Prizefight: The Hell Raiders MC Goes MMA

Aden Lowe

©2016 by Aden Lowe. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or series may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Aden Lowe or his legal representative.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Author's Note: This book contains adult situations and language, violence, and sexual activity. Mature readers only.

Acknowledgements:

Prizefight wasn't meant to be a book. It was just a short story for a charity anthology. However, like my characters tend to do, Ryker insisted on having his whole story told. The impatient bastard also refused to wait his turn, leaving me no choice but to go ahead and write his book.

This, and my other books, would be impossible without the massive support from my readers. I appreciate each and every one of you, and am incredibly honored that you choose to read my stories. In addition, so many bloggers have posted and shared my posts, cover reveals, teasers, sales, and much more. These amazing people put vast time and energy into promoting authors, and the only pay they get is our thanks. So to all the wonderful bloggers out there, thank you. I appreciate all your effort.

I'm amazed that other authors also share my posts and teasers. Romance authors are some of the kindest, most generous people in the world. I've been fortunate enough to get to know, and become friends with, some super cool ladies. You ladies fucking ROCK, and I'm proud to share your work and have you share mine. I'm not listing, because it's really late as I write this, and I know I would accidentally miss someone. You all know who you are anyway ;)

Ashley Wheels, what can I say? Thank you for keeping my ass out of the fire, LOL. From Assistant, to Baby Sister, to Co-Author, you're the best. You might be a crazy li'l redheaded chick in a wheelchair, but you can do any damn thing you put your mind to. Never forget that, rotten girl.

Tape, you might bust my chops and give me hell about writing "girly shit", but I'm glad to know you've got my back, no matter what comes.

Mom, thanks for NOT reading my books!

Elyse, as always, you're my world. Without you, life would be cold and dark, with no stories worth telling.

Click
HERE
to see the Cover Reveal for PAIN, by Ashley Wheels, Releasing March 18, 2016

I stood heaving, catching my breath and sizing up my opponent again. If I didn't find a weakness soon, I was going to get my ass handed to me. The other fighter outweighed me by a good thirty pounds and had a longer reach. Weight divisions were out the window in illegal fights like this. The guy's grin around his mouth-guard said he knew he had me worried.

Well, fuck that. I had too much riding on this match to lose. I just had to find the right advantage and use it. A bright flash of movement outside the cage drew my attention for a split second, reminding me of the complicated prize for this one. Hell, I wasn't even sure I wanted part of it. Still, I had a ranking to maintain, and the money would pay the bills. I focused back on my opponent, replaying every move of the match so far.

The damn girl on the other side of the wire wouldn't stop hopping back and forth, distracting me. Once more I dragged my attention back to the other guy. Suddenly, I saw it. The guy stayed on the front of his right foot. Always. Even when he should have been on his heel. He was doing a very good job at covering a weakness.

Satisfied, I concentrated on getting every molecule of oxygen into my bloodstream possible, and waiting for my opponent to come at me again. The guy thought he had the match won, and wanted to make it a big game of cat and mouse to finish up. Finally, the bastard came at me again, head down and moving in for the kill.

I waited. Waited. Last second.

And exploded to deliver a knee to the right ankle as I caught the guy and flipped him, hard, with an added bonus of using that foot for leverage and putting stress on the ankle.

The guy landed on his shoulder with a grunt and I didn't let up. Zeroing in on the right ankle, I hooked the foot for a minute to apply brutal pressure, then let the guy kick out. I followed with an axe kick as the spectators started getting excited.

And in moments it was over and my arm was raised as the winner. My opponent had to be helped from the ring by his handlers. I took my towel from Luke and stalked for the locker room. The girl, wearing a very bright red, curve-hugging dress and insanely high heels followed. Now what the hell was I going to do about that part of the prize?

I successfully delayed figuring it out for ten minutes while I got a shower and dressed again. Maybe she would just leave or whatever and I wouldn't have to deal with it. When Luke negotiated the prize package, I really hadn't believed him about the girl. I wanted the two grand, but I could get all the pussy I wanted without having to work for it. Luke finally convinced me though, and I signed on the line for the match.

I grabbed my stuff from the locker, shrugged into my Hell Raiders cut, and headed out, ready to get on with the evening. The damn cut on my cheekbone still oozed blood, and I brushed it away.

"Uh, hey, what should I do?" The girl tottered up beside me on the ridiculous heels.

