to Brawler. “Who’s your best fighter besides Kyla?”
“Limone and Kyla are our top fighters.”
K cocks his head. “Limone? She’s a chick, right? I’m talking best fighter. Male, female, transvestite. I don’t give a fuck. I want the best fighter opposite Kyla in The Ring.”
Brawler swallows, but Johnny speaks up. “Brawler,” he says. “Brawler’s the best fighter we have.”
“Excellent,” K says. “Set that fight up.” He laughs as if he’s told the funniest joke in the world.
My stomach bottoms out. Fight Brawler? This can’t be happening. I can’t fight Brawler. The idea is ludicrous.
K taps his chin. “Hmm. I think the fight should be one of your initiation tasks, Brawler.” He nods as if he’s enjoying this moment too much. “Yes, I like this. Your first initiation task is to beat our little Uppercut Princess.”
I grip the side of the table as the world tilts on its axis. Again. Twice within the span of fifteen minutes. I have to fight Brawler. Injured. Not only that. He has to beat me because he’s recruiting into the Crew.
“Maybe we should pick a different match up,” Johnny offers. Realization dawns on his face. His father has just signed me up for a trip to the hospital. He knows recruits will do anything to complete their tasks.
K zeroes his gaze in on his son. The challenge written there is enough to bring anyone to their knees. “I thought you had every confidence in the world in Kyla. Didn’t she beat Roza’s guy for us? Didn’t she—?”
“I do,” Johnny snaps. He tries to regain his composure and fails. “But she’s injured.”
“The Crew can’t wait for injuries, Johnny. You know how important it is for us to get the businesses up and running again.”
“I know,” Johnny says through gritted teeth. I slip my hand underneath the table and grip his thigh. It’s my turn to warn him. We can’t piss off K right now. He’ll hurt Johnny, and he might even take his defiance out on me. I couldn’t care less about that fact. I can hold my own, but Johnny cares. He wouldn’t forgive himself if his father hurt me because of him. Hell, I’m sensing this is what this is. He wants me to get taken down a peg or two. “I just thought we could give her another week,” Johnny says, calming to the point where he can speak with confidence. “Have Brawler fight someone else as the headliner since he’s not injured. Maybe even tease an upcoming huge fight. What will bring the crowd back if our two best fighters have already fought?”
“That’s Brawler’s problem, not mine,” K says dismissively, though the tick in his jaw commandeers my attention. He doesn’t like Johnny disagreeing with him. “He knows what’s at stake, and he’s never had a problem filling the fights before. Do you want to change your vote on Brawler?” He finishes with a defiant smirk as if he’s caught his son looking like an asshole.
“No,” Johnny says simply, the matching tick in his jaw too much to overlook.
The tension between the two is palpable and raw. A few of the businessmen shift in their seats, no doubt feeling it too. K has probably killed people for lesser infractions...like my parents.
The reminder is a kick to the gut. I lean on Johnny and run my hands over his thigh. He’s just worried about me, but he needn’t be. I’ll do what I have to. For all of them.
But Johnny won’t understand the turmoil raking my body when I square up in front of Brawler. To fight to win. To hurt someone I care about.
Sparring is a different scenario. We never punch, kick or swing at each other with the intent to do real damage. This time, we’ll have to.
I move my gaze away from the clusterfuck that is K and Johnny’s relationship and peek at Brawler. He’ll have to fight me to win, even though it will kill him, too. If he doesn’t win, he doesn’t get into the Crew.
I don’t give a fuck about that, but he does. He never would’ve put himself in this position if he didn’t think joining the Crew was the right course to take.
I bet he never imagined this would happen though.
For the first time, he glances over at me and our gazes connect. The turquoise in his eyes swirl like fall leaves. His jaw tightens, hard as granite. As is mine. To outsiders, it probably looks as if we’re sizing each other up or staring one