A Deal With the Devil

by Louisa George

  “There are lots of ways to feel things. Last night, for example?”

  “Of course. Yes.” Hell, he’d felt more emotions last night than he’d felt in a lifetime. Good ones, elevating ones. Ones that had blown his head—so good to be wrapped in her arms. In her. And then the crippling aftermath of what the hell comes next?

  What he couldn’t believe was that he’d brought her here, to his private space. That he’d been willing, yesterday, to take her to his apartment. That he was thinking about what the hell to do with her tomorrow. Next week …

  “Well I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. It’s so far from everything I’ve ever known.” Taking a sip of her drink she frowned. “I’ve heard about these fight clubs too, where there are no rules. No guidelines. People die.”

  That damned film had glorified the reality, made every sad bloke into a wannabe hero. “That is entirely different. You watch too many movies, Kate. This is not downtown LA or Detroit, it’s just London.” Soon enough he’d be able to say that and mean it. At least his conscience would be clear; there were other clubs, he knew, in lots of cities across the world but they weren’t his problem. “Besides, what people get up to in their own time is their problem.”

  “What if people get hurt? People who don’t know what to expect.”

  “They are usually vetted.”

  “Really? Always? So it’s not something you get involved with?”

  He drank some champagne, twisted the stem on the table. Weighed up just how much to tell her. That damned conscience of his seemed to have woken up and was making its presence felt.

  “It was.” One more fight. “There was this kid, he got badly hurt and it changed things for me. You’re right, people do get hurt, Kate. I don’t want that on my hands.”

  She leaned forward, pale and breathless. “What happened? To the boy?”

  “He was scrawny and mouthy, and thought he was a match for one of our top guys. He wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been there. I’d never have let him in if I’d seen him, never mind let him fight, but he gave Ted some bullshit and he let him in. When I got there the kid was in pieces on the floor. I scraped him up, then me and the doc dropped him at the nearest A&E.”

  “What? You just left him there?”

  “I made sure he was seen first.”

  “You didn’t stay? Didn’t speak to his relatives? Didn’t own up? Didn’t check on him?” The softness in her voice had been replaced by something else—fear? Anger? Strange that she was so deeply moved by such a story, but that was Kate through and through, she was deep down good. Unlike him.

  “He wouldn’t give us any personal information, he didn’t even tell me his surname. I tried. Ted tried. I rang back the next day and the next, but no one at the hospital would give me any details, because I wasn’t family.”

  “I see.” Kate looked as if someone had stolen her breath.

  “Are you okay?” She didn’t look okay, she looked haunted.

  She stood up, her hands shaking, wiped her cheek. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Kate?”

  “I’m fine. Please, leave it.” She turned and walked away.

  At the same moment his phone vibrated in his pocket. Rey grabbed it. Ted. Eight texts lining up. Something about No Surrender. Trouble? The hackers? Shit. He snatched it up. “Ted? What is it?”

  “Where the hell are you? I sent a text. Six to be exact.”

  “Eight. What is it?”

  Ted sounded rattled. “No Surrender. It’s been brought forward. Tonight.”

  “What the hell? Why?”

  “I told you that in my text two hours ago. Wreckers coming in first thing to bowl the place. Tonight was the only option.”

  “Or another venue?” What kind of fresh hell was this? The one where he paid for his lies. But this was Kate’s night. “I’m not coming.”

  “Hell, yes you are. You promised me, and you never renege, Rey. I know you, you’ll come. The punters are braying.”

  Yes, he’d promised and now he was torn—polar opposites pulling him in directions he wasn’t even sure about. “I can’t. Not tonight. Tuesday, yes. We agreed Tuesday. Then it’s done. Finished. Over.” No more bullshit.

  A pause. In the background Rey heard shouting. It sounded messy, feverish. Then Ted was back. “If you don’t get that sad fucking backside down here in ten there’ll be a bloody riot, Rey. It’ll be all over the news like a rash. Your name in bold. Your business blowing up in your face.”

