Page 67 of Nicolette

“Dice, if you won’t go, who would you pick as a runner-up?” Rambler asked, trying to get us back to the matter at hand.

“Dog, he isn’t good at staying hidden as he tracks, but he’ll be able to find them. It won’t be as fast as I could do it either, probably won’t have an answer until tomorrow,” Dice shared, then nudged my shoulder with his chin. “Moja dusza, eat. It’s been two days. You need to eat.”

He was right. With a fight on my hands tonight, I needed the energy. Part of me felt a little off about the whole thing since I hadn’t been doing my daily four-hour workout, but being a shifter, I didn’t need to do them at the same intensity to keep myself in peak condition. Part of me wondered if working out did anything but burn off energy. I mean, I’d have to bench press a car for it to mean anything—right? Either way, it didn’t matter. I needed to eat this burger, take a shower and start my pre-fight routine so I would put myself in the zone.

Many fighters were superstitious about things when it came to fights. I wasn’t one of those, but I had a routine that no matter what happened in my day, I would be able to shed all that from my mind and focus on staying alive.

“Guys, I need to know if the worst happens and I lose, will he kill me?” I asked, not looking up at them, just focusing on my food as I waited for my answer.

None of them responded right away, but Nine finally answered, “Yes, if Zealot wins, he will kill you.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, looking up to meet his gaze. “So business as usual for me. In a strange way, that actually helps. If I know the stakes for this fight are real, then I’ll give it the proper respect and effort that I need to. I’m gonna need some clothes to fight in and a place where I can do my stretches.” Marco started to say something, but I held up a hand to stop him. “It has nothing to do with actually needing to stretch for stretching sake. I need to follow my steps, the routine I’ve done for the eight years I’ve been fighting for my life.”

“I thought you were with The Broker for ten years…” Polo questioned.

“Really, Polo, you’re gonna question me about my math?” I countered, giving him a dramatic look of irritation. “I had to learn how to fight before I could be put in the official ring. LC wants a production. The theatrics of a fight with blood, sweat, and tears shed for the audience. Putting out a green weak-ass human, who is female, would’ve done nothing to put money in his pocket. When I asked to be a fighter because I wasn’t willing to be a whore, he made me prove I had potential. When I didn’t give up after being clobbered into the ground by the current crowd favorite, Hammer Time, he let me train. The bastard told me I had two years to train, and my first fight would be with Hammer. I’d either win or wind up dead, no longer his problem to deal with.”

“That doesn’t make sense. How would he get his money back if you died in the first fight?” Rambler asked. “Wouldn’t it be to his advantage to build up your reputation with a fight you could have a chance of winning?”

“How would that motivate me to be the best fighter he’d ever had?” I reasoned. “See, LC knows if he puts the one thing every human values most in the world on the line, we won’t cause trouble. We’ll do as we’re told, and train like our life depends on it. The bets that night alone, I’m sure, took care of a solid half of my debt, but the problem was LC bet on his winner, not me, and cost himself a shit ton. So he added it to my bill, making my contract longer than it should have been.”

“That’s just downright fucked up,” Nine muttered. “If I could take him out and not fear that The Grid would implode into a civil war, I would.”

Frowning at that comment, I tried to come up with who might actually be upset that the little green shitstain was gone. “You really think there are enough people loyal to him to cause a reaction like that? He hires the hobgoblins as muscle, but everyone else is contracted into being there like I was.”

“He has many sponsors who keep him out of trouble with both human and supernatural law. Like Mortas, he is a massive supporter of The Broker. Word is, that he gets whatever Mortas’ coven is looking for when it comes to blood. He’ll trap someone into a contract and sell them off to the vamps to do with as they please,” Nine explained. “My fear is not knowing who the other players in the shadows are.”

“However,” Rambler cut in. “If we took him out and then controlled the whole of The Grid, we’d have more people at our disposal to fight whatever might come our way. Really, I see this as a win-win.”

“You think we can take out a whole ass coven?” Nine argued. “I’m taking in the whole picture, making sure that we aren’t going to step in a pile of shit that’s going to cling to us for years. We’re strong enough to control half The Grid, but I’m not sure we could if we had the whole of it.”

“That’s when you band together with another pride that might be dwindling or let other felines know you’re open to whoever needs to leave their pride,” I suggested. “If we have the territory and the extra help, we can expand what the MC is doing by taking over the drug trade LC already has. It’s a simple control shift. We don’t have to change how it runs just up our people in place.”

“Neko makes a brilliant point in taking over what he has. It only helps us if we want to expand and become a pride that can handle all of The Grid. Plus, Dice and I would actually get to have some fun instead of prowling the streets to find someone we can remove without getting in trouble,” Circus added, making me snort and almost spew my drink. He looked at me with concern as if worried I might be choking or something.

“Sorry, that just caught me off guard,” I said between coughs. “Is that really something you do?”

Dice nipped at my ear, making me squeak in surprise. “If we don’t have an outlet for our predilections, then it causes trouble. Nine has allowed us to do what we need as long as it follows his rules. Why do you think this place is so safe for any Savage Pride member to go where they please? No one would dare to draw our attention.”

Hearing this reminded me that the man whose lap I was sitting on wasn’t the sweet, overprotective, yet slightly obsessive person I’d come to know. The rest of the world knew him as a stone-cold killer who hardly uttered a word and could sneak up on the most skilled fighter if he wanted to. Not to mention having a feline form that had the highest kill rate. It made me wonder what I would think if I was exposed to that side of him, or Circus, for that matter. Both of them had a twisted darkness that floated just beneath the surface.

“This isn’t something we need to plan for right now,” Nine decided. “There needs to be proper provocation for us to do that, and so far, there isn’t any. I won’t be the one to make the first move, but I will damn well end it.”

I popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth and stood. Dice caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist as he held my gaze. “Let me know if you need to spar, I rather enjoyed how that went last time.”

Instantly my mind went back to that day when our fight ended with him eating me out and having a mind-blowing orgasm. Fuck, these men were going to turn me into a horny teenager talking like that.

“I’ll let you know,” I managed to say, even though my mouth went dry and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Please do.” Dice purred.

Chapter 27

Nicolette

Rambler went with me back to the apartments after we took a quick stop at the clothing storage area they had. It was a garage with bins of clothes stacked to the ceiling labeled with clothing type, size, and who it was for. Sorting through the athletic wear, I noticed it wasn’t cheap shit, either. I found a pair of biker shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top to wear for tonight. I’d probably end up ditching the shirt since it gave my opponent something to grab onto, but I wanted the option. Besides, I’m sure I’d wear it at some point.

“Where will the fight take place?” I asked as we got on the elevator.