“Sure. That’s why you were watching him like a hawk.” He stares across the bar, to where she stands next to the makeshift ring, waiting for Grave to go on. She’s flanked by Jasmine on one side and Nite on the other.
“She’s hot.” He nods to himself. “I like the whole purple hair and piercing thing.”
“What the fuck do you want, Jimmy?” I snap. “A drink?”
He turns to face me, placing his forearm on the bar. “How about we even the scoreboard?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You want Grave to remember you, right?” He steps into me. “Then you make him jealous.”
I pull my lip back with disgust. “Are you suggesting I fuck you?”
He licks his lips, placing a hand on my hip. “Or I fuck you.” He shrugs. “Whichever you prefer.”
GRAVE
I stand nextto the ring with my eyes on April. She’s laughing, her head thrown back as Jasmine leans in, holding onto her. They’re both drunk. I can still taste the liquor on my tongue from our kiss.
I meant it when I told her the Mason brothers wouldn’t touch her. Not here. Not ever. Tanner won’t go back on his word, and that’s why I made him promise. It’s also why I’m standing here shirtless, about to beat the fuck out of some unlucky kid. He leaves her alone, and I fight, bringing in money for them.
She’s worth that.
Nite stands next to them, his eyes continuously scanning the crowd. No man allows their girlfriend to come here alone. Too many empty rooms and dark corners for them to be raped orbeaten. The Airport stays open around the clock, every day of the year. Sometimes, even the homeless will find a corner to sleep in just to get off the streets for a night.
The Mason brothers don’t give a fuck. They’re protected and so is their money. That’s all that matters.
“Ready?” A hand slaps my bare shoulder.
Colt Tinsley stands next to me. He helps run this place. Either he’s taking money on the tarmac before the races or he’s overlooking the fights—he’s their go-to man.
“Yep,” I answer, pulling my cell from my pocket and handing it to him.
He smiles. “Okay, then. Go knock someone out.”
I enter the ring, and the crowd screams out my name. I smile, lifting my hands to protect my face. The thing about fighting in the pit at the Airport is that there are no rules. It’s a free-for-all. You fight until someone is on the floor unconscious, and however you accomplish that is up to you.
The man who stands across from me has every bit of six inches in height on me and probably five in reach. I’ve seen him fight before. There’s a reason they call him Thunder and not Lightning. He’s a big guy, which limits his movements. He hits hard but moves slowly.
I step into him and swing. My right fist contacts the side of his head. He immediately swings back, and I duck, throwing another punch to his ribs. He bends forward, giving me an opportunity to grab his head and lift my knee.
He takes a step backward, dazed.
“Come on, fucker,” I taunt.My girl is here.I have to show off for her, show her what I’m made of, so she knows I can protect her if she ever needs me.
He charges me, wrapping his arms around me and picking my feet up off the floor. I’m body slammed down onto my back, the concrete momentarily taking my breath away.
I slam my elbow into his jaw, knocking him off me, and roll over onto my side as he gets up on his hands and knees. I throw my legs around his neck and squeeze, dragging his ass back down to the floor. And I hold him there. He fights me—his legs kick the floor and his nails dig into my thighs, but I hold on.
He taps my leg as if he expects me to let go. I guess he didn’t get the memo about how these fights work.
The crowd chants my name and slaps the railing. I feel him loosen his grip on my thighs, his body relaxing. Seconds later, he goes limp, and I release my hold on him.
The crowd goes wild as I spring to my feet and exit the pit.
Colt hands me my phone and a wad of cash. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I say, breathing heavily, then I make my way over to the bar, dying for a drink.
