Part 34 (1/2)

Herman Gomez was lolling. His defenses were getting weaker and weaker. He dropped his arms and I pulled back to smash his face as the crowd around me roared, like they weren't even people anymore, but some dark creature undulating and slithering out past the edge of the mat. I lifted my head for just a second to look at them, like a gladiator asking permission to deliver the final blow. I was met with shrill cheers and the sound of my name-not my real one, but the one that they called me, the name they gave me like I was the bogeyman that haunted their dreams.

Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer...!

I prepared to bring my fist down right into the center of Herman's face.

But then I saw her, and all reason left me. There, in the crowd, was Parker Jones, clinging to some guy's arm as she watched me with wide, unblinking eyes. I'd know those baby blues anywhere. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen her before. She didn't fit in here; it was like watching an angel from on high wallow in filth.

And suddenly, that name wasn't encouragement anymore. It was an accusation; a portrait of who and what I was. It was an insult, spat from the mouths of every person I'd ever hurt, ever shot out there in the desert. I saw their faces now, shadows lurking at the edges of Parker's radiant glow.

Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer!

My stomach turned. I put my fist down.

And Herman, seizing the opportunity, shot up and head-b.u.t.ted me so hard he broke my f.u.c.king nose.

Light burst in front of my eyes as I reeled backward, landing hard on my side. He'd split my lip too, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. There was blood everywhere; my eyes were tearing, turning the world blurry, and the frenzy of movement that followed was too indistinct for me to mount a proper defense.

Herman was kicking me so hard I lifted off the mat. I could feel myself shattering piece by piece. I knew that if he got on top of me, I was done. Finished.

I was going to lose a fight for the first time in my life. And all because of Parker f.u.c.king Jones.

~ Six ~

Parker

Holy s.h.i.+t!

Kellan saw me. He'd looked my way, and he actually saw me, here in this ma.s.s of sweaty, drunken people. And now he was getting his a.s.s kicked, where a moment before, he'd been poised to take the win. I couldn't help but feel like somehow, this was all my fault.

I winced as the Hispanic guy in the blue shorts kicked Kellan so hard in the ribs that his body left the mat for an instant. Beside me, Thom cringed and sucked his teeth. ”This is bad,” he said over the chaos of the crowd. ”Your guy's done for.”

Great, I thought, clinging tighter to Thom's side as the audience pushed in around me. And I was hoping to catch him in a good mood...

Looking around, it was little wonder Kellan had recognized me. Just as I'd feared, I did not belong here. The women surrounding me were all wearing very revealing clothes with jeans so tight they left nothing to the imagination, or otherwise, skirts that showed the bottoms of their a.s.ses if they bent over just a little too much. The best I'd been able to do on such short notice was a black tank top, a push-up bra, and some Daisy Dukes that made me look more like a b.u.mpkin than an underground fighting fan. Thom hadn't fared much better-even in a t-s.h.i.+rt and jeans, he still looked like a hipster. Maybe it was the beard and curled-up moustache.

There was a girl near the ring, standing next to a bald guy Thom had pointed out to me earlier as one of the managers. She was just as wide-eyed as I was, screaming for Kellan to get up, to ”murder the f.u.c.ker.” The glitter on her skin sparkled in the dim light and made the pout of her lips all the more prominent. Was that his girlfriend? She looked worried enough that she might be.

My heart fell. That woman was curvy with a tiny waist and huge t.i.ts, and she wasn't afraid to flaunt any of it, either. How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to compete with that?

Would you get over yourself? I thought as Kellan rolled onto his belly and spat blood onto the mat in front of him. He's dying out there! You have to do something!

But what the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do? This was a fight-an illegal fight. I couldn't very well rush the ring and jump on his opponent's back. That would, at the very least, be cheating. Also, humiliating. Probably for everyone involved.

”Come on, Kellan,” I whispered instead, feeling helpless as I watched the fight unfold. ”Come on...”

As though he'd heard me, Kellan lifted his head and looked my way again. Something flashed in his hazel eyes just as the Hispanic guy went in for the kill.

