“He’s fine,” Michael puts up an appeasing hand. “I dinnae mean to upset you. He’s not in mortal danger, but he needs ye.”
“I have a hard time believing that.” I didn’t mean to sound so sad; he’s looking at me with the apprehensive expressionof a man who doesnotknow how to handle a crying woman. “Anyway, I don’t have a lot planned for this evening, so let’s go.”
“Aye,” he says, clearly thankful that I’m not going to melt down.
***
When Michael’s Porsche pulls up to a dark alleyway, blocked with a huge set of iron gates, I glance at him dubiously. “This looks like the set of a snuff film.”
He laughs, getting out to manually open the gate. “The place we’re going to is a wee bit out of your usual, Afton. But Mason is there.”
“Are you sure you’re not going to kill me and dump my body in the sewers for the alligators to eat?” He stares at me blankly.
“What are ye going on about?”
“Oh, I’m a little rattled.”
And I feel like a complete moron.
“Alligators are in the Florida sewers anyway, not Scottish ones,” I babble. “Though there’s rumors about alligators in the sewers in New York, I think that’s an urban legend.”
Yes, I’m definitely a moron.
“We’re going in the tunnels,” Michael says carefully. “No murder, though. And no alligators. Not that I’ve seen, at least. Talon and Vincent will be staying with the cars.”
My poor bodyguard walks up in time to hear that and immediately bristles. “Until Mr. Mac- until Mason tells me to stand down, my place is with Mrs. MacTavish.”
They glare at each other, mouths tight.
“Ye may join us,” Michael says, “I am violating a promise to Mason to allow it, however, I understand your position. Ye will never speak of this night. To anyone. Am I clear?”
Talon nods reluctantly and we follow Michael into the dark alley.
“What is this place?”
I’ve nearly tripped and face-planted into the cobblestones twenty times because I can’t stop looking around us. We’re walking through a tunnel under the city, I can hear the traffic above us, occasionally a rumble when something heavy passes over, like a bus. Going deeper still, and the sound is more like rushing water.
“We’re in the catacombs under the city,” Michael says, side-stepping a pile of trash and a trio of angry looking rats. I had two little elephant-ear rats when I was young and my familiarity is just barely enough to keep me from screaming and trying to climb Talon like a tree.
The sound of rushing water fades as the tunnel echoes with shouts, drum beats and the muffled sound of someone talking into a mic. The tunnel opens into a bigger space with a grimy neon sign: The Underworld. When the doors open, it’s a cavernous arena with a cage-style fight ring.
“Is this like an MMA fighting thing?” I ask weakly. No one looks at us, everyone’s laser-focused, screaming and cheering on the two men in the cage, who are busy beating the shit out of each other.
Michael’s good humor has vanished, he’s grim and unsmiling. The two fighters leave the ring, one more or less getting dragged off since he doesn’t look like he can walk. “I have to get back to the dressing room.” He nods toward two seats in the front row. “Take Afton over there.”
The ringside seats are cushioned and comfortable, unlike the benches behind us, and there’s two uniformed servers in very short skirts taking drink orders. Nothing can cover the stink of spilled beer, sweat and the rank, coppery stench of blood. An unfortunate attendant is making a desultory effort at wiping off the stained mat inside the cage.
“Please tell me you know why we’re here?” I have to shout it, even though Talon’s sitting right next to me. He shakes his head, looking around us grimly.
“I dinnae like this,” he growls, “protecting ye here is difficult. And no, I dinnae know why Mr. MacTav- Michael brought us here, but I trust him.”
“Then I’ll have to trust him too.”
It doesn’t take long for the lights to dim again as a man in a grimy tuxedo jacket with tails steps into the ring.
“Laaaaadies and- Ah, who the feck am I kidding. There are no gentlemen here and likely, very few of ye are ladies.” The crowd laughs, apparently agreeing with him. “We have a grand match for ye tonight, a rare one.”
The crowd noise lowers, everyone leaning forward, eager to catch his words.
