"I'll think about it," Pax said quietly. "I just don't know if I can handle the weight of someone else's expectations right now."
With a nod, I finished my water and replaced the cup on his tray. "I understand that, and there's no pressure here, okay? I think you know this is all new territory for me. But I'm here. I want to be here for you. With you."
That got me a small smile which I couldn't help but return. Static sounded in my ear a moment before Axel's voice came through my comm, "A person could die of thirst over here while you two make moon eyes at each other."
I ducked my head and chuckled before glancing back up and catching the puzzled look on Pax’s face. "Axel is apparently about to perish from dehydration," I said, pointing to my earpiece.
The little blush Pax had been sporting turned even darker as my smile got bigger.
"Well, we wouldn't want that," he said, taking a small step back.
I wanted to reach out and touch him so badly, but this wasn't the place, so I settled for shooting him a wink and letting my eyes linger on him as he disappeared back into the crowd, making his way across the room. Lifting my wrist to my mouth, I pressed my mic. "You're an asshole."
I couldn't hear their laughter, but I could see the smirks on each of the three other men positioned in the corners around the room. With a little shake of my head, I settled back into my ready position—feet shoulder width apart, knees loose, and my hands clasped in front of me while my eyes scanned over the crowd. Lifting my wrist again, I pressed the communicator. "Eben, check in."
A moment later, Eben's voice filled my ear, "All's quiet. Waiting on a few stragglers."
"Good. Keep me updated. The fight should be starting soon."
"Understood."
This party was invitation only, and typically those invitations went to rich assholes in various social circles that preferred a little blood with their entertainment. There were different gyms around that we pulled opposing fighters from, but the Heretics liked to be on the winning side of things, and all of our fighters came from the Heretics’ owned gym in Sand Lake. Jebidiah Campbell, Lex's dad, was the President of that chapter and operated the gym, producing top-notch fighters looking to cut their teeth and make some money in the illegal fight circuit.
A few moments later, several more guests stepped into the room and Eben said his list had been cleared. On my signal, Zach, the Prospect we had watching the fighter’s changing rooms, let them know that we were ready to begin and sent the announcer out. I kept my eyes scanning the room as the announcer stepped into the cage, and in a booming voice, riled up the spectators as he gave stats for each of the fighters.
The crowd placed last bets and some wandered over to the bars to refresh their cocktails as the excitement in the room ramped up for the show. Some thumping rock music poured through the speakers that we'd set up as the fighters made their way to the cage. These parties demanded the whole production, right down to the little details.
As the fighters came out, their progression wasn't where I kept my eyes. More than once we'd seen fights break out in the crowd when too much drink in the volatile atmosphere—not to mention the potential for large amounts of money to change hands—sent people to a breaking point. Unfortunately, a few years back, we'd lost a Heretic when a guest pulled a knife on another guest and he'd stepped in to stop the fight. Chris Vanos, Eben's brother, had been fatally stabbed. His death had led to more rules and tighter reigns about who was let into our events and what they were allowed to bring into the building.
The music died out as the fighters squared off. When the bell rang, the fighters launched themselves at each other, clinching in the center of the cage, each vying for the upper hand and determined to put on a good show for their audience. It wasn't a bare knuckle fight, but the men wore very small gloves and there were very few rules.
One of the fighters broke away and threw a flurry of punches. The other fighter blocked and they bounced from foot to foot, dancing around the cage and looking for an opening. As soon as they found it, one of them shot in for a takedown, and just as the fighter hit the mat with a smack, the side door of the barn burst open and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Six
Pax
I managed to get around the rest of the perimeter delivering water to all of the Heretics guys before the fight started. I knew once the fighters were in the cage, most everyone would be so focused on them that they wouldn't be worried about us, and it was usually the time that we went around the edges of the crowd and collected any trash or took orders when someone flagged us down.
I stole a glance at Mace in his position in the corner. He looked sexy as hell in his suit with his dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail and the black wired earpiece fitted over the top of his ear. I saw him so often in the more casual security attire for Spritz or in his Iron Heretics vest that it was easy to forget how well he cleaned up for events like this.
Not all fights required a suit and tie, though. Depending on the location and clientele, some of these parties let me double the nightly income that I made at Spritz working the bar or serving. When the opportunity came up, I usually tried to be on staff for them.
My heart was still buzzing from the wink Mace had given me and from him telling me that we should sleep together again. I wasn't lying when I told him that the night before had been some of the best sleep I'd had in a long time. It was also shocking how much better I felt being well rested. When I'd first woken up alone, a pang of disappointment had settled in my gut. It was alleviated fairly quickly when I saw the scrap of paper on the nightstand. It hadn't been any flowery or fancy words, not that I expected them from Mace, and that was okay. I wasn't one for sappy nonsense myself, but simply knowing he'd thought to leave a note soothed my disappointment and made my heart race all over again. The note had said, Good morning beautiful. I'll see you later. As simple as it was, it sent my stomach fluttering like a teenager with a crush.
We were walking in dangerous territory. I knew that. I'd known it the moment I slipped into the bed. If I were being honest with myself, I would say I'd known it for much longer, possibly since a busted up and bruised Mace had stepped into my apartment with Pip all those months ago.
The fight was in full swing now, pulling all the spectators' eyes to the cage. I made my way over to one of the makeshift bars. tossing some trash into one of the receptacles there when the side door, not five feet down from me, burst open. The tray in my hands clattered to the floor as several men in dark hoodies and ski masks burst into the room with baseball bats in their hands.
Chaos erupted as people screamed when the men charged forward. I felt frozen, my feet rooted to the floor in fear. One of the men who'd rushed toward the crowd swung his bat, knocking a beer bottle out of someone's hand before the masked man lowered the bat and used his shoulder to ram into the person, knocking them and two other people to the ground.
The other men were swarming around the room, and I could hear the Heretics barking orders as they rushed in to protect the crowd and stop the intruders. The man who’d just knocked over those people turned and locked his eyes on mine. The kind of terror I hadn't known in months leached every rational thought from my head. I wanted to shrink in on myself and disappear, to hide, to run, but I was frozen where I stood.