Kane raised his hand in greeting. “Seems like you’re still in one piece. Should I congratulate you on surviving your conversation with Will? It looked intense.”
“We’ve reached an understanding.” Kane didn’t push for more, which was one of the qualities he liked best about him.
About an hour into the job, Matt’s phone rang, and he stepped away to answer the call. The man spoke too quietly to give anything away, but his face said it all. The dude looked ready to set the room on fire. Gritting his teeth, he walked back over. “I’ve got to go. Family emergency. Will you guys let Xander know I’ll call him?”
“Sure, man.” Kane gripped his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help?”
Matt shook his head and strode out the door.
Robby bustled over to them seconds after he was gone. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”
Kane raised his eyebrows, and Brick shook his head at him subtly.
“I’m not sure.” He caught himself before he called Robby kid. “He only said he had a family emergency.” He lowered his voice. “You ever try talking to him?”
Robby shot Kane a nervous look, but the biker was intently measuring the support beam he’d been working on. “I’ve said hi and stuff. I bring him Nestea; he doesn’t really like soda.”
“Not what I meant.”
“I know.” The kid sounded dejected. “I’d rather keep my distance than be disappointed, you know? If he doesn’t have a chance to reject me, I can keep the dream alive.”
A month ago, he would have never even imagined he could be with a woman like Olivia. “You never know what life can bring. I can tell you this, though, if you want something, you have to reach out and take it. You deserve to be happy, Robby.”
A blush crept up Robby’s neck. “Thanks, Brick. You’re a better big brother than my real one ever was.”
He had never had a little brother, but with Robby, he was getting an idea of what it might be like. “Any time.”
Kane finally looked up when Robby walked away. “He’s got a thing for Matt? Baby-mama-drama-every-other-week Matt York?”
“C’mon, you know as well as anyone we can’t help who we want.” The heat in Kane’s WTF expression could melt the paint off the walls, if the house actually had walls, but Brick shrugged it off. “You think I didn’t notice whatever was between you and the boss lady the other day?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.” Kane issued a warning with his voice.
“I’m not trying to bust your balls, man. Really. I didn’t go out looking to fall for Will’s sister either.” Holy shit. He’d said it out loud, but it was too late to back out now. “That’s my whole point. Maybe we give into it and maybe we don’t, but we don’t get to choose who we fall for. It just is.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s good for us,” Kane grunted. “The kid’s probably in for a world of hurt.”
He slapped his friend on the back. “Probably. Or maybe he and Matt will end up friends. I’m starting to learn they’re kind of nice to have around.”
Together, they lifted the wood into place and secured it.
By the end of the day, the additional framing was complete. They walked together toward the area where they had both parked.
Kane paused to fasten his helmet. “I’m thinking you might make a pretty decent drinking buddy, man. Come have a beer with me tomorrow night.”
It surprised him how much he wanted to say yes. Kane had really grown on him in the past few weeks. It might be nice to hang out, like regular people did. “I wish I could, but I’ve got a fight tomorrow night.”
“I heard you fight. I’d love to see a match. Would it be cool for me to come check it out?”
It had never even occurred to him anyone outside of Sucre’s orbit would even be interested. “Sure.” He rattled off the address of the gym. “The matches start at ten. I’m usually at the end, though.”
“This is going to be awesome, brother. I’ll see you then.” He climbed on his bike.
“Hey—aren’t you working tomorrow?”
“Nah. I’ve got club business. I’ve already cleared it with Xander.” He grabbed the clutch and pushed the ignition button, bringing the engine to life. “Gotta make a run with my guys, but I’ll be back in time for your fight.” He grinned widely before taking off down the street.
***
The gym was packed Friday night even tighter than usual. Brick scanned the crowd for Kane’s face, but too many bodies kept him from seeing clearly. It didn’t really matter if the guy made it there or not. The fight would go the same, either way.
Sucre had paid him a visit while he warmed up in the little office which belonged to Freddy, the old guy who ran the place. Sucre didn’t tell him to lose, but he did want him to take a beating. It was an instruction he didn’t get often, but sometimes, Sucre liked to bet against the odds to make a little extra cash. What most people didn’t realize—or at least they didn’t talk about—was the fact that the boss controlled the outcome of every bout he fought in.
Tonight, he would let Antonio Reyes beat the crap out of him for at least twenty-two minutes before he took the guy down. His stomach turned even thinking about it. Reyes had a reputation as a solid fighter. This was going to hurt.
The big digital clock above the ring showed five after midnight when the ref called him up. By then the place reeked from the press of unwashed bodies and booze. Almost everyone watching was either buzzed or blitzed, and they roared when he entered the ring. The cheers didn’t fool him. They wanted to see him bleed, and they were about to get their wish.
Reyes faced him with clear eyes and cool composure. When the bell rang, the guy led off with a powerful punch, leaving him gasping for breath. He had to fight back or he wouldn’t make it two minutes, much less twenty-two. He planned to volley a blow for a blow but save his hardest hits for the end.
The strategy sucked balls.
