Fighting Blind (13 page)

Theo

Bright lights flash around me. Fans scream in my ear. Cameras zoom in on my face. But I barely register the noise of the crowd as I step into the octagon.

All I can think about is the vague text message I got just minutes before stepping out here.

Two million by Sept 23.

Or the girl dies.

Go to the police and her punishment

will be worse than death.

I’m still shaking. Anger boils in my veins. I should have left the minute I knew something was wrong.

I need to end this fight, and quick. Get home. Make sure Mac is safe.

Evan grabs the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him. “Whatever’s going on in that brain of yours, shut it down.”

I shrug him off, and snap back, “I’m fine.”

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath when he places my mouthguard in. 

The rush of adrenaline I normally feel before facing an opponent is muted by my concern for her. It’s like moving in slow motion. As if everything is happening around me without me.

My feet move to the center of the ring, and I roll my neck, focusing on the man in front of me.

At six-foot-two, Clyde Williams stands almost three inches taller. With an extra four-inch reach and fifteen pounds on me, he’s a bear of a man, but I know his weakness, and I plan on exploiting it early and quickly.

Usually I let them toy with me for a round or two. There’s no need to humiliate them unless they’ve been running their mouth like Clyde has.

The man’s a dog. Dirty as shit. He deserves a quick, crushing loss.

And I plan on giving it to him.

In the ring, I’m a different man. Mean. Angry. A fucking animal. I need that now.

I need blood tonight.

Anger stirs in my gut when I think about what the bastard did to Mac. No one gets away with threatening what’s mine.

I focus that anger on my opponent. Rolling my upper lip, I snarl, narrowing my eyes.

The minute I lock gazes with Clyde, his arrogance disappears, replaced by cold fear.

It’s the edge I need. I growl, low in my throat, focusing only on my target.

The ref shouts over the crowd and the bell rings.

Clyde rushes me. I crouch low, plowing my shoulder into his gut, and using his forward momentum to flip him. He lands hard on his back, and I can tell by his expression he’s momentarily stunned.

I jump on top, straddling him, plowing my fist into his face. Once, twice, bloodying his nose.

To protect his face from more punches, he curls up on his side and places his arms in a position to avoid being hit to the temple. I take full advantage. I trap his right arm as my left hand pushes down on his face, then swing my left leg around his head and put him in a straight arm lock. 

He struggles beneath me. With his arm elongated, I elevate my pelvis off the mat and I contemplate breaking his elbow. It’s very close to breaking, and one little jerk on my part and it’s a done deal.

The crowd cheers, calling my name. I look up at the ref. He’s watching Clyde closely, ready to break my hold once he gives up.

“Tap, motherfucker,” I growl through my mouthpiece.

He’s trying to hold out for the bell. He’ll likely succeed if I don’t break his fucking arm. I need to finish the fight. No sense drawing it any longer than necessary.

I start to elevate my hips even higher off the mat, and fortunately for Clyde, he’s smart enough to tap before his arm snaps.

People flood the octagon. Trainers. Doctors. Reporters.

Someone wraps the Championship belt around my waist. And the MC is talking in my ear, a microphone shoved in my face.

I need to get out of here, but this is as much part of my contract as the damn fight.

Answering with the warranted yes and no’s, I clench my jaw suffering through the Q&A. 

This was supposed to be my last fight, the night I was going to announce my retirement. But I hold my tongue when the reporter MC speculates on the rumor.

“Do you have any finally words for Clyde Williams?”

This is my chance to send a message to the bastard who hurt Mackenzie. I grab the microphone and stare into the camera, pointing.

“No one threatens what’s mine.”

Mackenzie

I don’t know where Moody is taking me, and from the silent treatment he’s given me since I got in his truck, I have a feeling he has no intention of telling me.

We drive past the city borders and he takes the ramp onto the highway. He keeps driving until a florescent motel sign appears in the darkness.

“Stay here.” He slams the door and stalks towards the dimly lit entrance.

