“Fighting is making money with your body.” He studied me, smugness shifting into curiosity. “You know the men wouldn't go easy on you in the ring. You'd let someone bust up your pretty jaw, just to save your pride?”
“Save my pride,” I chuckled cynically. “That's a polite way to phrase not wanting to be whored out to pay off a debt.”
He wasn't smiling any longer. “I can stop being polite, if that's what you prefer.” Two steps, he was on me. Nehro's aura was a razor on my throat. He didn't need to hold the weapon for me to feel the danger. “You're out of time, Zoe. I'm not about to let you get destroyed in the ring. Your body is worth much more.”
Looking down his nose at me, his slippery smile grew anew. He said softly, “I'd fight you myself. I could guarantee you came to no real harm.” Nehro scraped a fingernail along my forearm. “Just enough pain to show you this path ends with your pink lips and sweet cunt filling my wallet. It ends with you on your knees, until you're cleared of what you owe me.”
True terror locked up my tendons. I wanted to spit on him, and all I did was hold my breath and pray for a fucking miracle.
Echoing through the gym, the tapping on the door made me flinch. Nehro blinked, glaring at the entrance accusingly. Again, sharper than before, the knocking came. “Hello?” Huxton called, muffled through the wall. “It's me, Huck. You in there?”
Nehro shared a look with me. Breaking away, I ducked and wrenched the door up so fast it pulled my shoulder painfully. “Yes! I'm in here!”
Standing in the blue of the night, his body lit up like a fucking angel in the golden glow of the gym, Huxton was as close to a saint as I'd come across in a long while.
He wasn't nearly-naked like I'd seen him last, nor was he in the stuffy suit he'd stripped out of. In dark jeans and a closed leather jacket, he looked casual—wonderful. I spotted the motorcycle in the alley behind him. It explained how he'd gotten here so fast... or just fast enough.
The tattooed man took me in, his grin extremely pleased. “Hey there, long time no see.”
What a fucking joker. But he'd made me smile, though I think it was from relief more than anything else. “You made it. I thought—” Cutting myself off, I jammed the card into my purse. It didn't hold a square shape anymore, my palm was covered in red lines from the tension of squeezing it. “Come on, we need to get you ready.”
“Right, ready.” His attention shot over my head. I followed the look; Huck had noticed Nehro. Lowering the door, he spoke to me softly, never taking his wary stare off of the other man. “You could start by telling me what's going on.”
Nehro cleared his throat. “So, you're the one she called.” Extending a hand, he waited for Huck to shake it. “I'm Nehro Grant, her... employer.”
Standing to his full height, making me realize he was just big enough to look down on Nehro, Huxton shook his hand. “You don't say? I'm Huxton, guess I'm technically Zoe's employee for the evening.” He winked at me, and I knew he had no clue how serious all of this was. How could he?
Shit. Calling him had been a selfish move. What was wrong with me? Self-preservation, I told myself firmly. Desperation. I had no choice. It didn't make me feel any better.
Nehro chuckled, the knuckles in his hand going white. He was squeezing Huck roughly, eyeing me in distaste. “Employee? That's one way to look at it. Do you know why you're even here?”
Pulling his arm back, Huck was unfazed. He didn't act like Nehro's handshake had hurt at all. “Sure do,” he grunted.
No, he didn't. I was grateful he was lying for me. Having Nehro learn that Huxton had been my get-out-of-jail-free card was demoralizing. I wanted to get him alone so I could spill the details out of earshot.
Crinkling my nose, I put a hand on Huck's shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. “Alright, enough chit-chat. There's a schedule to keep.” Leaning up, I hissed into his ear quietly. “I promise I'll tell you what's going on, just... away from him.”
Nehro followed us down into the basement. The crowd was buzzing, impatient for the next fight—my fight—to begin. Under my palm, Huck's back was flexing through his jacket. I knew how good his skin felt, I'd experienced it. I prayed his ripped body wasn't just for show.
At the bottom step, I led Huxton towards a far wall. There wasn't much down here besides the ring. Nehro had a tiny office across the way, there were some benches in spots but everyone tended to stand around the circle in the cement instead.
I'd never seen another underground fighting pit. I bet they all looked just as grimy. “Okay,” I said, pushing Huck into the corner. “We have maybe three minutes.”
Facing me, he tucked his thumbs into his pockets with a confident smile. “That's very specific.”
Jerking my head towards the round clock on the wall, I spoke faster. “You should have been in the ring five minutes ago. Nehro is smoothing it over.” I could hear the change in the air, angry murmurs becoming agitated, but subdued. “What do you have on under your jacket?”
“I thought you called me to be your muscle, not to get me naked again.”
Heat swam up my neck. “This is serious.”
Pursing his lips, Huck slowly zipped the front down. “Stripping for you certainly was serious.” It took a great effort not to let my mouth fall open. He saw into my head, or the guy was just good at body language, because why else was he smirking so wickedly?
The shirt he had on was basic grey, long sleeved for the season. Too easy to grab, plus it'd slow him down. “That's going to suck to fight in,” I muttered. “The jeans might be alright, but...”
“Back up. Tell me who the hell I'm even fighting.” Scanning the mass of people, he looked less surprised than I thought he should.
There was a giant erase-board nailed to the opposite wall, close to Nehro's office. Pointing, I reached out to take his jacket. “His name is Shrapnel. Here, let me hold that for you.”
Huck offered me the garment, eyes slitting together. “Shrapnel? Sounds dangerous.”
Clutching the leather, feeling Huxton's warmth on it, I nodded. “He's not exactly going to hug you.” His smile melted, and with it went whatever fraction of false courage I had left. The shame was bigger, weighing me down. “Look... maybe this was stupid of me. Asking you to go in there and take on a guy you don't even know, it's kind of insane.”
Fuck. I was talking my only savior right out the god damn door. Huxton fighting was the only method left to avoid paying Nehro off in whatever perverse fashion he could come up with. If he just fought for me, just tonight... I could find someone else for next time.
Maybe.
...Doubtfully.
But I'd have the time to try.
“Calling me wasn't stupid.”
Stunned, I struggled to find my tongue and make words. “What?” Through the air, a bell chimed. The last warning, the fight was going to start now—or not at all.
Huck turned away from me, strolling toward the ring as he talked. “Muscle for hire, that's my job. Besides...” Tossing me one last smile, he peeled his shirt over his head and exposed his marble-carved body to the room. “You're acting like this is going to be my first fight.”
My heart swayed. Could he get away with being so cocky? “Do whatever you have to in there,” I blurted. “Shrapnel... he won't hold back. This isn't normal fighting. This is illegal, violent stuff. You could get really hurt in there.” You could die. I didn't say that last part.
Would you believe that his amusement never faltered? “Again. Not my first fight, doll.”
I caught his shirt when he threw it. Eyes had turned our way, Huxton weaving through the crowd with me chasing his heels. The ring was just a thick chalk outline, wide as a backyard swimming pool. On one end waited Shrapnel, a man with just as much mass as Huck—and no where near the same stock-pile of smiles.