Chapter 21 Cross
CROSS
Oh. Hell. No.
I feel like I’m on fucking drugs. I start forward, and Tyler grabs my arm. He yanks me back, giving me a look like I’m the crazy one.
Yeah, I’m unhinged. No one’s surprised.
The one thing I promised never to do, though, was hurt my best friend. As much as he’s a pain in the ass, I’d never risk injuring him based on some hot-headed moment. But that is really put to the test the moment he holds me back from jumping up there.
“Look,” Tyler says in my ear. “We have an audience.”
He tips his head toward Stanley’s office, and my heart stops. He’s at the top of the staircase, looking down on us–not surprising, that’s a common occurrence–but someone is with him.
One of the Webber brothers.
I haven’t told Tyler the truth—should’ve, but didn’t.
It was easier to lie and say that I was asking him to babysit Scarlett all day because I was worried about her horseshit ex coming back.
I should probably tell him the whole truth–about throwing a fight, not throwing another fight, the secret twenty grand going into the pocket of a rapist, and my fifty-thousand-dollar bill.
And how the Webber brothers are threatening to collect by any means necessary if I don’t cough up some coin.
That just seems like a headache in the making, though, and I’m over it.
That, and my mother keeps calling me. She’s kind of superstitious, and I think she’s picking up some vibes that I’m in trouble.
I’m not superstitious–more like a little stitious, if we’re honest–but I take her concerns seriously.
When she tells me to smudge my room with sage, I do it. I don’t want beef with bad spirits.
Anyway.
Tyler releases my arm, and I face him. “Get her.”
His eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”
“Get her and get the fuck out of here.” I’m speaking through a clenched jaw. My instincts say, rush up there, punch the dude in the face, and throw her over my shoulder like a caveman. But for the first time, I don’t trust myself to act.
Tyler makes a show of sighing, and we both look to the ring. I wouldn’t call Jim a trainer. He’s more of a workout partner that makes sure my form stays solid. But right now, he’s showing Scarlett how to throw a punch and holding up the blocker on his hand for her to hit.
I watch her wimpy hit, and Jim smiles encouragingly.
That wouldn’t stop a toddler.
I elbow Tyler, and he finally goes into action. He hops up and ducks under the ropes, approaching them. He waves off Jim and approaches Scarlett. I shove my free hand in my pocket to hide my balled fist. I turn away. I don’t need to see her look at me and glare some more.
I know.
I feel the heat of it on my back, but I move away. I go to the locker room at the back of the building and tuck the printed assignment into my backpack. The door opens behind me. I finish closing my bag and turn around, only to come face to face with Webber.
Alex or Jason…I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot.
He raises an eyebrow. Today, this one is in a black button-down shirt, black slacks, black loafers. A gold chain peeks out from under his shirt collar. If he’s not in the fucking mob, he’s doing a hell of a job cosplaying.
“Where’s our money, Cross?” he asks.
I straighten. “I told Stanley I’ll pay you back.”
His expression reminds me of a seasoned fighter’s: dead inside. They’re there for a paycheck, but they’ve learned to shut off the emotion. Adrenaline is good, but excitement, fear? Not so much. I can’t tell what’s going through his head.
“You spent it before you earned it,” he says.
It’s not a question, so I say nothing. My mouth has dried out, anyway.
He nods slowly. “Okay, Cross. I understand. It’s a lot of money to suddenly come into, to think that you have the right to spend. And, well, you would’ve been able to spend it with a clear conscience if you had followed through.”
I stare at him. There’s got to be a point, right? A threat he’ll make then leave, and it’ll give me time to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. That other circuit is holding an event soon, I hope. Stanley gave me limited options, and…I don’t fucking know.
“That girl out there is mighty pretty,” Webber states. “She’s wearing some expensive stuff. Like she comes from money or something.”
“Leave her out of it.”
He smiles. I immediately wipe the scowl off my face, disappointed in myself for dropping my guard. A split second or an eternity–it doesn’t matter. I opened my mouth, and now he knows she’s important.
“She doesn’t have money,” I lie. “Just some shit she inherited from a dead grandma.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “Scarlett Wallace is poor, and I’m just a fucking car salesman.”
I bite my cheek. My face heats at his blatant display of knowledge. Of course he knows her name. He probably knows everything about me.
He’s blocking the door. I could go through him, but that might just add to my bill. And so far, they haven’t done anything but threaten.
He pulls his hand from his pocket and holds out a folded piece of paper.
I tense. “What’s that?”
“It’s not a bomb.” When I don’t move, he tosses it at my feet. “It’s an offer.”
I stay where I am. “I think I’m done doing deals with the devil.”
The barest hint of a smile flickers across his lips. “Is that so?”
When I don’t reply, he turns on his heel and leaves as fast as he came. The instant I’m alone, I dive for the paper. I unfold it, scanning the “offer” from the Webber brothers. It’s not just another fight. It lists my opponent too.
Nicholas Thomson.
Well, I’ve done my best to not name the guy who’s no better than ballsack sweat, and now his full name is staring at me in Webber’s blocky handwriting. They want me to fight him again–and lose.
My stomach twists. It doesn’t say my debt would be cleared, the bill erased, with this fight. And I have a hunch that this wouldn’t be a one-and-done situation.
I crumple the paper and shove it in my pocket. I collect my bag and exit the locker room. I need to get out of here.
Outside, the cold air blasts through my thin shirt. My jacket is in the car.
“Come on. Let me drive you,” Tyler’s voice floats through the frozen air.
I tilt my head and follow it around the corner to the parking lot on the side of the building. Scarlett looks like the warmest dressed of the three of us in a puffy coat and scarf tucked into it.
Exactly what I told her not to wear.
“I’m going to walk,” she informs him.
He groans. “If you walk, then I have to walk.”
“You can just…”—she makes a vague motion—“drive along beside me.”
I shake my head and stride toward her. She doesn’t see me–too focused on Tyler in front of her–and therefore can’t escape when I finally give in to that base instinct and grab her hips.
I haul her over my shoulder, her body weight an easy lift, and she screeches like a banshee.
The noise cuts off when she folds in half, and her fingers dig into my back.
“I’ve got it,” I tell Tyler.
He snickers. “Good luck.”
She kicks out, and I quickly band my arm across her calves. It puts her feet in close proximity to my groin, but hopefully it won’t come to that. I go to my car on the street and contemplate letting her sit in the front seat.
But that’s a little too generous, seeing as how she’s still struggling like I’m kidnapping her.
Wait. Am I kidnapping her?
I pop the trunk and consider that then smile to myself. Yeah, I suppose I am.
I unceremoniously drop her into the trunk, only pausing to make sure her limbs are all folded inside. She seems shocked, looking up at me with her hair in her face.
That’s the last expression I see when I close the trunk with her in it.