“Want me to follow and have Link follow the friend?”
“They aren’t going together?”
“Nah, I overheard the other one say something about getting the kids.”
I feel a headache building. Doesn’t she know this is a bad idea? Doesn’t she care?
“Stay with Viv. Have Link follow Summer till she’s home, then have him come to the clubhouse. We’ll be there soon.”
I hang up and stand. Mickey only lifts his head, nothing more. “Problem?”
I grab my jacket and put the gun I had on the desk in my shoulder holster. “Viv thinks it’s wise to fight tonight. Apparently, having a stalker doesn’t mean shit to her, and she’s fine with putting herself out in the open for whoever this guy is to find her.” Hell, it might even be a chick. In this day and age, you can’t trust anyone or rely on the same suspicions that they had thirty or forty years ago. Shit, maybe back then, some people were killed by women, but since no one ever looked, those serial killers went unnoticed compared to the men.
I head out, Mickey quick to join me. “You know where she’s fighting at?” he asks.
“Not yet. I expect Pike to tell me once he’s done following her.”
“If she lets him keep the tail.”
I curse. I hadn’t thought about that. If Viv can fight, no doubt she can dodge a tail. Especially if she’s riding with Mack.
She might trust him, but I don’t. He does underground fighting. His job is to be outside the law. His own damn family doesn’t even trust him, so why should I?
“Better hurry, then. Have Radar get in the booth in case I need him to do some cell pings.”
Mickey is already on the phone as we make it to the lobby of the clubhouse, just as Bane and Rooster are walking in.
“Sup?” Lucky asks after taking one look at me and then Mickey.
“Viv’s fighting,” I mutter as I pass between them to head to my bike. The weather is still cold, but my internal temperature is hot enough for me to be good to ride.
I don’t know what they said to one another, or if any looks were given, but soon they and Mickey are beside me as I get a ping on my phone with a shared location from Pike. It’s clear across town, but with the fire running through my veins right now, it won’t take me long to get there.
And once I do, I plan to beat one fine ass for making me worry. ’Cause I don’t do worry. Not well, it seems.
Chapter 18—Viv
Isigh in contentment. This is exactly what I need. I can either work on new pieces for my art or beat the shit out of people. And art really isn’t on my mind at the moment.
Training with Summer helped, but I still pull my punches when we spar. Same for her. We know we shouldn’t. Mack usually yells at us, saying we’ll get complacent and might even pull a punch in an actual fight. Which I think is complete BS, but I’m not about to tell him that. Mack’s scary when he’s pissed. And usually when we’re pulling punches, that sets him off pretty good.
But Mack gets me. He must have known I needed to do something other than just sit. Sure, I might not be showing any emotion or freaking out as much as others might expect of me, but it’s still there, just in the form of extra energy. And I need to expel it.
I should have probably just asked Domino to fuck me again. I might still, even if his King Kong dong both scares and pleases me. He fits inside me like he’s glued in, filling every part, pushing the boundaries to the extreme. I’m sore, but in a way that I’m completely okay with.
I hear the first bell go off from my makeshift dressing room. Really, it’s just a cornered-off section of the warehouse separated by curtains. There’s more privacy in an emergency room than here, but underground fighters really can’t be picky. And me more than anyone else. Mack got this last-minute match because another fighter got sick. Instead of having someone else pull out, he offered it to me.
I might not have prepped fully for this one like I usually do, but I’m in good enough shape to pick one up like this every now and again. It also helps that the person I’m fighting isn’t in the main circuit. Just like with real boxing, there are levels in the underground. We’ve got the new kids, the mature ones, and the senior league—aka, the ones who know how to knock someone out with one punch. I’m usually in that last one, but tonight I’m just here for fun. If I win or not, it won’t go against any of my stats. This is a trial period really, to test out the ones who want to get into the new kids’ group.
Yup, you heard that right. Gotta try out to get your ass kicked. No one wants to pay money to just see a person cry after getting hit once. Which happens. A lot. Especially with chicks. I mean, come on, there’s a reason it’s not something most women find on their guidance counselors’ desks as options after high school. But a guy might get to be a professional athlete, specialize in wrestling, join the military—pretty much anyone who can take a hit and get back up again.
I’ve been the veteran before in these trial fights, so I know the drill: Hold back, but only to the range of what they’re capable of. If they come out swinging, I swing back. Hell, if they piss me off, I lay them flat on their back. Really, it’s on the fighter and how they play the game to see what I do.
The curtain opens and I look up, smiling as soon as my brain registers who it is.
“You need to stop,” Domino says as I’m mid-hop off the table I was sitting on.
I laugh lightly as I give him a hug. But when he doesn’t return it, I pull back and look up at him. He isn’t laughing at all. “Wait, are you serious?”
