Embriagado (Nameless #1)

Prologue

SANTIAGO

My heart was racing in my chest, breath steady as I kept my hands raised to protect my face.

With my footwork on point, I dodged my opponent’s blows.

He was scattered, throwing punches all over the place, clearly having no clue what he was doing.

But that was to be expected from an amateur.

They all were, every single man I beat up in this lousy tournament.

It was an embarrassment to even take part in it, but it was the only contest I could currently afford to pay the entry fee for.

There were no medals here, no pedestals, only a laughable winning prize.

Fuck that—there was hardly even a crowd, and yet I found myself glancing at the chairs again, my eyes scanning the few people who’d come to watch this shitshow.

Of course he’s not here.

My jaw tightened, brief disappointment washing over me before I focused back on the fight. I’d dragged it out for as long as I could, and it was about time I finished it. At the end of the day, as shitty as this contest was, I still had to win if I wanted the cash.

Keeping my elbows in so as not to lose power, I waited for the right second to strike.

When it came, I didn’t hold back and sent my hand forward, twisting the punch for maximum impact as I right-hooked my opponent.

Without breaking a sweat, I put my weight back on my leading leg before going for another hit right to his temple.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and I smiled, satisfied at the sweet sight.

But a fight wasn’t over until one man was down, and knowing I wouldn’t be happy until I’d seen fucking red, I threw another rear uppercut just before the bell rang, indicating this round was over.

What a shame. I should have punched him more.

“That last hit was after the bell!” the referee called.

“What?” I barked, turning to loom over the man who hardly reached my chest.

“It’s your third foul.”

“Bullshit!” I screamed, rage scraping my throat. I didn’t give a shit about this tournament, but this was still a win. My win.

“Watch it, boxer,” he said, eyes locked with mine.

Fucking old asshole.

“You know damn well this fight’s mine.”

“You hit the man after the bell, it’s a foul. Now, go back to your corner and thank me for not disqualifying you.”

Feeling like the vein in my neck was about to burst, I took a deep breath, forcing down my anger.

This motherfucker of a referee was known to be a fucking liar.

He was probably paid off to steal the fight.

I pressed my lips together, trying hard to hold it back; the only thing keeping me down was knowing I still had a chance of getting paid.

So, with my head bowed, I began walking to my corner.

“Fucking fairy,” he huffed under his breath, making me stop in my tracks.

That red I wanted to see earlier? Yeah, now I saw it, and it was fucking beautiful.

* * *

“Yo, Rivas.”

Not slowing down to see who was calling me, I continued to walk, hands shoved in my pockets, until someone slammed his hand on my back.

“Hey, Santiago Rivas, didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

I grunted. “No.”

“Better check those ears of yours.” He tried touching me, but I shoved him away.

“Fuck off, Ace.”

Not listening, he continued walking by my side. “Heard you got disqualified tonight, something to do with punching the referee.”

What could I say? Some people were meant to be punched. And currently, with the smirk on his ugly face, Ace was cutting close to the list.

“Shame, isn’t it? Heard the winner cut a nice prize.”

Nice, my ass. First place wasn’t even scratching one grand, although in my situation, anything was good.

“By the way, saw your old man earlier, getting hammered and losing his money in cards—”

I stopped walking, nearly causing Ace to bump into me, and turned to face him.

“The fuck you want, Ace?” I snarled through gritted teeth. Already pissed off from today’s shitshow, I didn’t have patience for his games.

Looking at me with a raised brow, he smirked. “I thought maybe you’d want to join us tonight? You know, Ricky and I are going to some clubs.”

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

I started moving, only for him to follow me.

“Vamos, hombre, we both know your broke ass needs the money. I promise to give you a quarter of anything we earn tonight.”

“Earn? You mean rob, you asshole.”

Picking under his nail, he shrugged. “Earn, rob, steal, who gives a shit if we make something at the end, right? Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time you tagged along. Not even the fifth. So how about you get off your high horse and come help your friends?”

Friends? Those sons of bitches were anything but friends.

They were scumbags. Total assholes. The worst type of people, whom I unfortunately grew up with and was more alike than I’d care to admit.

But if Dad was out gambling again, which he was without a doubt, that meant money was even tighter, so…

“I’m not doing it for less than a third.”

Ace slammed his hand over my shoulder. “Got yourself a deal, Rivas.”

