Page 17 of Claiming Veronica

Victor wasn’t a great friend, but we’d been crazy enough together that even as little kids, we were untouchable. Once we were full-blown adolescents, we were holy terrors. The adults that had thought we were easy targets went away bleeding. Once we met Luther, I realized I’d strayed a little from the plot. Victor didn’t see the problem with his behavior, though, and if anything got worse. He had been sadistic even when he wassmall, torturing animals and people alike. Luther got the idea for an underground fight ring when we were around fifteen, and together, we’d turned it into a little empire.

“What the hell are you even doing these days?” Luther’s voice sounded over the phone, startling me. “You dropped off the face of the earth, no word to anyone, and now you’re calling me like you didn’t just vanish."

Luther had a way of getting under my skin, but I liked that about him. He was tough and relentless, and unlike most people I dealt with, he knew when to shut his mouth. Luther was also willing and able to work hard. The guy had ideas and could hustle. Even when he was a kid, he was the one who was out there finding a way to use his smarts instead of his fists.

"I’m where I need to be," I said flatly, not giving him more than that. There was also a hell of a story behind how I ended up in Arizona that I couldn’t explain to him yet. Then, there was my fascination with a certain blond.

Veronica was still my little secret, and I knew Luther wouldn’t understand. We didn’t see women more than once. Sure, we’d fuck some girl in a club or at a fight. Well, Victor was more into dudes. Hell, we’d even bring someone to an event, but twice? No. That was asking forcomplications and stalking someone? I’d never hear the end of it if he found out that I was obsessed with some chick that I hadn’t even fucked.

He snorted. "Classic Havoc. Always cagey as hell. Well, wherever you are, I hope that place has some boxers because we’ve got people clamoring for another fight,” he paused, and I could practically picture him fiddling with that fucking toothpick in his mouth. “You know, with you and Victor gone, it’s been downright peaceful. Like a vacation.”

“Yeah, about Victor,” I hedged.

“He ditch you again, that motherfucker? Or did he finally get caught and end up in jail, that psycho?” Luther laughed, but I didn’t, and that shut him right up.

Victor and I had left for a quick trip down to Cali for a fight promo.

“Did you finally murder him? Is that it?” Luther chuckled but trailed off. There was a beat and then another one, and he connected the dots. “Fuck me. You did.”

The dead air on the phone line held for a few minutes until Luther cleared his throat. “Well, I’m surprised you didn’t put him down sooner. Guy was a fucking psycho.”

“You’re not upset?” I asked quietly. His answer was important to me. Victor’s death had been inevitable, but I was hoping to salvage my friendship with Luther.

“Honestly, how can you ask me that?” The breath in my lungs froze for a second. Then he continued. “Havoc, you know he scared me on his best days,” he said quickly. “He wasn’t my friend. The guy gave me the absolute creeps. He was dangerous.” This wasn’t news to me, but it was news to me that Luther didn’t consider him a friend. Victor was like one of those wild dogs you brought home and tried to tame and never quite succeeded. You always knew the thing would just as soon as kill you as walk beside you, but somehow you did it anyway. You brought the beast home and thought you would be the one to tame it.

Victor was volatile and unpredictable. You never knew what would set him off. He wouldn’t stop once he started. A tantrum would turn into a killing spree. Victor also had no code — anyone was fair game.

“So, you want to talk about it?” he offered. “What ended up pushing you over the edge? I always thought he had a pass for his crazy.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story when we get together next—maybe. I don’t know. I mightneed to let it sit for a while.” Talking about his death constantly wasn’t something I wanted to do. What I felt was complicated, and it sounded like Luther had hated Victor. I hadn’t been prepared for that. Maybe I was terrible at this relationship shit.

“Okay.”

“But the reason I’m calling is that we have a fight to set up. I’m ready to set some things in motion. Can you set up a place in Phoenix?” I had let Luther go a little too long without a gig. Murdering and stalking had kept me busy.

“Thank fuck,” he let out an exhale — and just like that, we moved on. “I was going stir crazy. Yeah, I can do Phoenix,” he said distractedly, letting me know his mind was already working on the angles necessary to make this work. “It’s huge, so there will be lots of locations that should be perfect.”

When setting up a fight here, Matteo was just the tip of the iceberg. The list of fighters he’d given me was legit. I’d spent the entire evening vetting it — well, most of the evening. Then, I had a delicious time watching my little liar.

“Are you even listening, asshole?” Luther snapped, indicating that he had been talking to me while I fantasized about Veronica, her shape,and the irresistible smell of her gardenia shampoo.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Jesus,” he complained. “You’re losing your focus,” he scolded. “Stay on track.”

“Yes, sir,” I teased. Luther was always easy to rile up, but he wasn’t wrong. Typically, I was more locked in once we were on a job. Distractions led to problems — problems like getting caught. We didn’t get caught.

“Well, it won’t be an issue in a city like that to find a location,” he said, talking about the venue. “It’s big, so there will be all sorts of warehouse districts, which will be perfect. I will make some calls and see if I can find one that works. But listen, Havoc.” He got serious. “The security. Let’s not skimp on it. After that last shitshow with Francisco making a mess, I don’t want to take any chances this time.”

“Yeah, that sucked,” I admitted. Francisco Sandoval had utterly obliterated the plan we had in place for our Denver fight. We thought we’d had everything locked in, but a man high as a kite on meth clocked a waitress, smashed through five tables, vomited all over a table of socialites, and then collapsed from a heart attack ringside. It had put a massive dent in ourevening. Then, an amateur fighter got cold feet, and one group of bettors left because his wife had been vomited on. I’d had to rework the roster before we could even start.

However, Luther was excellent at his job, and I trusted that this next go around would be airtight or be a hell of a laugh. One of the things I loved about it was that each fight was different, but you always needed to keep your wits about you. The underground scene was volatile; you couldn’t afford loose ends or idiots running their mouths. There was always a risk that you could get busted, and I didn’t want to end up in jail. Somehow, I’d lucked out, and we’d not gotten caught yet. I wasn’t about to let that happen. It was always best to keep things fluid in our scene.

“I’ve got some local fighters that seem decent. We’re still vetting them, but we’ll need some bigger names. You got a few we can bring in?” I asked, switching gears.

"You know it," Luther’s answering grin was almost audible in his voice. "Couple of new guys from back East. Some real monsters. One’s been tearing up the Boston circuit. The other’s this psycho they call 'The Hammer.' Kid’s got no quit in him."

"Good. We need some names that’ll bring the money in." Luther was great at keeping tabs onthe fighters around the country. He had the patience to reach out, maintain those contacts, and recruit new ones. I enjoyed the hustle of the event, but even that was getting a little boring if I was honest with myself. Most of our fights came to us these days, like this newest one, organizations looking to sponsor a fight and just needing us to set things in motion. We were good at it, and I was satisfied that people recognized it. The money was excellent, especially for kids from the street who used to eat out of a trash can when they couldn’t steal enough to make a meal.

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