In Kelly's Corner

  The second man, one of those lightning bolt tattooed freaks from the white supremacist camp, had taken considerably more effort to beat. They'd gone three brutal rounds in the cage before Kelly had seized upon an opening and taken him down to the ground. A submission hold that put extreme pressure on the man's leg had been enough to make him surrender.

  "Shit!" Kelly hissed as Jack massaged the knotted muscle running between his shoulders.

  "Sorry, bro." Jack didn't stop working the tender spot. After his warm-up, Kelly still struggled with tightness there. "You'll thank me later."

  "I doubt it." Kelly watched Finn check and recheck their bag of supplies before he filled the sinks with even more ice to chill his body between matches. If he won against his next opponent, he would end up fighting Sergei—and he needed to be in the best shape possible if he had any chance of winning.

  An uproarious cry from the crowd exploded in the abandoned meatpacking plant. Kelly's gaze drifted to the open door of the room where they had been stashed by the organizers. Right now, Sergei was in the ring. That sound could only mean one thing.

  "Forget about it," Jack urged and gave the back of Kelly's neck a squeeze. "Focus on your fight."

  Alexei came into the room but his face remained an unreadable mask of calmness. He shut the door behind him, dampening the excited roar of the crowd. Coming over to the bench where Kelly sat, Alexei crouched down in front of him. "Okay. Here's the deal. Midnight, the guy you're fighting, he has a nasty injury to his right arm and shoulder."

  "Are you suggesting I go out there and wail on his arm?"

  "Do you want to step into the cage against Sergei with half your energy burned up?"

  "No."

  "Then get the fuck in that cage and break Midnight's arm," Alexei growled. "You have to win this match fast. You need to conserve your energy and protect your body."

  Kelly didn’t like it but he understood that Alexei spoke the truth. Out on the main floor of the factory, another chilling roar erupted from the crowd. A few seconds later, someone raced down the hallway outside their room, shouting for an ambulance.

  "No." Alexei lightly smacked his face. "We don't care what happens to anyone else. We only care about what happens to you. Yes?"

  Kelly nodded. "Yes."

  "Good."

  The door opened and a man poked his head inside. "Five minutes, Alexei."

  With Alexei leading the way and his brothers flanking him, Kelly left the safety of the warm-up room. Out in the hallway, he flattened against the wall as two men with a backboard rushed the downed fighter into the night. Kelly couldn't help but wonder if the man would end up in an ambulance—or simply dumped in the parking lot of the closest emergency room.

  Tonight the crowd of spectators was much heavier and thicker than the Friday night fights. He spotted some familiar faces in the crowd—Dimitri, Winn, Sully, Lev, Yuri and even Hagen. Besian and his crew had a prominent place directly across from the spot Nikolai and his men had taken. He shuddered to think how much money was on the books tonight. There were going to be some very flush men walking out this empty warehouse.

  Kelly wouldn't be one of them. His brothers had some action on his fights but every penny they might win would go toward settling their debt with Besian. They had agreed that anything left over would go to Bee to repay her for settling the loan against the gym.

  As he watched Midnight enter the ring, Kelly couldn't help himself. He pictured Bee's sweet, smiling face. Earlier that morning, he had seen news of her successful sale to Insight pop up on the tech blogs. From what he had gleaned from the articles, she had gotten everything she had wanted. He was so happy for her.

  But—God help him—he missed her so much. He couldn't wait for these damn fights to be over so he could seek her out and try to make amends for everything that had gone badly between them.

  Remembering Alexei's tip about Midnight, Kelly carefully eyed his opponent. The tall, dark man was trying to project a cool, relaxed façade but Kelly wasn’t fooled. He easily read the tightness in the man's face as a sign of pain. His right shoulder sat a bit lower than the left and he kept the fingers of that hand loosely curled.

  Tapping fists with Midnight, Kelly inhaled a steadying breath. Even though it felt like shit, he made up his mind right then and there that he was going after that injured arm. Midnight seemed to instinctively know that was Kelly's tactic because he came out kicking.

