“I promise.”
“And you better mean it. Don’t be stupid tomorrow, okay? We go in, you do the match, and we get out. Which means no getting into fights with anyone else.”
“Okay, I can’t promise that.”
“Mickey!” The definition of staying out of trouble is not starting beef.
“I get a free pass to punch Rico.”
I’m on board with that, actually. “Justapunch?”
“Good point.Punches, plural. I can kick him as many times as I want as well.” He holds his hand out, and we shake on it. “You, Miss Garcia, have yourself a deal.”
I smile and settle back on his chest, feeling the way his chest rumbles as he talks. Mickey tells me about the Cadillac he got to work on in prison, as well as all the other types of cars that came through the garage. He also tells me about his English classes and how boring he thinks Shakespeare is. Yet, I don’t have it in me to mumble any response.
“What’s wrong?” The heaviness in his voice wraps around me like a blanket.
“I’m too tired to talk.”
“That’s fine. The silence is alright if you’re there.”
Chapter 27
ISABELLA
Thenoisesandsmellsof the arena aren’t any easier to handle the second time around. I’m sure my eardrums are a hair away from bursting with how loudly the guys behind me are yelling.
To make matters worse, the blonde from yesterday keeps shooting me dirty looks before sucking on someone’s face. Maybe she thinks I’m the reason she couldn’t get rich off yesterday’s victor. Or maybe she just doesn’t like rejection—an odd trait to have in her line of business.
Or, the blonde—along with every other freaking person in this arena—can see the three giantfuck-offhickeys on my neck. I’m not sure whether I look like a girl who had a very satisfying sexual encounter, or a girl who has been mauled by an animal.
When Roman and I arrived here and met Rico in the changing room, Roman pointed at the dark blue, borderline abusive looking bruises, then pointed at Rico, and said, “She’s mine. Touch her, and I’ll show you how artistic I can get with a knife.”
It was charming, if not embarrassing, until Rico said that he’ll give me another. Romanobviouslyreacted very maturely to the provocation.
“You know, one time Riviera said my name while sleeping, and I never felt so special in my life.” Rico has been regaling me with prison stories ever since my butt hit the front-row seats. I’ve zoned out for half of what he’s said because I honestly don’t believe that twenty-eight different girls were writing to him, wanting to be his slutty pen pal.
This guy is growing on me like a freckle. He’s there even though sometimes I don’t want him to be, but I’m stuck with him for the time being.
I glance away from the empty ring and to the ugly purple bruise forming on his cheek. Mickey showed Rico how good his right hook is (again) after the idiot said he’llkeep me companyin the wrong tone.
To be fair, I felt the urge to do the same after all the shit he’s been talking. But I have a feeling the brothers planned it that way.
A riled-up Roman is a dangerous Roman.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. It probably wasn’t a good dream for you,” I slur—maybe I’ve drunk a bottle or two. Maybe three.
Rico crosses his fingers. “Riviera and Reyes are tight. Everyone knows. Two peas in a pod, causin’ trouble in B Block. My man would never hurt me.”
I nod toward his cheek. “Really?” I say blankly.
He waves his hand dismissively. “A one-time thing. He wouldn’t do it again.”
Damien grunts beside me, then sips his drink like he isn’t listening to our conversation.
“Did you share bunk beds?”
Rico whistles. “He wishes he could get all this.”
