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“But Tom–”
“He’ll be okay. Like you said: trust Harley to do what he needs to do to get them out of this. He won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t keep you safe.”
Tears sting the corner of my eyes, and I’m mad at Lachy for leaving Tom with those guys. If anything happens to him…
The crowd roars, and I look down to see the fight has begun. The fighters are dancing around the cage, sizingeach other up. Lachy continues to pull me along through the crowd, and I have to drop my gaze to my feet in order not to trip over. He comes to a stop diagonally across from where we were just standing with Tom, and I’m relieved to see him, face tight, watching the fight going on below. Lachy has been careful to keep me wedged slightly between him and a group of tall men, so that I can’t be seen by the man Tom owes money to.
The sound of skin hitting skin draws my eyes back to the cage, The Hurricane having decided to go in for the kill. He’s raining blow after blow on The Reaper, the tattooed man currently curled up against the cage protecting himself from the onslaught. It appears this plays into his strategy, though, and I see the glint in his eye as he draws his legs close to his body before kicking The Hurricane in the stomach and shoving him away.
The Hurricane’s eyes go wide as he staggers back, clearly thinking he had the upper hand. He doesn’t even see it coming when The Reaper flips to his feet and bellows as he aims a roundhouse kick to The Hurricane’s head that has his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he even hits the mat. The first fight has ended in a total knockout.
As we wait for The Hurricane to be removed from the cage by two burley security guards wearing masks, my eyes scan the cells holding the fighters still waiting their turn. There are a range of ages and sizes.
A sixty-year-old silver fox catches my eye with a neatlytrimmed beard that would make Santa Claus proud. I’m sure there are a few women amongst the crowd who wouldn’t mind sitting on his lap. I don’t like the calculating gleam in his eye, though, as he watches over the cage below. This man screams danger.
EACH FIGHT IS more brutal than the next, and each one ends in a total knockout, with no one wanting to tap out, causing the dread in the pit of my stomach to grow. Zeke–AKA The Prophet–is called for the fifth fight, and when his cell lights up, I catch a glimpse of Harley in the next one over. He’s sitting there, tense with a grim look on his face. My heart aches for him. MMA was supposed to be his outlet–his space where he regained a semblance of control. This goes against all of that, but he's doing it to save his brother. That’s the selfless person he is.
Zeke plays it up for the crowd as he casually strolls down to the cage, like he’s not worried about his opponent one bit.
The Viper is a wiry kid not much older than me. He’s jumpy, his eyes darting around the crowd like a rabbit in headlights. He shakes out his arms, bouncing on his toes, and it’s clear he has no idea what he’s doing.
“Zeke’s going to slaughter this kid,” I mutter with a shake of my head.
“Hmm?” Lachy’s watching the bookies movingthrough the crowd.
“Nevermind.”
He glances down at me. “I need you to do me a favour.”
“What?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t give me the chance to argue as he hurries off towards the closest bookie. I have no idea what he’s doing, but my stomach clenches as I wait for him to return.
I glance around, but no one is taking any notice of me. I tug Harley’s jacket closer, tucking my head into the collar and breathing deep. It doesn’t do anything to quell the uneasy feeling settling over me that something terrible is about to happen.
The referee calls the start of Zeke’s fight, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding when I see Lachy making his way back through the crowd towards me. He slings his arm around my shoulder with an easy grin as his eyes lock onto the cage below. “This stays between us, bella. Surfer Boy doesn’t need to know I left your side.”
I narrow my eyes with an annoyed huff, crossing my arms over my chest as I focus on Harley’s mentor. He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat as he bounces around his opponent, giving him a couple of love taps as he dodges The Viper’s sloppy hits easily.
The crowd laughs, getting a kick out of the spectacle before them. The previous matches have been aggressiveand angry, but this is like a comedic relief half-time show or something. Zeke sticks his jaw out to his opponent, tapping it as if he’s giving him a free shot.
The Viper’s face goes red. He takes another swing, but Zeke does an impressive back handspring and, as he lands back on his feet, he spins around with a high kick that connects with The Viper’s jaw. Blood sprays the mat as the kid goes down hard. He never even connected a hit on Zeke.
Lachy crows, leaning in to press a kiss to my temple. “Well, bella, looks like we’ve just helped get Harley and Tom out of their little situation.”
“What are you talking about?”
He grins. “I just put a thousand dollars on our friend The Prophet to get through his fight without a scratch. I just made ten k.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. I plan on doubling down on Harley, so now all we need is for your guy to win his fight, and we should have close to enough to pay off their debt.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe out, shaking my head. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“What can I say?” he says with a cheeky wink. “I just got caught up in the moment.”