  Kelly blocked the first couple of kicks but took a graze to his ribs. He sucked in a sharp breath but ignored the burst of pain. He slammed his fist into Midnight's temple and followed with another blow to his jaw. When Midnight stumbled backward, Kelly wrapped his arms around the man's waist, used his brute strength to lift him up and slammed him down onto the pavement, making sure to put the force of the take-down on that right shoulder.

  Midnight screamed out in pain but didn't tap-out. He knocked his knuckles into Kelly's temple twice. Deciding he had taken just about enough of this bullshit, Kelly swiveled his hips and kicked his legs into the perfect position. With his calf against Midnight's neck, Kelly trapped the man's wounded arm between his thighs and jerked hard. Midnight shouted again but wouldn't surrender so Kelly applied even more pressure.

  Only when the man's shoulder started to slip from its socket did Midnight finally tap-out. The second the referee ended the match, Kelly released the big man's arm and tried to help him stand. Midnight refused his help, smacking Kelly in the face and spitting at him.

  Sucking in a shuddery breath, the big man rolled to his knees and shot Kelly the finger. "Fuck you."

  Kelly let the insult roll of his back. The guy was in pain and he'd probably just lost a shit-ton of money for his sponsors.

  Turning away from his opponent, Kelly rejoined his brothers and trainer and returned to their room. Finn iced Kelly's hands while Jack pushed fluids and applied a frigid enswell to the bruises forming on his cheeks. The shocking cold metal square pressed to his skin made Kelly wince.

  "You've got to remember to set the pace with Sergei," Jack instructed. "You let him control the fight, and you're fucked."

  "Jack is right," Alexei agreed. "Listen, his last fight was a tough one. Sergei is tired. You need to wear him down even more and then strike."

  Before he was ready, Kelly was summoned to the cage for the final round. He jogged in place and swung his arms back and forth to loosen up his muscles. The burning ache along his already swollen knuckles was only going to get worse so he decided to pretend his hands didn't exist.

  Back out in the cage, Kelly shifted his weight and sized up his opponent. The giant Russian looked unnaturally calm. Considering how many times he fought in this cage every year, Kelly wasn't surprised. A rush of adrenaline surged through Kelly's veins. His fingertips buzzed as his heart rate ticked up a few notches and his breaths grew shallow and fast.

  Alexei massaged his shoulders while giving him some final pointers. Across the cage, Ivan Markovic did the same thing for Sergei. Kelly didn't miss the similar tattoos both trainers shared. What was it like for two old friends to stand across the ring from each other now?

  "Work your kicks, Kelly." Alexei stepped in front of him and forced a shared gaze. "For the love of God, watch those legs. Sergei has a kick that will break you if you aren't careful. Da?"

  "Yeah. I hear you."

  Alexei affectionately rubbed the back of Kelly's head. "Good luck."

  The referee summoned the two fighters to the center of the cage. Standing in front of Sergei, Kelly was forced to stare up at the man. He bristled at the unwelcome sensation of smallness Sergei inspired. The Russian looked unhappy to be there and reluctantly knocked fists with Kelly.

  "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do to you."

  It had been a long fucking time since Kelly had experienced a quiver of fear. Normally, it took the snap and whiz of bullets flying past his head to force that sensation. Tonight, the look in Sergei's eyes was enough.

  The bell clanged—and the b
rutal battle began.

  The two men danced around in a circle, shifting their weight from foot to foot while waiting for a perfect opening. Kelly struck first, catching Sergei on the chin, and managing to knock the Russian's head back. His brief victory was short-lived. Sergei returned the blow, punching Kelly right in the mouth.

  The bastard hit like a fucking truck. Dazed by the blow, Kelly shook off the blast of pain and hastily side-stepped another wicked punch. He crashed his fist into Sergei's ribs twice and slammed his knee into the Russian's stomach, earning a deep oof from the giant man.

  When Kelly tried to shove his knee into Sergei's gut a second time, the Russian fighter grabbed his leg and jerked hard. Yanked off balance, Kelly fell backward and hit the concrete hard. He caught the brunt of his fall on his ass, sparing his head from the worst of it.

