by Addison Jane
The bouncer shrugged. “Why you think I’m up here, man?”
Rip wasn’t the only one feeling like maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I was okay with death, I’d made my peace with it and the lives that I’d taken. I did it to protect the people I loved, to right wrongs that had been made against them, and because I knew the world would be a better place without them in it.
I didn’t kill for sport.
It didn’t fucking excite me or get me hard.
That was sick.
The elevator door dinged, and the five of us stepped inside.
Myth waited until the doors were fully shut. “That’s what he’s gonna want, a fight to the death, winner takes all, goddamn blood match.”
“And there’s no way in hell we’re going to let you take it,” Shotgun growled, his eyes moving between all of us before resting back on Myth. “No fucking way, I say no.”
“You say no, you’re gonna have to be prepared because when you say no to an asshole like Jester, it just makes him more fucking determined to get a yes.”
Shotgun shook his head. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. But I’m telling you right now not as your president but as your fucking friend, I’m not gonna let you get in a ring with this guy.”
Myth didn’t argue, he kept his mouth shut, and we all took a breath in the silence as the elevator descended to an unnatural level, knowing that when the doors opened, shit could get crazy.
They finally opened at the end of a long, dark concrete hall, and we stepped out. There were bright lights at the end, and the hum of the crowd was electric. We walked toward it not really sure of what we’d find when we stepped out into the tiny underground stadium. Just as we made our way into the space, the crowd let up a huge roar and clambered to their feet, cheering and hooting and throwing their fists in the air. Rip was right, the guys who came to these kinds of fights, they were addicted to the way it made them feel. It wasn’t enough for them to see one guy beat the shit out of the other and for it to be done.
No.
They wanted to see the guys in the ring become monsters, they wanted to see them sacrificing their bodies and their lives for their egos. They wanted blood, they wanted pain, they wanted damage and death.
We found a place against the back wall keeping our bodies plastered to the shadows. I pointed up to the big screen that hung over the ring. We didn’t have the best view of the fight itself, but they had several cameras following the action so everyone could view it. Just as all our eyes found the oversized television, a guy with bouncy ginger curls who I instantly recognized as our psychotic friend, launched a plethora of punches, attacking the other guy in the ring. He tried to protect his head, but the flurry kept coming, forcing him backward until his back was forced against the cage.
People were beginning to get excited. This guy was getting his fucking ass kicked, he was on the offense, and I found myself mentally urging him to fucking fight back.
Suddenly, he let out a huge roar and threw his body against the redhead, just slamming him with every pound he carried and forcing them both to the ground.
Damn.
“Idiot,” Myth cursed, shaking his head.
I knew why. In MMA, hitting the ground was bad. You had to stay on your feet.
One of the cameras zoomed in focusing on Jester’s sadistic smile as he rolled their bodies over and leaped on top of his opponent with an excited and comical laugh. He wrapped his long muscular limbs around any body part he could, his focus obviously on subduing his opponent.
He had limbs pulled back into awkward positions. They were matched evenly in weight and stature, but fighting was far more than how much strength you had to throw around. It was about how good your cardio was, how determined you were to win, and what the hell you had on the line.
Crack.
My body jolted, the sound of the challenger’s arm being snapped behind his back. Snapped. Completely. Like it was no longer anywhere near the fucking socket.
The painful cries of the man were overshadowed by the roar of the crowd. They delighted in his pain, they begged for more. Jester jumped up, releasing his prey for a second to entertain the audience. Even with blood dripping down over his face and looking worse for wear, he managed to race up to the cage and throw his arms in the air to encourage the cheers of the blood-thirsty fiends that egged them on. The louder the crowd roared, the taller he seemed to stand, the more empowered he’d grow, the more eager to please he became.
I looked at the guy on the mat, he was tapping. He wanted the fight done.
