I feel the bat hit my back first, but I’m not paying any attention to that. I’m more worried about Mayhem stepping up to me, toe-to-toe. He’s on my level so fighting him alone would be a challenge. Fighting all three? The odds aren’t good.
Mayhem throws a punch, and then I’m swinging, kicking out, punching—doing whatever it takes. Reaper tries to hit me with the brass knuckles, but I pick him up and lift him over my head, throwing him onto the car next to us. He hits the hood with a thud and a groan. He won’t be moving anytime soon.
When I turn, there’s Spyder already swinging the bat and clocks me on the side of the head. Fuck, that hurt. I feel the blood trickling down my neck and arm. Another crack of the bat against my head and I drop to a knee, my vision blurring. I grunt and pull myself up. I’m not going down without one hell of a fight.
I turn, fist clenched, arm cocked, and I nail Mayhem hard. Down he goes. As Jesse would say, one hitter quitter.
Spyder swings again, this time nailing my ribs. Shit. I heard and felt the crack. Before I know what’s happening, my guard down from the dizziness, my arms are held behind my back and Spyder’s grinning. The little fucking weasel.
He holds the bat just under my chin. I struggle against Reaper’s hold. “I don’t think you’ll be fighting tomorrow night.”
I yank my arm hard and I break free, my fist flying into Spyder’s jaw. He stumbles back, dropping the bat, blood dripping from his mouth.
I scramble to try to get the bat, but someone reaches it before me. I look up. Mayhem.
Well, fuck. This is gonna hurt.
25
ETHAN
The show’s over and I’m headed back to the bus. The guys are going to hang out and sign some shit, but I signed so much before we got here, my hand was cramping up.
I reach into my pocket and try to call Linc. I know it’s really late there, 11:00 pm here means 3:00 am there, but he usually answers. When he doesn’t, my brows furrow. Maybe he turned it off so he can get some rest. He needs a solid eight before a fight, but he always picks up when I call.
I text and let him know the show kicked ass and exit the arena.
There’s a crowd, like always, but security’s pretty tight. Chicks call out some really suggestive proposals.
“Stupid bitches, didn’t you get the memo? Ashcroft’s a fucking fag,” some dude hollers from somewhere in the crowd.
My nostrils flare and I just keep walking, shaking it off.
“I don’t care if he’s gay. I’d fuck the hell out of him,” another chick yells.
Christ.
I’m nearly to the bus when I get grabbed, a gloved hand covering my mouth as I get pulled backwards to a dark area behind the bus.
Fists punch. Feet kick. Nails scratch. I don’t know how many guys and chicks there are, but I never stood a chance.
Linc’s gonna be so pissed.
26
LINC
Hospitals are so fucking sterile and I hate the smell, but tonight I hurt too much to let it bother me. I don’t know what’s all broken, but I know there’s a lot. I can’t even open my eyes.
“He’s going to need surgery,” the ER doc announces. “Pretty sure he’s got a ruptured spleen. Call up to the OR and let them know we’re on the way.”
Aww, fuck.
Ethan’s gonna be so pissed.
27
ETHAN
