Page 43 of Love Bleeds Red
The rest of his crew steps closer. Three guys almost as big as him with equally harsh faces. I’m surprised they don’t fight in the ring… they’d be shoe-ins. Knapp nods. “Heard you’re looking for some specialized equipment.”
“Depends on what you’ve got.”
His laugh is cold, and makes my insides twist. “And that depends on what you show me tonight.” He gestures toward the ring where two men are already circling each other, trading jabs that sound wet and meaty. “I don’t sell to just anyone. Too many rats out there. Prove yourself and we’ll talk.”
Voices roar as the current fight ends. One man’s flat on his back, barely conscious and the other’s standing over him, knuckles split and wearing a grin. The crowd is a frenzy of cheers and curses as money changes hands.
This is it. Can’t back out now.
I nod, and make my way toward the booking table where Tank still runs the show. She’s built exactly like her nickname with broad shoulders, thick arms, and muscles that rival most body builders. Her dark hair is buzzed short, and she’s wearing the same scowl she had last time I saw her.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” she mutters, pounding her fist on the rickety table. “Leon Colter. Thought you’d left this shithole and moved to America.”
I reach out and shake her hand, noticing some new ink snaking up her arms. “Tank, nice to see you.”
“Almost didn’t recognize yeh,” she says. “All that ink, and fuck me, are those muscles under there?”
I laugh, probably for the first time tonight. “I’ve grown quite a bit.”
“I see that.” Someone knocks into the table, causing Tank to holler some choice words. “Sorry, it’s getting unruly already. Something’s in the air tonight… gotta be the fucking full moon.”
“You’re probably right.” Even if she wasn’t I’d never say otherwise. Everyone knows not to disagree with Tank if you want to keep all your fingers intact. I shrug out of my jacket, and her eyes widen.
“Don’t tell me… you wanna fight tonight?”
“I do.”
“Wasn’t last time bad enough? You nearly died that night.”
Another fight starts and with the sound of flesh hitting flesh, that unpleasant memory surfaces. I force myself to look away.
“Guess you can say I’m my own worst enemy.” She pulls out an iPad, sliding her finger over the screen. “Look who’s gotten high tech in my time away.”
She waves me off. “This way it’s random. Can’t have a repeat of New Years Eve ‘22. What a clusterfuck.”
“Sorry to have missed it.”
“Cheeky bastard,” she says, tapping away on the screen. “I take it you remember the Iron Code?”
I nod. How could I forget? “Iron doesn’t bend. Iron doesn’t break.”
Meaning, you step foot in that ring and you don’t walk away until one of you can’t get back up. And whatever happens here never sees daylight.
“Alright, you’re up next. You better take out that lip ring… don’t need to see that get yanked out.”
“Thanks, Tank. Nice to see you.” I knock my fist on the table, and head back to Cruz.
“All set?” he asks, still looking around nervously. I nod, and he passes me his pint. “You’ll need this… for the nerves.”
He’s not wrong. I take a long swig. “Wish it was stronger.”
He pats my shoulder. “Tell ya what, shots on me when you win this thing.”
“Get your money ready, then.”
I flash a grin that’s mostly bravado and start preparing—removing my lip and eyebrow rings and stripping down to just my gym shorts. I stretch out my tight shoulders and do a few jumping jacks to get my heart pumping.
By the time Tank calls my name, I’m ready. Damon and Jasper never take it easy on me during fight club, and Falin’s landed more hits than I care to admit. I haven’t been idle these past few years. I can win this.
