Still, Prince tried. He tried to play it all in his mind, and he came up empty-handed every time. If a reprise of the beating from six years ago were to occur, he was pretty sure he would be able to take Bennie now. The man wasn’t a fighter, at least not in the strict sense of the term; Prince, much to his chagrin, was. But beating up the club’s president was probably the stupidest thing he could do and the fastest way to get himself a death sentence, effective immediately.
Eventually, he decided that the only way to know what would happen was to knock on the door of the meeting room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bennie was cleaning his gun when Prince walked in. It wasn’t a very reassuring sight. He looked up, and already his dark eyes seemed to make a hole in Prince. Bennie knew something was up. He smiled a wolf smile, and Prince shivered inwardly.
“Ah, my favorite fighter,” he said. He took his hand away from the barrel of his gun long enough to gesture towards the chairs aligned along the vast surface of the meeting room’s tale. “Please, have a seat.”
Prince swallowed past the fear he could feel mounting inside of him. He hated the power that this man still possessed over him. He was a grown man now, no longer the scrawny, insecure teenager that he had been when he had begun his “career” in the Devils’ fighting rings. And yet, Bennie Lenday still terrified him. He supposed he had his reasons; there was a darkness to the man’s soul that only a fool would not be scared of. Even the gang’s oldest members feared him.
Prince took a seat a couple of chairs away from the end of the table where Bennie was seated.
“So,” Bennie said, “what can I do for you?”
For a split second, Prince panicked. He had absolutely no idea how to bring this up without getting himself—or worse, Alyssa—killed. And then he decided that he would just improvise; there was no other way.
“I want out.”
It was exactly what Prince had promised himself not to say. It was exactly the worst thing he could have said. It was exactly the most disastrous start to this conversation he could have ever come up with.
Bennie did not miss a beat. He didn’t pause; he didn’t start; he didn’t tense up. He continued cleaning his gun and smoking the cigarette he held between his lips as if no one had spoken. It was a chilling sort of non-reaction that instantly put Prince on guard.
“You do, huh?” His voice was calm, cool, and collected enough to freeze the blood in a man’s veins. “I suppose that’s fair enough; you’ve been in the rings for almost a decade now.”
Prince watched him warily. All that Bennie had just said was very true, but he was also sure there was no way the man really meant it—or even if it did, it surely did not mean he was free to go.
Bennie looked up from his gun and straight into Prince’s eyes. It was like looking into a dark pit of hell, the kind of hell that usually awaited Prince. “I’m acknowledging your merits, Prince.”
“You are,” Prince admitted. “But I can’t figure out why.”
Bennie laughed. It was a humorless, cold kind of laugh. “Tell me, how do you propose to get out?”
Prince hesitated. Astonishingly enough, it sounded like an honest question…and he had no idea how to answer it. “Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible.”
“It is,” Bennie said, surprising him even more.
Prince stared at him. “Do you mean it?” he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. He tried to sound flat, detached, all business. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding. “Or are you implying that the way out is in a body bag?”
Bennie chuckled. “How negative of you, Prince.” He let the silence stretch out then, and Prince’s anxious wait with it. Finally, he said, “No, there’s an actual way out. There wouldn’t be for just anyone, admittedly, but you’ve served us very well in the past eight years. I’m willing to give you a chance.”
Prince understood immediately. Whatever Bennie was talking about, it wouldn’t come without a price. “What do I have to do?”
Bennie grinned his wolf grin. “You have to fight, of course.”
Prince began to feel cold inside. He was not surprised, but there was a glint in Bennie’s dark eyes that he didn’t like at all. “Who?” he asked.
“Taylor Jackman.”
Prince could actually feel the blood drain from his face. Taylor “The Jack” Jackman was a renowned fighter in the underground rings, but his fame was an ill one. No matter how brutal the fight, it was always implied that both competitors would, if at all possible, walk off the ring alive. Of course, accidents (sometimes orchestrated ones) happened, but—generally speaking—it was an understood rule that it wasn’t a good idea for the fighters to kill each other, and that the people behind the rings needed their men to remain more or less intact.
This rule did not apply to “The Jack.” The man had a reputation for killing his opponents, and it was hardly ever an accident. Taylor Jackman enjoyed killing with his bare hands, and the only reason why he had not yet been kicked out of the rings was that it was the kind of spectacle that made the most money. He had created a legend that people appreciated.
It was savagery at its worst.
“What happens if I say no?” Prince ventured.
He wasn’t afraid to die, but he felt like he now had too much to live for to just throw away his life like that.
Bennie shrugged as he went about methodically reassembling his gun. “You never get out.”
It was that simple, and that cruel.
Bennie looked up at him, his eyes blacker than hell. “You’re doing this for her, aren’t you? Dr. Kelley’s daughter. You want to be with her.”
“Yes,” Prince said simply. There was no point in lying.
“It’s your choice,” Bennie said. “If you accept and you win, you’ll make us enough money that we’ll be grateful to you for eternity. If you don’t fight this fight, you stay with us. Permanently.”
