Uncaged Love: Volume 6 (Uncaged Love #6) (7 page)

We sprint through the trees. It’s a short block, but by the time we get out on the street, they’re driving off in the same rusted truck as before. I knew it.

The front windows of the house are knocked out. We stand there, surveying the damage, when a POP POP comes from inside the living room.

We both run for it, then stop dead when smoke pours out. Hudson scrambles for his phone and calls 911. I wait a few seconds to make sure there will be no more explosions, then run onto the porch to open the door.

Two rounds of exploded Black Cat fireworks are on the floor. I don’t see anything else. Nothing is really damaged. The floors were already scarred-up hardwood. Fortunately, neither round landed on furniture or something they could ignite.

I step back out on the porch. The neighbors on one side are out, looking to see what’s happening. In the distance, I hear the whine of a siren. I doubt the police here are going to do any better with this than they did before. These guys know exactly how much to push it, not enough damage to actually get a full investigation going.

I talk to the firefighters, and Hudson gives another statement to the cops. But I don’t have any faith they will be able to prove anything. Those boys will cover for each other.

They’ve stepped up the intimidation, and it’s time somebody put an end to it. I have a feeling it’s going to have to be me.

Chapter Eleven

When Colt calls that evening to let me know his flight schedule, I don’t tell him about the punks who have been messing with me and Hudson. It’s probably the first secret I’ve ever kept from him.
 

He’s arriving in three days, which doesn’t give me a whole lot of time to decide how to handle these fighters. Colt can’t be involved, or it will jeopardize his title.

And I don’t want to include Hudson, really. I’m almost wishing for Brittany. I could definitely use Parker right now.

I know the only way to really get this over is to start at the source. I just have to figure out where Exterminator trains and call him out.

But public or private? He can lie about anything that’s just between the two of us. We’re going to need an audience to really get him stopped. And I can’t shame him. It has to be a fair fight, one that feels definitive to the witnesses. I have to make
him
want this whole thing to be over. A resounding defeat by a girl will do it.

I’ve never gone looking for a fight before, but that night I pull on a black hoodie and sweatpants and grab a taxi to the gym where the boxing match was held.

There isn’t a crowd around, so probably not any fights tonight, but the lights are on inside. A couple cars are parked near the door.

I pay the driver and scoot along the edges of the lot and approach the big front windows from one side. When I reach the corner, I look in.

A fierce-looking drill-sergeant-type trainer is yelling so hard that his face is bright red. He reminds me a bit of Colt’s trainer Killjoy. He practices what he preaches, evidently, as he is muscular and strong. But his upper body is so large and his head so small that he looks like a cartoon.

Three young men are with him. Two are in the ring, sparring with pads. A third one has a towel slung over his shoulder and hangs from the ropes on the outside to watch. I watch them for a moment and realize one of the boys in the ring is Exterminator.

I really don’t have much of a plan. The presence of the trainer makes me feel better about approaching them, though. I feel like he will be reasonable. He seems disciplined.

Nobody notices me as I cross the windows and tug on the door. This sets off a beep, though, so everyone turns as I enter the gym.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Exterminator says. “Miss Sister herself.”

The trainer frowns. “Stay focused in there,” he tells the sparring partners.

I relax a little. It’s like I thought. He is no-nonsense. Most trainers are.

Except now I’m not sure what to do. I approach the ring. The guy with a towel turns and sneers at me. I recognize him from earlier in the trees. The skull-and-roses tattoo.

I watch the two boys jab and punch for a moment. They do not strike me as particularly energetic or talented. There’s no fire.

The trainer seems to be studiously ignoring me, but I stand next to him anyway. After a moment, I say to him, “You’re aware that these boys vandalized my house?”

His expression doesn’t change. It’s like I haven’t spoken at all. I feel rage starting to build. “Seems like anybody trying to build a solid team would stay on top of the criminal actions of their fighters. They can’t earn much money behind bars.”

With that, he pushes away from the ring. “Good work, boys,” he says. He still doesn’t look at me. “I’m heading out.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and tosses them to the towel boy. “Clean up when you leave.”

