“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stroking my ego.”
Damn.
“I like you,” he added. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Don’t disappoint me, Robin. There’s another set of stairs around the corner. Go down to the room below, and we’ll begin.”
I glanced at the curve. “Um, what are the rules?”
He bowed before walking away. “No killing. That’s the only rule.”
“Wait!”
Pablo reached the staircase and turned to look at me.
I gave him a dubious smile. “There aren’t people in those rooms, are there? I mean, this is just an audition.”
He inclined his head. “Impress me, Miss White. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll scrub your memories of the whole affair. If it does, you’ll become a rich woman.” Pablo disappeared into the stairwell and said, “Very rich indeed.”
Chapter 21
“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered.
I took my time walking toward the stairwell so the camera on my neck could see everything. Were those private rooms empty? Maybe I could accidentally walk into one, then we could nab more than the ringleader.
The stairway Pablo had directed me to curved, and when I reached the bottom, I faced a door. This stairwell didn’t give access to the viewing rooms. When I opened the door, I entered the large room where the fights took place. Every small sound was amplified, including my boots tapping against the white floor. As soon as the door behind me closed, it locked. There was another on the opposite side, and twenty-two mirrored windows surrounded me. It didn’t seem like that many, which meant they had to be charging these people a fortune. Just thinking about how muchmypay was boggled the mind, but it must have been a drop in the bucket compared to what Pablo was making.
The white walls were polished like marble, and between each window was a rectangular crack in the wall. I cupped my hands on the glass and tried to peer inside one of the rooms. Couldn’t see a damn thing.
When the opposite door opened, my spine went ramrod straight. A woman walked in with confidence in her step. Her blond hair tied back in a tight bun meant business. She was dressed just as skimpily as I was—black shorts, black tank top, and matching boots. Her shoes gave me pause. My father sometimes wore those in his garage to protect his feet. They were steel-toed.
She raked me over with one glance, her arms hanging stiffly at her side.
I approached her, my head high and shoulders squared. “I’m Robin.”
“I don’t care.” She flicked a glance down at my boots and smirked.
I took off my long duster and flung it at the wall. Tying my hair up was a waste of time. I’d been in more scuffles than I could count, and hair got pulled whether you wore it up or down. Our reflections surrounded us like an army. Her physique was more feminine—larger breasts, softer hips, and fuller lips. She was doing her own assessment, looking at the sculpted muscles on my legs and arms. My gaze was colder, my expression stonier, and my determination stronger. At least I hoped it was. Money turned people into jackals, and she looked hungry enough to win this fight even though it was just an audition.
Or was it?
The overhead lights switched off except for a cluster in the middle that shone on us like a spotlight. It drew attention away from the ring of mirrored glass.
“Do we wait for a bell?” I mused.
She flashed across the room. “We fight when they’re ready.”
“How do we know when they’re ready?”
Just then, an intercom clicked on and a British woman began speaking. “The blond fighter is a fourteen-time champion with no losses. The raven-haired woman is an experienced street fighter. This is her first performance. For those interested in placing bets, please do so now. Push the green button when you’re ready.” Her accent was more refined and polished than Flynn’s.
Oh shit.This was the real deal, and I was about to indulge someone’s fetish.
When a current of energy rippled through the room, my hair stood on end. It wasn’t coming from the woman but the watchers behind the glass.
The blonde flashed to the other side, warming up. I bent over and touched my feet to do a little stretch.
This is ridiculous. I’ve never warmed up for a street fight in my life. Not unless tequila shots count.
I backed up against a wall while this amateur proceeded to waste her energy prancing around. Maybe it was my impassive stare, or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t as hyped up as she was, but the woman slid an apprehensive look my way. This fight was crucial. I had to make sure my fangs didn’t accidentally punch out. Were we allowed to use our Mage gifts? Not the basic stuff, but our rare gifts. The only rule Pablo had given me was no killing. That meant everything else was fair game.
