9. Eli

Chapter 9

Eli

I leaned back against the leather sofa in my apartment, staring at the burner phone in my hand as it buzzed to life. I’d put a call out to my old pal Luther as soon as I’d met with Matteo. The familiar name flashed on the screen — Luther. Finally, the bastard had taken long enough to call me back.

I answered with a grunt. "You're late."

A deep laugh came through the speaker, rough around the edges but familiar. Fuck, it was nice to hear from him. “You’re one to talk. I haven’t heard from you in, what, a month? Maybe two?"

Luther was my only remaining friend. Once upon a time, I’d had two friends, Victor and Luther. We’d been inseparable, the three musketeers rolling around the neighborhood, pick- pocketing and stealing from the vendors, crouching in the corners under the eaves, and eating scraps like the street urchins we were. The most important part of it was that we were free.

"Been busy,” he mumbled. I wondered if he’d heard that Victor was dead. I knew I hadn’t told him, although I wasn’t sure he’d care too much. Victor had a mean streak in him that had only worsened as he’d gotten older, but he’d also been obsessive and strange. I wondered how I hadn’t seen it — had I been too lost in my own past to realize Victor’s sickness? Luther and I tried to discuss it only once, and neither of us was willing to say the words we were thinking.

Victor and I had been kindred spirits in some ways. We’d been about the same age and in the same boat when we found each other. We didn’t trust each other at first but realized quickly that having someone who was just as ruthless to run with was handy. Survival was hard work. He knew I’d leave him if it came down to it, and I knew he’d leave me behind if his skin were on the line. That was fine with me.

It was Victor who told me that going by my real name was a bad idea. He said I needed a new name if we were hiding from people. Well, he’d told me that he couldn’t hang with me if I was going to be running around like an idiotic baby, giving out information for free and bringing the cops right to us. He’d had a valid point that I’d not considered. Victor had given me the name Havoc after I’d rolled through the docks on a motorcycle we’d stolen— said I was causing havoc. It was our word of the day.

“ Y ou know,” he paused and looked at me with that dead fish glare as we peered around the dumpster, watching for the police. We were only ten, but we’d been absolute hooligans. “The word today is ‘havoc.’ That’s what you are. That’ll be your new name.”

“What? No.” I was still deciding what I wanted to be called. I’d been making him call me ‘E’ until I could make up my mind.

We had decided that since we couldn’t go to a real school, we’d steal books from the nearby public school. We hoarded them and went over them together, trying to puzzle them out. Victor had decided that we would have a word of the day that we’d learn from the dictionary. He was obsessed with not being stupid. He said that it was the only way that we could become like those rich a-holes who had their own fancy houses and could buy whatever they wanted .

“Havoc: lay to waste, devastate. Or,” he cocked just one eyebrow, an ability I was jealous of. “Widespread destruction.” He waved towards the docks. “You just,” his brow furrowed. “Made havoc? Created? What’s the word?”

“I don’t know.” I was exhausted.

“It’s right anyway. That’s havoc. You’re Havoc.” And it stuck.

I had managed to turn my feelings off after being locked up with Lonnie Kent, who had abused me horrifically for years until I’d managed to run away when he’d dragged me to Seattle. It’d been a rare opportunity. Even at nine years old, I recognized it for what it was. The streets didn’t scare me, but I knew I’d die if I stayed with Kent any longer.

Victor wasn’t a great friend, but we’d been crazy enough together that even as little kids, we were untouchable. Once we were full-blown adolescents, we were holy terrors. The adults that had thought we were easy targets went away bleeding. Once we met Luther, I realized I’d strayed a little from the plot. Victor didn’t see the problem with his behavior, though, and if anything got worse. He had been sadistic even when he was small, torturing animals and people alike. Luther got the idea for an underground fight ring when we were around fifteen, and together, we’d turned it into a little empire.

“What the hell are you even doing these days?” Luther’s voice sounded over the phone, startling me. “You dropped off the face of the earth, no word to anyone, and now you’re calling me like you didn’t just vanish."

Luther had a way of getting under my skin, but I liked that about him. He was tough and relentless, and unlike most people I dealt with, he knew when to shut his mouth. Luther was also willing and able to work hard. The guy had ideas and could hustle. Even when he was a kid, he was the one who was out there finding a way to use his smarts instead of his fists.

"I’m where I need to be," I said flatly, not giving him more than that. There was also a hell of a story behind how I ended up in Arizona that I couldn’t explain to him yet. Then, there was my fascination with a certain blond.

Veronica was still my little secret, and I knew Luther wouldn’t understand. We didn’t see women more than once. Sure, we’d fuck some girl in a club or at a fight. Well, Victor was more into dudes. Hell, we’d even bring someone to an event, but twice? No. That was asking for complications and stalking someone? I’d never hear the end of it if he found out that I was obsessed with some chick that I hadn’t even fucked.

He snorted. "Classic Havoc. Always cagey as hell. Well, wherever you are, I hope that place has some boxers because we’ve got people clamoring for another fight,” he paused, and I could practically picture him fiddling with that fucking toothpick in his mouth. “You know, with you and Victor gone, it’s been downright peaceful. Like a vacation.”

“Yeah, about Victor,” I hedged.

“He ditch you again, that motherfucker? Or did he finally get caught and end up in jail, that psycho?” Luther laughed, but I didn’t, and that shut him right up.