“Man, we need to go. Red Riot have made an appearance upstairs,” Shake called over the roar of the crowd. I was already up off my feet and slipping out. “Take the exit halfway down. That will put us at the back of the building where they are.”
I nodded, the five of us taking the stairs at a jog, my mind now focused on Kennedy and what the fuck I was going to do if I saw Crow.
Kill him.
No more fucking running. I was sick of running.
That wasn’t me.
I stopped at the exit, waiting for the boys, just in time to see Myth standing frozen on the staircase, his eyes on the octagon, narrowed and focused. “Myth, come on!” I yelled, trying to drag him out of the trance he was in, but the second I looked down at the ring, I knew exactly why. He and Jester were staring at each other, Jester’s face lit up like a kid on fucking Christmas morning.
He raised his finger and pointed, mouthing the words, “You’re next.” Before throwing his head back and cackling like a fucking hyena.
Shotgun all but tackled Myth driving him toward the exit. We all stepped in behind him, forcing him down the long, dark hall that would take us to another elevator. One that would hopefully lead straight to Kennedy, and maybe even give me the chance to beat the shit out of someone and make me feel a little better because after this fight, even just the five minutes that we got to see, it had made my fucking skin crawl.
Shake pushed the button, and the elevator instantly dinged, the doors drawing open, and at the same time, the crowd screamed and leaped to their feet, cheering and screaming, and I knew why.
The guy had tried to tap.
But Jester was never going to let him tap.
He was never going to let him walk out of there.
And if I let Myth in the ring with him, he wasn’t going to let him walk out either.
KENNEDY
Crow backed up, his eyes suddenly not focused on me anymore. I wasn’t really sure what the hell was going on, but I knew one thing, he was afraid, and I could see it in his eyes. It was the same look he’d had when Repo and the club had ambushed him and taken me. He hated not being in control, and he hated being made a fool of. It undermined him, it proved he maybe wasn’t the man he kept pretending he was.
He hated losing.
Which is why I stood a little straighter holding tightly to Dakota and Meyah. The energy in the room had shifted, and the tension in both the girls had calmed, and that was how I knew that things were going to be okay. That was how I knew that whoever this was, they were on our side.
“‘Bout time you showed up,” Meyah said in annoyance, confirming my suspicions. “Seriously.”
“I wanted to make an entrance,” the voice chuckled.
I heard footsteps. They were moving closer. Crow’s men rushed around to stand with their leader, each of them with their eyes wide, and their hands twitching on their weapons.
“I wouldn’t if I was you,” quickly came the warning as the young guy finally stepped out in front of us. He was dressed in a sharp black suit jacket, his hands tugging at the cuffs. The casual white striped t-shirt underneath let me know that this guy didn’t take himself too seriously, and he paired it with a dark wash jean.
He walked around the front, at least four men following him, all holding guns, all dressed alike, and all looking scary as hell. They stood between Crow and us and his men, they were the protective barrier.
The young gu
y glanced at me casually out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to Crow. “You’re lucky that right now, there’s something very important going on inside this hotel, and that it’s my job to make sure that the least attention brought to us, the better. Because I’ve heard a couple things about how much of an asshole you’ve been to this gorgeous lady right here.”
Those words were like a cold breeze over my skin.
No, he wasn’t going to get away with this again.
“And who the fuck might you be exactly?” Crow finally found the balls to ask, even as he slowly moved toward the exit, thinking no one would notice the fucking insect as he crawled for the door and hoped not to get squished.
“I’m Romeo,” the young guy said with a grin. “I handle all the security stuff, amongst other things, at the casino and the hotel.”
That made a lot of sense.
“Oh, and you’ve met Meyah…” he turned and pointed at Meyah who continued to glare furiously at Crow, “… her old man is my brother.”
Shake?
Jesus Christ, the club really had its hand in everything.
“Look, my advice to you would be to get the fuck out of my city, stay the fuck away from my family, and know when to fucking give up,” Romeo explained, shaking his head. “‘Cause if you continue whatever this shit is that you have going on, I’ll make it my personal mission to kill you, and let me tell you it won’t be quick, it won’t be swift, and it will hurt.”
