Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
One way or another, I’m burning this goddamn place to the ground.
The whole place is quiet when Tusk drops the other man to the floor. Then he just stands there until Cherry glances up—fingers still in her ears—as if looking to see whether it’s over.
His teeth bloody, Tusk grins at her. “One more.”
She squeezes her eyes shut again. Tusk’s got one minute to finish the kill, so he starts stomping on Draft’s head.
I don’t watch that. Instead I look over Cherry’s bowed head at Crash. “What the fuck did that mean? ‘One more?’”
He looks real grim. “You win ten fights, you get a prize.”
“Her?”
He nods, then nudges her with his shoulder until she looks over at him. “We’re not going to let it happen, you understand? We fucking swear it.”
Her lips tremble. “Okay.”
Like she appreciates him saying so but doesn’t really believe it.
Crash narrows his eyes. “I mean it. Either your plan will get us out of here or it won’t. But Tusk won’t get to you. Not if we can help it. Right, brother?”
“Sounds right.” I’ll make it my fucking mission in life to bring Tusk down. All this shit needs to burn. And that sick fucker needs to burn with it.
Her lips are pressed together but her chin’s wobbling as she thanks him, then turns to me. Her eyes are bright.
“Thank you,” she whispers shakily.
“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done shit yet.”
“It still means something. Especially since…”
She trails off there and averts her eyes, but I know what she’s not saying. That she owes me.
But this is different. And not really for her. After what I just saw, I’d kill Tusk no matter what.
That she’s a prize simply gives me a timeline: it needs to be done before the next fight. Or during the next fight.
If there is one. “What plan to get out of here?”
She blinks and glances at me again, her eyes wary. But she only hesitates for a moment before she opens her mouth—then shuts it.
Because the guards come over and begin unchaining Crash and me.
Crash grunts. “Back to the van, then?”
“No,” the guard says. “You two are going into the Cage.”
Cherry abruptly frowns, shaking her head. “They aren’t cleared for it. Their bloodwork doesn’t pass.”
“Doesn’t matter. This isn’t part of the broadcast.”
Dismay widens her emerald eyes. “A demonstration?”
“Yep. On your feet, new guy.”
On my feet. While Cherry looks from Crash to me, all that dismay melting into horror and fear. Me, I’m still trying to fit this shit into my head. Supposedly, fighters from the same stables don’t ever face off against each other. We’re valuable assets, owned by Papa. So Papa might put us up against a fighter with a different owner, because although there’s a risk of losing that asset, there’s also a chance of winning big money—which is what this shit is really all about.
If Papa puts two of his own assets up against each other, though, there’s no real winning. Only losing.
So it doesn’t make any goddamn sense. Unless Papa decided that one of his assets isn’t worth much, anyway. Like if Papa found out an asset doesn’t really have an earache, but a tumor.
That better not fucking be what this is.
But Crash must be thinking the same. He confidently bumps fists with Handlebar while swaggering past his partner—then mutters, “I’ll take the bullet,” as we continue toward the Cage’s entrance.
“The fuck you will.”
“I’m already dead, brother. And you’ve got…” He trails off, looking into the Cage. “Hold up. Is this some tag-team shit?”
Because two men are coming in through the other entrance. One meathead who appears on the verge of shitting his pants. The other’s got his chin up, wearing an aggressive, cocky expression on a face that’s real familiar.
“Holy fuck,” I tell Crash. “That’s Sherlock—the prez of the Devil’s Hangmen. He’s the one who nabbed our girl Zoomie.”
And passed her over to the slick cartel fucker who would have stuck her in the Cage, too.
“Then why’s he still living?”
The slick fucker isn’t. But the Hellfire Riders didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves by taking out the Hangmen, too. Instead we stayed real quiet, so it looked like the Hangmen were responsible for losing Zoomie and killing the cartel’s man. “Blowback figured their higher-ups would take them out.”
Crash rolls his shoulders, loosening them up. “Looks like Blowback was right.”
Yeah, he was. Cherry called this a demonstration, and the guard said the broadcast was over. But the cameras are still filming. Because they’ll throw the two Devil’s Hangmen in the Cage as punishment for their fuckup—and use the video to make sure any other associates know the consequences of failure.
Which is pretty much what the emcee says during his introduction. I ignore the fucker, because he’s not telling me anything I need to know.
I say to Crash, “I’ll take Sherlock.”