He backs out of the driveway. It’s probably better that he didn’t invite Edge. God knows what would have happened. I don’t need any of my friends forced to witness our make-out sessions.
Although I can visualize in detail what would happen in the cave, behind the waterfall, on the way to the ninth hole…
Shame on me.
29
KINSLEY
The ride upthe coast is beautiful. I packed a towel, my strainer, a Ziploc baggy for the teeth, a few snacks, and a bottle of water. Today’s trip will be a quick turnaround, rather than staying here overnight. With my motorcycle, it’s easy to find a spot close to the stairs leading down to the beach. The sky is blue, the air is only slightly cool, and the waves are as low as they’ll get this time of year. It’s the perfect day for hunting for shark teeth. The beach is slightly crowded due to the holiday, but there are still plenty of spots to claim and look for teeth.
The past few weeks have gone by in a blur between classes, homework, training at the dojo, and seeing Luca on the weekends. This week, his family took their usual vacation to the east coast of Florida to visit his grandparents. They spend the entire week there, so for me, that sucks. I was invited, but I didn’t want to leave my uncle on Thanksgiving.
Edge has been hit and miss. I watch as he avoids Brielle. Brielle tries to avoid me. I mind my own business while only talking to Eden and Bryce. So, all is right at Monarch University.
At least, that’s the way it looks on the outside.
More than once, Edge found me in the library and made up for ignoring me in front of others. He’s also kept his promise about staking his claim on me when we’re alone. It seems we’re both taking what we want while still trying to figure out what we need from each other. It’s complicated.
To make it even more complicated, I plan to attend the fight in a couple of days to see what Venom is up to. On the night of the last fight, six guys stood off to the side of the fighting cage, and there was the fighter inside the cage. He remains a mystery. I haven’t been able to rule out Edge. He has a mysterious tattoo on the same side as Python. He’s aggressive, dominant, and the leader of Venom. I just don’t know who else is involved.
I’ve gone over every intention Edge could have for being the bad guy. More so, I’ve made a ton of excuses for him to be innocent. I need to see his tattoo. With Python’s etched in my mind, I’ll know in an instant if Edge is the one who killed my father. And if he didn’t, what role did he play in his death? If any?
I strip off my shirt and shorts, then retrieve my strainer from my pack and dip it into the water, dredging it through the sand. Sitting on a cluster of rocks, I sift the pile of sand and shells in the water until most of the sand has been washed away. A little black shark tooth lies among the few broken shells.
One for one. I place the tooth in the baggy tucked into my bathing suit bottoms. Then I repeat the process at least a hundred more times. Without a cloud, the sun has crossed the vast blue sky and started its descent. I head back to where I left my stuff.
“Funny seeing you here.”
I whip around to a guy who looks vaguely familiar.
“Remember me?” he asks.
Then it hits me, the MMA fighter who came into my uncle’s dojo. “Um… yeah, the dojo.”
“It’s like I’ve seen you before.” He’s trying this angle again.
“You did… at the dojo.”
“Yeah, I mean before that. But it’s been a while.”
I take a scrutinizing look at his face. It’s the scar trailing along the line of his jaw that’s familiar. I don’t remember his name, but I may have seen him fight at the UG. From what I recall, he isn’t bad, but he tends to lean toward the cruder side of fighting. His mask was ripped off during the fight. He was right to come to my uncle for training—if my uncle would train a guy like him. Trey would help him clean up his kicks and punches, move with more finesse, and show him how to use more intention in martial arts instead of reacting on impulse. But it looks like he’ll have to find that somewhere else. It’s odd, though, how he thinks he remembers seeing me. It has to be someplace else.
“Yeah, that guy was a real asshole.”
I ignore his comment without mentioning the asshole is my uncle. Instead, I ask, “Where do you fight?”
“How about a name?” he counters.
“Kinsley.”
“I’m Dylan ‘Dark Warrior’ Shane.” He holds out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Dark Warrior.” I shake his scarred, callused hand. “So, where do you fight?”
He hesitates, and I know immediatelythatallhis fights are illegal. My uncle called it on this one. “All over,” he responds.
All over,technically, isn’t a lie. The UG moves locations all the time. “Underground?” I guess.