With my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, I nod. I don’t know what his intentions are, but I know he doesn’t want to hurt me.

Even if I did run, where would I go? We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest and mountains.

Moody comes back a few minutes later with an old key attached to a plastic yellow tag with the number twenty-one written in permanent marker. We drive around the side of the building, and he gets out, pulling a black duffle bag from the back.

I trudge behind him up the stairs to the second level, bringing my confiscated army bag with me.

When he opens the motel room, he throws his bag on one of the queen beds, and snarls, “Sit down.”

Tired and weak, I do what he says, sitting on the edge of the other bed.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Pulling what looks like a first aid kit from his bag, he moves towards me, eyes narrowed.

“Since you didn’t go to the hospital, I’m going to have to do my best to close that gash up.”

“It’s fine.” I reach to touch the wound and he swats my hand away.

“It’s going to get infected.”

I hiss in a breath when he presses a disinfectant cloth against my temple.

“It’ll probably scar,” he says, placing steri-strips across the gash.

I shrug. It’s close enough to my hairline that I don’t care.

With a heavy sigh, he applies the last strip, then stands, grumbling under his breath.

“Go have a shower.” He tosses a XXL t-shirt at me. “Just be careful not to get the wound wet.”

“What am I doing here?” I stare down at the club shirt, with Theo’s name written in block letters on the back.

He flops on the bed, fully dressed, and crosses one leg over the other, placing a hand under his head. Flipping on the old box TV, he lowers the volume and scans the channels.

“I missed the fight,” he grumbles, stopping on TSN.

I wince, knowing he blames me for it. But I didn’t ask him to come after me.

“Why didn’t you go to Vegas with him?”

He gives me a side-glance, then turns back to the TV. “I had a little trouble last time I was there.”

I don’t bother asking him what kind of trouble. It’s none of my business, just like my secrets are none of his.

They’re starting to show the highlights of the fights.

“Do you know how he did?”

“No.” He turns the volume up.

Slowly, I move off the bed, then make my way to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror and I pale. My face is worse than I thought. One eye is swollen, the skin surrounding it a mix of dark purple and red. There’s dried blood caked in my hair and around my ear. When I peel my clothes off, I notice other bruises too.

Clear fingerprints mark my arm.

I rest my hands on the cold ceramic sink, and a harsh sob rushes past my lips, making my entire body shake. Slipping to the floor, I pull a towel from the rack and wrap it around me.

“You okay in there?”

“Ye-yes.” I crawl to the tub and turn the water on.

I see Moody’s shadow pacing outside the door. Finally, it disappears.

Sinking into the warm water, I close my eyes and try not to think about what’s going to happen when Theo finds out I ran again. When he finds out I was going to abandon Logan.

I don’t know how long I stay in there, but it’s long enough for the water to turn cold.

The TV is off and Moody appears to be sleeping when I come out of the room. I turn the lights off and crawl into the other bed.

My body melts into the lumpy comforter. It’s not the most comfortable bed, but to my aching body, it’s heaven.

Shadows play off the wall, and long moments pass before Moody’s deep voice breaks the silence. “Is it drugs?”

“Yes.” There’s no point lying now.

He curses under his breath. “How much do you owe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I sigh heavily and stare up at the dark ceiling. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to tell him everything.

“The guy in the parking lot was my mother’s boyfriend. He used to beat the crap out of my mom, especially if I didn’t do small favors for him.”

I hear Moody’s tight intake of breath and know what he’s thinking.

“Not like that. It was mostly carrying. He’d give me a bag and have me deliver it, or go to someone’s house for a pick-up. When I got smart enough to say no, he’d take it out on my mom.”

“Shit.”

“I was planning on leaving. Getting my own place. Clair was helping me apply for nursing school. But then…” I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to relive the memories. When I continue, my voice is scratchy, full of emotion. “Someone dropped a bag off at my work. Took off before I could say no.”

I stop. Not willing to share the rest of the night. What happened between Theo and I.

“And?” He presses.

