I moved just in time as the sharp end came down toward me, narrowly missing my cheek. Slamming my fist into the con’s gut caused him to grunt, and I raised my good leg to knee him in the thigh. He was heavier than me, and a hell of a lot bigger, too, so my hits did nothing. He pressed more of his weight into me, holding me down. This time when the shiv came toward me, I could barely move and the steel went straight into my upper chest.
The cry that escaped my mouth was involuntary, and I elbowed the bastard in the nose with the opposite arm, sending him flying backward. The shiv was still in my chest, and I yanked it out, hissing in anguish as the injury spurted blood. I jumped on my attacker, jamming the weapon into his eye. He screamed, and I wrenched it out only to jab it in again. I did the same thing repetitively until he stopped moving altogether, the breath leaving his chest permanently.
I stood shakily and turned, pausing to see two other men standing in the hallway, their own shivs clutched in their hands. They were coming to finish the job.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I glanced between them and pointed the bloody steel in my hand at the dead body. “The people he loves are going to regret what he did here. Will yours?”
They looked at each other, then back to me, hesitating before taking a step forward.Fuck. My chest and knee throbbed in agony, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to take on two men. I raised my fists and firmed my jaw. If I was going to die, it’d be fighting.
The sounds of footsteps behind them had them turning, and I glanced up to see Reyes stepping out from a doorway, arms crossed.
“Hi, boys. How about we make this fight a little fairer? Two on two. Or....” Reyes glanced in the direction he’d come from. “You want to join us, little mouse? I know you’re following me.Your boss is in trouble.” Then, he looked back at my attackers. “Three on two.”
Another set of footsteps, and then Doherty appeared, glaring fiercely at Reyes as he stepped in beside him.
The men dropped their shivs and spun, attempting to run past Reyes and Doherty, but Doherty caught one of them by the arm.
“Who ordered ye to do this?” Doherty growled out, Irish accent thick, even though he’d come to the US over twelve years ago.
The man whined in the back of his throat and gave me a pitiful stare. “Hanson. He told us if we didn’t, he’d make our lives hell.”
The growl that vibrated from Doherty was almost inhuman as he shoved the man, who ran for his life. As soon as the threats were gone, Doherty ate the distance between us with long strides, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He touched my uninjured arm. “Sir, we need to get ye to the infirmary for antibiotics and stitches and shite. Now.”
I nodded and raised my gaze to Reyes. “I still hate you, Reyes, but you have my gratitude for appearing at the right time.”
Reyes shrugged. “I think we could be powerful together, Killough.”
“No,” I simply said, letting Doherty lead me in the opposite direction.
8
CONALL
The atmosphere of the fight complex was amazing. The crowd was pumped with rows of seats packed to the brim. In the center of the arena was a large cage where the matches took place and two fighters were already getting ready. One of them was the Ukrainian, Volodyrmyr Mishura—or the Mongoose, as they called him, and the other was Polish. I didn’t know his name yet, though.
Behind me were Vail and his partners—Cillian, Rowen, Aspen, and Fallon—as well as Daire, Ronan, and a couple of other men, while Fionn stood beside me. He’d never liked these matches very much, but we were here for the Company.
Sloan had set up a fight for Fallon when Fallon had told him he wanted to get back into the ring, and now Fallon’s fight was rapidly approaching. It wasn’t tonight, but soon. We needed to show our faces and socialize.
“Fuck, this is beautiful.” Fallon bounced on his toes, an excited grin stretched over his handsome face. He had his long blond hair pulled up into a bun on the back of his head and worea suit like the rest of our men. Fionn did as well, but I went for something more casual.
I had on a black long-sleeved shirt with mesh sleeves and cutouts—nipples covered to save the churchgoers from heart palpitations—and waistcoat buttons on the bottom strip. A piece of black, pleated fabric flared out at the bottom, swaying as I walked, drawing everyone’s attention to the one thing they couldn’t see. The pants were black and tight, showing off my arse, and I had a pair of black boots. The new, deep forest green collar with silver spikes Sloan had given me sat securely against my neck. I felt comfortable. Powerful.
My headache was a little better tonight, but there was a blurriness in the edges of my vision that I was more than happy to ignore. Logically, I knew I’d been unwell for far too long and I should talk to Rory, but I was in denial. Sue me. I put it down to migraines or stress. Sloan wasn’t here, and I was helping Fionn run a mob business. I barely slept without Sloan at my side and eating was difficult. I needed my boss back. My heart longed for him.
“Don’t get too excited, boy,” Cillian drawled, clearly unimpressed. “Ye’ve got a lot of work to do.”
I caught Fallon rolling his eyes from the corner of mine. “I was a professional once.”
“Aye, but ye let yerself go. Ye didn’t practice yer fightin’ skills for too long.”
Vail huffed. “Cillian, give him a break for one night. This is supposed to be fun.”
It wasn’t, but I didn’t voice it. Vail was innocent when it came to mob life, even though he was dating four mobsters. Or maybeobliviouswas the better word. He was smart as hell, studied mafia history until he could teach it at Manhattan Central University, but he saw only what he wanted when it came to his men. It was sweet and so was he. Too sweet.
The arena was loud and the crowd was buzzing, voices overlapping above the thumping music. The lights were dim, giving people a chance to find their seats, but they were still bright enough to make me wince. I had to close my eyes for a moment to catch my breath. This event was underground, created by criminals for criminals and run by one of the savviest men I’d ever met. I’d only been in the room with him twice, both times with Sloan, but Crux Loveless was equally scary and swoon worthy.
Sloan didn’t know I thought the last thing about him, though. The man deserved to live.