  Rey looked across the room and recognised a top judge entertaining a group of ladies. There would be plenty in this club who would help him hush a scandal up. “I’ll take that risk.”

  “Yeah? Well I won’t. You owe me. You said one last fight, I’m counting on you. These guys are loyal, but they don’t like being taken for a ride. You know I love you, man, but sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you. So I’m sending a car and two of our best men. You’re at RC, I can hear that goofy music. Five minutes, Rey.”

  Damn. Rey flicked the phone into his pocket.

  He would not go.

  When she came back from the bathroom Kate’s eyes were puffy and red, as if she’d been crying. Over him? He doubted it, but if she’d been upset by his story, she clearly had a more tender heart than he’d thought.

  He hated that he’d got into this situation. He had a hard choice to make. By the sounds of it the other guys were baying for his blood. Well, he would handle the fallout. Tomorrow. “Hey, what’s the problem?”

  “Nothing.” She blew her nose and offered a weak smile. “Sorry. Allergies.”

  “You want to head off? Back to my place? Yours?”

  She hesitated. Before she could answer there was a tap on his shoulder. Rosie. “Mr Doyle, there’s two men at the door. I told them you weren’t to be disturbed but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. I thought they might cause trouble so I came to warn you.”

  Damn, Ted was nothing if not true to his word.

  Kate blinked from him to Rosie and back again. “Problem?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” A voice behind them. Ted’s ugly mug appeared. “Sorry to interrupt, but Rey has another engagement he needs to attend.”

  “Are you for real?” Scraping his chair back Rey resisted the temptation to haul Ted against the wall. “I told you—”

  Kate’s hand was on his arm. “No, really … please, go if you need to. It sounds urgent.”

  Ted shrugged, staring at Rey. “It is. Very.”

  She was pulling on her coat already. “Casino business?”

  He wasn’t going to lie. Damn Ted. “Something like that. But it can wait. I’ll stay.”

  “Look …” Her smile wavered and he knew she could see through him and his words. But now she was intent on letting him go. “I’ll get a cab, it’s fine. Honestly. I’m tired, anyway and I need to get back for Jake.”

  Jake? His heart thumped a little, then he remembered. Oh, yeah, her brother. Why did that name sound familiar? Not important. What was important was making as little a deal as possible out of this. “Stay with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Er … A word?” Ted was crowding him now, in his face.

  “Later.” How many times—?

  But Kate was already smiling goodbyes and turning towards the exit. He caught her up. “Wait, Kate. Seriously, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I am.” She raised a weary shoulder and he had to admit she looked exhausted, worn out. “Please, let me go home.”

  “I’ll come with you. Make sure you get home okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she almost snarled. The look she threw at him told him to back right off.

  He walked her to the door, took her in his arms and hauled her close. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Once he’d hailed a passing cab he leaned in to give her another kiss but she turned away, wary, removed, shut down. “Bye, Rey.”

  “Come on,
Romeo.” Ted slapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the waiting car. “Your chariot awaits.”

  “I’m going home.”

  Ted’s hand was still on his shoulder. The pressure intensified. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, Rey … but if you don’t come willingly, I’ll have to make you.”

  “Lay one more finger on me and we’re through.”

  “I don’t have to, Rey. You’ll come. Problem solved—Kate’s gone home.” His oldest friend shook his head and leaned against the black Lexus, lit up a cigarette. He was in for the long haul. “I’ll just phone in and get the boys to wait. The longer you put it off, the worse they’ll be. It’ll be hard. Bloody. Intense, man.”

  For a fleeting second Rey was there, the metal stench filling his nostrils, adrenalin pumping through his veins. And he felt his heart rate ramp up, his fists curl in anticipation.

