I raise my hand again, but he grips it in his large one and squeezes. My fingers bend and crunch together. I grit my teeth, but I don’t let him see any kind of pain. I lock eyes with him and hold until he pulls on my fist, leaning in closer.
“Hit me again, boy, you won’t like it.”
“Speak about her again,” I spit, “and you won’t like it either.”
“Get back out there and finish this. We’ll talk later.”
“No,” I say, turning, “we won’t. I’m done tonight.”
“We’ve got another fight, Jagger!” Mick roars.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
I lean down and take the shirt sitting on the silver bench. Then, throwing it over my shoulder, I walk out, leaving him to scream and snarl curses at me. Good, let him. I couldn’t care less. I step out into the fresh night air and stroll briskly down the street. Florida. We’ve done three fights here, and I have another two before we go elsewhere. I’m sick of traveling, I’m sick of broken bones, split lips, and pain. I’m always in fucking pain. I’d do it all over again though, for her. I’d do anything for her, and that’s why I’m here.
I think about her every day. I can never get the image of her being dragged away from my mind. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know if she’s okay. Last time I spoke to the boys was the day I left to go find her on that island. I told them if they came after me, I would end them, and they knew I meant it. I told them to keep her away from me. Tore my fuckin’ heart out but I know her, I know she would have come after me if she thought there was a chance.
There isn’t a chance.
While Mick is around, there’s never a chance. I’ve thought of killing him, but it goes far deeper than just him, and he’s made that loud and clear. It’s a massive group of people all willing to defend him. I’d have to take out the lot and even I’m not that good. I haven’t spoken to Maggie in months—I know she’s worried, and I can only hope Willow has explained things to her.
Willow, God, she fuckin’ breaks my heart. She’s on my mind every second of every hellish long day. I broke her, and I know she’s suffering. I can’t fix her. I can’t see her. I can never love her again, and that’s enough to break me. Fighting is the only way to keep on track, it’s a way to channel my anger and, for that, I’m grateful. I’d do anything to make sure she’s safe, and if it means giving my entire life, I will.
I step into a local bar just down the road from the fighting ring. It’s packed, so I find a seat and order a drink. It won’t be long before Mick finds me, he doesn’t like me being out in public. Guarantee he already has eyes on me. People swarm around me, chatting, dancing, and flirting. I look down at my beer and try to keep the thoughts from drowning me. The bar attendant pulls up a stool and stares over the bar at me, his eyes scan my face. He’s old and bald, but he has kind eyes.
He shoves another beer my way.
“You look like you need it, son.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Tough night?”
“Tough life.”
“That good, hey? Wanna tell me about it? I hear it helps.”
I raise a brow. “I doubt it would, but thanks.”
“You look like you got a busted lip there, needs stitches that does.”
I touch my split lip and wince. Well fuck, more stitches. Half the time I don’t bother, it isn’t worth it considering I’ll just end up with more the following day, or week, or month. I leave it most of the time, resulting in more than one infection and deep scar. What do I care? I’m not here to impress anyone. I’m here until I die, that’s the entirety of it.
I grunt in response and drop my hand. I ignore the blood that smears on the beer bottle, and bring it to my lips again anyway.
“Fighter?”
“Something like that.”
He nods, rubbing his chin. “Well, son, I hope it gets better for you.”
If only it were that simple.
If fuckin’ only.
WILLOW
“I think we’ve got the information we need,” Angel says.
I’ve just walked out early in the morning, in my cotton pants, an oversized shirt, and some serious sleepy eyes when he’s in my face. I rub the sleep from my vision and blink at him. His hair is messy, but his eyes are filled with hope, and I hate staring at them, because it gives me hope, and hope is something I don’t want to allow myself to have.
“Good morning, Angel.”
“Did you hear me?”
“I did but being that I have barely been awake two minutes, I don’t think I processed it or maybe I don’t want to process it because I’m in some sort of denial.”
“I found a way to contact him.”
That wakes me up. I stare at him, heart leaping in my chest, skin prickling.
“What?”
He smirks. “Now I’ve got your attention.”
“Spit it out, Angel.”
“Okay, so, everyone who puts massive bets on the fights, goes through Mick. It’s the club law. He runs everything. He handles everything. The twist is, Mick then has Jagger follow those men out into the dark and ... sort them out.”
Say what?
“Excuse me? I don’t think I got that right.”
“You got it right. Mick makes his money because he cashes in their bets when Jagger wins. He not only gets his own money, he gets all theirs too. It’s a good system, really. Jagger is sent to make sure those men don’t come back, if you know what I mean? In fights like that, police don’t get involved. It’s a gang war basically and people show up dead all the time. It’s easy enough to get away with.”
“Okay, let me get this straight. Mick takes all the bets, then he sends Jagger out to kill them so he can cash the money they’re supposed to win?”
“That’s it, except I don’t think Jagger kills them. Some he just ... scares off. Mick has ways of making things like that happen, and he wouldn’t do it for all of them, just the guys with the big money, or the people from out of town.”
“Okay,” I mutter, still confused. “But how does this involve seeing Jagger?”
Angel smirks. “We’re going to make a bet.”
I raise my brows. “We’re going to bet? I thought you said it was only open to certain people?”
“If it’s enough cash, Mick will take notice.”
“It’s dangerous,” Ace says, appearing in the kitchen with Jenny by his side.
“How long you been listenin’ in?” Angel asks him.
“Long enough to know it’s a bad idea.”
“It’s the only one we’ve got,” Angel says. “Now, let’s see if we can disguise Willow enough for her not to be noticed. I’ll make breakfast.”
Hesitantly, I go and get Cody out of his crib, feed him, and put him in his playpen. Then, I shower and take a seat so Ava and Jenny can get to work at trying to change my look. Apparently, judging by the arguments happening between Angel and Ace, they think it’s best for me to go in, make a bet, and hopefully when Jagger comes after me, manage to speak with him before he plugs me with a bullet. Solid.