Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Tav
Something was off tonight. I didn’t get nervous for fights anymore, but the way Lary taped my hands with a stiff jaw and jerky movements sent a chill down my spine.
He glanced up at me with what seemed like real fear in his eyes. “I know you’re a good grappler, but don’t let Shock get you on your back. You hear me? He’ll do real damage, Husk.”
“Okay,” I murmured. I didn’t let anyone get me on my back.
Lary kept talking, which was weird. Usually he gave me a few pointers or some words of encouragement, but never like this.
He sort of rambled nonsense as his fingers prodded at previous injuries, like my left shoulder I’d dislocated two years ago and my right ankle that I’d sprained a few months after that.
“How’s this feel?” He dug the heel of his palm into my shoulder, and I winced.
The muscles were still a bit weak and damaged.
He pressed his lips together. “Painful?”
I shrugged. What was there to say? I couldn’t feel pain in the same way I used to. It all hurt. “Sometimes. I know how to protect it when I fight.”
“The ankle?”
“Not a hundred percent.”
Lary sighed and stepped back, rubbing at his forehead. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything. He wasn’t the only thing off tonight. Casey hadn’t shown up with my shot of whiskey. I hadn’t seen Casey in weeks. I was beginning to worry about him.
And I’d never fought in this building, a massive warehouse twenty miles outside of Detroit.
I’d immediately been ushered into a small supply room that held some shelving, a few dusty chairs, and the cafeteria-style table I currently sat on while Lary worked on taping my hands.
This warehouse had a ring and everything when usually there were just a few tape marks on the floor to block off the fight area.
I hadn’t really thought about it too much, but that coupled with Lary’s behavior set me on edge.
And it only got worse when the doors to the supply room burst open. Lary shifted to my side, and his fingers grazed my wrist, squeezing once, before dropping away. I glanced up, unable to hide my surprise when Devlin Walsh strode through the door, four large men at his back.
I hadn’t seen Devlin in at least six months.
He didn’t make it a habit to see me, and I was grateful for it since every time I laid eyes on him, I felt homicidal.
Despite learning jiu jitsu and mixed martial eyes from a young age, I’d never reveled in the violence of it.
To me, fighting had always been about skill and competition.
The sport of it. Not the crowds or the money.
Just me and my body, improving my kills.
Winning. I wondered often if I could have settled into my Husk role without losing myself if I’d enjoyed the blood and pain and violence of taking another man to the mat.
But I didn’t, and being Husk had also deadened any love I had for the sport.
Because Devlin didn’t run a sports ring.
He ran a fighting ring where men bet on how much we could make each other bleed.
I might have killed a man once, but that was because he was going to kill first.
Devlin looked the same as always, wearing a full suit on his five-nine frame, flanked by men much larger than him.
Objectively, I could say Devlin had likely been handsome once, almost pretty, and maybe he still could be if his eyes didn’t give away his manic, destructive personality that twisted his features into something ugly.
He ran a hand through his auburn hair. “Husk.” He greeted me.
I nodded, unwilling to expend the energy to move my tongue for him.
He stopped in front of me, and his bodyguards fanned out—two behind him and two on each side.
All of them watched me with barely disguised disgust. They all had guns and wore suits.
I sat in a pair of shorts and taped hands.
I still could have taken all of them. I’d get shot in the process, but I knew I could make each one bleed before I went down in a blaze of glory.
The only reason I didn’t end it all was because I couldn’t ensure my sister’s safety if I wasn’t around.
And you want to see Con, a voice in my head whispered.
You want to see Con again. I pushed the thought away.
Con didn’t belong here. I wouldn’t think about the last time I saw him. I wasn’t Tav in this warehouse.
Devlin’s gaze shifted to my left. “Lary.”
“Devlin,” the old man mumbled back.
“How is he?”
Lary hesitated. “No lingering injuries.”
That was wrong. Lary lied. Why did Lary lie? I felt his gaze on the side of my head, but I refused to look at him. I kept my gaze on the ground between Devlin’s shiny shoes.
“You’ve been busy,” Devlin said.
It took me a minute to realize he’d been talking to me. I lifted my head and met his gaze. I didn’t say anything. Busy?
Devlin’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure me out, and I didn’t like it.
Being the focus of Devlin’s attention was never a good thing.
“After the last fight, you didn’t spend the night at your apartment.
You weren’t on a job for me.” His hand rested on my thigh, and my skin crawled.
Slowly, he began to squeeze his middle finger and thumb on either side of my kneecap. “Where were you?”
I was getting dicked down by Con. I knew Devlin kept tabs on me, but he didn’t do it reliably.
I should have known he would have had me watched after a fight.
His fingers dug in further, until I had to grind my molars to keep from making a sound.
My body screamed at me to relieve the pressure, and I could have knocked Devlin out with one punch.
My fingers curled around the edge of the table, and one of the bodyguards shifted to show me his gun.
I breathed through my nose and scrambled to come up with a lie that was convincing. “I paid Casey to blow me and fell asleep at his place.”
As soon as I spoke the lie, I wanted to take it back. Casey would cover for me, but I hadn’t wanted to involve him. Too late now.
Devlin’s fingers tightened. Pain shot down my shin.
My nerves screamed at me, and I was a second away from doing something that would get me killed or seriously maimed when he released me.
I rasped out a sharp breath and just barely kept my lips from curling into a sneer.
If Devlin didn’t have bodyguards, if it was just him and me, I’d smash his kneecaps with my bare fists.
He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets as a creepy smile split his face. “Making friends, Husk?”
“No.” And that was true. Casey wasn’t a friend. I didn’t have any.
He cocked his head. “Don’t get stupid ideas now, Husk, about who you think you are. You are nothing. You are nobody. You are only what I allow you. Because I own you.”
I stared at him. There wasn’t anything to say, and fuck him, but I wouldn’t nod.
I’d done it before, once, when my wrists were raw from being tied up, when my stomach was cramping from lack of food, and when I was so thirsty I’d been willing to crawl on broken glass for water.
Only then had I agreed that Devlin owned me.
But I couldn’t now, not while words in a different voice had wormed their way inside my brain. You let me in here. Remember that. You gave this to me. And I’m keeping it.
Devlin took my silence for acquiescence and smacked my cheek. “Good luck out there. This is a big night for us, Husk. Make it good, and don’t die.”
He turned his back to me, and I glared at him until the doors shut behind him and his entourage.
Only then did I blow out a breath and slump on the table.
Lary was in front of me immediately, massaging the knee that Devlin had squeezed.
“That bastard,” he whispered in a tight voice. “I hate him. Motherfucker.”
“Why do you do this, Lary?”
I’d never asked him that. Not once. Not in five years. I didn’t talk to him much at all, although there were times I wondered what it would be like have a dad like Lary. His hands went still on my knee, and he lifted his head to spear me with his watery eyes. “I owed him a debt.”
“Owed?”
“It was repaid years ago.”
I frowned. “But why—”
“Because of you. I do this for you.” He shook his head. “I’m not a good man, Husk. I haven’t lived a good life. Taking care of you feels like the only thing saving my soul.”
“I’m not a good man, either. I killed someone.”
He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, the affectionate touch surprising me.
He let out a small huff. “I’m going to hell, so my bias is skewed.
But killing that man was a good deed, Husk.
A good, good deed.” He patted my face and stepped back.
“Remember, don’t let him get you on your back. ”
All I could do was nod.