  He knew when he was beat, when there just was no point fighting the rush and urge any more. Hell, Kate wasn’t here, he had an empty schedule for the next few hours and the need for some kind of release that a jog around the block wouldn’t satisfy. Above all, he owed his friend. One last fight. He dragged the cigarette from Ted’s mouth. “No smoking in my damned car, or you’ll walk. Make the most of this, mate, it’s not happening again.”

  One last fight. Now he was sounding just like his father.

  Chapter Eight

  What the hell kind of business was so urgent that it needed two beefcakes to collect him? The casino was only a short walk away, he didn’t need a car.

  Kate had more than a suspicion. He was going to No Surrender. How deep exactly did it run in his blood? Because he’d said he didn’t do it any more. Thinking of how Jake was after his fight she didn’t dare to imagine how Rey would be—even though he might win, he’d be bruised, bloody, damaged all over again. He’d said they always stopped it before it got too dangerous, but how far did they go? All for what? Some kind of misguided search for glory?

  She had to stop him from doing something he didn’t need to do. And hell, the irony of it was, after all that hacking and snooping around she didn’t need to get a code, she just needed to follow him. She waited until he jumped into his car, then said to her driver, “I never thought I’d get to say this, but can you follow that car?”

  “God, not another joker.” He regarded her through his rear mirror and shook his head, slowly. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that …? Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” Rey’s car was moving east into surging traffic, she waved her hand. “And get a move on. Please, it’s important. Life-and-death kind of stuff.”

  “Okay, lady, but if this is a joke …” The cab drove through increasingly darker roads towards the Docklands, then followed narrowing streets, away from the business area to a ghost town of large warehouses left empty after the global crash. Thin strips of light picked out broken pavements, leaking pipes, the dismal drizzle of an October evening.

  She looked around in dismay. This was the kind of place where Jake had been?

  Rey’s car turned sharp left and drove up an alleyway.

  “Stop here,” Kate commanded the cab driver, preferring to go on foot and not draw attention to herself. This was not about the article. This was not about revenge. This was about stopping Rey from descending into that dark pit of barbarism again. She asked the taxi driver to wait, quickly paid in advance and tiptoed through the shadows.

  Rey and his security guys climbed out of a car outside a deserted building. At least, it looked deserted. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple of men hanging around, staying back against the wall. They all nodded to each other then opened a heavy door and disappeared into the building.

  She couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be others arriving, so she snuck into the shadows around the side of the building and scanned. Over to the left was a pile of rubbish stacked against a door. Shaking with nerves she slid the rubbish to one side with her foot, tried the door. After a couple of hefty pulls on the handle it swung open, and she slid quietly inside.

  Voices loud and fierce, groans and thuds, echoed through the cavernous building and she realised she was in a disused multi-storey car park. Somewhere, below her, men were fighting. She followed the noise.

  Hiding behind a concrete pillar she tried to make sense of her surroundings. A makeshift arena made of chalk was flanked by men of all shapes and sizes obscuring her view. In one corner a guy held a camera on a stick. Next to him another guy in a suit gave a hushed running commentary. She couldn’t make out the words.

  As feet shifted from side to side she caught glimpses of two men. Both naked from the waist up. Bare feet. Bare knuckles. As one crashed to the floor the crowd roared. But then he crawled to stand, staggered, raised his fist at the other scrappy, wily looking man. Then he slumped back to the ground. The scent of sweat and concrete hit her nose, elemental, metallic, mixed with a warm heat of more than a dozen bodies and an almost palpable energy.

  More commentary. A victory fist pump, and cheers. Then words she did understand: The Destructor. And her heart filled her throat. From out of the shadows Rey stepped into the circle. The crowd cheered, whistled. The body she now knew intimately, the face she could never tire of looking at. Burly. Barbaric. Beautiful. He cracked his knuckles and cricked his neck from side to side. He, too, was naked to his waist, feet bare, wearing a pair of old shorts.

  No. She stepped closer. There was no need for this. She wanted to scream at him that what they had could be bigger than this. That he did not have to endure intense pain to just feel. That there were better things, good things he could do with his body. That he did not have to relive his nightmares over and over again. Because surely that was what he was doing?