  Sergei tried to pin him to the ground but Kelly kicked his feet and rolled his hips to evade the other man. He narrowly escaped a hold and clambered to his feet. Before Sergei could stand, Kelly buried his foot in the man's side. Sergei growled and snatched Kelly's leg. Only the blast of the air horn saved Kelly from another ugly fall.

  Seated on a stool in the corner of the cage, Kelly tried to catch his breath while Jack wiped his bloody face and tended his injuries. Alexei barked commands. "Good! Good! Keep trading punches with him. Wear him down. In and out, Kelly. Shoot on him, yes?"

  Kelly couldn't speak. He simply nodded.

  Too soon, he was called back to the center of the cage. The second round proved to be even more brutal and bloody than the first. He traded punches and kicks with the other man. One of Sergei's kicks caught Kelly's thigh. The force behind it probably would have cracked a tree trunk, and it left Kelly limping as they entered their third round.

  Judging by the look on Sergei's face, the Russian fighter couldn't believe Kelly had lasted this long. Nikolai's champion breathed heavily but seemed far from worn out. Kelly didn't know how much more fight he had in him. Somehow, he would dig deep and find the energy, but he didn't know if he had enough steam left to take Sergei down.

  As the men traded hits, Kelly landed a good kick that sent Sergei stumbling backward. Kelly pounced on the opening and enveloped Sergei in a bear hug. He drove the other man into the wall of the cage, the noisy metallic clatter swallowed by the din of the crown.

  Using his brute strength, Sergei peeled one of Kelly's hands from his body. The Russian jammed his elbow into Kelly's ribs, the blow so painful that Kelly's lungs deflated and he tottered on his feet. Sergei seized the opening and hooked his foot behind Kelly's, knocking him off balance and taking him down to the concrete.

  They grappled on the ground, both men going for blood now. Kelly rocked his hips and slammed his fist into Sergei's temple. He stunned the bigger man with a few well-placed blows. Sergei's grip slackened just enough for Kelly to kick out his legs and escape the hold.

  Both men scrambled to their feet. Sergei spit blood to the side of the cage while Kelly wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty, bloody face. They charged one another. Sergei got in one good punch, slamming his meaty fist into Kelly's jaw. The powerful blow left Kelly seeing spots.

  Staggering on his feet, Kelly missed the incoming kick. Sergei connected with his ribs and Kelly felt the sickening crunch of bone. Unable to breathe, he gulped in air, the swell of oxygen within his lungs causing an excruciating pain along his right side.

  Something in the Russian's eyes changed as he watched Kelly struggling to breathe. Sergei flew at Kelly, catching him off guard with another punch to the head before wrapping his arms around Kelly's neck and taking him to the ground. As Kelly felt the life being choked right out of him, Sergei's harsh whisper hissed in his ear. "Tap out, or I'll kill you."

  It wasn't a threat but a desperate plea. Sergei seemed to recognize that Kelly would keep fighting until the very end—and Sergei was telling Kelly in the frankest terms that he would beat the life right out of him.

  "Tap out!"

  His vision darkened as his oxygen starved brain began to misfire. Jack slid down to the floor across the cage and shouted something at him. He couldn't make out the words but the look on his eldest brother's face was easy to read. He wanted Kelly to surrender before it was too late.

  With a shaking hand, Kelly smacked Sergei's burly forearm twice. His arm started to fall as he lost muscle control. Digging deep, he found a last burst of energy and smacked Sergei's arm a final time.

  His opponent let loose immediately. The rush of blood that pounded through Kelly's brain caused him to gasp. His misfiring neurons projected strange images before him. The sight of Bee in the crowd couldn't be real but that didn’t stop his hand from reaching out to touch her phantom form.

  "Bee." Her name came out on a raspy whisper. Overwhelmed by his love for her, he sucked in a long breath—and passed out cold.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My cell phone chirped and rattled on the tabletop. Taking a sip of coffee, I reached for the device and prayed it was news from Finn. My prayer was answered.

  He lost but he's alive. He passed out but he's okay. We're at the ER getting him patched up.

  I quickly typed back a reply.

  Is he badly hurt?

  Finn's answer came swiftly.

  A few broken ribs and some cuts but nothing serious.

