Havoc

Chapter 1

Grim

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” fans chanted as New Jersey’s Dominque Wiser came down the ramp with his hands high in the air. I rolled my eyes at the TV screen that showed him playing up to the cameras as I jumped back and forth on the balls of my feet.

“Speed is everything,” Ricky yelled in my ear. He got in my face as we saw the cameras zoom in on a guy who shouted for Dominque to crush my skull. “When that bell rings, nothing matters but that first move. Bring him down, break what you need to, so he won’t get up.” He grinned his stained, yellow teeth at me. “Do what you do best.” He slapped the side of my head. “Ready?” I nodded. “Good.” I knew Ricky was the best, and the crowd sounds diminished as I homed in on what he said.

A few seconds later, Ricky pulled back the curtain and I stepped into the brightly lit arena. The place was packed to the rim with crazy-ass fans who paid good money for Dominque to kick my ass.

“Hey, Grim.” I turned back to look at Ricky. “Live up to your name.” He pointed to the screen that wrapped around the place, and I saw my stage name flash in black. It had a scythe ripping between the two words, Vegas Reaper.

I grinned at the cameras and jogged down the ramp with Ricky behind me. The banner above the ring read Lost Lives Fight Club. This was my first fight here, and we all fought for the last open place in the official Lost Lives annual tournament. I was a nobody in the underground fighting ring in the US, but I was determined to become a name they’d fear. I’d been fighting since I tossed my first punch in second grade, and I hadn’t stopped since.

I trained in Singapore through my high school years then skipped the Ivy League dream to feed my fighting addiction. I was lucky my family had the money and supported my need to fight. As long as I attended my classes and got the marks necessary to pass, they were behind me. I continued to train while I worked for my family’s business after I graduated. I didn’t need a degree to tell me what I could do. My parents knew I was quick, and I proved my worth to them early. Besides, at nineteen, I could land a hit no one saw coming, and I was determined to make a name for myself.

I had to hand it to Ricky. He had been my coach from the start and got me a slot for this night’s fight. Apparently, Kevin Hawthorne, the owner of the property where the tournament was being held, saw me fight the previous year and extended an invitation for me to fight sometime. Ricky made sure Hawthorne knew I was ready, and here I was.

I dipped under the ropes and breathed in the excitement that poured off the crowd.

“Bust his spleen, Dom!” someone shouted, and I grinned inside. These people were about to know my name.

“Hey, rich boy,” Dominque yelled, “Daddy pay your way so I can kick your face in?” Laughter from the crowd joined the hoots and hollers, and I nodded at Ricky to give the green light to hit the bell.

We slapped hands, stepped back, and the crowd became deafening as the bell rang twice. It was almost like things went quiet for me as I marked my moves before I even made them.

Just as the second ring faded out, I reached forward and snapped his wrist backward. I felt the bone break. He screamed, and with his defenses down, I dipped, loaded my weight on my back leg, and jolted forward. My back knee went to the mat, I grabbed both of his legs, and slammed my shoulder into his pelvic bone. My front knee went down, I connected my hands behind his knees, stepped up on my foot, and drove him down to the floor. Within a second, he was on his back, I chopped his windpipe when he gasped for a breath, then punched his lung and cracked his temple, and he was unconscious. I popped to my feet as the bell rang and glanced at the clock as the crowd went quiet.

Five seconds, that was all it took. I paced the ring as everyone around me caught up to what I’d just done. The cheers for Dominque instantly switched to cheers for me.

“Reaper! Reaper! Reaper!” Ricky clapped with the crowd and winked at me. I was fast, smart, and hit like a cannon. That was what I was known for.

“Another!” Ricky shouted, and I waited for the next opponent to enter the ring as Dominque was carried away. I rolled my neck and shook my arms, prepared for the next round. A sheen of sweat had broken out over my body and made my tattoos more vibrant. My father introduced me to the world of ink at sixteen, and I’d been adding to them ever since. Every tattoo meant something, and when I needed to focus, I focused on them. The crowd cheered, and I saw a man hold up a Halloween prop. I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t the WWE.

