J Ward - Crave

Grier didn’t budge her body, but took the stun gun out and slipped the safety pin into the grip. Putting the weapon within striking distance of the front of his jeans, she bit out, “If you don’t get the hell away from me, I’m going to shoot six hundred and twenty-five thousand volts through your jewels. On three. One… two…”

Before she got to trigger time, he shuffled back and held quaky hands up. “I didn’t mean… I just thought I knew you…”

As he wandered away, she kept the stun gun out and took a deep breath. Maybe she had met him during her searches for Daniel-but he was clearly out of his mind and she was in enough hot water already.

Refocusing on the ring, she looked up-

Just in time to see Isaac go down like a stone.

Fighting Matthias’s second in command was a pleasure. Isaac had never trusted or liked the guy, and having a shot at the bastard had been an unspoken career goal.

Ah, the irony. Just as he was getting out, he got his chance-

Wham!

As right hooks went, the fucking thing was a bulldozer, and it caught Isaac square in the jaw, kicking his skull back and causing all kinds of trouble: Given that the brain was nothing but a loose sponge in a snow globe, his mental matter went haywire, banging around its hard bone home and rendering him senseless and off balance.

All things considered, he’d been more worried about a weapon of the metal variety, but knuckles worked. Fuckin’ hell, they worked-

That was the last thought he had as the floor of the octagon leaped up to greet him, its hi-how’re-ya just as much a rocket as his former comrade’s fist.

Good thing he was the Energizer Bunny.

He was up a second after he back-flatted-even though his legs were numb and loose and his vision was like a TV that needed its knobs adjusted. Lunging, he was all instinct and will, proof that the mind could override the body’s pain receptors-at least for a little while. He tackled his opponent around the waist and drove him into the ground; then flipped him over onto his stomach and wrenched his arm back, pulling the thing like it was rope.

On a crack, something gave out and Isaac abruptly had to catch himself from falling.

The crowd went nuts, all kinds of fuckin’ A ricocheting around the half-finished lobby until a shrill whistle cut through the roar. At first, he assumed the sound was just an extension of the chaos in his head, but then he realized that someone had stepped into the ring. It was the promoter, and for once, the bastard’s face was a little pasty.

“I’m calling the fight,” he yelled as he grabbed Isaac’s wrist and yanked it into the air. “Winner!” Leaning in, he hissed, “Let go of him.”

Isaac couldn’t figure out what the guy’s problem was-

His eyes finally focused properly, and well, what do you know. Matthias’s number two needed an X-ray, a cast, and maybe a couple of screws: His humerus protruded out of his skin like a snapped-off, bloodied stick, the arm broken and then some.

Isaac jumped off and backed up against the chain link, his breath pumping in and out of his mouth. His opponent was on his feet nearly as quickly and he held the hand that flopped casually, like he had nothing more exciting than a bug bite wrong with him.

As their stares met and the guy smiled in that way of his, Isaac thought… shit, this fight had been nothing but a warning shot across his bow.

A message that they were on him.

An invitation to run.

Fine. Fuck Matthias. And that compound fracture was his response: They could take him out but he was going to do some serious damage on his way to the grave.

Isaac didn’t hang around. He popped up onto the links and sprang himself over the lip. Fortunately, the crowd knew better than to get too close, so he was able to quickly head for Jim-

He slammed right into his public defender.

“Christ!” he barked, jumping back from the woman.

“Actually, it’s Childe. With an ‘e.’” She cocked an eyebrow. “Thought I’d try the taxi offer again-you need a ride back to Boston? Or are you not heading in that direction?”

Momentarily forgetting his manners, he bit out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same. Considering that one of the provisions of your bail is that you not participate in illegal cage fighting. And that realllllly didn’t look like a game of Parcheesi you just played. You broke that man’s arm.”

Isaac glanced around, wondering what the quickest way to the door was-because she did not belong in this group of roughnecks and he had to get her out of here. “Look, can we go outside-”

“What are you thinking? Showing up here and fighting?”

“I was going to come to see you.”

“I’m your attorney-I should damn well hope so!”

“I owe you twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“And I’ll tell you how you can settle the score.” She planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, that perfume of hers getting into his nose… and his blood. “You can stop being a stupid ass and show up for your hearing in two weeks. I’ll give you the time and date again, if you’ve forgotten to write it down.”

Okay… she was totally hot when she was pissed.

Annnnnnnnd that was so not an appropriate reaction under the time-place doctrine. Among other things.

At that moment, Jim and his boys approached, but Grier didn’t spare them a glance-even though Jim was staring at her hard. And didn’t that give Isaac an idea of what she’d be like in a courtroom. Man, she was incredible when she was focused and angry and ready to serve someone up on a plate.

“Two other things,” she bit out. “You’d better pray that guy whose arm needs to be set in plaster doesn’t call the police. And you need to see a doctor. Again. You’re bleeding.”

Just to fill in the gap, even though there wasn’t one, the promoter came up with what looked like a couple thousand dollars. “Here’s your cut-”

Abruptly, Grier’s eyes turned pleading, even as her beautiful face remained tight. “Don’t take the money, Isaac. And come with me. Do the right thing tonight and it’ll save you a whole lot of misery later. I promise you.”

Isaac just shook his head at her and stuck his hand out to the promoter.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

As she cursed and turned away, he was momentarily struck dumb by the fact that she’d dropped the f-bomb.

Snapping back into action, he reached for her arm, but the promoter stepped in the way. “Now, before I give this to you”-he slapped the bills on his palm-“I want you to come fight two nights from now.”

Which would be a no-go. He was hoping to be out of the country by then. “Yeah. Sure.”

“It’ll be here, assuming we got no problems. You were frickin’ amazing-”

“Just shut up and gimme the cash.”

Isaac rose up onto the balls of his feet and stared over the milling heads, watching Grier’s fancy-dancy hairdo march out toward the back door. By and large the men got out of her way, but then, given her mood, she was probably capable of castration.

Just by force of will.

Drowning out the promoter’s jock-sniffer ass-kissing, Isaac grabbed the money, shoved his feet in his combats and took his sweatshirt and windbreaker back. As he ran off after his public defender, he buried the green in his pockets and double-checked on his guns, the silencers and his plastic bag piggy bank.

“Where the hell are you going?” Jim said as he and his boys followed at a jog.

“Wherever she goes. She’s my attorney.”

“Any chance of talking you out of this?”

“Nope.”

“Fucking hell,” Jim said under his breath as he shoved some guy out of the way. “FYI, Matthias’s number two left.”