  A few seconds later another reply landed in my inbox.

  He was asking for you when he woke up.

  I wasn't sure what to say to that. I didn't want to pin my hopes on anything Kelly had said after regaining consciousness. Even so, hope flared to life within me.

  "You okay, Bee? You're looking a little pale."

  Shifting aside my phone, I glanced up at Ron and smiled. "I'm good."

  He glanced around his coffee shop. "Are you waiting for someone? It's just that you never sit here. I noticed that you keep looking at the door. Is everything okay?"

  "Everything is perfectly fine," I lied.

  He seemed unconvinced. "Are you sure?" Lowering his voice, he asked, "What about your stalker?"

  Shaking my head, I reached for my coffee and tried to appear nonchalant. "I was mistaken, Ron. I don't have a stalker."

  "Really?" His brow furrowed. "You're sure?"

  "I'm positive."

  "Well…" He looked toward the door again. "I would still prefer it if you let me take you home. It's not safe for you to ride your bike this late at night."

  "I'm not on my bike. I took a cab."

  "Let me drive you, Bee. Some of these cab guys are real weirdos."

  Smiling up at him, I relented with a little nod. "All right, Ron."

  "Give me twenty minutes so I can chat with my night manager and then I'll take you home."

  "Great." Feeling rather lucky to have a friend like Ron, I finished off my coffee and cleaned up the table where I had set up shop earlier that evening. I sneaked a glance around the place but still didn't see anyone who fit the bill for a stalker.

  A few times during the evening, I had spotted lone men who seemed a bit shifty but none of them had tried to approach me. My phone hadn't received one single weird message or phone call. I wondered if my stalker was simply waiting for me to leave the shop so he could accost me, but the gun in my backpack and the fact that Ron was giving me a ride left me feeling mostly secure.

  "Ready?" Ron gestured toward the back exit.

  "Yep." With my backpack dangling from my hand, I followed him outside and across the street to the parking garage. He led me to his mid-sized SUV and opened the passenger door for me. "Thanks."

  "No problem."

  I tucked my backpack between my feet and fastened my seatbelt. Ron climbed into the driver's seat and started his vehicle. "Where are we going?"

  "To my building," I said. "Well…it's mine for a few more weeks, at least."

  Ron glanced at me with surprise. "You sold it?"

  "Yes." Not wanting to get into the specifics, I said, "I decided I wanted a more downtown location."

>   "Do you have a new spot picked out yet?"

  "No, but I have a realtor looking for suitable properties."

  "I hope you find something quickly. After that Insight deal, I imagine you're ready to move into our own space and expand JBJ."

  "You have no idea."

  He chuckled and reached out to fiddle with the stereo controls. When he adjusted the volume, I heard the opening bars of a song I'd had on repeat for most of the day. "Hey! That's my favorite song. You know, right now."

  Ron laughed and switched lanes. "Yeah, I know. Every time I swing by your table, I hear it blaring out of those ear buds of yours." He shot a look my way. "You really should turn down the volume before you damage your ear drums."

  "You sound like Hadley. She's always on Coby's case and mine about the volume of our music."

  As we idled at a red light a few blocks down, the song I loved faded off and a new song began. It surprised me to hear another song from my current playlist. Deciding it was a coincidence, I didn't mention it to him. The song was high enough on the charts that lots of people had it on their playlists right now.

  Saddened by how paranoid I had become, I glanced at Ron. He looked like his usual calm, cool self as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Hating the effect my stalker had on me, I wished he had been gutsy enough to come see me at the coffee shop. It would have been empowering to look him in the eyes and tell him to go fuck himself.

  When we reached my building, Ron offered to walk me upstairs. I'd switched security companies and had the locks changed on my apartment so I was reasonably assured of my safety. Still, it felt nice to have Ron escort me inside. He even went so far as to check the rooms and closets, just in case.

  "Okay. I think you're good, Bee."

  "Thanks again, Ron."

  "I'm happy to do it."

  When he stepped toward me and awkwardly opened his arms, I was momentarily taken aback. Ron had never initiated any sort of touch with me. Pleased by his progress with this quirk, I was more than happy to let him hug me.