It’s an effort to tune out those screams as I move on to cardio. I punish myself on the treadmill, my mind on what Crane said about Jamie being a virgin. She has her reasons for remaining untouched all these years, but that shit ends once we get to Mayhem. I’m breaking through her defenses and doing what I should have done when we were teenagers. Should have taken her virginity and marked her as mine years ago. But I didn’t, and now life’s giving me a second chance. If we make it out of this hellhole tomorrow night, I’m burying myself so deep in her, she’ll never forget the shape and feel of me inside her.
Determination pushes me, and I run until my legs give out before killing the treadmill. My throat’s dry as fuck. Lungs burn, too, and I love it because this torment reminds me of when Jester and I would go head-to-head at the gym. First one to tap bought the first round of beers. God, how I miss those days. How I took advantage of freedom and just…being. Instead, here I am, every second of every day, bleeding into the next in an endless cycle of misery.
But there’s a light at the end of this tunnel because the next weight I lift, I’ll be doing it in Sanctum’s gym with my best friend.
And I’m rusty.
Means I’ll be buying the first round.
“He’s done,” Lyle says into the radio fastened to a strap on his left shoulder. “Doc wants you in medical. Gotta get you cleared for tomorrow’s fight. Can’t have you going into the cage injured.”
I stroll to the bars like I got all the time in the world. I twist my arms behind my back and turn so Lyle can secure my wrists. No reason to be hostile when I’m a breath away from freedom. “Yeah, because Gomorrah is all sorts of moral.”
“How’s about you shut the fuck up before I sew your mouth closed again. It worked real good at keeping you quiet last time.” Lyle pulls the zip tie tight, then gives it a yank.
I grit my teeth and swing around to sneer down at the shorter man. I’ll be damned if I show him the threat was a direct hit. “You do what you gotta do, little man.”
“You can act as tough as you want, but I was there when you were screaming like a bitch and covered in puke.”
The no-hostility thing lasted, what…twenty seconds? That’s gotta be a new record, even for me.
“And I saw how scared you got when Crane’s wife threatened to lock you in the cage with me.” I take his measure and laugh in his face. “Must suck being you. But tell me, does being a giant pussy take effort, or does it come naturally?”
He pulls free the baton. “Let go, asshole.”
Lyle can wave that thing around all he wants, but we both know he can’t do a damn thing this close to a Fight Night. Crane will have his balls if he’s the reason I can’t get in the cage.
I deliberately hover near the door as Lyle unlocks it rather than take a step back like I’m supposed to. He grabs me and pushes me forward, his face a gratifying shade of angry red.
“Easy, dude, don’t gotta be so rough. This ain’t sex,” I taunt.
Holy shit, he’s mottled, and his forehead vein is throbbing.
“I wouldn’t be cocky if I were you. You got a reckoning coming your way.”
No shit.
Lyle marches me up the corridor, with the wails of the fighter following us out. When we reach the Hub, I count three guards—one of whom is Roger. He doesn’t give us more than a passing glance.
Mornings are quiet, with only one additional guard stationed in the control booth. Lyle swings his keys and whistles beside me. The delicious scent of bacon drifts over us, and my mouth waters as I side-eye a guard eating a breakfast sandwich. My stomach growls, and I don’t know what I’m going to do first once we get to Mayhem—shower or eat.
One guard lets out a snicker as we pass. Another one jabs him in the arm and throws him a silent warning. Thank God, they’re getting my ass out of here. Hate to be a dick, but Jamie better not fuck this up. From the vibe, I won’t like the apocalyptic shit her husband has planned for me if her plan fails.
One more fight.
One more man I have to kill for my freedom.
I can live with one more death on my conscience.
* * *
Ikeep my expression bored when Doc pokes at the healed-over wound on my left shoulder. “Tender?”
I give him a curt shake of my head.
He inspects the matching mark on my right shoulder, his wrinkled face pinched in a frown. “How about this one?”
Again, I shake my head. “Noz did the trick, Doc.”