  But then he arced his clenched fist in an almost balletic movement, wide and high, making contact with his opponent’s jaw. The shorter guy staggered back, shook his head. But Rey was in front of him, eyes continually focused, assessing and analysing as she’d seen him on so many occasions. Where the other man fought for breath, Rey was calm and centred.

  Even though Rey took some hard body blows, when the shorter man lunged, Rey stepped aside, time and time again, allowing his opponent to tire. She’d read it was a game of stamina and Rey was playing it perfectly, a well-timed dance. When his opponent fatigued Rey landed a perfect shot. He was precise and efficient, his honed body slick with sweat, muscles stretching and contracting in perfect harmony, until, finally, there was only one man standing.

  The security guy from the casino stepped into the circle and raised Rey’s hand … talked about poetry in motion and other well-used clichés, about a fair fight and a worthy winner. As Kate peered more closely she could see blood dripping from the worthy winner’s cheek, a deep cut, bruises forming on his lip, his throat, his shoulders. He was smiling. He was triumphant.

  And her heart shattered. He’d lied when he’d said he wasn’t going to do it any more—but how could he stop? He loved it. Worse, he needed it.

  Then Rey stepped forward, his hands up, bringing the audience to silence. “Listen up, I have an announcement. After a lot of deliberation I’ve decided that from today No Surrender will cease to exist. Over the next couple of days the chat rooms and forums will be closed down and there won’t be any more fights. Not with me, anyway. I love this club, I do, and all your ugly faces, but it’s getting out of hand. The rules are getting blurred, people who shouldn’t be here are getting hurt. It’s time for me to move on and you should too. It’s over, boys. Thank you for your involvement. It’s been wild, but go find something better to do. Good luck.”

  He was really finishing it?

  “What? What do you mean?” Anger tripped around the group. Fists clenched. Kate realised that many of them were like Rey—they needed to feed this burning feral urge inside themselves. And now, because of … because of Macau? Because of Jake, he was taking that away from them. “What about us?”

  “There’s other things I want to do with my eve
nings; you should find something else too.” Rey looked at a guy in the corner. “You’ll survive, Billy. There’s more to life than fighting.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sex!” Someone shouted from the back. And Rey looked up. Grinned. “Something like that.”

  And Kate wondered … did that …? Was that …? About her?

  But over near the cameraman things were getting out of control. The camera flew into the air. “No Surrender! No Surrender!” A few chanted while a fist was raised and connected with someone’s jaw.

  Rey had underestimated the ferocity of their need and their loyalty. The fighting crowd began to split into small groups of fists and grunts, veering backwards, almost reaching Kate’s hiding place. They were fighting now because of his decision, because of her.

  Sensing things turning nasty she turned and began to run across the car park, not caring if she was heard or seen. She had to get away.

  * * *

  What the hell? Through the brawling morass Rey saw what he thought was a mirage. Kate? Here?

  The flash of silver shoes. “Kate!” This sure as hell was no place for her. Despite the battering he’d taken it took less than a minute to reach her across the grubby, oil-splattered tarmac. He grabbed her hand and tried to speed up towards one of the exits.

  “Leave me alone.” She stopped. Dead.

  “Kate?” He tugged at her hand. Not this, not now. “Come on. It’s time to leave, we can talk in a minute—I want to get you out first. It’s not safe.”

  “Look at you. Just look at the state of you. I’m so bloody angry …” Her eyes blazed, her body trembled with rage. “Have you any idea what it’s like to stand by and watch that?”

  She shook her hand free, raised her open palm towards his face. He braced himself for the hit. It didn’t come. He caught her gaze, stepped into her space feeling like shit in too many ways to count. As he looked down he caught sight of his abdomen, battered and black with burgeoning bruises. The slow thrum of fatigue settled into his bones and all he craved was a cold beer and hot sex. And really? She was going to bawl him out? Of course she was.