Next came The Slammer, as they called him. He was twice my size and clearly could use his weight as a weapon. I knew to stay away from any kind of hold. I was six-two and solid, but he could crush me with one blow. Maybe he could, but I wasn’t going to chance it.

I calculated my moves, and when the bell rang, I jammed my fingers in his eyes to blind him. On instinct, he covered his eyes, and that was when I used his own weight against him. I kicked the outside of his knee, and as he fell, I twisted his elbow, breaking the bone with a snap. The sound and vibration sent a thrill through me and woke that part of me I lived for. He screamed into the mat as saliva spewed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed hard, cutting the blood flow to the brain. His face turned red, and he tried to swing at me, but I bent him backward, bowing his spine, and his hands flailed in the air. His body relaxed, and he passed out. I jumped to my feet and saw it was just over five seconds. I wasn’t pleased with that, but it had to do.

“Wow, Vegas Reaper for the win again!” the announcer yelled over the speaker. “Let’s see what else you got.”

One by one, they’d enter the ring. I’d break a bone or two at lightning speed, disabling them, then knock them out within five seconds. I walked the ring each time and let the adrenaline rush feed my body. Then I’d get my head on straight and prepare for the next one. I wasn’t cocky; I barely registered the crowd. I broke bones for me. It wasn’t a cry from a bad childhood. It was a need from deep within, something that gave me the release I needed. I didn’t question it; it was who I was. I slammed my fist into the man’s head, and he went down.

“We have our winner!” I barely heard the words as I tried to clear my head and focus on the cheering crowd.

Ricky was screaming and grinning and jumped into the ring and slapped me on the back. He grabbed a towel and tossed it at me.

“You sure got people’s attention!” he yelled. “The Vegas Reaper is here!”

I walked the ring and nodded at the crowd. Then my attention was caught as a man approached Ricky and they talked. I focused on the man; he wore a leather cut. Then I realized there were other guys behind him who wore the same cut.

The Devil’s Reach MC.

I’d seen bikers roll through town before who had worn that cut. It had a reaper holding a skull on it, I’d never paid much attention to them except to admire their bikes.

I left the ring and started up the ramp. I lost sight of the guy as he disappeared into the crowd. Ricky caught up with me.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Some biker dude wanting to know where you trained.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Of course. Gave him my card, too.”

“Mm.” I pushed open the door to the dressing room and downed a bottle of water.

“You got the spot, Grim. How’s it feel?” He grinned and leaned his hip into the doorway as I stripped down and grabbed the soap.

“Makes all the training worth it.” I turned on the shower and stepped into the cold spray. “Do we have the schedule yet?”

“I’m gonna zip out and get it.”

When he left, I cooled my body down with icy water, washed up, and got changed. Just as I fastened my watch around my wrist, the door swung open.

“Grim Gates?” a man asked.

“Who’s asking?” I eyed my security guys who stood behind him. One had his hand on his gun. He mouthed the word “sponsor,” and I made a note to kill Ricky for not locking the door behind him. I’d deal with Trevor, my head of security, later for allowing this guy to get in. Ricky may have left the door unlocked, but it was Trevor’s responsibility to watch my back. Since our arrival back in the States, I noticed he’d slipped more than once when it came to my protection.

“Congratulations on your win. That fills the last spot for contenders.”

“Thanks.”

“One of the sponsors of the tournament would like to have a word with you if you have a sec.”

“I suppose I could do that. Just give me a moment.” I quickly sent a text to Ricky to let him know what was going on, then told one of my guys to follow us and make sure Ricky would know where we’d gone. I followed the man down a hallway and into a large room.

A well-dressed man sat in a chair and studied me as I came into the room. He had maybe ten years on me, and from the look of him, I guessed he was European.

