Chapter 9
Luke
W hen my mom lamented that I never had free time, I doubted that she wanted me to waste it here, at a club, instead of wherever nice, decent good girls might lurk. I wouldn’t have changed my plans though. Being here wasn’t about hanging out or having a good time.
Ben and a couple of his friends mentioned coming here, and I was eager to get my foot in the door one way or another. Jimmy could be cryptic and weird about keeping me where I was. He wasn’t giving me a good enough reason for why I couldn’t advance to a more qualified fighter. I wasn’t in the mood to wait around for his agenda. I intended to at least get my name known, to talk and be more familiar with Ben so that if a situation ever arose that the needed someone else to fill a spot in a match, he’d remember me and consider me for something above what I’d been doing already.
So far, though, three drinks in and at least one line of coke, he only got drunker and higher, not really focusing on what I was saying. I was still working on my first beer. I didn’t touch any drugs. My patience wore thinner as the time passed, and I wondered if it was because it was always so annoying trying to have a conversation with someone who wasn’t sober or if Ben was just messing around, humoring me without any actual intention to help me move up to a better match.
All he wanted to talk about was Jimmy, and I knew very little about him.
“I noticed you at the very first fight, man,” he slurred, smiling with his two friends nodding along behind him. Ben wasn’t a big player or mover in these criminal circles, but it seemed he had enough clout to need a couple of bodyguards flanking him. Those brutes looked like any other hired manpower, standing tall, not breaking a sweat and definitely not betraying a single emotion on their stoic faces.
“How long ago was that?” He turned to the lackey on his left, who donned a pensive frown.
“Not sure, boss.”
Boss. I almost laughed. Ben might think he was the “boss” but I knew many others held superior significance above him.
“I think when I was sixteen,” I answered. There was no thinking about it. Jimmy was nervous to have me enter my first fight, especially so young. Illegal street fighting was a risk in and of itself. The whole operation could be shut down at any time if someone snitched. But a minor participating? It was doubly dangerous. The son of a well-known fighter had been talking shit, though, and Jimmy had me match against him as an introduction to it all.
From that day, I was addicted to being able to vent my anger at the world. Having those dollar bills put in my hand was even more or a motivation to come back for more.
“Sixteen?” Ben laughed. “Damn.” He reached out to pat my back but missed, already too wasted to make contact. His coordination was shit. “You were born a legend then, huh?”
I shrugged, trying to smile without looking like a smartass. I was born fighting to survive in this world, and I had a strong hunch it would be like that until the day I died.
“How’d Jimmy find you, anyway?”
“Just ran into each other on the streets.”
Ben seemed sober then, and I had a fleeting worry that he was trying trick me. That he was up to something, acting wasted when he wasn’t just in case I’d say something or slip. That was how deep my insecurities ran. That was how little I trusted anyone.
“He’s such a loner,” Ben commented. “He hasn’t been repping any other fighters, fuck, for like twenty years or something.”
“Sean stopped as well,” the lackey on the right said.
“Who?” I hadn’t heard of a Sean before. Jimmy never mentioned him to me.
Ben nodded, drinking sloppily with some spilling. “Another manager. He and Jimmy used to show up together, but fuck. That’s like over twenty years ago.”
“I heard Sean retired,” the thug to Ben’s left said.
“That would add up. He comes by every now and then but doesn’t stay long.”
I shook my head, clueless what they were talking about. I didn’t come out here to be tense and talk about another retired person in the fighting world. I wanted to talk about being kept in mind for advancement.
“Now that motherfucker...” Ben grinned, raising his bottle to his lips. He pointed with a finger lifted from the glass, and I turned to see what he was pointing out behind me.
Fuck.
I didn’t react externally, but in my mind, I wanted to groan.
What the hell is she doing here?
Emma and her friend exited from the other side of the crowded dance floor. I caught a sight of Emma’s long dark waves as she shook her head. Her shoulders tightened, emphasizing the strain that she put into wrenching away from a man. It didn’t work. Her bright blue-green eyes flashed with anger, but the asshole dragging her out was impervious to her attitude.
Fuck. Fuck!
That girl was nothing but hot-damn trouble. I’d been ignoring her the best I could all week at the Tropican, but it was impossible to pretend she wasn’t there, within my orb. I was aware of her and wished I didn’t have to warn myself not to check her out. But I refused to break. I wouldn’t cave. Talking with her would do no good. And anything else would end in disaster too.
No matter how much I was curious and drawn to her, I refused to get involved.
Now, I struggled with that rule. Here she was, struggling to resist those men as they overpowered her.
