Chapter 5
The creak of the metal bed frame above me has my eyes snapping open, ripping me from the sleep that was finally coming after hours of staring up at the underside of the top bunk, my mind racing, unable to shut off.
Sleep doesn’t come easy here, the slightest noise has you wide awake in a second, constantly on your guard and never quite relaxed enough to drift into a deep comfortable sleep.
It’s my first night here, locked up in a maximum security facility with the worst of the worst and I have to wonder what I’m doing here. I know what I did was wrong, but I’m not a monster like the rest of them. Am I?
I made a mistake. I never meant for it to end the way it did. I just wanted to make him stop. And now because of that, I’m looking at six years. The thought has my stomach bottoming out.
Six long years. It’s not even been twenty-four hours and I’m wondering how I’ll make it through the night.
It’s dark, except for the dim lighting that stays on all night, providing just enough light to see the outline and shadows of shapes and objects.
There’s more creaking above me, followed by a heavy thump and some shuffling. I force my eyes to adjust and I startle when I see the silhouette of my cellmate standing beside my bed.
I haven’t spoken to him much since I got here, but just one look of him is enough to have even the toughest bastards trembling in fear. He’s a big guy, built like a fucking tree. All muscle, like he does a thousand press ups a day. He’s completely bald, and his eyes… black, like death.
Like evil. Pure evil.
“On your feet, boy,” he commands.
What? But it’s the middle of the night. Rather than ask why or argue, I do as I’m told.
“It’s Killian, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Curt,” he replies. “You’re new here, so I get you don’t know how things work round here, so I’ll go easy on ya for now.”
“What do you mean?” Fuck. He’s going to beat me to a pulp. I won’t make it through the night, just like I said I wouldn’t.
He starts towards me and I take a step back. “Get the fuck away from me, man,” I warn, trying my best to sound strong.
He laughs, a deep rumbling sound that sends a shiver snaking down my spine. “If you wanna survive in here, you’ve got a lot to learn, killer.”
And in a split second, he lunges.
My eyes snap open to my pitch dark room and fumble around for the lamp beside me. I flick it on, bathing the small room in a yellow glow as the initial panic of being plunged back into that hell hole wears off.
I’m in my bedroom… I’m fine… It was just a dream, I remind myself.
My skin is hot and sticky with sweat, my heart slowly returning to normal as the last remnants of his voice fade from my brain.
I haven’t had a nightmare for a long time, and I’d forgotten how fucking real they feel when they come.
Like I’m right back there, trapped in that tiny metal cage with a wild animal.
After that first night, my torment continued for months, gradually breaking me down and making me into a person I barely recognised.
Gone was that innocent teenager with dreams of being a professional football player. In his place, a shell of who he used to be.
It’s all because of Peter fucking Watson, and I can’t fucking wait to bring the fucker down.
“Beer,” is all I say to Jett, who’s already sliding a chilled bottle across the smooth bar top towards me.
Not even ten seconds go by after my ass hits the cushioned bar stool that a delicate hand sweeps over my back, coming to rest on my bicep.
“Hey, Kill,” a soft feminine voice says to the right of me.
I glance down at the perfectly manicured hand on my arm, not bothering to life my eyes to see who it belongs to.
“No,” is all I say as I turn back to my drink, taking a long swig, killing any ounce of hope she had when she walked over here.
Her hand falters on my arm before slipping off me, her hurried footsteps disappearing as the door to the bar swings open and shut behind her.
“Jesus, man. Who shit all over your breakfast this morning?” Jett asks, his brows pulled tight as he studies me. “Since when do you turn down free pussy?”
I drag my gaze up to his slowly, giving him a look that tells him today is not the day to piss me off.
He holds his palms up in surrender. “Okay, fine. Jeez. Relax, man.”
I’ve been in a pissy mood ever since I woke up drenched in sweat at four a.m. this morning.
After that, I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried, so I headed out for an early morning ride before the sun came up, enjoying having the roads to myself before returning home to take out any remaining rage on the punching bag suspended from my garage ceiling.
Suffice it to say, I put it through its paces, exactly what I plan on doing to my opponent tonight.
Jett clears his throat. “You ready for the fight tonight?”
“Always,” I reply confidently, taking another swig of my beer.
Fighting is my anger outlet. It’s a way to direct the pain I feel inside somewhere else, a place where I can control it.
If my body hurts, I don’t hurt as much inside.
It numbs it. Overshadows it. I guess you could say it’s a form of self-harm, which I suppose is true in some way, and no matter how unorthodox it may be, it’s my coping mechanism, my way of surviving and that’s good enough for me.
After my nightmare this morning, tonight’s fight couldn’t have come at a better time.
Jett props his elbows on the bar “So, you think she’ll show?”
I don’t need him to elaborate on who she is.
Kaia.
On fight nights at the bar, I never fight for money, it’s purely for the love of the sport. It’s for reputation. My prize is glory.
But she is my prize tonight.
“If Mac wants his balls intact, she better fucking show up. I want Watson and his little puppet gone.”
Somehow, less than a day after the election that I’m ninety-nine percent sure Mayor Watson rigged, he had Sheriff Walker tossed out on his ass. His office chair hadn’t even stopped spinning by the time Collins had his new sheriff badge in place with his feet firmly under the table.
Watson needs to be brought down a peg or two, and his daughter is gonna help me do that.
I haven’t seen Kaia since that day she bumped into me outside Vivid Ink, and it’s only added to the anticipation of tonight, at the prospect of seeing her again.
I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not insanely attracted to her because I am, any red-blooded male with a decent set of eyes in his head would.
I wanted her the second I saw her, before I knew who her father was, but now it only makes me want her more.
And let’s face it, fucking her isn’t exactly going to be a hardship for me.
She’s fucking gorgeous, and I guarantee I’m gonna love every second of it.
Fucking her dad is just the icing on the cake.
Without sounding like an arrogant asshole, I don’t have to put a lot of effort into the women I fuck.
They fall at my feet, chomping at the bit for a walk on the wild side, but I’ve got a feeling Kaia Watson’s not gonna make it that easy for me.
So I’m gonna have to bring my A-game if I want my plan to work.
An hour later, we head down to the basement where the fun happens. There’s a red square painted on the floor, marking the boundaries to the ring.
“Who am I fighting?”
Jett spins on his heels and points to a guy on the other side of the basement. “That guy. Said he wanted a piece of The Killer. Been talking up a big game all night.”
I’ve never seen this guy before. He’s young, well-built but not a patch on me.
I huff a laugh. “Piece of cake.”
As spectators start to filter down from the bar and into the basement, I pull out the bandana tucked into the back pocket of my jeans. I cover my face, securing it at the back of my head. It’s more for intimidation than anything else, it sets my opponents on edge which is exactly where I want them.
The basement soon fills, and there’s easily a hundred or more people down here. There’s barely any air circulation, combine that with everyone’s body heat, it’s like a furnace within minutes.
“Showtime, brother.” Jett claps me on the shoulder. “Gonna head back up to the bar. Good luck, man. Not that you’ll need it.”
My shirt clings to my clammy skin, sweat beading along my forehead as I weave my way through the crowd into the centre of the square.
I reach for the back of my shirt and tug it over my head, tossing it somewhere on the ground.
My opponent’s eyes widen when he sees me and it’s then he realises his mistake to take me on.
Too late now.
“Kill!” Cruiser pushes through the crowd towards me, leaning in close to my ear, “She’s here.”