“Mr. Gates?” His Italian accent confirmed my suspicions.

“I am.”

“Please have a seat.”

“All right.” I glanced at a couple other men in the room then looked over my shoulder to see Ricky pleading with one of the men to let him through the door.

“He’s with me.” I lifted a brow, unimpressed that once again Trevor hadn’t stepped in and made sure Ricky was able to join me. At a look from me, the Italian gave a nod to let him through.

“Thanks a lot.” Ricky looked pissed.

“You were impressive between the ropes.” The Italian smiled, but there was a hint of something much darker there, something I could identify with.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think you can win this tournament?”

“I know I can.” I held his gaze.

“I see.” He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t come across as cocky?—”

“I’m not,” I assured him. “I’ve just trained with the best, and trained hard. I take my time to make my moves.”

“But you win in five seconds or less,” one of the men chimed in. “Where’s the time to plan your moves?”

“I’m quick.” I pointed to my head.

“I would like you to throw the next fight.” The Italian man in the chair brought my attention immediately back to him. He rubbed a finger over his lips as I gathered myself. I couldn’t help but notice the large black ring he wore.

“Excuse me?” I needed him to repeat that.

“When you signed up for this tournament, you gave a stage name, nothing more. So, no one knows you. You came into the ring and beat every opponent. You turned the crowd in your favor. Rumors will spread and bets will be made.” He adjusted a cufflink and looked directly into my eyes. “So, I want you to throw the next fight then come back swinging in the next and take it. Let’s give people something to talk about, a reason to come, to bet even more on you in the next round.”

“Grim.” Ricky handed me the official invitation to fight. It was outlined in gold. I’d wanted that. It was something I’d worked hard for and something I could be incredibly proud of.

“I’ll make it worth your while, of course. I’ll double whatever you’d make if you had won.”

“Why?” I’d dealt with plenty of shady people before, but this somehow really bothered me.

“It’s just business.” He shrugged and watched me carefully. “I’ll have your name put on the door, and ‘Vegas Reaper’ will be on everyone’s lips.”

I eyed the card as the light caught the gold on its edges. I stood and handed it to him.

“Not interested.”

“For what it’s worth,” Ricky folded his arms, “I agree with Grim. I’m his trainer, and he’s worked hard for this. If you loved this sport like he does, you’d never ask him to throw a fight.”

“Sorry, Mr.…?” I waited for his name.

“Capri.”

“Sorry, Mr. Capri, but I fight to win, every time. I’m not the guy for you.” He studied the card then looked at the man who had spoken earlier, and something passed between them. Then he returned his gaze to me. “If that costs me my spot in the tournament, then so be it.” I stared him down.

He nodded then held the card out to me.

“It will cost you nothing.” He waited for me to take it back, then he called to his men, and they walked out. Confused, I watched them leave as I wondered if I’d made the right choice coming here.

“Gentlemen.” I turned to address my security detail.

“Yes, Mr. Gates?” Trevor replied.

“You’re all fired.”

“Grim.” A voice said from far away. “Hellooo, Grim.” I blinked and saw my brother’s confused expression. “Where the hell were you?”

That was odd. I’d let my mind slip far back. Those days were long gone.

I shook my head and glanced at my phone. It showed I had a missed message and two calls from Morgan.

“Sorry. Give me a sec, Leo.”

I tapped Morgan’s number and waited for the call to connect.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Morgan yawned.

“No, I was just dealing with something,” I lied. “Well?”

“I followed her to her house, she slept, and now looks to be awake.” I heard him grunt as he moved around. “No company so far.”

“Good.”

“I’m not spending another night in the truck. I’m going inside and see what’s up.”

“Stay in touch.”

“Yeah.” I hung up, and Leo eased into the chair.

“She, okay?”

“Yeah. Morgan’s going in to check on her.”

