Page 15 of High Stakes

My eyes widen at the set of his jaw and the expression in his eyes. He likes it! Emelia digs the tip of the blade into his collarbone, knicking the skin just enough that a drop of blood seeps to the surface. His eyes close and his shoulders rise as he takes a deep inhale. Her hand is too small to actually choke him out, but it’s enough to be uncomfortable and keep him still.

“Dammit,” Hayden mutters. “I’m getting hard just watching this.”

“Keep it in your pants or I will shoot it off,” I threaten in a low voice without taking my eyes off the screen. I would never admit it to anyone, but seeing her take control like this, seeing the power that she could harness, makes my dick hard too. I’d never let her handle me like that, but watching her do it to someone else is fucking intoxicating.

“Pot, meet kettle,” Hayden chuckles and I look over to see him nodding at the growing erection between my legs.

“Get the fuck out,” I snarl and kick him in the shin.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He holds up his hands and exits the van from the back. “It’s Wednesday. Are you still doing your thing tonight?” He asks as he leans against the open door.

The evening sunlight nearly blinds me as I look over at him and nod once. “Don’t wait up, but leave the kit on the counter, just in case.”

Hayden grunts in response and slams the door, leaving me in the bluish glow of the monitor once more. I glance at the clock on the dash and start shutting down the equipment. If I leave now I can make it before the fights start. I prefer to get there early so I can sit in silence for a while. I pull my arms out of my navy suit jacket and lay it across the passenger seat. Then I roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt, revealing my forearms. My fingers stretch and flex into fists. I need to punch something, and I’d prefer for it to bleed once I’m finished.

The van shudders to life and I pull out, heading to the empty parking garage on 13th Street, where I park and walk the rest of the way to the warehouse district on the Southside of the river. They call it No Man’s Land because the cops and other government agencies don’t venture out this far. It’s reserved for off-the-book deals, fights, and other forms of illegal activity. I’ve even seen a few street races happen around the block.

I step into the vacant, dimly lit concrete room and look around, only a few people are here. They look up when I walk in, but no one makes a move to walk towards me. They continue setting up the makeshift ring and pulling bleachers out from against the walls. I unbutton my shirt, letting it glide off my shoulders and drape it over the back of a chair in a dark corner. I pull off my shoes, socks, and pants, leaving me standing in nothing but my boxer briefs.

“Hey, Kennedy,” a man calls from the other side of the ring. “You want the usual or just the scraps?”

I level him with a blank stare. “I want it all the way through.”

“Fuck. You sure? We have a line-up tonight.”

Am I sure?

Of course I am fucking sure. I’m so numb to everything around me. Maybe after a few punches I’ll start to feel something again. Anything would be better at this point. It’s gotten so bad that even Emelia is starting to see the numbness in my eyes. I feel like I’m just existing, going through the motions to fulfill everyone else’s expectations of me.

He takes my silence as a confirmation and nods his head nervously. “First round is in twenty.”

“I’ll be ready,” I state darkly and drop my weight into the chair. My forearms rest against the tops of my knees as I lean forward and fix my gaze on a crack snaking through the concrete floor. My fists clench and unclench repeatedly and my eyes beginto dry out as I stare, unblinking, at one spot and let my mind unravel.

I think about Emelia bleeding out on our sofa the night that Hector brought her in. I think about Hayden sitting in silence for days on end staring at Silas’ bedroom door. I think about all the ways that I could have handled everything differently. All the ‘what ifs’ that surround that day, and every day before that.

What if I had never taken the call and met with O’leary?

What if I had never agreed to the job in the first place?

What if I had just killed Tobias and his whole staff by blowing the casino to rubble?

What if I had sent Silas home and I went after Emelia instead?

What if, what if, what if.

I rake my fingers through my hair aggressively and inhale sharply. My eyes sting as I blink furiously and shake my head, trying to escape the demons circling inside me. Fucking shit. My chest tightens at an image of Silas laughing at some smartass remark Emelia made over take-out Chinese. His face was open and his smile was bright. He was happy.

I know if anything had been done differently we wouldn’t have met Emelia, but if we hadn’t met her, Silas would still be alive. But would he be happy?

“Ready?” I’m pulled out of my turmoil by a short dark-skinned man with shoulder-length dreadlocks. His dark eyes look me up and down, assessing.

“Yep,” I respond and stand to my full height, twisting my neck from side to side until it cracks.

“You know the rules,” he calls after me as I make my way through the crowds that I gathered without me knowing.

“For me… There are no rules,” I say darkly and emerge into the circle of light in the center of the room. A muscled man with scars littering his chest and abdomen bounces on the balls of hisfeet and swings his right arm in a wide windmill. He looks me up and down slowly before a wicked grin splits his face.

I know what he’s thinking. I don’t look like much of a fighter other than the thick slabs of muscle and the tattoos that cover my skin. I’m not bruised and battered. My nose isn’t crooked from being broken, my ears aren’t swollen and the cartilage isn’t permanently damaged.

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