A couple of men carted Striker out, and a couple others threw buckets of water on the platform to wash off the blood and ready the floor for the next fight. The overhead music filled the place again and four women in scanty outfits gyrated and shook their butts on small stages, entertaining the audience until the next fight began.
Diablo saw Army, Chains, and Sangre walking toward him. He knew they’d bet on the fight, and from their smiling faces, he guessed they’d placed their money on McKinnley.
“Hey, dude. That was a good fight. I could’ve whipped both their asses at the same time, but for what it was, it was good. Did you bet on this one?” Army said.
Diablo shook his head.
“Too bad. The odds were good.”
Skull came over, a buxom brunette on his arm. “How many fights are on for tonight?”
“Four more.” Diablo recognized the woman as one of the entertainers who worked for Bloody Knuckles. All the underground fights he’d worked had women who were stacked and willing to shake their bodies between fights. Most of the time, they’d turn tricks on the side. Knowing how greedy the promoter was, Diablo was pretty damn sure he took a percentage of anything they made outside of dancing.
The brunette smiled at Diablo. “Are you doing okay?” she said into his ear as she leaned against him.
Diablo nodded.
“You know each other?” Skull asked.
“He works for Bloody Knuckles, same as me.” She ran her fingers down Skull’s bare arm. “I like your muscles.” She licked her lips.
“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your chick?” Army asked.
“Yeah. This is…. What did you say your name was, sugar?”
She pushed out her lower lip, her brows creasing. “You forgot already?” Skull gave a half shrug. “I don’t think I should tell you.”
“Her name’s Emerald,” Diablo said.
Skull and Army looked at him. “Damn, that’s good, brother,” Skull said.
Emerald smiled widely and pulled out of Skull’s grasp. Wrapping her hands around Diablo’s bicep, she squeezed it while saying, “Thanks for remembering. I told your friend my name at least four times and he still forgot it.”
Diablo’s jaw jutted out. “I’m good with names.”
“Doesn’t matter. I still think you’re sweet.” She placed a small kiss on his jawline. He stiffened and she dropped her hands to her side.
“Looks like you’re tryin’ to take my main squeeze from me, dude.” Skull laughed and the other brothers joined in.
Diablo crossed his arms and jerked his head to the ring. “Another fight’s ready to start.”
The brothers turned their attention forefront, then lifted their chins at Diablo and went back into the crowd.
The next two men looked more buff than the last two, a fact that wasn’t lost on the spectators as a palpable frenetic energy wrapped around the ring. “To my left is Freddie,” the small man announced as a medium height, dark-haired guy smiled to the crowd. “And on my right is Toque.” A husky man of the same height as Freddie bowed to the audience. Then the fight began.
As Diablo watched, he could feel the adrenaline pumping in the room, and he realized that was what kept the people coming back; the rush was addictive and they needed their fix. Several women dressed in short, spandex black skirts and tight, plunging tops strutted in their spiked heels in front of the ring, trying to garner attention from the fighters. They were fangirls. It reminded Diablo of the hang-arounds who’d line up for one of the Night Rebels’ weekend parties, hoping to get picked to come inside and party with a dangerous biker.
Plastered against the wall, a slight and delicate-looking woman drew his attention. From under her unkempt brown hair peeked eyes of hazel and honey. They shone like polished stone in the sunshine and held a fair amount of distrust in them. The connection between him and the woman was only a fraction of a second, but in that brief snapshot of time, a cry for help had been sent. He kept his gaze fixed on her; she darted hers everywhere, but it kept coming back to his. Shouts, jeers, claps, and whistles bounced around him, but he was transfixed by the woman trying to make herself invisible.
“Fuck!”
Metal slamming against metal diverted his attention away from her. He tore through the crowd, shoving people out of his way. Two gangly twentysomethings had thrown some metal chairs at the ring and were trying to slip under the ropes. Freddie and Toque were locked in a grueling match.
Diablo grabbed each of the troublemakers by the back of the neck and dragged them away from the ring. The men, startled at first, thrashed and cussed as Diablo threw them on the floor. Before they could react, he gripped their shirts and raised them to their feet, then locked an arm around each of their necks as he hauled them away.
Another bouncer dashed over, offering assistance, but Diablo shook his head. “I’ve got this,” he mouthed as he walked toward the exit. In a matter of seconds, he’d thrown the two men face down on the asphalt. “I don’t wanna see you back in here. Ever.” He kicked both of them in their sides. “You fuckin’ got that?”
One of the men groaned while the other mumbled something under his breath.