She was a magnet for trouble. From other men. Even me. I couldn’t save everyone, dammit. I had to pick my battles wisely.
“Who?” I asked, watching as Emma and her friend were forced to the exit. The three men moving them out looked like the strong, smug assholes who often pulled the same duties at Ben’s pair of lackeys. Hired men expected to do their boss’s dirty work.
Mafia? Or cartel? Both were strong forces around here.
“He calls himself El Diablo.” Ben snickered.
That nickname identified him though. Despite the darkness and the distracting bright lights strobing around, and regardless of the distance separating us across the room, I noticed his namesake of a tattoo on the back of his neck. Thick, bold lines showed a tribal sign that emphasized a pair of devil horns.
“Now that’s someone you’d make bank on.” Ben nudged me, laughing like he would salivate to see a match like that set up.
I sized up the man who moved with the group ousting Emma. A couple of them veered Krista off to the side. She reached out and fought to get to Emma, scowling and talking back to the two men who split them. Emma resisted with every step, trying to shove of other men’s hands and arms off her. Behind her, the taller freak appointing himself as “the devil” followed them all out.
“El Diablo,” I said in acknowledgment.
“His real name’s Orsen, I think, but he’s backed by some pretty powerful motherfuckers,” Ben said. “And it’s no wonder. He’s probably an even match with you.” Like me, Ben was confused why Jimmy held me back from better fights. At least he could admit my level of skills and expertise though.
“Who backs him?” I asked, unable to turn back and look at Ben. One of the men hauled Emma closer to his side, groping her and sliding his hand under her shirt.
She protested, craning her neck to escape from him trying to kiss her. They passed the bouncers at the door, and they looked the other way.
I had my answer. If Orsen was with little party, it stood to reason they were all colleagues. And if the security in this place knew better than to stop them or mess with them, they really did matter to some bigger organizations.
None of that seemed to matter.
White-hot rage coursed through me as I watched Emma twist and grimace to break free.
Orsen could be an associate of the actual devil himself. I didn’t care.
Over my dead body would they bother her. With how fast they were dragging her outside, doing so against her will, they had evil intentions. Probably to rape her.
Fuck this.
Randy was correct in his judgment of me. I didn’t scare easily. No one could intimidate me, not even the devil. Hell, I’d sold my soul to him years ago when I made my first kill.
“Hey, I’ll catch you later.” I didn’t wait for Ben or his two thugs to reply. They didn’t seem to even hear me, paying attention to a couple of women who came up close, clinging to them. If anyone had hired muscle with them, it was implied they had money to afford the protection. No wonder this pair honed in on Ben. He didn’t have to be pretty, just rich.
Their distraction was my blessing. Without lingering for a goodbye or a request to meet up again, I slipped away. I kept my sights locked on Orsen’s head, hurrying to catch up with them as the second the set foot outside.
Following them through this crowd was easier said than done. It seemed like the number of people in here had tripled since I arrived. I cut through the throngs of people, weaving around couples dancing. As fast as I could, I pursued those assholes who thought they could prey on Emma.
I didn’t know a damn thing about her other than how well her ass filled out lacy panties. That and how she didn’t like it when anyone told her what to do.
Everything else didn’t matter. I didn’t want to see her get hurt.
Adrenaline force me to hurry after them, and once I pushed the door open, I jogged outside. Seeking them out, I scoped my surroundings and considered how well I could handle this. What, two against one? I could manage.
“Let me go!”
Her furious cry sounded from the alley to the left. I didn’t miss the fear lacing her syllables.
I turned, pumping my arms to run in that direction.
She couldn’t be worth it.
I knew better.
I did not need trouble like her in my life.
But the day I declined to help an innocent woman I’d be half the man I thought I was.
“Let me—”
She didn’t finish her plea. The bastard slid his hand up her shirt again was yanked back.
Coming up behind them, I gripped the back of his neck in one hand. With a mighty heave, I wrenched him away and threw him, forcing him to release her. He slammed against the wall, grunting as the back of his head smacked on the brick. Blood smeared the surface as he slumped down, moving slowly.
There. That evened it out.
I pivoted, facing Orsen, man to man. One to one.
Making sure I kept Emma behind me, I cracked the kink in my neck and waited for this so-called prize fighter to show me what he had.
Fighting with him unofficially wasn’t smart. His sponsors and backers would see this as an insult. Consequences would follow, but I frankly didn’t give a shit.
Maybe this was how I’d get more attention and earn a spot in worthwhile fights.
Even if it wasn’t, there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was letting them manhandle any defenseless woman—including a pain in the ass like her.