* * *

I should have never agreed to come to this lousy club, and yet, there I was, shoved between a bunch of sweaty strangers in the midst of South Beach, hating every second of it.

The drill was the same as always: find some rich asshole who came to experience the Miami nightlife, get them out of here with the promise of a good time, and rob them of whatever money they had.

Shitty, yeah, but who gave a fuck. Apparently not me, considering I was here despite being one strike away from going straight back to prison.

But it wasn’t my fault; some assholes just rubbed me the wrong way.

The problem was that the cops never cared if I didn’t start the fight, nor did the judge.

That was how I ended on probation to begin with.

So to say I shouldn’t be here was an understatement, but back to business.

We were supposed to be counting cash by now, but the moment we arrived, Ace followed some chick to the bathroom, while Ricky, the other idiot who came with us, was hard on the drinking.

So much for a quick buck.

While subconsciously knowing it was my fault for agreeing to join this pair of losers, it didn’t ease my anger. In fact, it only increased it because I could have been home watching the replay of the fight I missed last night.

Shit. Now I’m pissed off.

I was ready to say fuck it and leave when a stunning blond sitting across the bar caught my eye. Fuck me sideways, he was probably the hottest guy I’d ever seen, with a sexy body, a perfect face that was one hundred percent my taste, and golden hair that reached just above his shoulders.

Seems like tonight will be good after all.

I looked around, seeing how those two morons were still nowhere to be found, before glancing back at the blond. Yeah, he was gorgeous and alone. Licking my lips, I brushed a hand over my jeans, then walked toward him. I mean, if tonight ended with this man on my cock, I’d call it a success—

“Watch it!” I barked at the drunk idiot who bumped into me, fists already clenched and ready to punch the ever-living shit out of him.

“I-I’m sorry,” the idiot mumbled, looking back at me with drunk eyes that made me think of Dad.

Fuck.

My jaw tightened, but remembering the sexy blond, I swallowed down my anger and moved on until I reached the bar, where he was still alone.

Lucky me.

“Can I buy you another drink?” I asked, pointing over his cocktail.

Putting his glass down, my handsome stranger turned to face me, and for fuck’s sake, he was perfect.

“Aww, look at you trying,” he purred, unimpressed, while checking me out with eyes that so clearly looked down on me.

Ah, fuck.

My ex once told me I only wanted what I could never have and that I probably had a kink for rejection… looked like he was right.

“So? What do you say about that drink?” I flirted, eyes locked with his when he snorted.

“That you don’t stand a chance, so move on.” He whooshed me away with his hand. “Go back to play with the rest of the kids.”

My lips curled into a cocky grin.

“I’d rather play with you.”

He huffed, shaking his head.

“You really don’t know how to quit, do you?”

I placed my hand flat on the bar, allowing myself to get a bit closer.

“Not when the prize is as hot as you.”

“See? That’s your mistake.” Grabbing his glass, he brought it to his lips. “Going straight for the gold when you’ve not even qualified for the race.”

Distracted by his lips, I shrugged. “Sorry, what was that?”

He put down his glass and got up. “I’m saying we’re in a completely different league. I count golds, while you…” He gave me a once-over. “Not even a rookie.”

“What makes you say that?” I scowled. Suddenly, being rejected wasn’t such a turn-on.

“For starters, I’m not into kids.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“I don’t care,” he said, not meeting my eyes as he took out his wallet.

“But you just said—”

Pulling out a hundred-dollar bill, he placed it under his empty glass.

He was ready to move on, but then he stopped. “Let me give you a little advice for the next time you try hitting on someone… make sure you can afford them first.”

And while I hated to admit it, he was damn right, but hold on just a second.

The guy tossed a Benjamin over a ten-dollar cocktail without batting an eye, and given his clothes, he was clearly loaded.

What if instead of a one-night stand, he could be our target?

All I needed was to get him out of here—

“Shay-Lee,” someone called, a second before a tall man came to stand beside the blond. So I guess he’s not alone.

One look at this new guy made it clear that my plan to rob his boyfriend was as good as gone, since he was clearly not the type to mess with.

It wasn’t his tattoos or his larger stature that made me want to stay away, but how he looked at me, as if it were my last moment alive.

Boxing since I learned how to walk, I wasn’t scared of a fight, but then again, this guy looked even crazier than I did.