“Good.” He rubbed his tired face. It had been a long last few hours. “I still can’t believe she wouldn’t stay. The doctor should have looked her over.”

“I know. She has a bad habit of not listening to me.” I moved over to the window as he laughed, and I let my mind drift back to when we found her in the elevator.

“Leo! Shut down the floor!” I boomed. “Steven, find out exactly where she came from,” I ordered the security guard who already had his radio in his hand. “You,” I pointed to Freddy the second guard on duty, “find me a fucking head!” His eyes went wide, then he whirled and ran.

Kenna’s gaze latched on to mine, and I saw the moment she let go. I jolted forward and caught her, then lowered her to the floor.

Someone was going to fucking die before the night was done, or blood would spray across the city of Vegas until the truth showed its ugly face.

“Grim,” she whispered, and I looked down at her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit.” Leo turned around as he lowered his phone.

“She just passed out.” I lifted Kenna in my arms and hurried into the elevator with Leo right behind me. He pressed the button for her floor, and I wanted to argue that she should come to mine, but I kept my mouth shut. He unlocked her door, and we whisked into her suite.

I carried her past her horrendous white couch and into her bedroom. I noticed her makeup was strewn all over her vanity. I laid her down and studied her for a moment. Blood was on her face from her nose and a swollen lip, but I couldn’t find any other obvious injuries. I just hoped there wasn’t any internal bleeding. Sometimes what didn’t show was worse.

“Here.” Leo handed me an open bottle of tequila and waved it under her nose to draw her awake. Her eyes fluttered open as she moved away from the smell.

“Hey,” I shook her arm gently, “look at me. Do you know where you are?” She looked around and flinched in pain.

“My room.” Her expression registered with me. Fear was there, but also anger.

“Where are you hurt?”

“My side, mostly.” She tried to move, but I stopped her.

“Who did this to you?” I barely recognized my own voice as I took the warm facecloth from Leo and cleaned up her face.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie!” I felt heat flash through me as I fought to control my temper.

“Grim,” Leo warned, and I tried to curb my tone.

“How do you not know?”

“He wore a fucking mask!” She tried to pull away, but I wasn’t allowing it. She took a breath and winced. “Also, his voice was altered.” She evened out her breathing. “Look, Grim.” She put a hand to her head as if it hurt.

“Why are you sorry?” I wanted an answer to that. She squinted at me then seemed to remember, and a look of panic came over her face.

“You need to go. B-both of you need to go.”

“You need to see a doctor first.”

“No.”

“That wasn”t a question,” I shot back and chucked the facecloth in the direction of the table.

“Kenna.” Leo came at her softer, and I fought not to roll my eyes in frustration. She was seeing a doctor with or without her consent. “Can I have a look at your side?” He held up his hands and waited for her to nod.

“Let me.” I released her arm and undid one of the panels on her dress. Her skin was already turning a nasty purple. Anger seeped into my bloodstream. “Does this hurt?” I slid my hand along the damage and felt her flinch.

“I don’t think anything’s broken.” I did her dress back up and noticed a rip in the fabric.

“Did he try to?—”

“No.” Her voice was firm. “Grim, can you guys go now? I really want to rest.” She pleaded this time.

“For now,” I replied through clenched teeth. I hesitated as I saw her eyes gloss over.

“Grim,” she sniffed, “I can take care of myself.”

Against my better judgement, I gave in.

“I’ll check in on you later.” I turned to go and nearly knocked into Leo. He’d gone to get her some water and a painkiller.

Good, he could fuss over her, while I hunted down the fucker who dared hurt one of our own.

“Holy shit,” Leo’s voice brought me back to the present, and I went to see what he looked at.

“What?”

“Just this,” he pressed play on the screen, and Kenna popped up.

“Is this it?”

“Yeah,” he stood next to me as we both leaned close to the TV, “she gets a call here.” He pointed at the screen. “Then…” His words trailed off as we watched the horror unfold.

“Jesus.”