3. Lynx
LYNX
Dear Diary,
Today in Saint View, I almost got arrested and almost got head from a hot Italian guy. So far, parole is going great.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—”
I flipped the hockey puck up into my hand and scowled at Reaper. “Say that any louder and I’ll be forced to use this stick for more than practice.”
Levi leaned on the door of the clubhouse and studied me. “How’s that going anyway?”
I snorted. “I haven’t touched a puck in the ten years I was in prison.
And to add insult to injury, I’m no longer twenty-five.
So my reflexes are about as fast as a snail.
” I grinned at him, but it probably came across more like a grimace.
“So it’s going about as great as you would expect.
I do not need the reminder I’m yet another year older.
The ache in my knee has already taken care of that. No more ‘happy birthday’ shit.”
The flare-up was courtesy of an old injury, but I didn’t need to explain that to Reaper. After sharing a cell with me for six years, and now as one of my brothers in the Saint View Slayers MC, he knew me better than anyone.
His lips flattened into a disapproving line, nonetheless. “Get Doc to look at it before you start that bodyguard job with the Guerras tomorrow.” It was Reaper’s turn to grimace like he was in pain.
I laughed at him. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me like I’m one of your kids. I don’t need protecting from the big bad mob boss. Not my first rodeo.”
My reassurances didn’t seem to have the desired effect on my old friend. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m still pissed at War for making you do this.”
I shook my head and leaned the hockey stick against the door. “Don’t be. The club owes the Guerras a favor. They called it in. Simple as that. I’m a prospect. War is the prez. I do as I’m told.”
Reaper breathed out heavily. “It feels like throwing you to the fucking wolves. I don’t like it.”
“Better me than one of the other prospects, don’t you think? Some of them would probably cry if they scraped their knee.”
The corner of Reaper’s mouth flickered into an almost smile, but it disappeared almost as quickly. “I get why War picked you to go. The rest of us have got families and kids. The other prospects are about as green as the damn grass. But I’ve heard things about the Guerras. Fucked-up things.”
I laughed at him. “Aw. Look at you. All worried for me. You’re adorable. Come here and let me scratch you behind the ears.”
Reaper rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m real fucking cute. I’m serious, Lynx. Don’t be a cocky bastard. The Guerras are messed up. You’re about to walk into a lion’s den.”
I patted him on the back. “I’m a lynx. We’ll tussle. It’ll be great.”
He sighed heavily in defeat. “Fine. I hope it really is as boring as War said it would be. I hope it’s endless hours of standing around, doing absolutely nothing.”
I pouted at his negativity. “So what you’re saying is you want to kill me with boredom. Geez, Reap. I thought we were friends. Let me have at least a little action. Maybe a turf war? Perhaps a tiny gun battle?”
“How about a street fight?”
I perked up at the idea of some violence. “Really? Like right now? Seriously?” Adrenaline coursed through my veins. “Is this my birthday present?”
“Figured you’d prefer that over the knitted sweater Violet suggested I get for you.”
I pretended to weigh up the options. “Sweater I’ll never wear because I don’t own a pair of loafers to go with it.
Or watching two men pummel each other until there’s blood and hopefully teeth flying through the crowd.
” I sucked in a deep breath. “Ah, I can practically smell the plasma and dental bills now.” I bounced on my toes excitedly. “When are we going?”
Reaper glanced at his watch. “Now. We’ve probably already missed the first fight, but there should be a few.”
In the clubhouse parking lot, we both zipped up our jackets and tugged on helmets.
My bike was a hand-me-down from one of the other guys, and I had promised to pay him back for it.
Which was partly why I’d been happy to take the bodyguard job at the Guerras’ when War had offered it.
As a prospect, I wasn’t making any money from the club yet, and I hated feeling like I was freeloading.
I knew all too well I was here, with a roof over my head and belonging to something, only because Reaper had vouched for me.
I didn’t want to be anyone’s liability. If I could handle ten years in Saint View Prison, dealing with the various thugs and criminals within those four walls, I could handle some billionaires in suits who thought they were rich enough to do as they pleased, laws and consequences be damned.
I followed Levi out the clubhouse gates and through the woods surrounding them. Out on the main road, he took lazy corners until we were deep in the underbelly of Saint View and parking our bikes in the lot of some run-down boxing gym.
