Page 2 of Fated In Blood

I kept my eyes on Chad and off the disturbing amount of chest hair poking through Vince’s unbuttoned polyester shirt. “I suppose it was pure luck you pulled his name first.”

“A grudge match sells drinks, Evie.” The sleazy bastard had the audacity to wink. “Now go make me some money, honey.”

Chad squared his sculpted shoulders. All bulky gym muscle, which was definitely to my advantage. And with that perfectly maintained face, I doubted he had much actual hand-to-hand experience. Just a pissed-off gym bro here to work out his sexual frustrations with his fists.

And with that scornful grin…yeah, Chad-the-douche-canoe figured this fight was already a done deal. Anticipation shivered through me.

I hadn’t been underestimated in a long time.

Still, Chaddy Light was huge, strong, and pissed off. But he didn’t have my training. And he was overconfident. Predictably, his face tightened the second before he came at me, those long arms scooping up nothing but air.

I spun to my right, staying well within the circle of the crowd, landing directly behind my opponent, his powerful back muscles bunching as his hands swept through the empty place I’d just been.

I only wished I could see his face as I raised my foot and crushed my boot heel down onto the center of his overextended calf.

His tibia shattered like kindling wood, and a newbie on the far side of the room retched, the hyped-up crowd quieting in confusion. Friday night cage fights at Valentine’s were drawn-out, bloody spectacles, meant to ramp up the thirsty crowd and sell over priced drinks.

This one was over before it started.

But I had places to be tonight.

Chad crashed to the floor in a sobbing heap, clutching his ruined leg.

Normally I would have taken pleasure in his tears and blotchy face, but tonight, I felt nothing but disgust. I stepped over him and leaned in until we were nose to nose. “Now that everyone sees you for what you are, here’s a tip, and one you’d better remember. No means no. Now stay the fuck down or I’ll break your other leg, too.”

When I straightened, Vince was a red-faced wall of outrage, finger stabbing me in the chest. “I told you to make me money,” he hissed. “Fucking hell, Evie, that didn’t even last a full minute. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? You owe me another fight.”

“An opportunity presented itself.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’d think the money-grubbing mercenary in you would appreciate the efficiency.”

“You ruined my entire night.” His mouth worked over the wordbitch, then he thought better of it. “Cost me thousands. And don’t even get me started on the bets I fixed.”

He could not be serious.

“So throw another two losers in the ring and let them pummel each other to dog meat until you get your pound of flesh. Not my problem and I’ll be at the bar having a shot.” I stepped over Chadagainon my way toward the stairs, Vince dogging my heels, his hulking bodyguards not far behind.

“Youweretonight’s show. You, the high-and-mighty waitress who thinks she’s so much better than everybody else. Do you know how many people came to watch you get pummeled to death?” Vincent gestured at the now-silent crowd. “All of them.”

What a fucking piece of shit. He probably wasn’t lying, given most of the spectators were glancing between Chad’s writhingform and little old me, everyone miserably clutching their betting slips.

Well, that’s what they got for wagering against me.

Nothing.

“Wow, I guess I should be flattered. Or start a fan club.” I started up the steps, half wondering if Vince was going to stroke out in front of everyone, and for one glorious second, I imagined crushing this slimeball like I’d pulverized Chad’s tibia.

But…Vincent had the answers I needed.

And I couldn’t risk jeopardizing my chance at getting them.

“Fine.” I stopped halfway up, fingernail tapping the handrail. “Give me what you promised and I’ll fight for you one more time. But only once.” His satisfied grin told me I was on a slippery slope and we both knew it. If Vince wanted, I would fight another ten times, because that’s how this shit hole college town worked.

Vincent Valentine owned everything in Thorndale.

Including, apparently, me.

But when Vince leaned in and whispered a name into my ear, that one name changed everything.

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