“And I lost it.”

“You lost the bag?” There’s a note of disbelief in his voice.

“I took a cab home. Left it in the backseat.” I shut my eyes for a brief moment and feel the pounding of my heart in my chest. I hate the fear that rises up in me at the memory.

“What happened?” Moody asks, his deep voice calm, but probing.

“Stefano did a number on me when he found out. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t find the bag, or repay him.”

“So you ran?”

I nod.

“Does Theo know?”

I shake my head, then realize he can’t see me. “No.”

He shuffles on his bed, the movement making the springs squeak. “Why not tell him?”

So many reasons I can’t name, but I give the one I know he’ll understand. “Theo was in the cab with me. I don’t know what’s on the police report, but I can’t take the risk of Theo being connected.”

“That’s what the guy has on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s enough.”

Silence. I see Moody’s shadow as he sits on the edge of his bed, his back to me.

“I won’t tell Theo you tried to run.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not going to do it again. You’re going to stay and figure this out.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand what this guy’s capable of. I can’t risk Theo and Logan’s life.”

“As noble as that sounds, it’s the fucking cowards approach. And from what I know about you Mackenzie, you’re no coward.” He stands, rummaging through his bag, then the white light of his cell illuminates his face.

“You don’t know me.”

“True. But I know Theo, and I know he’s willing to fight to his last breath to keep you safe.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I say quietly.

“You’ve been running from this guy for how long?”

“Three years,” I mutter.

“Don’t you think that’s long enough?” He removes the chain link from the door. “Trust me. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Why do you even care?”

I can feel him studying me in the darkness.

He finally answers, “Because Theo’s like a brother to me, which in my books makes you family.”

My throat goes dry and I swallow down my emotions.

He opens the door a crack. “I need to make a few calls. Get some sleep.”

When the door closes behind him, I curl into a ball.

His words made me feel things I had no right to feel.

Safe.

Protected.

Hopeful.

But it’s just an illusion, and the nightmares that are already creeping into my mind as I fall asleep prove it.

Theo

“Where is she?” I growl, taking the motel stairs two at a time.

Moody’s at the top waiting for me, a deep frown marring his features. “She’s still sleeping.”

I try to push past him, but he stops me.

“We need to talk.”

I turn on him, eyes narrowed. I’m in the mood for a fight.

“Why did you bring her here?”

His jaw clenches. “She was scared. Didn’t want to go back to your place with the alarms broken, and it was too late to go back to your mom’s. I’ve got Tyler and Cory watching her house, just in case the bastard thinks to try anything.”

I let out the heavy breath I’ve been holding in, and some of the tension in my shoulders subsides.

“Is she okay?”

“No.” He leans against the iron railing, arms over his chest. “She’s pretty fucked up. And I don’t blame her.”

“She told you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” I show him the threatening text I received.

“Shit.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“I guess she was carrying a bag for the asshole and lost it.”

“Drugs?” My stomach rolls.

Moody nods. “She left it in a cab. You were with her. That’s why she didn’t want you involved. In case the police–”

“Christ.” The pieces of the night she left start to come together.

“We could go to the police. If she’s upfront about the bag–”

“I’m not letting her take the blame for this.”

“The guy is threatening to bring her down with him if she talks. It’s better if she confesses.”

“No.” I rub my temples, thinking about every way I’m going to make the asshole pay. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t be a douchebag. What’re you going to do? Rough him up a bit? You think that’ll stop him? I know guys like this. They won’t stop until they get what they want.”

“So what do you want me to do? Pay him off?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll just keep coming back for more. Worst-case scenario, he makes good on his threat.”

I know what he’s saying. There’s a chance that even if I pay the bastard, he’ll still come for Mac. Maybe even kill her.
Shit.

I dig my palms into my eyes and shake my head. “Then what do I do?”

“Get a good lawyer. Take her down to the station. Make her tell them everything.”

“And if they press charges?”

“I doubt they will, but if they do, it’s better than the alternative.”