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Chapter Eight
Zadie
JulienandMarcoweremy bodyguards for the evening. They didn’t have to worry about me running away. First, I couldn’t get very far in heels. Second, and more importantly, the crowd was downright scary. Ninety-percent men, they leaked testosterone like a dripping faucet. The few women I saw were perched on the lap of one of the leaky men, boobs out, legs long, hair blonde, makeup sultry. I was thinking this was just another place I didn’t fit in, then Julien pushed me into a chair in the front row before taking his seat beside mine.
“Can I keep my eyes closed the whole time?” I asked.
Marco leaned into my other side. “Nah. Amir wants you watching.”
“Why?”
Marco’s dark-brown eyes beat into mine. Every time I thought I’d worn him down, his guard went back up, and it was like we were complete strangers all over again. Granted, I barely knew anything about him other than he was an English major and really liked my lemon bars, but sometimes he cracked and grinned at me, and I wondered if we could be something like friends. His steely walls never stayed down for long, though. And they were high as ever tonight.
“Do pets get to ask questions? Your owner wants you to watch, so you watch,” he intoned, then flicked his attention to his cell.
Properly put in my place, I took in my surroundings from beneath my lashes, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. I landed on Reno on the other side of the ring, one girl in his lap, another hanging off his shoulder. Two very large men in black suits flanked him, and from their somber expressions, I wondered if they’d ever smiled a day in their lives.
Reno glanced my way just as I was studying him. When he caught me, his mouth lifted into a smarmy little smile, then he licked his bottom lip and winked. I held in my shudder, tucked my hair behind my ear, and attempted to play it off like I hadn’t noticed him. Instinct told me Ireallydidn’t want Reno’s attention.
From my other side, Julien grazed my arm, drawing my gaze back to his. “He’s not going to get hurt. Not anything major, at least.”
My lips pursed. “And his opponent?”
His mouth twitched. “Not the same story for him. Never is. Are you actually worried about a stranger?”
“I’m not sure if worried is the right word. I just don’t think I’ll enjoy watching two men brutalize each other.” I tapped my foot on the concrete floor. “And from the front row, no less.”
Julien clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Yeah, I get that, baby girl. But Amir wanted you here, and since you’re his, this is where you’re going to be.”
I released a long exhale, accepting this was my fate. “I won’t like it, but I’ll be fine.” And I would. I’d faced worse than watching the man who’d held me hostage get pummeled—hopefully—or pummel someone else—less hopefully.
Amir’s fight was second on the docket. I closed my eyes through the first one, which didn’t last as long as I’d feared it would. But by the time one man was declared the winner, my stomach was in knots and I had to swallow again and again to stop myself from retching. Thesoundsof violence made me ill. Flesh slapping flesh. Moans of pain, grunts of breath being forced out by angry fists. And at the end, the chilling snap of a bone breaking followed by an animalistic squeal I would never, ever unhear.
Julien had taken my trembling hand in his at some point during the fight. I clung hard to him, attempting to get my heartbeat under control. I abhorred violence. I always had. It came from my dad. My mom was the one who’d killed bugs for us while we hid.
Julien was still holding it when Amir came jogging out from between the stands, his arms raised above his head as the crowd stomped and cheered. There had to be a few hundred people here, but Amir’s gaze landed on me, and his midnight eyes hardened to steel when he saw where my hand was.
“Shit,” Julien muttered, quickly taking his hand off mine.
I wanted to tell Julien not to worry. I would explain to Amir about the bone breaking and my shaking hands, but Amir’s blatant fury had me in a choke hold. My throat closed in on itself, and not one sound would come out.
His opponent emerged next. He was similar in size to Amir, but older and more grizzled, with a flattened nose and tattoos that looked like they’d been done with a safety pin and ink from a ballpoint pen. For the first time, I was actually worried for Amir.
A girl with silky black hair, a tight pink minidress, and platform heels strutted up to Amir, leaned over the rope, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He glared at me while she touched him, rubbing his shoulders like she was his personal trainer warming him up for the fight. Then he whispered something in her ear, making her press her boobs to his back and smile bright.
Beside me, Marco shook his head. “Vanessa doesn’t give up.”
“It doesn’t look like he wants her to give up,” I blurted.
Marco turned to me, giving me a slow, amused grin. “Kitty’s got claws. Like that, Z.”
“I don’t have claws,” I murmured, doubting he heard me over the roar of the crowd. The referee had stepped in the middle of the ring, calling for Amir and his opponent to meet in the middle. Amir gave me a long, sharp look before turning his back and walking to bump taped-up fists with the other fighter.
My insides were in achy knots. I’d rather Amir throw away a thousand of my dinners than sit through this. I hated every second of it, and it was only going to get worse.
After the referee spoke to both men, he stepped back, and the fight began. I kept my eyes open but unfocused on the action until both Marco and Julien hissed. My eyes shot up to the ring. Amir was on his toes, dancing back from Grizzled, a trickle of blood coming from his eyebrow.
Oh no. I did not like that.