“So you’re blackmailing me.”
“No.” Bennie glared at him, and Prince actually had to fight the urge to squirm. “I’m offering you a way out. You know it’s more than I would offer anyone else.”
Prince had to admit that it was. “If I fight and I win, you’ll let me and Alyssa go? No repercussions?”
“No repercussions. You have my word.”
It may not make sense to others, but Bennie’s word was good enough for Prince. Benedict Lenday had many flaws and was undoubtedly a horrible human being, but on the rare occasions that he did give his word, he was known for keeping it.
“You said if I win this fight against Jackman, I’d make the Devil’s Fighters a lot of money,” Prince began.
“A shitload of money, my friend,” Bennie confirmed.
“Then, I have one more request.”
Bennie stared at him curiously. “Shoot.”
“If I win this fight, you let Rick go, too. No repercussions.”
It was a bold move, but Prince figured it was worth a shot. After all, he didn’t have much to lose; if he lost the fight against Taylor Jackman, he was a dead man.
Bennie laughed. “You’ve got balls, Wheeler. I don’t necessarily like that in my fighters, but I like it in you.”
“So what’s it going to be?” Prince asked. He didn’t want to play any more games.
Bennie cocked his head to the side and thought about it. “Fine,” he said at last. “If you win the fight against ‘The Jack,’ I’ll let you and O’Donnell go, and your girl, as well. No repercussions.”
They sealed their pact with a handshake.
Prince walked out of the room on legs that he felt were shaking—although he very much hoped it didn’t show. He found Rick waiting for him at the bar. There was no sign of Johnnie.
“You’re alive,” Rick said. He said it in a sarcastic tone, but his eyes betrayed his genuine relief.
“For now,” Prince said. “Let’s get out of here; we need to talk.”
Rick readily jumped off the bar stool and followed him
outside. They each climbed in their cars—neither of them wanted anything to do with motorcycles—and Rick followed Prince back into town and to Lynn’s diner.
Prince ignored the looks they got as they walked inside; he was used to them by now, and he had long stopped trying to convince everyone that even though he was forced to wear the gang’s leather vest with the red Satan on the back, he was not a Devil.
Rick, on the other end, was still somehow affected by the people’s mistrust, and he made a point not to look anyone in the eye as they made their way to a secluded booth.
Lynn herself came over to take their orders, because the waitresses were all afraid of them.
“Good morning, boys,” she said. She greeted them with a bright smile that lit up her plump but pretty face. “What can I get you?”
Lynn had become significantly friendlier towards them, and Prince had long suspected that Alyssa might have had something to do with it. The two women had reconnected after Alyssa had come back to town for her parents’ funeral and were now inseparable. Prince wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Alyssa had confided in Lynn.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee, please,” Prince said politely. “Black.”
“Same here,” Rick said. “And a slice of your apple pie.”
“Sure thing.” Lynn walked away, all swaying full hips and bouncy, wavy golden hair. She wore them cropped to the base of her neck, but they still flowed beautifully.
Prince spied Rick staring after her.
“If I wasn’t gay, I’d probably be very much into her,” Rick said. “No pun intended.”
Prince rolled his eyes.
They waited for their order to arrive, not wanting to risk being overheard if they dived into the conversation right away. Once they were both nursing two steaming mugs and Rick was digging into the apple pie, they could finally get into it.
“So,” Rick said, munching around a large bite. “What happened? What did Bennie say?”
“He offered me a way out.”
Rick’s hazel eyes widened with the same surprise Prince had felt at the time. “He did what?”
Prince nodded. “I know. I was shocked, too. I really thought he would shoot me on the spot.”
“What will you have to do?” Rick asked.
There was no question as to the fact that Bennie’s offer had not come for free.
“I’ll have to fight one last fight,” Prince said. “If I win, I’m out. No repercussions.”
Rick watched him intently. “That’s it?” he said, skeptical. “One more fight?”
“Pretty much.”
Prince all but buried his face in his mug of coffee.
“Bullshit,” Rick spat, and Prince looked sharply up at him. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, that’s it. One more fight.”
Rick heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Prince, you were always an awful liar. Now tell me what it is that Bennie really asked of you.”
Prince took a deep breath. “I have to fight Taylor Jackman.”
Once again, Rick had the same reaction Prince had as he sat in the meeting room with Bennie; he went pale. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope. He says that if I win, I’ll make the gang a ton of money, and he’ll let me and Alyssa go.” He hesitated. “He’ll let you go, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you, I’m not going to leave you here.”
“So, in order to save us all, you agreed to a fight to the death with a man who’s known for actually liking to kill his adversaries?”
Prince hesitated. “When you put it like that, it sounds very stupid.”
“Because it is!” Rick snapped. “It’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I have to get out of here!” Prince snapped back. “It’s my only chance. If I have to compete against that madman to have a possibility, so be it.”
“‘So be it’?” Rick repeated, incredulous. “Are you out of your freaking mind? There is no way you’re winning this fight. Bennie might as well have just shot you himself.”
