11. Grey
GREY
F uck Parker.
I landed a blow across Carlos’ cheek, spit and blood spewing from his mouth as his head whipped around. He staggered back a step, yet I didn’t let him get further away than that.
Fuck him and his overarching opinion.
Twisting back for more leverage, I hit him with an uppercut, getting tingly from the sound of his teeth clicking together. His head snapped back and he started to topple to the floor. Hell yeah. I chased him down, landing blow after blow over his face, chest, and shoulders.
Parker had to be such a fucking punk-ass bitch.
His pained groan had disrupted by my next hit, even though it sounded like music to my ears and had my groin tightening.
This…This is what I lived for. The feeling of life underneath my hands, the warm flesh giving with my hits.
The spray of blood across the floor; it was never in the same pattern.
Sometimes depending on the color red it took on, it was downright artistic.
“ Senor, senor! Por favor !” Hands grabbed at my shoulders, but when I refused to back away, they caught my forearm, slowing down my punch until it landed with a pathetic amount of softness on his chest. Well, damn. Carlos did look like he’d passed out a while ago.
Jumping up to my feet, I snatched a cloth off the rope and wiped the sweat from my face and the blood off my hands. Then I tossed another at Daniel to clean up Carlos.
Ever since I could walk, I’d been starting fights.
If analyzed, I was sure some half-cracked therapist would say my need for fighting was a way to assert my dominance in a situation, my refusal to back down.
Our lives were too dangerous not to want to stay on top, so they’d probably be right.
In a world where Vicente preferred to land fists over praise, I worked my ass off to be stronger, faster, more lethal.
Once he gave his soldiers full reign to break us in, all bets were off.
I was eleven the first time I killed one of his men.
Hell, the fear in that moment was burned into my memory.
It was probably the only time in my life I’d quivered before Vicente.
But he’d laughed his head off. The fucker thrived off chaotic savagery.
It was at that moment that I learned how to play Vicente. As long as I played into his bloodthirsty cravings, putting on one hell of a show, I’d stay alive. I was lucky I thrived in the heat of a fight.
Then there was Parker. He couldn’t stand the sight of me half the time. And now he wanted to give me grief about the probability of my death? I was the one ordered to fight Bruno. Not him. Just because he was being a pussy about it, didn’t mean he could crawl up my ass.
Already I was climbing the high of an upcoming fight, and he just wanted to whine about it like a little bitch.
He was convinced Vicente wanted to put me down, but I was too good at running the fights.
Even if Bruno whooped my ass, which would never happen, Vicente wouldn’t let him kill me, no matter his usual MO.
As long as I was valuable to him and gave him part-time entertainment in the form of corporal punishment, I was safe to fight another day.
What did Parker care, anyway? It wasn’t like he was part of our brotherly unit because of an unbreakable bond. None of us were.
Don’t mistake me, I loved my brothers. But this game we constantly played against Vicente was deadly. The only way we were going to come out the other side in one piece was if we banded together.
Fucking hell, I’d love nothing more than to slit his throat and smear his blood over every inch of his precious Gallery. Unfortunately, that would never happen, but it was a thought that kept me warm at night.
“Again?” Daniel asked, holding up his fists on the other side of the ring. He’d pulled Carlos off to the side. After just an hour, they’d already soaked the mat with their blood and sweat.
Daniel was a good kid. Fast, smart, and loyal.
Not a great sparring partner. It seemed like Parker was trying to increase that probability of his by sending me punching bags.
If I was going to win this fight, and I would, I needed an actual challenge.
As much as I loathed to admit it, Bruno was the best in the ring.
Outside of me. But that was only because I was a fucking psycho when it came to fighting.
I thrived on the rush of smashing my fist through someone’s face.
Or kicking their balls into their throat.
That was probably my favorite move for punk asses going up against me. My ring had no rules, and fighting dirty was my favorite pastime.
God damn, I loved what I did. Overseeing the fights was nearly as fun as fighting. Almost.
Unfortunately, I still needed to train. The level of my opponents this week was just offensive. I was the best fighter in my club. Anything less than a tier two was a waste of my time. Where was Mia? Now she knew how to find me a worthy opponent.
