Raising my right hand, I gave two hard knocks on the door, paused, and then followed up with three hard knocks. This was the signature knock, according to Jacob and Connor O’Brien. The very same Connor O’Brien who had once been a title fighter in the NFA. In addition to other businesses, he now ran this underground fighting group, simply known to those in the know as The Underground.
“Who the hell is it?” Came a gruff voice through the hole made visible when he slid open the metal cutout at the center of the door.
“Your fucking mother. Open the damn door,” I demanded.
A deep, unfriendly, chuckle moved through the hole before it slammed shut again. A few heartbeats later, I heard the unlatching of the door’s lock right before it cracked open a few inches.
“You must be Luke. The pain in the ass. Your brother and O’Brien both said you’d be stopping by tonight.”
“Then open the damn door.”
“Watch your cock sucking mouth. I don’t give a shit who you are.”
“Let him in, Gunnar,” A male’s voice instructed behind him.
The behemoth standing guard at the door gave me a once over before stepping back, allowing me to pass through. I, too, gave him a look up and down, sizing up all of his weak points in case he decided to act stupid and make a move. Yeah, my attitude could rub a lot of people the wrong way, but that didn’t mean I gave a shit. Especially since most of them couldn’t beat my ass even on my worst day. Not even a guy his size.
I looked past the watchman or whatever the hell he was supposed to be, to find a shorter, older man with dark brown eyes and a hard glare.
A smirk slid across my lips. “You must be Buddy.”
He inclined his head. “I must be.”
“O’Brien’s not around?” I looked around the room, staring over his shoulder to see the rectangle boxing ring at the other side, surrounded by folding chairs, and guys taking their seats in them.
“He’s at home with his woman.”
I frowned because that was another reminder of why I was here at The Underground, in spite of the possible negative repercussions it could have.
“Poor sap.”
Buddy shook his head, chuckling. “You haven’t seen his woman. He got lucky. Your brother did too.”
I didn’t respond.
“Anyway, bring your ass on in here and we’ll see who’s on the menu tonight.”
I followed Buddy across the huge concrete floor in the direction of the crowd and the boxing ring. It wasn’t my usual fighting space, seeing as how the NFA used a cage and it was an octagon shape, rather than a square. But fighting was fighting, and I’d trained in enough boxing rings to feel comfortable squaring up with anyone, anywhere, at any time.
“Back there’s the changing room.” Buddy pointed to a closed wooden door. “You can go change into your fighting clothes and by the time you come out, we’ll have someone for you.”
I headed in the direction he pointed, hiking the strap of the duffle bag I’d brought with me. Making quick work of getting out of the jeans and short sleeve shirt I wore, I changed into a pair of fighting shorts and nothing else. I took time to carefully wrap my hands. After doing a few rounds of warmups and some shadow boxing, I was ready to head out.
“Good, you’re still here. We’ve got Tiny here, who’s looking for a fight. Especially since you pissed him off at the door,” Buddy told me as I moved closer to the ring.
I looked up and into the center of the square to see the same behemoth who had opened the door for me earlier, grilling me with his stare from the middle of the ring.
A slow, threatening smile spread across my face. I’d already sized him up. I could tell off the bat, he was the type of dipshit who thought his size made him unbeatable. For most people it might’ve worked too. But I wasn’t most people.
I moved closer to the ring, jumping over the lines to enter.
“You liked talking shit at the door. Now let’s see if you can back it up.”
“Not a problem, you fucking Thanos wannabe,” I responded.
His face morphed angrily as I laughed at my own joke.
“All right, you two. Forget that bull about having a clean fight.” Buddy told us as he moved between the two of us.
