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The CT scan showed I had a mild concussion and further tests determined my ribs were bruised as well, making the doctor insist on keeping me for at least 48 hours for observation. By the time that I got out of there, I had only one thing on my mind. Delaney fucking Callahan.
I’ve never been one to think about a girl when I’m not getting in her pants, but Bambi is something else. She’s managed to burrow her way deep inside my mind and won’t go away no matter how hard I try to focus on something else. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s like the darkness in me is drawn to the light in her.
WHEN I GET TO school on Tuesday, my friends are all exactly where I’d expect to find them. Zayn does a double-take when I approach, making sure he’s seeing me correctly. As if he can read my mind, he takes out his pack of cigarettes and tosses them to me.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
I shrug, playing it off. “Had some shit to do.”
“Didn’t stop you from taking my car yesterday, though, prick,” Stone gripes. “I had to make Easton drive me, with Tessa. It was like riding home in a porn flick. And don’t think I didn’t notice you picking up Delaney.”
“Oh, now it all makes sense,” Z laughs. “So much for no private school pussy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”
The memory of yesterday plays in my head, making me want nothing more than to relive those few hours. After we hooked up in Stone’s car, she came with me back to my house. Being as my mom works evenings at the diner right outside town, we had the whole place to ourselves.
“Shit,” Stone whines. “Does that mean I lost the damn bet?”
I smirk, taking out my phone and flipping to the picture I took last night. Delaney’s hair is a mess and her eyes are closed, but she still looks fucking sinful with my cock in her mouth. She was so nervous to do it, and I almost didn’t let her, but when she asked me to teach her how, there was no way I could resist. Still, seeing this picture now and knowing I’m the only one who has seen her this way—no money in the world is worth sharing this shit.
I click the screen to my phone off and slip it back in my pocket. “You did, but there is no way in hell I’m showing you. I’ll bring your money tomorrow.”
“Fuck, yeah!” He cheers.
Stone goes back to playing hacky sack with Gage and Easton while Zayn eyes me intently. I light the cigarette clamped between my lips and hand him back his lighter, inhaling and holding it in.
“So, are you two a thing now? Has someone actually managed to tame the Knox Vaughn?”
I let out the smoke, chuckling at how intense he’s making it sound. “Nah. We’re just having some fun. At the end of the year, she’ll fuck off to whatever Ivy League school she’s intended for, and I’ll be left here.”
The skeptical look on his face tells me he doesn’t fully believe the shit coming out of my mouth, but he lets it go for now. Meanwhile, I try not to let the heaviness of the truth drag me under. She’s just another pretty face.
THE UNDERGROUND IS PACKED for being a Thursday night. You’d think these fights would only take place on the weekends, but they happen every damn night. There always happens to be a couple heated motherfuckers who need an outlet for their anger.
Despite my current injuries, Cal has me on the schedule tonight. Grayson’s, however, isn’t until this weekend. His are less nerve-racking, being as they have an end that doesn’t require someone being unconscious at a minimum, but it’s still a fight. The only thing I can say about Pretty Boy is that he can hold his own. Unfortunately, I’ve seen that first hand.
“There’s my boys!” Cal’s voice booms through the office that has windows on each side looking over both rings. “How are we doing tonight? Vaughn, you ready to go after last weekend?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a couple minor injuries.”
“Good, good.” He turns his attention to Grayson. “And how about you? You’re going to be there to support our boy, right?”
Grayson nods. “Yes, sir. Jackson is meeting us down in the training room in a few minutes so we can make sure he’s in good shape.”
“Perfect. I have a lot of money riding on tonight. Don’t let me down.”
Of course, it’s always about the money with him. Fuck the fact that I could get myself killed out there. The only person Cal ever cares about is himself; that much is clear. It’s why he essentially rigs these fights to go in his favor, paying for his fighters’ training to make sure they’re the best they can be. The scheme he’s running is probably considered some type of fraud, but none of this is legal anyway. No honor among thieves, and all that.
THE CHEERS OF THE crowd are practically deafening as the two guys in the ring beat the everliving shit out of each other. It’s only the standard level, since there is only one Death Trap fight every few days, but they’re going just as hard. By the time the final bell sounds, I’m pretty sure the one guy has lost at least two of his teeth—he’s gushing blood like a fountain.
There’s a half-hour intermission between this fight and mine, and the more
I wait, the more nervous I become. Jackson spent twenty minutes stretching me out and warming me up, so I know I’m ready. I just don’t know much about the guy I’m up against. Apparently, he’s a scrawny little shit who has no business here, but sometimes it’s the smaller guys who turn out to be the scrappiest.
As the time gets closer, they start to announce the fighters. I’m standing on the side with Grayson, getting fired up and in the zone, when an arrogant voice I’d recognize anywhere meets my ears.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”
