Page 92 of Spike

“Hey, lovey, howare you this fine evening?”

“Can you meet me?”I asked on a sob.

“Fucking hell,what did the wanker do?”

“Can you just meetme at home?”

“Of course, love.Give me twenty minutes.”

We hung up and Icontinued to my condo, pulling into the parking garage and hearing the sound ofmotorcycle pipes following me. I glanced behind me as the gate opened, ready toget out and fight a biker, but whoever he was drove away and I continued to myparking spot.

I made my way upto my home and headed inside, opening a bottle of wine just before my doorbellpealed. Gemma was early and the second I opened the door, I burst into tearsagain.

“What the hellhappened?” she demanded, closing the door as she pulled me in for a hug.

It took me severalminutes to calm down enough to be able to speak. Gemma held me until I couldhiccup out, “He wasfighting!”

“Fighting?” sheasked. “Fighting with whom?”

I filled her in oneverything I knew and it only seemed to confuse her more.

“Are you saying hewas competing at an underground fight club?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you evenfind out about the fight?” Gemma asked.

“I went to theSanctuary to surprise him, and Tacky was at the gate. He said he was surprisedto see me, he thought I’d be at the fight already to cheer Spike on. I had noidea what he was talking about, but I played dumb and told him I misplaced theaddress and had hoped to catch him and follow him over. Luckily, Tacky isn’tthe sharpest knife in the drawer and was more than happy to tell me where thefight was.”

“Bloody hell,love, you always know just enough to get you into trouble.”

“This isn’t myfault, Gemma. This is Spike’s. He was getting beat to hell on purpose!”

“Did he say why?”

I shrugged.“Probably for money, Gemma.”

“He’s a welder,right?”

I nodded.

She frowned.“Doesn’t hemakequite a bit of money?”

“So?”

“So… why wouldhe need to fight for money?”

“I don’t know.” Ithrew my hands in the air and stomped into the kitchen. “Maybe he was doing itfor fun… which is worse.”

“Sweetie, doesSpike seem like the kind of person who would be at an underground fight clubjust for fun?”

Before I couldanswer, my doorbell pealed, and I scowled. “Who could that possibly be?”

“I’ll get it,”Gemma offered, and made her way to the door.

My building hadsecurity and the only way to get up was to be on a list, so the only people whocould knock on my door without a courtesy call would be other residents, Gemma,my brothers, or Spike. Not even my parents had access.

“If it’s Spike,don’t open it.”

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