Page 51 of Love Bleeds Red
As my two new captors take their places in the front seats, I watch King wave his fingers before turning toward the second parked car and disappearing into the shadows.
Good. I hope he drives off the road into a ditch somewhere.
It’s one of the most awkward car rides of my life. I’m too nervous to speak first, and neither of them seem inclined to break the silence. They just drive and drive down long, winding roads, all of them dark, giving me no hints of where we are. My stomach growls loudly and the woman, Ms. Harrington, sniffs. Sorry, lady. I’ve been denied food all day. Can’t help my bodily functions.
Finally, I spot a pair of lights in the distance, illuminating a huge set of iron gates. My pulse starts beating erratically, my breaths coming in short pants. Whatever’s beyond those gates, I’m terrified to find out.
A massive sigil sits in the center, splitting open as the driver enters a code. One ornate letter C surrounded by flourishes. They close behind us with a loud clang that causes me to flinch.
Something in my gut tells me that I won’t ever see the world beyond those gates again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LEON - PRESENT DAY
The ref yells, “Fight!”and James and I start circling each other. I’m caught off guard, trying to read his facial expressions, see if he recognizes me too. Fuck, I can’t tell, and I can’t afford to lose this fight. I need those guns.
The crowd roars for us to get going, but I block them out. We circle and circle, hands up in guard position, neither making the first move. He’s got maybe an inch or two on me, but his stance tells me everything I need to know. Yeah, he’s trained, but he’s never had to fight for his life. That’s the difference.
“So you’re daddy’s favorite bastard,” James sneers.
I guess he does know who I am, then.
I duck under his first jab, a clean shot that would have fucked me up if it connected. “Favorite?” I laugh bitterly, throwing a quick combination that he blocks. “He pretends I don’t exist.”
“Bullshit.” James lands a solid hit to my ribs that has me gasping. The crowd erupts. “Never stops talking about you. Leon this, Leon that. So bloody smart, so successful at university.”
I stagger back, more from the shock of his words than the hit. “He talks about me?”
He takes advantage of my distraction, catching me with an uppercut that snaps my head back. Bloody hell. Stars explode behind my eyes and I taste blood.
Spitting it onto the floor, I shake my head clear. Enough. Time to turn this around.
“‘Course he does,” James seethes. He throws another punch, then an elbow combination. “His perfect son who doesn’t embarrass the family name.”
I block just in time and drive my fist into his diaphragm. I’ve had enough of his bullshit talking. James doubles over, gasping for air, his styled hair now matted with sweat. I don’t give him a chance to recover.
“Perfect son?” I spit, circling him as he struggles to breathe. “He ignored me my entire life. I’m nothing to him.”
James straightens slowly, wiping bloody saliva from his lips. “Nothing? He never shuts up about you. Meanwhile, I’m the disappointment that can’t do anything right.”
He comes at me again, less aggressive now. We end up on the ground, grappling, both trying to make sense of what we’re hearing. He’s straddling me with one hand pressed against my throat, choking off my air supply, while the other draws back for a punch. The look in his eyes is pure hatred.
I grab his wrist and buck my hips, throwing him off-balance. We roll to the left, scraping against the rough concrete. I suck in a breath, shoving my knee between us to create space, but he’s right there, sweeping away my supporting leg. We crash, my head thudding against the floor this time. He tries to mount me again, but I twist my hips and slip out from under him. We both scramble to our feet at the same time, breathing hard, circling each other again with our guards up.
I wipe sweat from my brow and smirk. “That all you got,brother? Afraid to get your manicured nails dirty?”
His nostrils flare and his footsteps grow heavier. I’m getting to him. Time to finish this.
“Least I know where I come from. What are you, half ofwhatexactly?”
I see red.
“Racist piece of shit,” I spit. He moves and there it is. My opening.
I feint left, then drive my right fist straight into his temple.
His eyes roll back and he goes down with a thud, out cold. The ref comes to check his pulse but I’m barely aware, doubled over, sucking in air to calm the spike of adrenaline rushing through me. I want to kick him while he’s down… something I’d never do. And fuck, I hate to admit that his words got to me, but it was a low blow. Same shit I heard from kids at school my entire life.
