Page 37 of Death Match

Closing her eyes, she took a long breath in an attempt to calm herself. Within seconds, her inner pain replaced all anger on his face. She held her sleeve at the shoulder, half hugging herself.

Ricky’s annoyance dissolved, too, his tone turning gentle. “Jade…”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Please.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I know. But this needs to stop. He can’t keep getting away with this.”

Her hard gaze shot his way. “I said ‘don’t,’” she warned. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ricky. I’m not kidding.”

“I can help. Let me—”

Horror flashed in her wide eyes. “You swore you’d never tell your dad. Youswore.”

I’d faced a lot in my afterlife—that was no secret. Hell, I’d faced a lot within the last few hours in the labyrinth alone, but to see the absolute fear and shame that she carried—that I carried—because of these bruises and the secrets, it made me wonder if my troubles now could even compare. Seeing the pain radiating off her, I felt like the answer was no.

I needed to know more about her and my life. What was our story?

Ricky shook his head and sighed heavily, drawing my focus back to the conversation between them.

“No, not my dad,” he said. Glancing at the door to see it was still closed, he took living-Jade by the hand and tugged her begrudgingly down the cellar stairs.

Eager to know what this was all about, I hurried after them.

The underground storage area was wet and damp, as expected. More crates and boxes were stacked down here, and a walk-in refrigerator took up the entire right wall. That’s where a toppled over crate of milk jugs lay with a white puddle underneath. What was shocking was the set of free weights and punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Its duct tape patches told me it had definitely seen better days.

“Jade,” Ricky began, his tone full of concern for her, “I’m talking about getting help from the Knights.”

She slid her hand out of his, suddenly disgusted. “No way. I’ve told you this before. I want nothing to do with those thugs. And you shouldn’t want anything to do with them, either.”

“They can protect you from him. They can help—”

Jade shook her head. “I don’t need their help. You know how they work.”

Ricky didn’t reply. He moved to the punching bag and gave the thing a few good hits. The chains whined as it swung. “I don’t see why you don’t just beat his ass. Stand up for yourself. You know how to defend yourself. I’ve taught you the moves.”

So, Ricky and this grungy cellar were what had been responsible for my fighting skills…

I believed it. Since I wasn’t born with the innate ability to fight, I had to have learned it somewhere. And my style was not polished or clean by any means, so in a cellar underneath a corner bodega made perfect sense.

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Other-Jade rubbed her arms, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. She winced in pain, as if she had touched one of the sore spots there. “It’s different with him.”

Him. This was like the third time either she or Ricky had mentioned a guy, meaning I was right in my theory of someone beating me so bad I had to hide it. A boyfriend maybe? My fists clenched at my sides just at the thought. Whoever this douchebag was, he was asking for it.

Ricky slammed another hard couple of hits into the bag then said, “I still think you should join the Scarlet Knights with me.”

“Withyou?” she balked. “Wait, you joined?”

His fist stopped mid punch, as if he’d revealed something he shouldn’t have. Instead of looking at her, he placed his hands on the punching bag to steady it, avoiding her glare.

Living-Jade took a step toward him, her anger quick and sharp. “You didn’t. Ricky, please tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

After a tense moment, he pushed the bag away and sighed loudly. “I didn’t have any other choice, Jade. They promised the store and my family protection.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do they have you doing? Selling drugs?” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow.

---