It was true; Prince knew it now. The realization came to him with the startling force of lightning in a blue sky. How could he be so stupid? How could he not see it? Bennie didn’t believe that he could win this fight, either. He was only giving him a death sentence, condemning him to die doing what he hated most.
What Bennie didn’t know, however, Prince thought as cold rage mounted within him, was that what he hated most was also what he did best.
“I’ll win this fight,” he said, and he meant it.
Rick caught the genuine confidence in his voice, too. “How can you be so sure? No one has ever won a fight against that beast.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Prince said. “I’ll be that first time.”
Rick watched him carefully. “You’re not a killer, Prince.”
Prince blinked, taken aback. “Uh…yeah, thanks. I know. What does that have to do with anything?”
“The only way you’re winning a fight against Taylor Jackman is if you kill him.”
“I don’t think it’s the only way.”
Rick arched a dark blond eyebrow. “No?” he said. “And pray tell, how else do you plan on defeating that fiend from hell?”
They had seen the man fight once. Even without being in the ring themselves, it had been a horrifying experience.
“I’ll knock him out.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “The man is a mountain,” he said. “There is no way he’s going to just stay down, not while he’s still alive.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“Oh, just kill him, for fuck’s sake!” Rick snapped. “Everyone will be better off without that madman rampaging around the rings.”
Prince stared at his friend, surprised at this vehemence. It was very much unlike Rick. “I cannot kill a man in a fight,” he said. “I will not. You know that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the moment I do, I’m like them,” Prince said. “The moment I kill a man with my bare hands, I’m a savage. Would you do it?”
“Honestly, if it got me out of this so-called life of ours? In a heartbeat.”
Prince was rendered speechless for a moment. He could tell that Rick meant it. He wondered how he had missed it in over eight years of knowing the man, of fighting side by side with him, of struggling together to hold on to a shred of their humanity in an inhumane lifestyle. Rick was desperate, and he wasn’t living. For over eight years, Rick had been just existing, sometimes even barely that, and now he was desperate to live again.
Rick would have done anything to get out. He would have stopped at nothing. Prince could read it on his face as clearly as he could read a book. Where Prince had somehow managed to hold on to his will to live and amount to something better (even though he didn’t always believe that he could), Rick had been dying little by little in front of his very eyes.
No more, Prince vowed to himself. There would be no more of this, even if it killed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Alyssa was nervous. It had been two days since she had gotten the news from her clinic in Vancouver, and since then she had been constantly feeling like the clock was ticking—which it was. The pressure was mounting within her, and she felt more and more powerless with each day that went by. She lived in a constant state of tension. Her heart was racing constantly within her chest.
Now, Prince had texted her saying that he would come over and that they “needed to talk.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good; nothing that was accompanied by the sentence “we need to talk” was ever good. Alyssa had tried to keep herself busy while she waited for him, but eventually she had spent hours glancing repeatedly and obsessively at every clock in the house—the one on the wall in the kitchen, the old grandfather clock in the living room, her wristwatch, the clock on her phone. Time seemed to stretch and pass unbelievably slowly.
&nb
sp; When Prince finally rang the doorbell, Alyssa was already waiting for him at the door. She waited a few moments before opening the door, though, so as not to let him know just how anxious she had been. What she saw when she finally did open the door and let him in, however, wasn’t very reassuring at all. Prince’s usually open face was dark, and his green eyes were stormy. He all but pushed past her into the house. There was no greeting kiss, which also contributed to increase her worries.
“We have to talk,” he said, walking to the living room.
Alyssa hurried after him, dumbfounded at his urgency. “You said that.”
“And I meant it.” Prince turned around and watched gravely. “Sit down.”
Too scared to even argue, Alyssa complied and went to sit on the couch, watching as Prince sat down next to her.
“You’re scaring me,” she admitted quietly.
Prince sighed. “I don’t mean to, but it is serious. I thought about not saying anything to you, but the more I thought about it, the more wrong it seemed.”
“You can tell me anything,” Alyssa said sincerely. “In fact, given the situation, I think you shouldn’t hide anything from me that is connected to the Devil’s Fighters.” She hesitated. “Because it is about them, isn’t it?”
“Sort of,” Prince said. He took a deep breath. “I talked with Bennie earlier today.”
Alyssa frowned. Already she didn’t like where this was heading; few names could give her the chills like Bennie Lenday’s. In fact, his name was probably the only one that elicited such a strong, hateful reaction in her. “About…?”
“Us,” he said. “Our predicament. I told him I want out.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. She felt herself grow very cold inside. She didn’t know much about Bennie Lenday—and she didn’t want to know—but she had the feeling that one of his best fighters planning to split on him wasn’t one of the things that made him happy to hear.
“Why did you do that?” she said, her heart galloping within her chest. “Why would you tell him? I thought we were waiting.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Prince argued, “we don’t have the time to wait anymore.”
Prince: Devil's Fighters MC Page 19