The sharpness to his words mixed with the soft and gentle tone of his voice was like sending a shock straight up my spine. I shivered. It was intense. Romeo, he was fucking scary, that was something I could tell already, just from those few moments with him.
Crow was an exhibitionist. He wanted to throw punches, he wanted to make a show of how powerful he was because he felt like he had to prove it to them. Romeo was a different breed. He didn’t need dramatics—he was just fucking scary, it vibrated off him.
The thing that scared me the most, though?
They were about to let Crow and his men walk out of here.
“Do you have any idea what this guy did to me?” I said loudly, drawing Romeo’s attention. I could feel the hot glare of Crow’s eyes burning my skin, trying to get me to shut up. I wouldn’t. I’d spent enough fucking time shutting up. I wrestled myself from Dakota and Meyah, stumbling a little as I became once again aware of the pain that was thumping in my head and stomach. That only encouraged me to push further, though.
I eyed Crow, refusing to back down. “I refuse to let you walk away again without having to acknowledge to all these fucking people what a pathetic piece of shit you are.” Romeo’s men let me slip through their little barricade, Dakota was right behind me, grabbing my hand and holding me at a safe distance. “You told me my father owed you money, and that was the reason you forced me to start dancing. That was why you were taking half of what I earned and leaving me with not even enough to keep our electricity on.”
Tears were burning my eyes, I didn’t want to cry, I didn’t want him to ever have to see me weak again. “Then when you weren’t satisfied, you forced me into selling my fucking body, convincing me that was the only way I was going to fucking get out of this damn debt I owed you,” I screamed, tears streaming now. “A debt that I found out a few days ago, you made up! Our father didn’t take your money and run, you killed him. Then made up some goddamn story and threatened to sell my thirteen-year-old sister if I didn’t follow through.”
Movement over my shoulder caught my eye, and I turned to find Romeo holding Meyah, tears streaking down her face as well as she struggled against his hold. “I hope you fucking rot in hell,” Meyah spat.
Meyah had yet to really hear the whole story about why we were there.
She knew I was a club girl, she knew that things hadn’t exactly been pleasant which was why Repo… well… repossessed me from them. But she didn’t know why I’d been there in the first place, why I’d put up with the shit for so long. And now everyone did, they all fucking understood.
I’d been lied to, beaten, manipulated, and I was fucking done.
“One day,” I murmured, swiping at my cheeks. “I’m gonna kill you.”
His eyes widened, and Dakota squeezed my hand tightly. There was a mixture of surprise and ‘fuck yeah’ in the space.
“And I’m gonna protect all those girls in the future that you would have lied to and that you would have twisted for your own sick fantasy, and all the girls you would have stuck your tiny fucking cock in then beaten afterward because you don’t have the goods to make them come.”
The collective laughter from behind me felt fucking good.
“Fucking whore,” Crow hissed, launching forward with his fist clenched at his side. The other four men grabbed him and began pulling him toward the open service exit doors. I wanted to follow, I wanted to take someone’s gun and shoot the goddamn bastard before he could leave and hurt anyone else. But right now, wasn’t the time. And that made me both furious and kind of okay.
“Goddamn cockroaches,” Dakota spat as she watched them scurry away acting like they were leaving on their own accord when actually they’d probably already shit their pants.
Their bikes roared to life, and they took off like crazy from behind the building, the honking and beeping of cars out on the street making me cross my fingers and pray that that bastard was hit by a fucking bus or something.
“What the fuck’s going on?”
I spun on my heel, finding Shotgun, Shake, Repo, Myth and Ripley rush through the doors. I noticed the worried look on Repo’s face as he searched for me, and the tears pricked at my throat again when our eyes met.
