Through the walls, I could hear the low roar of the crowd reacting to the warm-up fight. I sat on the chair in one of the back rooms, my duffel bag at my feet. I’d already changed into my black boxing shorts, my chest bare.
My focus was laser sharp.
I couldn’t lose tonight.
Anger stirred in my gut, but I kept a chokehold on it. It didn’t pay to lose your cool in the ring. Especially in a fight where there were no rules. That could get you dead.
My thoughts turned toher.
My anger bucked. Yeah, I was pissed they’d put her up as the prize for this fight. She was a fucking woman. A young, innocent one.
She didn’t deserve this.
I’d seen Lili Armstrong around, and in the crowd during my fights. We’d talked a few times. Mostly, she’d done the talking since I wasn’t much of a talker.
She was so damn pretty and so damn young. Gorgeous brown hair with an undertone of earthy red, clear skin, and huge, brown eyes. They reminded me of sweet, melted chocolate.
A few times, she’d slipped into my locker room before fights while I was doing my wraps, talked about fighting. Her father was an asshole who trained some of the fighters. He also treated his daughter like dirt.
Lili didn’t belong in a place like this. She was smiles, innocence, and light. This place was darkness, blood, and demons.
I didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why she was the prize tonight, but I knew it wasn’t something she would have chosen.
When I’d heard the news, and that fucking Kamensky was hungry to win her, I’d tossed my hat in the ring. That had included a huge buy-in.
I didn’t give a fuck how much it cost. I’d fight.
I’d win Lili and set her free.
The idea of Kamensky putting one finger on her made my jaw tighten.Not happening.
I finished the wraps and stood. I’d already warmed up by jumping rope, but now I focused on a few stretches.
Through the walls, the crowd roared. I guessed the fight before mine was over. I pulled in a breath, my focus narrowing.
Oh yeah, I was ready to pound on Anton Kamensky. The guy was a thug, who didn’t put much thought into his fights. He believed his size and brute strength alone was enough.
I flexed my hands. He was wrong.
My dad had taught me to fight, and my uncle had helped. They’d both been former military men turned mercenaries. Dad hadn’t taught me rules, or etiquette, or fighting fair. He’d taught me to survive, to win.
I’d gone into the Army for a short stint, then joined my Dad’s mercenary outfit. Delta Team Solutions had provided security for companies doing business in less-safe countries, hostage recovery in hellholes, and done a few off-the-books jobs for the military.
Dark memories crowded in.
Dad was gone now, so was my uncle. My mom was a distant memory. She hadn’t stayed long enough for me to be speaking in full sentences. The men of my family were incapable of keeping a woman happy. My aunt had left, too. All I remembered about her was that she screamed a lot.
I’d done shit. Dark shit. Shit that never left me alone.
The worst was the people I’d lost. Not just Dad and Uncle Heath. They’d both died of age and hard living. It was the brothers I’d made working for Delta Team: Green, Ramirez, and Zillman. We’d been the company’s best team. The four of us could handle any job.
Fuck, we’d been cocky. We’d believed there was nothing we couldn’t handle. Dad had sent us in to do the jobs everyone else said were impossible.
I’d been a different man then, and those three men always had my back. Without question. And I’d had theirs.
Until one job…when Green, Ramirez, and Zillman hadn’t come back.
My eyes narrowed and I scraped a hand across my stubbled jaw. My finger snagged on the rough scar on my left cheek, and I breathed through the heaviness that sat in my chest. That’s why I fought in places like this. To purge the darkness so it didn’t get too big. Didn’t drag me under.
