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Mandy schooled her expression while her insides twisted. “You have to let the hate go, or it will hurt you in the end.”
“There’s only one person who will be hurting in the end, and I’ll make sure that Serpent pays for what he did to Achilles.” Ajax spun toward the door and slammed it behind him.
Mandy despised the pain and anguish living inside Ajax, but his swearing vengeance on Mamba wasn’t an empty threat. There was no way she could warn Mamba, and she couldn’t take the chance of being seen at the Gold Mine. She couldn’t even share her fears with the other girls at the salon because Lisa, the supervisor, was Ajax’s girlfriend.
Creative Nails was a Marauder-owned business, and most of the other nail technicians were either related to or dating a Marauder. They all followed the Marauders blindly without giving any thought to consequences or thinking independently.
She’d learned to keep her opinions to herself, but she couldn’t help speaking out this morning against Ajax and this way of thinking. Miranda was twenty-two, yet he still treated her like a child. He told her how to act and react, and she’d gone along out of respect, but she couldn’t justify setting up an innocent man—even if he was a Serpent and the person who put Achilles in a wheelchair.
* * *
The ride did nothing to calm Mamba’s thoughts. The videotape created a shit-ton of other questions he couldn’t wrap around his head. The Marauders controlled most of the underground fights, finding the locations, putting the fighters together, and running the security. They even took care of the distribution of product to any fighter who wanted an extra boost. Mamba stayed away from all that shit because he didn’t want anything to mess with his coordination. His fighting skills were compared to a very intricate, deadly dance—one he perfected over the years out of dedication and survival. The natural euphoria of slamming his fist into another guy’s face was all the high he needed.
The blazing sun and the whipping wind usually eased the tension clawing through his skin. Mamba’s insecurities of growing up with a broken-down fighter as a father surfaced—the man who dragged him from one dive bar to the next, trying to hit the big time. He’d never gone to the same school for a full year, and half the time, he’d end up sleeping on some hooker’s couch or in the back room of a bar. Mamba lived with the underlying itch of not being smart enough, tough enough, or just not good enough.
He wrestled with his brain for the last half hour, telling himself that what he was about to do was stupid, crazy, and maybe even dangerous. Cobra would certainly hate it along with Miss Hot-Shot lawyer, Syd, but he took the left on Charleston anyway and wheeled into the parking lot behind Creative Nails. If there was any higher power looking over him, this would be Mandy’s day off, and he’d zip back to the Gold Mine—But no, there was her black compact car parked in the far corner of the lot.
Just like he thought, no almighty power cared enough to keep him from making this huge fuckin’ mistake.
Mamba hung his helmet on the handlebars, wiped the sweat from his neck with his bandana, and shoved it in his back pocket. He headed through the salon’s backdoor, ignoring the stares from some of the workers, planted his scuffed booted feet at the back end of the room, and zeroed in on Mandy engaged in conversation with her client.
His weathered leather and denim stood out against the white furniture and pastel-colored room filled with women. His mere presence attracted odd glares and furrowed brows. Mandy shifted in her chair to see what caught everyone’s attention, and when their eyes connected, her mouth dropped open. Her client, noticing her dramatic reaction, also swiveled her head in his direction. Mandy leaned in, said something to the woman, pushed away from the table, and made a beeline to where he stood.
“What are you doing here?” She hissed, grabbing his forearm and dragging him out of everyone’s view. She was surprisingly strong for a little thing.
“I came to see you.”
“Well, I didn’t think you came in for a pedicure.” Mandy angled Mamba toward the alcove alongside the restrooms. “You shouldn’t be here.” She shot a look over her shoulder, then glared back at him.
“I need to talk to you. Tell your boss you’re taking a break.”
“It doesn’t work that way. First of all, I’m with a client”—she peeked around the alcove—“and secondly, my boss is Ajax’s girlfriend, and you being here is not good. Ajax is furious about your release, and I’m sure he’ll try to retaliate.”
“I’m not afraid of Ajax, and I’m sure as shit not afraid of his old lady.”
Mandy glanced at the old-school clock on the opposite wall. “We close at six.”
“I’ll wait outside on my bike.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t stay here. Meet me at the entrance to Fremont Street.”
“Nah, no good.” Last thing he needed to be spotted in the heart of Marauder territory. “Meet me in the lot behind the Gold Mine.”
“Are you crazy?” She tried to shove him closer to the door, but he held his ground. “Come back at six-thirty. I’ll be here cleaning up.”
CHAPTERFIVE
At exactly six-thirty, Mamba pulled into the now empty lot of Creative Nails. He shouldered through the back door and watched Mandy’s hips shift from side to side as she swept the floor.
“Hey.”
She startled slightly, then her head jerked up.
He closed the distance between them, removed the broom from her hands, and leaned it against the wall.
Mandy’s solemn gaze made it impossible to guess what she was thinking, which spooked him. He prided himself on knowing what most people were about to do or say before they did it.
“I’m guessing you know this is the worst mistake ever.” Her soft statement took him by surprise.
