I walk behind them on the busy Boston road in the direction of the bus that will take us to where we need to go. They’re chatting, but I’m focusing. I want to get in and out of that place as subtly and quickly as possible. I don’t think Shane Robertson is there, but I’m betting someone inside knows where he is, and my target is Shane’s boss, Jones, the man who took Callie’s father’s job when he passed away.
After we make a few turns, the crowds thin and we hop on a bus. We get off in a quieter area of the city, with a darker vibe. The shadows are longer and there’s a feeling that unseemly things linger in them. Callie and Noah have stopped their chattering, and she’s got her hands wrapped around her arms. I continue to walk behind them, always scanning and paying attention to each dim corner and alleyway.
“Calliope,” I say quietly. She slows and turns to fall into step next to me. “Stay close to me or Noah the entire time we’re in there, okay?”
“Have you been to one?” Callie asks, her voice a whisper.
“A fight club?”
“Yeah.” She nods.
“Yes,” Noah saysfor both of us.
“But it’s always felt unnecessary to go looking for trouble like that,” I say. “Neither of us gamble. Neither of us needs more involvement in a criminal lifestyle. We stay away.”
Noah gives me a sharp look over his shoulder.
“Or any involvement. It’s not like we’re criminals,” I add. Callie snorts next to me.
“Right. You don’t act like one at all.” She looks up at me and bites her lip.
“Define criminal.”
She chuckles, and Noah groans and gives me another dirty look. This is probably not the most appropriate place to be flirting with Callie, and especially about being a criminal, but I can’t help it when she looks at me like that. That smile. That mouth.
Fuck me, it’s going to be hard to do my job tonight and also look out for her.
“Do you think we’ll find Shane there?”
“No.”
“Me neither. I probably should’ve come here when he first disappeared, but I thought there’s no way he’d hide in such plain sight.” But the expression on her face hints that she’s not totally sure of that.
“It’s better that you waited to go with us. You have nothing to worry about tonight, Callie, I promise. Noah,” I call to my brother.
He’s leading the way, looking out for the side street that will lead to an alleyway with the hidden entrance to the fight club.
“If I step away, don’t let Callie out of your sight.”
“Obviously.” He turns and rolls his eyes, and I’m so thankful he insisted on coming.
We follow Noah down a side street, two dark buildings looming on either side, and then duck down a muchnarrower alleyway, not even wide enough for a vehicle. There’s a single flickering light shining over a short staircase descending to a solid door. Noah leads us down the steps and doesn’t hesitate to pull the door open. Callie and I step through, immediately facing a giant, rough-looking bald dude with an earpiece and a gun tucked prominently into a holster.
There’s cheering and shouting and sounds of a crowd of people down a long hallway behind him.
Callie’s eyes widen, and I watch as her shoulders tense up. The bouncer glares at us suspiciously and ignores Callie altogether. Noah has a conversation with him that we can’t hear because of the background noise. He hands the guy a few large bills before waving us along.
I really, really don’t like Callie being here, especially as we walk down that hallway and she shrugs off her coat. Again with the bare shoulders and long gorgeous hair and plunging cleavage.
Fuck me.
So much for not drawing attention to ourselves.
It’s chaos once we push through the doors to the underground fight club. We stop right inside the large open space. No one pays us any mind because the attention is all on the two men in the raised ring in the center of the room. One fighter is huge, with buzzed dark hair, bulging biceps and a wide, solid body, wearing tight shorts and nothing else. Sweat drips off his forehead and his hands are raised by his face in a fighter’s stance. The other guy is much smaller and has his hair pulled back in a low, wet ponytail. Blood drips from his nose, and he looks much worse than the other guy, but he’s energetically bouncing from foot to foot.
The crowd is majority men, fifteen people deep around the fighters. A pair of women in jeans andvery small tank tops with their tits hanging out linger on the edge of a wall, but they don’t spare us a look. There are a few more women sprinkled in among the crowd.
Callie presses up next to me and when I look down at her, she’s staring at the fight. I don’t think she realizes she’s slipped her hand around my elbow, her fingers gripping my arm tightly.
