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There were a few more fights scheduled for the night, but I’d beaten the biggest guy in the warehouse, so I was pretty much done for the evening.
After receiving my praise of victory, I headed into the back to get cleaned up and collect my payment, then slipped out into the alley behind the large building. Outside in the damp and dark, I nodded at a couple of bouncers taking a cigarette break. They nodded back, knowing exactly who I was, and followed me with their stares until I reached the other end of the alley.
They were welcome to look as long as they didn’t try to touch. I knew a lot of those macho, alpha types of guys had a fetish about hooking up with a female fighter, but I was very particular about who I invited into my bed.
Like that redheaded guy. He’d definitely been my type.
Damn. I should’ve found him after my match and taken him back to my place.
My footsteps slowed for a second as I debated going back inside to look for him. But that felt a little desperate for my tastes, and it was probably smarter not to.
I used to hook up with guys after fights all the time, almost like a post-fight ritual. An enjoyable way to work out the remaining adrenaline in my system. But it’d been pretty long since I had done that—and I could thank one specific guy for ruining it for me.
Merrick Van Warren was supposed to have been a one-night stand just like all the rest. But something about him had kept pulling me in. It had started out as one night, then another, and then it’d become almost a regular thing. I made it a point to never get attached to guys I met at the arena, but for some reason, with this guy, everything had gotten really intense, really fast. Despite my normal aversion to commitment, I had found myself wanting more with him.
But life was fast and hard, and so far, the people I loved had all left me behind—the easiest way to avoid that was to avoid loving people at all. Hell, I couldn’t even adopt a dog because it was too much emotional commitment. So I’d fucked Merrick one last time and then bolted. I’d felt a little shitty about it, but I was convinced it’d been the right call. I was a loner, and I was a loner on purpose.
I lived on the other side of town, back in the slums in Southie. My neighborhood was a mishmash of old homes, most of them boarded up, and I rented a one-bedroom basement apartment that’d seen much better days. It worked for me though. The area was crap, but I didn’t really have any desire to get to know my neighbors anyway.
Reaching the end of another alley, I climbed up the chain-link fence and hopped over, taking a shortcut back home.
As I reached the middle of the dark alleyway, my footsteps slowed. Four men stood in the shadows, talking in low voices and chuckling about something. Two leaned against one wall and two against the other, and they all looked sketchy as fuck. I pulled my hood up and shoved my hands in my pockets, picking up the pace to walk right through them.
But as I approached, the largest guy reached out and slapped his palm against the front of my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. I slowly raised my head, looking him in the eyes.
He smirked mischievously and glanced at the other guys. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
One of his buddies pressed away from the opposite wall and stepped forward, cocking his head at me. His voice was pack-a-day raspy, and one of his eyelids didn’t seem to want to open all the way. “I saw you fight tonight, didn’t I? You’re Aria Banks. The chick who beat up Rotham.”
“Yeah, she is,” a third man agreed. He stepped forward too. “It’s not fuckin’ right. Women fighting like that?” He spat on the ground. “But I bet you won some money for that freak show.”
The fourth man rolled his skinny neck with a loud crack. “Time to pay the toll, little girl.”
Chapter Two
“Little girl? Do you have any fucking idea how offensive that is?” I growled, clenching my jaw.
They all laughed. The skinniest one slapped his friend, Droopy-Eye, in the chest and nodded toward me. “You know this chick?”
The man smiled and walked in a circle around me. “Oh, yeah. She did some fighting when she was little, and then when her daddy died, she decided to go all crazy with it. She thinks she’s hot stuff. So, what was the purse tonight?”
I backed up two steps, keeping my shoulders squared. “Why don’t you ask the guy I dropped in the first round? You know, the one three times my size.”
They all laughed again. The big guy who’d stopped me let his smile drop as the other three circled around me like vultures.
I could feel a tingle surging down both my arms as anger built up inside me. I didn’t like being cornered. Avoiding shit like this was the whole reason I’d learned to fight in the first place, and while I fought for fun in the ring, out on the street, it was a game of damn survival—one I didn’t plan on losing.
The big man moved with bulk, flexing his hands open and closed, the tattoos on his arms rippling with the stretching of skin over his muscles. He reached out and slapped my hand out of my pocket, knocking the envelope of money to the ground.
“Hot damn. There we go. First fuckin’ try.” He let out a low whistle and smirked.
Oh, no, you fucking don’t.
As he leaned over to pick it up, I grabbed the back of his head and rammed my knee into his nose.
I felt bone break against my kneecap, and instantly, hot blood began to trickle down my knee. He dropped onto all fours, groaning and clutching his face. I crouched quickly, grabbed the envelope, and stuck it back in my pocket. Then I whirled to face the other men. I was ready to fight all of them and was honestly a little surprised they hadn’t already attacked.
But none of them moved toward me. Their eyes were wide, and as I watched, two of them shuffled back a couple of paces.