Then he turns on his heel and walks out the front door.

My heart hammers. There is no mistaking that he’s left to avoid witnessing what’s about to go down. I breathe slowly and deeply, drawing strength for what’s ahead. I strike from my thoughts that there are three of them, that it’s night and we’re in a deserted part of town.

The lights are on. Passersby can see inside the building.

Still, tension makes my chest tight.

Exterminator and his partner strip off their pads. They aren’t even breathing heavy. Their workout was minimal. I can’t rely on them being tired. The equipment hits the floor of the ring.

“Axel, kill the front lights,” he says to the guy with a towel. “No sense giving people a show.”

Axel heads toward the door and shuts off the majority of the overheads. Only some strip lights in the back are still on. The room goes gray. The front windows change from a reflection of the interior to an outside scene. I know this means it’s not easy to see inside anymore.

“You ready to get in this ring with me?” Exterminator asks.

I observe them all. The towel guy is nothing, hardly any muscle on him. I could probably get a knockout blow with one quick move. Exterminator and his sparring partner, though, are more formidable. They weren’t doing much in the ring, but that doesn’t mean they can’t. Unless I go full hurricane, they might be able to take me down.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.

I decide to surprise them and as soon as Axel makes it back, I swing with a sharp elbow strike to the right side of his jaw, diagonal, designed to create a concussion. Sure enough, he’s not prepared for that sort of blow, and staggers.

“Nice one,” Exterminator says. “Taking out the towel boy.”

I don’t flinch. I know he’s a fighter, although he probably is low on the roster.

I grasp the ropes and pull myself up even with the ring. I watch the two of them warily, trying to anticipate their first strike. I wish I could do something clever like spin on the ropes and kick them both, but I’m not trained to be a showman. Just straightforward, powerful fighting style.

I don’t want to duck between the ropes, as that makes me vulnerable, so I push down and leap over them. When I land, I’m ready, but the two of them still don’t move.

Exterminator leans his elbow on the other guy’s shoulder, like they’re having a casual chat. “Whatcha think, Joey? Can you take her?” he asks.

“I don’t know, X,” he says. “She clocked me the other night.”

Exterminator laughs. “That’s right. She bloodied your nose. But can you
take
her?”

I have a feeling I know what he means, and now the lights make sense. They want to put me in my place as a girl.

No way.

He thinks I won’t see it coming, but when he spins at me, I’m ready. I duck under and step-slide to the opposite corner.

“Oh, she’s quick,” Joey says. “Kind of cute too.”

My blood pounds in my ears. I refuse to think about how foolish this idea was. That I should have backup. Somebody should know I am here. But I told no one.

I have to do this. I try to push back the fear that trickles like ice through my heart.

They come at me, slowly, deliberately. I need the hurricane. But I don’t know how to make it come. It just does, on its own. I can’t simply tell it to.

Joey comes at me like a boxer, moving his feet, punching. His hands are wrapped from sparring, but then so are mine. We will be able to hit harder without risking our fingers.

When he gets close, he drops his arms. “I don’t know, X. Hitting a girl. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He laughs.

“Then let’s get on with the lovin’ part,” Exterminator says, and charges me.

He’s more clever with this move, making a sharp pivot right as we’re about to collide. I swing at him and miss, so I have to just take the jab that comes at my gut.

It knocks the air out of me, but I don’t show it, keeping low and quick. I duck away before he gets another one in.

“Now that you mention it,” Joey says, “the fighting does look sort of fun.”

Exterminator steps back to let him have a crack at me. I feel like a mouse being toyed with by two cats. And I will be, if I can’t find the power to take them on.
 

Axel stirs on the ground and rolls over. I see it from the corner of my eye. He’s gonna be pissed, but he’ll probably be too out of it to join in.

Joey gets low and works his feet, punching air. He’s going to tire himself out. I assume it’s some sort of distraction technique. I keep myself loose and ready.

But when they both come at me in tandem, a move that seems perfectly timed and practiced, I know they’ve done this before. Probably this is their intimidation tactic. Like bullies.

