“I’m doing this for Della,” I say. “Not for you.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I already have my back to him. Before me is the possibility of Della, of having her become my family. We can go west. I’ll be a cowboy, and she’ll be my wife. We’ll raise her son together, maybe have a few more babies. Behind me is the past, full of death and grief and lost innocence.
I’m ready to leave it all behind in the cage tonight.
I’ll fight for that kid from Harlan who never stood a chance. I’ll fight for Cherry, for Kyle, who never deserved to be caught between me and the Caudills.
But more than anything, I’ll fight for my woman.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DELLA
He enters the cage like a gladiator walking into an arena, Brothers a step behind. Leland doesn’t go in until he’s firmly in his corner and they’re separated by the entire length of the pit. The referee starts walking to the upper end to check the gate.
I have no faith in his ability to monitor this fight. I’m so scared that once they start, it’s not going to end until someone is dead.
I think I might faint.
My nails dig into the post, keeping me upright. The referee comes to the middle of the pit. My breathing shallows. Never did I think this would end with my ex-husband and the man I love fighting in a cage. The world is upside down. Tonight is a blurred, bad dream.
I wonder if Leland has ever fought anyone outside of sparring partners at the gym. If I had to guess, he has, but I know he’s never fought anyone like Jensen.
My heart feels distant, a desperate patter, like it’s out there with him.
“Move in, move in,” the referee calls.
Leland goes, confidently, to the center. Jensen takes two steps to the side, like he’s checking his vantage point, and then he starts walking in. He’s just like he was that day in the swamp—calm,confident, focused. The firelight catches the tattoo on his side, casting shadows down the ridges and scars of his body.
They stop, face to face, and Leland shakes out his shoulders. Jensen doesn’t move, but his eyes track Leland’s, his lips parted.
Leland says something.
Jensen laughs once, but he’s not amused.
They’re not a fair fight to the naked eye. Leland is broader and the audience notices. Money starts changing hands, moving in a wave toward the bucket with Leland’s number on it. My stomach roils with unease. They’re all here for a show, to win some cash. This is a game to them, but not to me.
My life depends on Jensen winning.
If I go home with Leland tonight, I’m done.
He might kill me, but I don’t think so. More likely, he’ll keep me alive, keep me sedated beneath his boot, and I’ll get to live knowing he got what he wanted. Every day will be hell, my mind wearing thin from the stress of him on my body every night, his eyes following my every move, his relentless need to control everything I say and do.
He’s too proud to give me up.
Or too sadistic.
Someone is behind me. I glance over my shoulder, cowed by the two bodyguards standing with their arms crossed, their eyes straight ahead. Neck prickling, I turn to face the pit again.
The referee is speaking to them, gesturing. Leland jerks his head, but Jensen doesn’t move, eyes never leaving my ex-husband. Finally, he extends his hand. Leland hesitates before he shakes it, and Jensen leans in, his lips moving.
No, no, please don’t.
Lord, I know Jensen just rubbed salt in Leland’s wound.
Right on cue, Leland surges at him. I surge too, even though I don’t know what I’m doing. The bodyguards take a step to keep me from running. In the pit, the referee steps between them, palms up, and Leland backs off.
Jensen turns, a cocky little smile on his face, and starts walking back to his corner. There’s a swagger in his step that wasn’t there before.