“Nah. We’re done here for the day.” I grabbed my squeeze bottle and squirted cool water in my mouth before spraying it over my hair.
Drops of water flew as I shook my head. They soaked the floor outside the ring but fuck it. This was my domain, and no one came here without my permission. The outside sand pit was the soldiers’ to fuck around in.
Outside of my brothers or a sparring partner, this gym was off-limits. Only one wall of mirrors, otherwise those bastards would never get any workouts in. They’d just gawk at themselves.
The equipment, like this room, was beat to hell. There had been so much sweat lost in this room it had soaked into the floor long ago, giving the place that dirty, musty smell. A true sign of a well-used gym.
Daniel set his gloves on the bench by the wall and saluted me before he hefted Carlos over his shoulder and left through the glass door.
Like all the other soldiers we’d handpicked, he lived in the town surrounding our compound.
They thought their proximity to the compound served as protection. They were actually decoys.
Disposable bodies in case the need arose.
The door to the hall banged against the wall. Fucking Parker.
“Hey!” I barked. “Watch the door.” I didn’t give one rat’s ass about the door. It was old metal that served a purpose and nothing else. But he needed to grow up. We were in the life and we’d never get out.
I didn’t want out.
I just wanted Vicente’s head on a platter.
By the time the small slap of footsteps breached my mind, I’d already marched over to the mouth of the hallway.
What the fuck?
A girl slid over the slick floor and slammed right into my chest with a low moan.
Gripping her arms, I held her to me as she tried to pull away. When that didn’t work, she went for my kneecaps.
“Son of a bitch,” I gritted out. Who was she?
I spun her around and then lifted her so her body was diagonal over my torso. With her legs dangling out to the side, she wouldn’t be able to make purchase with any of her kicks. If I wasn’t trapping her hands against her chest, I’d be ripped to shreds right now from her nails.
Outside of a few grunts from her efforts, she didn’t scream. But she also never stopped fighting as I walked her over to the ring and tossed her in the center. This time she cried out when her back slammed against the mats.
The ropes surrounding the mats wouldn’t keep her inside. In any case it was enough of a barrier for now. I was still fucking confused as to who she was and why she was here. We never brought anyone—any fucking one—to the compound without alerting each other and completing a full background check.
It hampered our fucking, but we left the compound enough that it usually wasn’t an issue. So where had this little thing come from?
At first, I thought she was barely more than a child.
Nonetheless, there she was, her fingers digging into the mat as she glared through strands of her hair with a sneer on her lips.
Not a child. More like a small woman. Her pale blue eyes were barely visible through her black hair, but from what I could see, they burned bright against the mottled bruising on her cheek.
Oh, she was livid. I just didn’t know if her anger was directed at me for tossing her around like last week’s trash or one of my brothers for making her do the walk of shame in a faded t-shirt.
She could use a shower. Shame on my…whichever brother worked her over and kicked her out. Probably Andre. Parker was just here and not nearly smug enough to have claimed this girl.
I grinned and her fingers flexed. If it only took sheer will alone, she would have pierced the thick rubber mats, but unfortunately she didn’t even make a dent. Her nails might be sore later, though.
“Who are you running from, mamí ?” I crossed my arms. If I couldn’t have a good fight, I could at least have some fun.
Her brow crinkled and her gaze swept the room. Probably looking for a way around me. I got it. I was the tallest of us, more muscled, and wore a scowl the way most people wore underwear.
Often, if you didn’t know.
The gym was empty and even though she could run under the ropes, I’d be on her before she reached the closest piece of equipment. Not that I wanted her to stay put like a good girl.
Maybe I’d get a fight of a different kind. I tucked my chin, ready for whatever move she would make. After all, she was more my type than Andre’s.
And she thought about it. Her gaze flicked between me then the glass, back to me, then to the hallway. Her attention finally settled on me, taking in my entire body. I’d be lying if I said her gaze wasn’t a physical touch that seared my skin. Like they had a mind of their own, my pecs flexed.
“Nothing to say?” I taunted.
“Fucking asshole,” she muttered in English under her breath. Ah, maybe she wasn’t answering me because she didn’t know Spanish. Not that uncommon if she were a tourist picked up from the nearest city. Or wherever Andre took her from.