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“Who is it?” Lily asks.
I look at Tom. “It’s going down tonight.”
His face pales. Lachy looks between the two of us. “What am I missing? What’s on tonight?”
I blow out a deep breath. “I’m fighting.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
LILY
HARLEY TRIED TO make me stay at home, but I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t going to sit back and wait for him when he was putting his life in danger. Lachy wasn’t staying behind either, and he promised Harley he’d keep me safe.
I ride on the back of Harley’s bike, tucked into him with my hands banded tight around his waist. Tom and Lachy follow in Ronnie’s car. The road south out of town winds tight around the coastline. It’s a beautiful view, but I can’t appreciate it when my stomach is in my throat not knowing what we’re walking into. Harley trusts Zeke, but I know what these underground fight clubs can be like. I went a couple of times when my cousin Jasmine’s ex was fighting. One night we had to carry him out of there bloodied and beaten to within an inch of his life. I never went again after that.
This is all too close to the life I left behind in Sydney, but the difference is I care about these people. I care about Harley. Truth is, I fell for him the moment he savedmy life. My Hercules.
We pull into an abandoned warehouse district about half an hour out of Blue Haven. The headlight of his bike shines on the glittering shards of broken glass from the smashed windows. I’m wondering if we’re in the right place when he rounds one of the dilapidated buildings, and there are hundreds of cars parked haphazardly out the front of a giant warehouse that is lit up. Loud music pulses through the quiet night, but we’re far enough from the road that it can’t be seen or heard.
According to Zeke, each fight night is held in a different location only given out at the last minute in order to stay off the radar of local police. Harley rolls through the car park slowly, and I take it all in. The clientele varies in age and roughness. I swallow down my fear when Harley pulls to a stop, and I climb off the back of his bike. I take off my helmet, shaking out my hair, unable to stop my eyes from darting around the dark parking lot.
Lachy pulls up close by. He and Tom climb out, and lean against the hood of Ronnie’s car as they wait for us.
Harley removes his helmet and swings his leg over so he’s sitting sideways on his bike. I step in between his legs, splaying my palms onto his chest.
“You don’t have to do this. We can find another way to get the money.”
He says nothing but tilts my chin so he can capture my lips in a slow, toe-curling kiss that sets my heart racing.When he pulls away, I shiver at the loss of his warmth, and he slips his leather jacket off, sliding it over my shoulders. I close my eyes and breathe in his masculine scent.
“You’re not to leave Lachy’s side, do you understand?” I gaze up into his icy blue stare and nod. “I mean it, Kitten. I can’t concentrate in the cage if I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself.”
He closes his eyes and leans forward until his forehead rests against mine, his arms band around my waist, pulling me close enough that our breath mingles in the cool night air. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to let Lachy take you home?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He breathes out a sigh. “I thought so.”
I press my lips to his. “You’ve got this. You’re a good fighter, Herc. Give ‘em hell.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Glad someone believes in me, Kitten.”
“Always.” We step away from his bike and he slings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me flush against his body. He picks up his training bag in his other hand, and we follow Tom and Lachy over to the entrance of the warehouse.
We all have to hand our phones over at the makeshift cloakroom. Tom hesitates, having only just messaged the guys he owes money to. They wanted to watch their “asset” in action.
“No phone, no entry,” the guy with the impressivemohawk tells him.
Tom checks his phone once more before handing it over. They’re placed in a lock box, and Harley types in a pin code that we all attempt to commit to memory. It’s a one-hundred-dollar entrance fee per person, something Zeke failed to inform us. Luckily, Lachy has cash on him, brushing Harley away when he tells him he’ll pay him back. Harley informs them he’s one of the fighters, and they tell us to head downstairs to the basement, follow the signs to the changerooms on the opposite side of the cage, and give his name.
Lights flash, giving me a headache as we push ourselves through the throng of people. There’s at least a thousand people packed in here, only about a quarter are female. The feeling of being watched settles heavily over me, and I press myself closer to Harley’s side. His grip on me is almost bruising. Tom moves to my other side, while Lachy falls in behind us. Whether consciously or not, they’ve formed a protective barrier around me.
There’s no seating, only thick concrete steps that lead down to the cage in the middle of the open area. People are packed in tight, the heat of the bodies almost suffocating, but I don’t remove Harley’s jacket. It’s like a security blanket, wrapping me in his scent, keeping him close even though I know I’m going to have to let him go soon.
My eyes drift to the big screens above the cage. There are a list of names and numbers that mean nothing to me.Around the top of the makeshift arena are a bunch of empty cages that look like prison cells. They have a single chair in each of them.
I tug on Harley’s hand to get his attention. “What are those?” I shout, pointing up at them.