As soon as I pulled my helmet off, the excitement and buzz of the crowd hit me and my heartbeat picked up a few notches. If there was anything to miss about prison, it was this.
I fucking loved a good fight. Whether I was in it or not was irrelevant.
Sitting around at the clubhouse, cleaning the kitchen until it shined because I had nothing better to do, didn’t exactly fill me with excitement.
The idea of spilling a little blood did.
Reaper’s phone rang, and he fished it out of his back pocket. “Sorry. Probably one of the kids wanting to say goodnight or something.”
I waved for him to continue and leaned back against my bike, watching the crowd who’d formed a fight circle with their cars, headlights all pointed in, directly at the two men going hard at it in the middle.
I pushed up on my toes, trying to get a better look at the action from the back of the crowd.
I was like a kid at the Disney parade.
Reaper’s groan of annoyance into the phone caught my attention. “X, are you for real? How many times do we have to tell you to not try things you see on TikTok?” He sighed heavily. “I’m sure your eyebrows will grow back…yes, okay, I’m coming.”
He ended the call and turned to me. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“X nearly blew himself up again?”
“He saw a video where a girl used alcohol to blow fireballs or something, and I need to go get him from the hospital. Only first-degree burns though, so better than last time.”
I snorted on a laugh. Reaper was part of a big multi-partner family, and though he and X were not romantically involved with each other, there was still a love between them that shined through in the worry puckering Reaper’s forehead.
His words and tone might have said exasperation, especially because X was well known for getting himself into all sorts of disasters, but I knew deep down, he was actually concerned.
I waved him off. “Go be with your family.”
He frowned at me. “But it’s your birthday. I don’t want you sitting back at the clubhouse alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll stick around here for a while, watch some fights. Maybe throw my hat in the ring…”
He frowned. “At the risk of sounding like your father, is that a good idea when you have to start a new job tomorrow? I only meant for us to watch. Not participate.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
He shook his head. “Yeah, all right. I heard it. I can’t help it, man. I’m a dad now. Apparently, I have to fucking care about people.”
“That’s entirely unsettling.”
Reaper nodded and toughened up his voice. “Go kill ’em!”
“Please go. You’re actually just embarrassing yourself now.”
“I really am. Later.”
I didn’t bother waving him off because I wasn’t his mother.
And because the shouts from the crowd had escalated and I wanted to see what was going on. I not-so-casually edged my way to the front of the crowd, just in time to see the final blow of the match.
The fighter went down hard and fast, clearly knocked out before he even hit the ground.
I winced in time with the guy next to me, and said, “That had to hurt.”
He nodded with a sharp jerk of his head. “Was probably for the best. He was getting his ass kicked from the minute he stepped in.”
“I only just got here.”
“You missed a good one first up. Really evenly matched.”
“Damn. Sucks I missed that.” I offered him my hand. “I’m Lynx, by the way.”
He glanced at me and then down at my hand. He reluctantly brought his hand up to shake mine. “Lynx? Your parents wildlife photographers or something?”
I sniggered. “Nickname I’ve had since—” I started leaving claw-shaped marks on the people whose lives I’d ended. Not that I could say that to this guy. Hot or not. “Since as long as I can remember. Don’t even know how I got it now.”
Lies. How easily they still fell from my mouth.
I kinda hated that about myself.
Maybe it came with the territory. Prison kinda made you a professional liar. And I wasn’t exactly a saint before I’d gone inside.
The man went back to scowling at the fight. But he did eventually say, “I’m Luca.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for a chat. So it surprised me when he added, “Sorry. I’m in a fucking mood.”
“Shit day?”
“The worst. I hate this town.”
I didn’t pry or try to defend Saint View. There wasn’t exactly much to defend. It was the slums, and only made worse by the fact that Providence, on the other side of the town border, was rich as fuck.
A couple of people from the crowd dragged the unconscious fighter across the gravel, out of the way.
A short bald dude with a rounded belly and a thick gold chain hanging around his neck stepped into the center. “Who’s next? Show of hands.”
I squinted into the light, debating whether to raise mine. Reaper hadn’t been wrong when he’d reminded me I had a new job to start tomorrow. If I fought tonight, there’d be a good chance of showing up for my first day with a black eye.
But my fingers fucking twitched to do something, anything other than wrap around motorcycle handlebars.
So I stuck my hand up in the air.