When I dodge a front hook by Joey, Exterminator grabs my waist and throws me down. Joey spins right out of the move and drops onto my legs.

I kick and throw elbows, feeling a satisfying crunch on Exterminator’s face, but they have me down. With two on one, I’m pinned. Axel grasps the ropes and tumbles onto the floor of the ring. “Let me at the little bitch,” he says. “I’ll teach her what girls are for.”

I buck hard against Joey and manage to get a decent kick to Axel’s chest. He curses again. “Hold her goddamn legs,” he growls at Joey.

Exterminator’s got my arms now, and no matter how I struggle against him, he has me pinned, his knees on my upper arms. My head is up against his crotch, so I lift it and ram it down.

But Exterminator just laughs. “I got protection, yo,” he says. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Axel shoves at Joey, who has my legs pinned. “You’re in the way, punk.” He jerks at the snap to my jeans.

I fight harder. My blood pounds in my head. I insist that my hurricane show up. But my fear is large, looming like a storm of its own. Images flash through my head of my stepbrother Rich, all the terror and loathing I held inside me most of my life. It took Colt a year to uncoil it. My will to fight hard has to come back. I need it.

I’m in a frenzy, jerking my arms and kicking as much as I can while Axel fights with the jeans to get them down. The boys are a blur as I writhe, searching for weak spots, for a pressure point I can exploit.

Of all the times in my life for the hurricane to desert me, why now? My rage is as internal as much as it is aimed at these boys. Panic starts to take over, but still, nothing comes. No strength, no wild spitting fire. I feel a burn in my eyes and I’m outraged. Crying? I do NOT cry. Never. No weakness. Not ever.

“Let’s see what this little pussy’s got going on down south,” Axel says, jerking on my underwear.

An explosive sound startles everyone, then another. The front glass shatters, flying into the room. The boys scramble away, ducking through the ropes.

Red and blue lights blur and light up the gym, flashing on the walls.

I cover my eyes with one hand and yank up my jeans with the other.

I can’t see anything in the blinding light, so I roll over. The glass hasn’t made it as far as the ring. I hear a slam and realize the guys have run out the back.

A woman steps through the glass, in uniform with a police cap. When she turns, I see the silhouette of her arms, and a gun. I slide through the ropes down the back side of the ring, shaking at the sight of a weapon.

I haven’t seen a gun since the night Colt got shot. Even the lights are a reminder.

No heartbeat, no respiration.

“This is the Honolulu Police Department,” she calls out.

I hunker down behind the ring. I have nothing to hide, but I can’t stop shaking.

“Come out,” she calls. I peer out from the edge of the base of the boxing ring.

Behind her, another officer appears, this one a tall slender man.

“Jo?” the woman calls. “Are you all right?”

How does she know who I am?

“I’m here,” I manage to say. “Behind the ring.”

“Did those boys turn tail and run?” she asks.

“Out the back,” I say. “I’m the only one left.”

She still keeps her gun high. The other officer hurries through the gym toward the back.

I have to remind myself that I don’t have to fear the police. I’m not a fugitive anymore. I don’t live under a fake ID or fear of being charged. Colt took care of all that. My past can’t come for me anymore.

Still, the anxiety isn’t easy to shake. The officer’s boots crunch the broken glass. I wonder if they’ll be in trouble for the damage they caused. They might force me to press charges to validate their actions.

The woman finds the light switch near the door and the room steadies, the white light dropping the intensity of the revolving squad-car flashers.

“I’m Officer Su,” she says. “You can come out.”

I stand up. I remember her now. She came out to Mom’s house after the first incident. The woman is Asian and petite, but her expression is tough. Bits of black hair peek out from where she has it stuffed inside her cap. “You all right?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say. “How did you know I was here?”

She kicks at broken glass and surveys the room as she says, “We were assigned to patrol your neighborhood. When you took off looking like you were heading to a fight, we followed you.”

“Did The Cure put you up to this?” I ask.

“The boxer?” She turns to look at me. “You know him?”