In the first five minutes, Reyes clocked him in the eye, and blood trickled down with the sweat threatening his vision. A minute after that, the guy punched him in the ear, leaving a tinny ring in his wake. By the fifteen-minute mark, his body ached, and his head was swimming. If he didn’t start hitting hard soon, he wouldn’t be able to at all.
He threw all his weight into a blow to the ribs, sending Reyes hunched to his side. He followed it up with an elbow to the nose, gushing blood from his opponent’s nostrils. A quick glance at the clock showed him he still needed to kill five more minutes. But how?
The crowd had grown rabid, roaring with each punch—even the weak ones both fighters threw now. He’d busted up his hands so completely, it hurt as much to hit Reyes as it did to take a hit. He could barely make a fist, so he started hitting with the heel of his hand.
Two more minutes.
He swayed on his feet. The noise got further and further away. Swinging wide, he missed his target completely. Before he could regroup, Reyes delivered a one-two punch, making him stagger back.
Would this fucking fight ever end?
Finally, Sucre gave him the signal. But he had nothing left. He struggled to stay on his feet. Thank God, Reyes was in the same boat. He was listing like a drunken sailor.
This had to end now.
Ignoring the pain, he curled his hand into the tightest fist he could make and punched Reyes square in the jaw. He followed the hit with a strike to the nose, and the man dropped like a bag of concrete.
He only waited long enough for the ref to call out his name before he lurched toward the door. Two steps out into the street and the world went black.
***
Liv
Liv curled herself around her pillow, the bed a warm cocoon, as she held the phone to her ear. Though they’d texted, it was the first time she’d spoken to her sister in days, and Izzy’s voice relieved some of the anxiety that came with her absence. With Carol gone, she’d had no one to tell about her date with Jonathan, and she was busting at the seams.
“It was
actually really amazing.” She wanted to share every perfect detail, but a tiny part of her wanted to hoard it all in a little secret place inside her heart.
Iz didn’t push, one of the reasons it was so easy to talk to her. “We drove go-karts, then we went to the falls. It was so beautiful with all the trees and the trails. We laughed, and he sang. He held my hand, and he kissed me.”
“Sounds like a Disney movie, Nugget. Any birds flying around with ribbon or dwarves marching past?” Iz snickered.
“No, but there was pecan pie.”
A beep announced she had a call on another line. She squinted at the clock on her nightstand.
Twelve-forty-five. Normally she’d already have been asleep two hours. Jonathan’s picture she’d taken on their nature date filled the screen. He never called this late.
Saying goodnight to her sister, she clicked over. “H’lo?”
An unfamiliar voice answered. “Is this Olivia?”
She sat straight up in the bed. A thousand possibilities surrounded the identity of the person on the other end of the line. None of them were good. “Who is this?” she asked sharply.
“My name is Kane. I work with Brick and your brother. You probably saw me at the bar for Will’s birthday. Long hair. Brick’s in trouble and yours was the only number in his call log.”
Her stomach fell, and her self-protective instincts warred with concern for her man. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?” He said he had a fight tonight, but he’d sworn they were all fixed, and he always won.
Kane paused. “He’s in pretty bad shape. He probably needs a trip to the hospital, but something tells me he wouldn’t want to go.”
“Bring him here.” She rattled off her address. “But Kane? Make sure no one follows you.”
“I promise. I’ll be there in ten.”
They made it in eight. Enough time for her to dig out her first aid kit. She opened the front door as soon as a car pulled up outside.
In the shadows, she spotted the big frame of the biker-looking guy she remembered seeing at Will’s work site. He practically dragged an even larger man who had one arm crooked behind his neck for support.
Jonathan.
She ran out and met them three feet in front of the doorway. As they moved together into the apartment, the light gave her a first look at Jonathan’s face. Her attempts to prepare herself failed, and her eyes filled with tears.
His entire face was swollen and misshapen, but his left cheekbone looked the worst. She guessed it was the cheekbone, but it could have been his eye; it was hard to tell because it was swollen shut. A cut above his eyebrow was bleeding and it appeared it had been for a while. Wet and dried blood trailed down his cheek and smeared on his neck and bare chest. He only wore a pair of knee-length shorts.
He was clearly out of it. The one eye she could see appeared tired and unfocused. She didn’t think he even knew where he was because he didn’t so much as glance at her when Kane settled him down on the sofa.
“How do I help him?” she murmured.
The grim expression on Kane’s face only made it worse. “Keep him awake until you’re sure he’s coherent. No doubt he’s got a concussion. Get some ice on the swelling. Clean him up. Not much else you can do.” A horn honked outside. “My buddy Cue Ball is outside waiting.” He moved toward the door. “If it gets too bad, call 911. He won’t be happy about it, but you do what you’ve got to do, hear me?”
He didn’t even wait for an answer before he let himself out. She stared at the closed door for a heartbeat, until a groan from the sofa snapped her attention back where it belonged. With Jonathan.
She moved quickly to the kitchen, where she filled a large bowl with warm water and grabbed a washcloth. She could only assess the damage underneath the blood if she cleaned him up first. As she knelt in front of him, she wondered whether he might do better in the bathtub, but even if she got him in, she wasn’t sure she could get him out. No, it would have to be a sponge bath for now.