I stopped long enough to take a good look at her. The fancy clothes didn't suit her, like I cared. She had the kind of curves that should be covered only by a bikini and some sexy ink. If I had time to play, she'd look great on the back of my Harley. Or on my cock.

I shrugged. "Do whatever you want. I don't care." Shaking my head, I shouldered through the door and out into the alley.

"Wait!" Her shoes clacked after me. "You won the night with me. So, uh…what do you want?"

I stopped and sighed, then turned to face her. "I know I won the night with you. I don't want it. So do whatever you want. To someone else."

Her face crumpled for an instant before she blinked and visibly pushed her hurt feelings aside. "I can't do that. Wherever you go tonight, I'm going."

What the hell? "Whatever. Doubt you'll like it much." I walked on toward the parking lot. Most of the spectators should still be inside, but I still paused at the corner to make sure no one was near my bike. Last thing I needed was some wanna-be tough guy trying to challenge me in the parking lot.

The woman followed, heels clicking along on the pavement, but I refused to shorten my stride to accommodate her. If she insisted on going along, she'd better keep the fuck up. I reached the bike and started to stow my gear in the saddlebag when she caught up.

"How am I supposed to go with you on that thing?"

"Not my problem."

One foot stamped in annoyance. "You're just about the rudest jerk on the planet."

"Rude? Me?" I paused to look up. "No, baby girl, I'm not rude. I'm saving you from yourself." Maybe that would get her to just leave me the hell alone.

"You are rude. If I don't go with you, Royse will add to my debt and it'll take two nights to repay him for this one."

I buckled the saddlebag and her words hit me in a delayed reaction. "Wait. What?"

She sighed. "I owe Royse money. If I don't want my mother living on the street with me, I have to pay him. He sets up the gig, I do it. But if I don't go through with one, I owe him two." A note of resignation crept into her voice. "Look, I get it. You're gay, or whatever. Just let me tag along. I won't bother you. And in the morning when I call for pickup, you tell them I was great. Or even just grunt. I'll be a day closer to paying him off."

A mix of emotion swirled over me, and I swallowed hard. The anger stayed put. "What?" I listened patiently while she explained in more detail. By the time she finished, the anger had multiplied. Everybody in town knew Royse as the go-to man for anything on the shady side, so little could be done about him taking advantage of women who would otherwise be homeless. I nodded and swung onto the bike. "Get on." She might have gotten herself into the mess with Royse, but I’d be damned if I’d make it worse for her.

Blank confusion settled over her face for a full minute before she bent to pull her shoes off. The dress presented a bit more trouble, but she finally settled for pulling the hem up around her hips. After a good bit of wriggling, she got the rest of it high enough to let her swing her leg over the fender.

I had to admit, she put on a pretty nice little show. One I could certainly appreciate. When she settled onto the seat behind me, I ran my right hand down her calf to grasp her ankle and guide her foot to the peg, then did the same on the left. Her warmth surrounded me as she leaned in and tried to hold onto her shoes and hold to my waist at the same time. The bike purred as I eased us out of the parking lot, then let it roar down the street.

At least I had the apartment to take her to. Normally, I would never consider taking a woman to my house, but the Hell Raiders would have just a little too much fun at my expense if I brought these particular winnings back to the club house. Besides, those sweet curves pressed up tight against my back made me doubt if I'd want to share.

The underground garage yawned ahead, the security lighting dim in the dark night. Damn thing reminded me of a monster, even though I parked the bike in the usual spot, and helped her climb off. Ironic that the feature that made the apartment most attractive—the secure parking area—also gave me nightmares.

The girl’s hand felt tiny and unsure in mine as I led her to my apartment. Did she realize the sort of chance she took with her life? I wouldn’t harm her, but the next john Royse set her up with could easily be a killer. Allowing a man to take her to his home, his turf, gave him free rein to do whatever he pleased, up to and including murder. The life of a whore was one big fucking game of Russian Roulette.

When I flipped the lights on, she stared with her mouth wide open. Whatever she might have expected of my home, apparently this was not it. She noticed the kitchen and gave it a closer look, her stomach rumbling loudly.

I dropped my keys onto the table just inside the door. "My name's Ryker, by the way. You hungry?"

"Elena. And yeah, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble. The bathroom's through there, if you want to freshen up while I fix something." I turned to the kitchen without another word, leaving her to fend for herself.

