As the last word left his lips, the fight began.
The crowd went wild.
So did the combatants.
After the first ten seconds, he could see who was going to win. A man with Fabio-like brown hair and super-shiny boxing trunks danced and dipped like he was being attacked by invisible bees.
As for his opponent, he slowly stalked toward Brunette Fabio, keeping his shoulders and arms loose, dressed in tight-fitting dark street clothes that couldn’t easily be snagged by his opponent, and wouldn’t show any blood for the journey home.
Clearly a veteran of The Pit.
Just as clearly, Brunette Fabio was not.
Brunette Fabio took the initiative by dancing and juking his way in while maintaining a half-assed boxer’s stance. But he forgot to keep his elbows tucked in, leaving his solar plexus wide open.
He may as well have hung a sign on that spot that read, Hit Me Here.
The veteran was kind enough to oblige him.
A jackhammer-hard punch right on the button doubled Brunette Fabio over to meet a lightning-fast knee to the chin.
Brunette Fabio was out before he hit the concrete floor.
“That was quick.” He shook his head, unimpressed. “Dink won’t be happy about that.”
“Shit.” With a cringing look of alarm, Alice stared at the crumpled figure of the pretend boxer. “We should call an ambulance. That guy’s not all right.”
“He’ll be fine. Dinky’s got medical staff. Or something close to it.”
“Close to it?”
“Med students who’re putting themselves through school doing what they like to do—patching up stupid people and making sure they keep breathing. I’m sure your foster brother appreciated having them around.” He turned to look at her, and raised a brow when she didn’t move, instead choosing to keep her gaze trained on a now-groggily sitting Brunette Fabio. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“You must think I’m an idiot if you believe I haven’t figured out why you brought me down here.” She uttered the words without an ounce of emotion as the pseudo-boxer got to his feet and staggered off while the crowd roared their displeasure at him. “Then again, maybe I am an idiot. I believed Felix when he told me he’d been randomly jumped by you. Once I started thinking about it, that story he gave us didn’t make sense.”
“Damn right it didn’t. I may have beaten Felix fuckface to a pulp ten days ago, but make no mistake, Alice. He came here to do the exact same thing to me. And I sure as hell didn’t rob the sonofabitch.”
“But Felix said that he lost the payroll…wait.” Her lips compressed as her attention zoomed to Dinky’s goons as they collected money from the losers who’d bet on Brunette Fabio. “Did that Dinky guy say that you bet on yourself whenever you fight?”
He watched her put the pieces together. “Yep.”
“Is that normal? I mean, do all the fighters bet on themselves? Or are you just that good?”
“There’s no or about it. I am that good, because I’ve done nothing but fight my whole life. And no fighter stepping into The Pit is going in there thinking he’s going to lose. Of course everyone bets on themselves.”
“Goddamn it.” With an explosive surge, she was on her feet and up the ramp before he knew what the hell she was going to do. By the time he caught up with her, she had already crossed to the other side of a lightly trafficked Lower Wacker, speed-walking in the direction of the opera house.
“Whoa.” Matching her long-legged stride, Loki kept his eyes on her taut profile. “Where’s the fire?”
“You jumped him.” The words shot out of her, sounding so strained it was like her throat didn’t want to let the words free. “That’s the fucking fairy tale Felix told us. Some guy named Loki from House Of Payne randomly jumped him. Felix said he figured it was because he’s ripped and super-muscular and looks like a tough take-down, and that you somehow knew he had this month’s payroll on him. That’s what he said. And he said you were probably trying to prove something to yourself in bringing down someone as intimidating as him.”
Now probably wasn’t the best time to bust out laughing, but he did it anyway. “Holy shit, he actually said that? And you bought it?”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah, my bad, but…” He tried and failed at stifling another laugh. “Holy shit, that’s rich.”
“When Felix was at Northwestern, he nearly got booted after he spent more time at All Rivers Casino than he did in class,” she pushed out between clenched teeth, still marching at top speed up the sidewalk. Every now and again cars flashed by, and the scent of exhaust was in every gritty breath. But all he could feel were the waves of fury pouring off her. “Back then he swore it was the stress of losing his father and the Fielding business falling into bankruptcy. He said that he’d learned his lesson. His mother, a good woman who literally dragged herself out of bed because she was dying of end-stage cancer, begged the dean to keep Felix enrolled. She even donated money they no longer had to the university—my damn college fund that I’d fucking paid into from the age of sixteen—to make sure Felix was allowed to stay in school.”
“Shit,” he said, his humor abruptly vanishing. “That spoiled little cocksucker.”
“We thought that moment scared him straight, that he’d dodged a bullet. Come to find out, that bullet just took its time in getting here.”
“Hate to say it, but your foster brother sounds like a first-rate brat, and that kind of candy-ass doesn’t do too well in The Pit,” he said honestly, refusing to pull his punches. That wouldn’t help her any. “You sure I’m the one who tuned him up?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore.” She came to such an abrupt halt that he’d gone two steps before realizing she was no longer with him. Then, with a low howl of rage, she executed a decent spin kick at the concrete wall next to her, then a crescent kick that had to have hurt. That thought snapped him into action when she reared back a fist, and he dived to catch her by the elbow just in time before she broke every damn bone in her hand.
“Whoa, easy. Easy.”
A jagged whoosh that could have been a sob ripped from her, and her hijacked punch spun her right into his chest. He braced, waiting for the inevitable punch that she obviously needed to get out of her system, but it never came. Instead, her forehead dropped to his chest, her breath heaving out of her. Warmth spread along his skin wherever she made physical contact with him, like sunlight after an ice storm, and he closed his eyes to better savor the sensation.
Then it was gone. Determinedly she pulled away from him and gripped her hands together, almost prayer-like, but her white knuckles told him a different story.
Clearly she was doing everything she could not to tear the world apart with her bare hands.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded as ragged as she looked, and he glimpsed a sheen of wetness under her eyes before she turned her face away to the passing traffic. “I’m so sorry I attacked you earlier today… Geez, was that just today?”
“It’s around one in the morning, so technically speaking that happened yesterday. A lifetime ago.”
“Again, I’m so sorry. You should’ve had me arrested.”