AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dog nodded and glanced at Luke. Luke was staring at the bloodied guy and turning a little green.
Dog gave a brief salute to the grinning fools—he had to keep the fans on his side. They opened a path, and he approached the temporary enclosure. Spotlights run by generators added to the noise and heat. Nine feet of twisted rope, strung from iron poles set in cement blocks, anchored each side of the ring. Two steps to meet a rival. Not much room to maneuver. It kept the fights intense. A thick layer of sawdust softened the concrete floor. It soaked up blood but not its metallic odor, a scent strangely comforting to Dog.
Organizers pulled the unconscious challenger under the ropes. That was one of the few rules—if a competitor was still, the bout was over. The only way to halt a match once it started was yelling stop, tapping out, or not moving because a man was either out—or dead.
The downed fighter appeared young, twenty maybe. The bouts often attracted younger fighters hoping to earn easy cash, a response to a hard-luck economy. Not everyone could stand being underground at the mine.
The boy sported a swollen eye and bloody nose. His bare chest looked bruised, probably with one or two broken ribs. Good thing he was unconscious. The treatment he was getting would’ve hurt like hell otherwise.
Dog had suffered a dispute ending this way back in juvie. He hadn’t been able to see out of one eye for a week. The doc hadn’t set his nose right, and it bent to the left. But it had toughened him up real good.
Back then, just like now, fighting eased something sinister and ugly inside him. Made it easier to live his suck-ass life.
The ref moved to the center of the ring to announce the next fight. The brothers couldn’t have timed their arrival any better because the bout Dog wanted to watch was next.
With Snake and his opponent clear of the ropes, the ref called out, “And for our last bout tonight, we have Final Blow and Misery!”
Nate and his rival entered the ring amid hoots and cheers. They couldn’t have been more different in how they acted. Final Blow clenched his fists, flexing his arms and back, his body ripped from work in the mine. A scowl creased his face, and his gaze never left Nate.
Nate, aka Misery, circled the enclosure with a shit-eating grin, high fiving spectators. Nate was the senior manager of the quarry, and his ever-present ass kissers were working the crowd, drumming up last minute bets. Technically, Nate was Blow’s boss, but that didn’t factor in the ring.
When Nate made it to where the brothers stood, he locked eyes with Dog. He lifted his hand for Dog to slap. Dog crossed his arms over his chest. With a shrug, Nate engaged the fans again and moved on.
After the dramatic shit finished, the ref squared off the competitors. The whistle blew. They measured each other, launching occasional test punches.
“I saw Nate at McAuliffe’s the other day,” Dog said, not taking his eyes off the match.
McAuliffe’s was a biker bar where the club liked to hang. Not Nate’s kind of place at all. He was way too ‘upstanding’ to slum there. Expensive clothes and a clean-cut image hid how fucked up Nate really was. Just like Dog’s douchebag father.
“I can’t believe he’s already following you,” Cutter replied. “You ain’t even accepted the offer to fight. Does the jackass ever work?”
Luke shook his head. “He’s got all those bootlickers to do it for him. You’d think he was a god the way the miners worship him. But with all the connections he has in Edwards and Asheville, maybe he is.”
Dog had known Nate since high school, though they’d never run in the same crowd. Nate was the good-boy athlete. Dog wasn’t. But the good boy had faded away after graduation. Nate climbed the ranks at the mine, and with the prominence he’d become arrogant. After what he did to Krystal…
Not a god. Not a chance. Just a sleazy motherfucker who needed to be watched.
Nate landed a solid punch to Blow’s face, slicing open his cheek and knocking him to the sawdust. The onlookers roared at the wet sound of fist splitting flesh. A pretty brunette near the ropes yelled for Blow to get up. Nate blew her a kiss, and she spat at him.
Hmmm. Something was up there. Blow’s girlfriend maybe?
Blow stared at her, and grim determination settled across his face as he struggled to stand.
Cutter snorted. “Word is Nate targets friends and family of a rival, especially the women. Hell, after Krystal’s experience, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Blow’s gaze flip-flopped between the brunette and Nate. Not good. Once a fighter was in the ring, he needed to tune everything out—the crowd, sounds, lights—and focus only on his opponent.
“Krystal’s under club protection now,” Dog said. “Besides, I got no family or woman that’s mine. Brothers can take care of themselves.”
Dogcouldn’thave a woman that was his. He wouldn’t risk it with the rage that boiled inside of him. Rage his father had put there.
That’s just the way men are, his ma had said long ago, talking about his dad’s temper. The way Dog was wired, she must’ve been right.
Blow growled when he swung. His wild punches rarely made contact with Nate. Nate’s were well timed and brutal. Two hits to Blow’s face, and blood poured from his nose. Another vicious one to the ribs. The brunette screamed profanity at Nate.
“It’s not going well for Final Blow, is it?” Luke asked.
“That’s an understatement,” Cutter replied.