She ran the warm wet cloth over his forehead, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. “Jonathan?” Her voice came out small and thin. He didn’t respond, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Jonathan.” She said it louder this time, and the lid on his right eye fluttered. She rinsed the cloth in the water, then returned it to his face. “It’s Liv. I need you to wake up, sweetheart. Look at me.”
His eye opened slowly. He licked his lips, then opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he broke out in a fit of coughing.
As quickly as she could, she grabbed the water bottle she’d left on the coffee table before bed. She held it to his lips. “Here. Drink. Don’t try to talk.” She tilted the bottle up, and though a little dribbled down his chin, his throat moved as he swallowed.
The coughing died out.
“I need to clean this cut before I bandage it.” She lifted an alcohol pad to his face. “This is going to hurt.”
He squeezed his eye closed, but didn’t flinch, as she gently ran the astringent over the gash. She pulled out two butterfly bandages and did her best to close the cut. The bleeding had almost stopped.
“Okay. The hard part’s done. Keep your eyes on me.”
His lid rose again. This time, his gaze appeared sharper. She finished cleaning his face, then moved down to his throat. He lifted his chin to give her better access, and she wondered if he allowed many others to get this close. His breathing changed subtly as she rubbed the cloth down and across his chest.
She froze. “Am I hurting you?”
“In the best way, baby,” he rasped.
Her face heated, and she bit back a smile. If he could flirt, surely, he wasn’t dying. “None of your swagger, Mister. Not when you look like you’ve been hit by a train.”
The air in the room suddenly felt a little lighter. “You think you could stand long enough for a quick shower? I could help you.”
He looked like he was trying to raise his eyebrow, but with his swollen face, he couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Don’t give me that look. I need to make sure you’re alert, and the shower might help. Come on.” She reached for his hand. Her fingers had barely touched his when he yelped and jerked away.
Holy shit. His hands were destroyed. She leaned closer so she could see better. His fingers were fat and distorted, the skin mottled. Dried blood crusted across his split knuckles. A few still oozed.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. Her stomach churned, but she fought to keep her nerves out of her voice. “You can shower in the morning. We’ll take care of your hands now.”
He groaned. “Good. I’m not sure I can get off the sofa.”
***
Brick
Liv relaxed against him after doctoring his hands, and Brick kissed the top of her head. No one had ever fussed over him this way before. It humbled him. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re giving me exactly what I need right now.”
She burrowed deeper into his side. “What happened tonight?”
He didn’t want to think about the clusterfuck in the ring, but he wouldn’t ignore her question. “A fight. I told you earlier.”
“You told me the fights were fixed. You said you always won.” With the strain in her voice, he couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset.
“I did win.”
She pulled back and shot him a critical look.
“Really. The other guy looks as bad as I do. Maybe worse.”
“You made it sound like this wasn’t a big deal. Like I didn’t have to worry about you getting hurt. Why didn’t you warn me it might be this bad? I care about what happens to you.”
He decided she was angry and upset. He needed to make things better. Fast. “I didn’t mean to trick you, Livie. I swear. The fights are fixed. Sucre decides how long they last, so he can cash in on his bets. I could have taken the guy down quickly, but I had to make it last.” His jaw tightened. “I had to let him hit me. By the time I’d been in there long enough, I could barely pull out the win.”<
br />
The horrified expression on her face warmed his heart. “He forced you to—How long? How long did he make you stay in there?”
“Twenty-two minutes.”
Her face darkened as she considered his words. Minutes passed before she finally spoke. “You’re a toy to him. A tool he uses to line his pockets and build his empire. It doesn’t even matter what it does to you along the way.” She didn’t even know the worst of it. “You hurt people. You kill people.”
Shit. This was it. The truth of who he was—what his life was like—it was finally sinking into her brain. The blood drained from his face. He was going to lose her, but he wasn’t going to lie. “Yes.” He locked his muscles, steeling himself for rejection.
“You do it for him. Why don’t you do it for yourself? Kill him and be done with it all.”
It took a moment for her words to make sense. “You mean, why haven’t I killed Sucre?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flashed as her fingers gripped his thigh. “If he were dead, you would be free.” Her lips thinned. “I’d do it myself if I could. I won’t lose another person I care about.”
She looked like she meant every word and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Taking somebody’s life puts a stain on your soul you can never get clean. I don’t ever want you to know how it feels.” He rested his worthless hand on top of hers. “You don’t know what it means to me you want to protect me. No one else ever has. I need you to hear me, though. You’ve got to stay far away from Sucre. Promise me, Livie. If he got his hands on you, both our lives would be over.”
“What kind of life do you have now? You act like he owns you, but you’re strong. You’re powerful. Why don’t you crush him or at least run?” Olivia pulled her hand away and stomped to the kitchen. She put some ice in a towel, then yanked a glass-bottled drink out of the fridge and popped it open. It wasn’t until she returned, he could see the label. She’d brought out one of those fruity Hard Lemonade drinks. She handed him the ice, and he held it to his left eye.
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