Kellan grabbed his opponent's ankle and twisted hard, knocking him off balance. The guy fell and Kellan forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he took a second to recover. He was hurting bad-I could tell from the way he was holding his side, and he wasn't bouncing on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet anymore. He was out of energy, and maybe out of time, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

I was in awe. How could someone come back from that? How could they endure so much trauma, so much pain, and still put their fists up?

It was like Kellan had caught his second wind. Maybe he wasn't the Energizer Bunny anymore, but he was making headway all the same. When the Hispanic guy came at him again, Kellan was ready, and he wasn't taking any s.h.i.+t, either. He blocked when he needed to, dodged when he could, and waited for his opening, his jaw set, eyes ablaze.

”Look at that,” Thom said beside me. ”Maybe I shouldn't count him out yet, after all.”

”I've never seen anything like it,” I breathed. ”Have you?”

Thom shook his head. ”No. Your guy's way out of his league here, and he's taken a serious beating. I wouldn't be surprised if he's got a cracked rib or two under all those bruises. But look at him go. What a beast.”

Yeah, I thought, unable to keep my eyes off his sweaty, bulging muscles. A real animal...

And just like that, it was over. Kellan took a mighty blow to the face, but used his opponent's momentum against him and managed to hit him hard upside his head in return. The guy fell, knocked out cold, his eyes rolling into his skull and his body limp. He bounced like a rubber ball and Kellan let out a breath, stumbling back a step as the ref dropped down to count the guy out.

”Killer Kellan wins!”

Killer Kellan. I hadn't totally understood it before, but now, after seeing him in action, it made perfect sense. The guy was incredible. Like he was made for this.

But even in the midst of rejoicing, he looked somehow... sad. I saw that same flash of pain I'd seen in him the day we met at the bar. There was something more to the story, here. I just had to find out what.

I started to move toward the ring, but the girl I'd seen before was already slipping between the ropes and rus.h.i.+ng to Kellan's side, jumping up and down so that her ma.s.sive, bountiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggled like Jell-O shots. She slid her hand into Kellan's and entwined their fingers, and I felt my stomach knot. I guess she is his girlfriend, after all.

Then he pulled away from her, called his manager over, and pointed. Right at me. That pain was gone, replaced by fury. Heat rose in my face. s.h.i.+t. Kellan did not look happy to see me.

”Thom,” I said, regarding the big, burly men working their way through the crowd toward me, ”what do I do?”

”What do you do?” he laughed. ”Go with it! Now's your chance to get the inside scoop. And while you're gone, I'll work my angle.”

I nodded, trying to look braver than I felt. In reality, b.u.t.terflies had taken flight in my stomach and I was getting a little dizzy. When one of the hulking men closed their fingers around my wrist, I almost yelped.

”Killer wants to see you in the winner's room,” he said, his whiskey breath thick in my ear. ”You wanna go, or are you gonna disappoint the man?”

I made a face. Coercion? s.e.xy. ”I'll go,” I said anyway, letting the meathead lead me through the crowd, parting bodies with the expanse of his broad shoulders. I trailed along behind in his wake, my pulse racing with each new step we took.

What was Kellan expecting of me? Did he think I was here to f.u.c.k him? Or was he onto me, p.i.s.sed that I'd show up? He certainly hadn't looked happy. That scowl could've killed a man. But maybe he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush of nearly beating his opponent to death. Maybe being alone in this ”winner's room” with him wouldn't be so bad.

Down a long hallway so far from the crowd that I could barely hear them now, I stumbled into the winner's room. The guy and his friend closed the door behind me with a little nod, as if the bed with its freshly washed sheets should have told me all I needed to know about what went on in here.

I took a few deep breaths, and with each one, my stomach knotted even more. The waiting, the antic.i.p.ation, was murder. My thoughts kept drifting between the anger in Kellan's eyes and the expectation of what I was supposed to do in here with him. My face flushed, and suddenly the room felt very small.