place. For all hope of Bragger finding his sister was tied to it.
The head proprietor growled and came hard at Hugh with a swift series of rapid uppercuts.
Hugh angled back, skirting those blows. “You’re giving money to any thug in the street who’ll get information about the Fight Society. Those men . . . and women . . . fleeced you along the way.”
Again, Bragger charged Hugh, this time landing a solid fist to his gut.
The air left Hugh on a sharp hiss.
Triumph lit up the other man’s eyes, and he pressed forward.
Spinning away from him, Hugh turned himself over to the fight.
Hating how easy it came. How easy it would always come.
He let a punch fly, connecting with Bragger’s nose. The appendage instantly spurted blood, a crimson stream his partner didn’t even bother to brush away.
Blood rushed to Hugh’s ears, pounding hard in time to his rapid breaths and the thundering of his heart. And as if from a distance came the sharp cries of another.
Or mayhap it was Bragger?
It was all confused in his mind.
“Charge the field . . . Charge the field . . . they’re on the attack . . .”
Sweat dripped from his brow and streaked down his face. His eyes stung; his opponent’s visage blurred before him. And he landed blow after blow.
Bragger’s almost creepy laugh blurred with the cries of those in a field slicked with blood. The innocent, cut down all around him. Men he’d cut down in the heat of battle until he’d realized too late the sins being committed that day.
Breathing hard and fast, Hugh unleashed all his fury. All his rage and horror, turning it loose upon his opponent.
For as long as he was immersed in this world, a fighter was what he would always be—a monster, not a man. Jab-Jab. Not with the crimes he was responsible for. Jab-Jab.
Hugh blocked the overhand right with his elbow and forearm. He threw three quick, sharp uppercuts that would have felled a smaller, weaker man than Bragger, but managed only to stun him.
The other man grinned and dealt four rapid jabs to Hugh’s ribs.
“You ain’t human.” Bragger grunted, dancing away from Hugh. “That’s why ya ’ave to foight. Who can do wot ya can?”
You don’t look like any Devil . . . You may as well be any man, Mr. Savage . . .
What would his predawn visitor think if she saw him now? There was only one certainty: the sight of him in the ring would send her running faster than any of the harsh words he’d hurled at her. For the nickname he’d given her, the flittermouse had been more of a tigress. And Hugh was captivated still by—
He grunted as Bragger took advantage of his distraction and landed a heavy blow to his chin.
“’e’s in yar ’ead, isn’t he?” Bragger asked, slightly out of breath, finally revealing his first hint of tiring.
There could be no debating who the other man spoke of: Dooley.
That was the difference between Hugh and his partners—they were stuck in the past of their earliest days fighting. Hugh’s demons spanned continents and the countryside of England.
Hugh came faster, barreling forward, landing blow after blow to Bragger’s stomach, kidneys. Left cheek. Right cheek. In the distant recesses of his mind, he registered Maynard cheering him on.
“Take ’im down . . .”
Maynard’s voice became a distorted echo of Hugh’s former commander.
God rot his soul.
If he’d ever had a soul to begin with.
Hugh missed a step, and Bragger’s fist connected in a rapid one-two-three with his belly.
Stifling a groan, he stumbled, and then quickly righting himself, he danced out of the other man’s reach.
From the sidelines, Maynard burst out laughing.
Rap-Rap-Rap.
Musket fire came in a staccato beat.
Bringing his arms back up into position, he and Bragger matched steps, and Hugh tunneled all his energy, all his attention, on his opponent.
Pacing himself, he waited for a window . . . and then found it. He threw a punch; twisting it over, he struck the other man with the palm of his hand. Bragger swayed on his feet. Before Hugh drew his fist back into position, he pressed his advantage, raking his nails across Bragger’s face.
With a sharp cry, Bragger went down hard on his arse, sprawling onto his back.
Hugh came to a stop over him. His chest heaving, he looked down at the bloodied, beaten man staring up at him.
“Yar ruthless.” Bragger smiled and then spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “And that’s why ya need