The Hell Raiders cut went to its customary place on a hook by the door and my shirt landed just inside the bedroom. Dinner sat a little higher on my list of priorities than a clean house at the moment. The gas range heated quickly and the steaks sizzled when I tossed them on.

With potatoes in the microwave, I turned to putting together a small salad.

I refused to consider what I was doing. Most of my Brothers had no idea where I lived. This place was a sanctuary, and I never shared it, never brought anyone home. Yet here I was, calmly preparing dinner for a woman I just met. Her hard luck story had obviously clouded my judgement.

Elena dropped her ridiculous shoes by the door and alerted me to her presence. "Anything I can do to help?"

I turned to flash her a quick smile over my shoulder in my best attempt at being somewhat friendly and non-threatening. "How do you like your steak? And if you could grab plates and stuff, that'd be cool." How the fuck did people have others over? Just the thought of sharing my space with her, or anyone else, made me itch.

Blank confusion settled over her face for a minute. "Uh, I'm not picky."

"Medium okay then, just a little pink?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." She opened the cabinet I indicated and found plates for us, and silverware from the drawer.

"There's beer in the fridge, or there's water if you'd rather." I needed the beer to calm my damn nerves a little. Maybe then I would survive the meal.

She brought two bottles to the table while I put the steaks on plates, and added a mound of onions and mushrooms to each. Huge baked potatoes followed before I crossed to the fridge and grabbed the butter and two small bowls of salad. She seemed utterly amazed with the food, or maybe that look meant it wasn't good enough for her.

"Sorry, it's nothing fancy, but it should keep us from starving." I pulled a chair out and waited for her to sit, then dropped to my chair and twisted the top off my beer and took a long drink.

"It looks and smells amazing." The tip of the knife shook a little as she cut a bite from her steak and put it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and a low moan escaped her, going straight to my dick. "This might be the best thing I've ever tasted."

I smiled, more than a little relieved. This might not turn out so badly, after all. Last thing I needed was some high maintenance chick stuck in my apartment for the night. "I'm glad you like it." I took my first bite. "Can you tell me a little more about this deal you have with Royse? I didn't like the sound of it earlier."

She explained between bites and answered my questions, and didn't seem all that embarrassed about her part in the situation. By the time her plate was empty, she'd told me the whole sordid thing.

Anything I might say would come out nasty. so I just nodded and stood to take the plates to the sink. Shit like that, a man taking unfair advantage of people with no choice but to accept it, pissed me off. If she could turn to someone else, another pimp even, it wouldn’t bother me so much. At least then she would have a choice. The anger buzzed along my nerve-endings again, but I tightened my shoulders to suppress it. Elena didn’t need me poking into her business and making trouble for her.

Maybe a little too quick to stand, she almost lost her balance, but regained it quickly. "Here, let me take care of the dishes since you cooked."

Glad for a chance to let someone else do the dishes, I accepted and headed for the living room. Sprawled at one end of the big leather couch, I grabbed a paperback to keep my mind off the sexy little thing in the kitchen, and off her problems.

A surprised little sound escaped her when she came in from the kitchen and I glanced up. Dark eyes and lots of dark hair appealed to me, and she had that in spades, to go along with a hot little body. If she had a choice in the matter, temptation might overcome me. I refused to force myself on a woman, though, even if the force part came from someone else.

I dragged my gaze away from her. "It's early still. There's the remote if you want to watch TV, or if you're tired, you can have the bed and I'll crash here."

"What, are you really gay or something?" Those dark eyes went wide and she clapped her hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean...Not that gay is bad or anything, just—"

I raised a brow at her. She'd said that earlier too. If a male suggested anything similar, I’d have taken his head off. "I'm not gay. What gave you that idea?"

"Uh, well, most guys are all over free sex. I'm just a little surprised, I guess." She looked half sick with fear.

Her fright didn't set well with me, and I reached for whatever calmness possible to keep from scaring her more. I lifted a one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Well, I'm not most guys. Got a little self-control." The paperback landed on the coffee table with a light thud. "However, I'm not against the idea of sex with you. I'm against the idea of you being forced to do anything by some asshole, especially the way he's doing it." I wasn't opposed to the pussy business done right, if the girls were there because they chose to be, and they were safe and protected, besides earning good money. And certainly not ripped off like that.

Elena stood there, all those rocking little curves on display in that bright red dress, and her lips parted in something like surprise. She'd been so busy expecting me to jump her and arguing that I should, she didn't know what to think about what I said.