Chapter 16 Sixx
Sixx
Lights strobed to the bass of the beat overhead, from where the DJ was on a platform suspended above the crowd. More than a thousand people were inside the warehouse I’d followed Gaviria to after stalking him.
First, he’d gone home straight from work—an apartment complex in a neighborhood that had noticeable gang affiliations on most street corners in some shape or form. Too many people were hanging around outside for me to follow him in. Too many obvious men with bulges under their shirts.
Starting beef with a gang and putting a target on Ali was not something I would allow to happen.
I parked down the street, watching my surroundings, keeping an eye out for Gaviria or his car leaving.
Having lived my entire life in the Los Angeles area, I wasn’t unfamiliar with gang activity.
Some territories were worse than others.
This neighborhood, in particular, didn’t try to hide how they were spending their funds.
My black Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT went unnoticed with more than one Ferrari parked on the street.
Which was definitely not a good sign. It meant that high-ranking members lived in the area. Most likely drug dealers.
Realizing that Ali’s teacher and the man who was harassing her was in a gang only made that burning itch deep in my brain intensify.
It was a struggle to continue to hold back that wall in my mind, not to let the darker part of myself take over.
Knowing unleashing it now would only risk Ali was the only thing that helped.
After a while, Gaviria left, and I followed him for more than an hour. He stopped in front of a warehouse that had a parking lot bigger than most sports areas, already filled to capacity. I parked a few blocks away and then did a search of the address on my phone.
Multiple links popped up instantly. It listed the gang affiliated with the neighborhood I’d been to earlier, but it also mentioned that it was allegedly one of the locations the Pacific Coast Cartel hosted fight clubs at every Friday night.
That immediately piqued my interest.
By the time I made the walk back to the warehouse, even more people had arrived.
It was difficult to find Gaviria in the crowd, especially with the number of fights going on at the same time.
I tuned out the music that was loud enough the bass seemed to rattle my spine.
The flashing lights dancing from one corner to another and the people who kept bumping into me made me sweat as the struggle to keep my wall up doubled, then tripled.
Another hour passed, and I still hadn’t found Gaviria.
But I had seen one guy who would stand out in any crowd.
He had multiple face tattoos, the most prominent the word Lunatic across his forehead.
Most people gave him and his group a wide berth.
With how erratic he acted, swinging his guns around as he danced, I couldn’t blame them.
However, I’d noticed that before a new fight would start, Lunatic was the one who managed the money. Entrance fee to a match or bets, I didn’t know. But he obviously knew everyone who was fighting, and it was reasonable to assume he was acquainted with Gaviria.
I approached him, all the cash I had with me in my pocket, ready to hand over if I needed to. “You the one I need to talk to about challenging someone?”
Lunatic frowned at me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. A few moments passed before he used his gun to scratch at a spot on his head. “Who do you want to challenge?”
“Guy named Gaviria.” That only had Lunatic squinting harder at me. “You know him?”
“Know of him, sure. He’s not one of mine.
Belongs to Miguel.” He tipped his head to the left, and I shifted my gaze to a bunch of people I hadn’t noticed before then.
It was a large group, too many for me to guess who Miguel could be.
While Lunatic and his smaller posse bled chaotic energy, something a hell of a lot darker vibrated from that direction.
Lunatic leaned in closer so he didn’t have to shout as loudly to be heard. “Gaviria is Miguel’s golden boy. Best fighter here. Undefeated. And you want to challenge him?”
Turning my attention back to Lunatic, I stood there without answering.
My silence caused Lunatic to grin, using his gun to scratch his itchy scalp again.
“This is your lucky day, man. I’m tight with Miguel.
He owes me one, and I’m feeling generous enough to pass that along to you.
Give me ten minutes, and you’ll get your fight. ”
Itch. Itch. Itch. Just a little longer and then I could drop the wall. I wouldn’t feel that itch anymore. And Gaviria would bleed for even thinking about my daisy girl.
Lunatic’s smirk grew bigger as I remained quiet. “Yeah, this is gonna be good.”
“I’ll be right here,” I promised.
Laughing wildly, he walked off, pushing into the group where Miguel supposedly was.
From my vantage point, Lunatic appeared more like a sleazy car salesman, shit-eating grin in place as he attempted to make the deal.
With too many people blocking my view, I couldn’t tell who he was talking to specifically, but he was obviously hyping it up.
It took a few extra minutes, but Lunatic finally started back toward me, his grin splitting his face. “Gaviria is getting warmed up. Should only be a few more minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“Yo, get your bets in now. We got this stupid kid facing off with Gaviria. Ten to one he doesn’t last five minutes against Gav. Twenty that Gaviria kills him.”
Around us, people rushed forward, calling their bets, and one of Lunatic’s friends noted them all on his phone. I waited until most of them cleared out before counting out the bills I had.
“All of it on me winning the match,” I told him, my face remaining impassive. That changed the minute I finally spotted Gaviria.
One of the red lights hit him, then a blue one, before shifting to purple.
Confidence was clear on his face, even with the lights strobing off him.
Cocky. Sure of his skills. He was dressed in track pants, and he pulled his shirt over his head as he turned his back to me, speaking to someone in Miguel’s group.
That was when I saw the PCC stamp on his left shoulder. That same brand had been all over the place when I’d searched the warehouse location online.
Lunatic took the cash from me at the same time I moved forward, letting go of the wall.
For the first time, I allowed the disassociation.
Welcomed it, like a friend. An ally. Cold, violent energy filled my blood, an electrical current running just below the surface.
Each step forward was steady, purposeful.
People shifted out of my way, parting and then circling until a tight human ring surrounded Gaviria and me.
Recognition didn’t enter his eyes as he turned to face me, his gaze skimming me from head to toe, assessing if I was going to be a worthy opponent or not.
His mouth ticked upward, so fucking sure of himself, it was almost amusing.
On closer inspection, he looked younger than I’d expected. Evan had told me the teacher was in his early twenties, but he didn’t appear much older than me. Height- and build-wise, we were fairly similar in size, although I was on the leaner side, compared to him.
This was the guy who had harassed Ali. Stalked her. Took nudes of her in the shower at school. Videoed her. Cornered her.
Touched her.
Scared her.
Itch.
Rolling my shoulders, I popped my neck left and right. One by one, I shook out my arms and wrists before beckoning my prey closer with both hands.
Gaviria swaggered forward, swung, and connected with my jaw.
Mmmmm. That hit hurt, but it felt so damn good.
There was some weight behind that punch, the pain slicing through my body, scratching away at a little of that burning itch.
Allowing him to throw the first punch wasn’t about control.
It was to solidify the wall in my mind. Keep it in place, thicken the pane of glass.
Around us, the crowd went crazy, automatically assuming it was going to be a one-sided match.
A laugh escaped me, the sound chilling to my own ears. Because now, it was my turn.
Game on, motherfucker.