stella and I both flipped him off. I decided right then Juaquin might be an okay bastard. Either way, he could be a valuable asset. "Ain't my fault if they have a thing for fighters. Either way, I got a call in to a buddy that might know some names for us."

  We spent the next hour going over floor plans, searching for some weakness we could exploit. Finally, my phone rang with Luke's return call. "Hey, you able to talk right now?"

  "No, Ryker, Luke isn't able to come to the phone right now. I'll be happy to take a message for you, though."

  My blood turned to icicles at the fake cheerfulness of Royse's tone. Fuck! I ended the call, cursing the day the fucker was born.

  The others looked up with alarm, and Stella stood with a hand on the butt of his .38. "What?"

  "Fucking Royse. He called me back from Luke's phone. Probably means he had his goons beat the poor bastard down, or worse." I ran a hand over my head. "Fuck this. I'm going to get Elena now."

  Stella grabbed me as I started for the door. "Wait, Ryker. You could be walking right into a fucking shooting gallery."

  I shook him off and
went on, not wanting to hurt a Brother if I didn't have to. "I can't leave her in that sick fuck's hands one minute longer." A fresh chill ran along my spine at the thought of the bastard touching her. I had tried to keep my mind from going there, but too late now.

  My phone rang again, but I ignored it. I had nothing to say to the fucker. Juaquin's door succeeded in slowing me down for a few seconds, and as I cleared it, Stella's phone went off. I ignored his shout to wait and headed for his car in a sprint.

  I slowed, a handful of strides from the car, and something plowed into me from the side, taking me to the ground. I came back up immediately, grateful for all the hours of training. It looked like the fucker had brought the fight to me.

  The guy who took me down had a good fifty pounds and several inches on me. I backed up a little to gain a second to check that no more thugs lurked around to come to his defense. Certain no rescuers waited, I moved in, ready to take him apart.

  He threw both hands up, fear spreading over his face. "Wait! Wait, man, Juaquin an' Stella say tell you hol' up a minute."

  I growled. "What the fuck?"

  "I'm sorry, man. Juaquin call and say stop you, him an' Stella gotta tell you sum'n 'fore you take off." The guy took another half step back with every word.

  Stella raced around the corner before I could say anything more, stopping in front of me with one hand up while he heaved for air. When he finally managed to speak, he still sounded badly winded. "Fuck, man, warn me before I have to chase you down. Smokin' two packs a day ain't good with this fitness shit."

  "What the fuck, Stella? This shit ain't cool." It took all my self-control not to take his head for this bullshit.

  He took another deep breath. "Sorry, brother. Boss called. Him and the rest of the boys are just a few minutes out."

  I shrugged. "And you stopped me for that? I could have done been there, damn it."