He stomped forward, his hands clenched into fists at his side like he was about to break through a fucking wall to get to me. “What in God’s name fucking happened?” he demanded as he rushed forward. His hand reached out, and I cringed as his fingers brushed across my swollen cheekbone.
I reached up and took his hand, moving it to the good side of my face and nuzzling into it. I knew I couldn’t wrap my arms around him and cuddle into his body, but the more time we spent together, the more I began to feel like I was okay with that. We found other ways to comfort each other—or should I say, he found ways to comfort me. Ways that weren’t conventional, but that were us.
“Anyone?”
“Crow made an appearance in the Casino,” Meyah answered as she cuddled in against Shake. “He got a bit handsy as they drove us out here. Along with the cheek, she got a pretty good blow to the head and to the stomach.”
I reached for the hem of his cut, his body was overheating in anger. “And where the fuck is that piece of shit now?”
“He walked,” Romeo answered, coming forward finally.
“Excuse me?” Repo growled, narrowing his gaze on the guy. “You know what he did to Kennedy? You have any fucking idea?”
Romeo nodded, his face solemn and less intense than it was before. “Look, tonight, my job has been to keep the drama low key. The cops show up tonight? I risk every fucking thing that’s going on downstairs, and that’s my job. Am I sorry that Kennedy has been through the shit she’s been through, you can fucking bet your ass I am but, and correct me if I’m wrong, she ain’t your old lady.”
Repo gritted his teeth but didn’t respond.
“I got the club’s back… members, old ladies, kids, fuck everything else. You know that everyone in this fucking city and the next knows that. Unfortunately, she ain’t any of those,” Romeo continued. “But I don’t know this fucker. I don’t know who he’s connected with. I don’t know who he works for. And I don’t know what kind of shit that could bring on me.” His eyes moved to me. I could tell Romeo took his business and what he did real fucking seriously.
I got it.
As much as I hated it, I fucking got it.
I was nothing to him. And he couldn’t just start a war over fucking nothing. I nodded, letting him know I understood.
“G
irl, you have balls, I’ll give you that,” he commented, the corner of his mouth twitching. He nodded to Repo. “This guy ever claim you, and you need help dealing with that other ugly bastard. You call me.”
I smiled. It hurt, but I didn’t fucking care.
“Come on,” Repo ordered. I don’t know if he was ignoring what Romeo had just said, or if he’d been too in his own head to hear it, but he didn’t let on. “We need to get you checked out.”
“I’ll call the hotel doctor,” Shake noted, pulling his cell from his pocket.
“This place has a fucking doctor?”
REPO
The moment we’d stepped inside the suite and Brooklyn had seen Kennedy, she knew who was responsible, and she’d refused to let her sister go. She’d sat at Kennedy’s feet in the living room with her cheek resting against her big sister’s knee while the doctor had checked her over and made sure there was no major damage to her stomach or her head. Luckily, when Crow had hit her, she hadn’t actually been knocked out. But the bump he left, that was still very real and very painful.
When he finally gave her the all clear, I helped Kennedy to the bedroom and held her hands as she painfully maneuvered herself onto the bed and into a position that didn’t make her face scrunch up.
“Stay,” she urged, grabbing my hand when I went to pull away. She was tired—fucking exhausted—and all I wanted to do was climb into that bed with her and say a thousand fucking sorries about how I’d failed to keep her safe, and make her a thousand fucking promises about how that was going to change.
I crouched down beside the bed so I could see her eyes in the darkness of the room. “You know that right now, this is the only fucking place I want to be,” I told her with complete and utter conviction. “But Brooklyn is pacing the hallway outside, and right now, I think she needs to be in here with you, more than I do.”
She blinked, and the tears that instantly covered her lashes twinkled in the light from the hallway. She nodded. “She’s used to sleeping with me when I came home hurt. I think she just needed to know that I was okay, and I think I needed it, too. To remind me that I had someone else more important than me, and that I needed to keep fighting through the shitty times.”