Victor and I had left for a quick trip down to Cali for a fight promo.

“Did you finally murder him? Is that it?” Luther chuckled but trailed off. There was a beat and then another one, and he connected the dots. “Fuck me. You did.”

The dead air on the phone line held for a few minutes until Luther cleared his throat. “Well, I’m surprised you didn’t put him down sooner. Guy was a fucking psycho. ”

“You’re not upset?” I asked quietly. His answer was important to me. Victor’s death had been inevitable, but I was hoping to salvage my friendship with Luther.

“Honestly, how can you ask me that?” The breath in my lungs froze for a second. Then he continued. “Havoc, you know he scared me on his best days,” he said quickly. “He wasn’t my friend. The guy gave me the absolute creeps. He was dangerous.” This wasn’t news to me, but it was news to me that Luther didn’t consider him a friend. Victor was like one of those wild dogs you brought home and tried to tame and never quite succeeded. You always knew the thing would just as soon as kill you as walk beside you, but somehow you did it anyway. You brought the beast home and thought you would be the one to tame it.

Victor was volatile and unpredictable. You never knew what would set him off. He wouldn’t stop once he started. A tantrum would turn into a killing spree. Victor also had no code — anyone was fair game.

“So, you want to talk about it?” he offered. “What ended up pushing you over the edge? I always thought he had a pass for his crazy.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story when we get together next—maybe. I don’t know. I might need to let it sit for a while.” Talking about his death constantly wasn’t something I wanted to do. What I felt was complicated, and it sounded like Luther had hated Victor. I hadn’t been prepared for that. Maybe I was terrible at this relationship shit.

“Okay.”

“But the reason I’m calling is that we have a fight to set up. I’m ready to set some things in motion. Can you set up a place in Phoenix?” I had let Luther go a little too long without a gig. Murdering and stalking had kept me busy.

“Thank fuck,” he let out an exhale — and just like that, we moved on. “I was going stir crazy. Yeah, I can do Phoenix,” he said distractedly, letting me know his mind was already working on the angles necessary to make this work. “It’s huge, so there will be lots of locations that should be perfect.”

When setting up a fight here, Matteo was just the tip of the iceberg. The list of fighters he’d given me was legit. I’d spent the entire evening vetting it — well, most of the evening. Then, I had a delicious time watching my little liar.

“Are you even listening, asshole?” Luther snapped, indicating that he had been talking to me while I fantasized about Veronica, her shape, and the irresistible smell of her gardenia shampoo.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Jesus,” he complained. “You’re losing your focus,” he scolded. “Stay on track.”

“Yes, sir,” I teased. Luther was always easy to rile up, but he wasn’t wrong. Typically, I was more locked in once we were on a job. Distractions led to problems — problems like getting caught. We didn’t get caught.

“Well, it won’t be an issue in a city like that to find a location,” he said, talking about the venue. “It’s big, so there will be all sorts of warehouse districts, which will be perfect. I will make some calls and see if I can find one that works. But listen, Havoc.” He got serious. “The security. Let’s not skimp on it. After that last shitshow with Francisco making a mess, I don’t want to take any chances this time.”

“Yeah, that sucked,” I admitted. Francisco Sandoval had utterly obliterated the plan we had in place for our Denver fight. We thought we’d had everything locked in, but a man high as a kite on meth clocked a waitress, smashed through five tables, vomited all over a table of socialites, and then collapsed from a heart attack ringside. It had put a massive dent in our evening. Then, an amateur fighter got cold feet, and one group of bettors left because his wife had been vomited on. I’d had to rework the roster before we could even start.

However, Luther was excellent at his job, and I trusted that this next go around would be airtight or be a hell of a laugh. One of the things I loved about it was that each fight was different, but you always needed to keep your wits about you. The underground scene was volatile; you couldn’t afford loose ends or idiots running their mouths. There was always a risk that you could get busted, and I didn’t want to end up in jail. Somehow, I’d lucked out, and we’d not gotten caught yet. I wasn’t about to let that happen. It was always best to keep things fluid in our scene.

“I’ve got some local fighters that seem decent. We’re still vetting them, but we’ll need some bigger names. You got a few we can bring in?” I asked, switching gears.

"You know it," Luther’s answering grin was almost audible in his voice. "Couple of new guys from back East. Some real monsters. One’s been tearing up the Boston circuit. The other’s this psycho they call 'The Hammer.' Kid’s got no quit in him."

"Good. We need some names that’ll bring the money in." Luther was great at keeping tabs on the fighters around the country. He had the patience to reach out, maintain those contacts, and recruit new ones. I enjoyed the hustle of the event, but even that was getting a little boring if I was honest with myself. Most of our fights came to us these days, like this newest one, organizations looking to sponsor a fight and just needing us to set things in motion. We were good at it, and I was satisfied that people recognized it. The money was excellent, especially for kids from the street who used to eat out of a trash can when they couldn’t steal enough to make a meal.

"Speaking of money, you’ve been keeping tabs on the bets, right? We need those whales coming back,” Luther said. The bettors were typically my territory since I had stepped back from fighting myself.

"I’m on it. I got a few big hitters lined up. You just ensure the fighters don’t kill each other before the bell rings." I had already sent some feelers out through our locked channels to get the ball rolling. Getting them set and ready to lay out their dough was critical.

Luther chuckled goodnaturedly. "Man, when have I ever let that happen?”

I didn’t bother answering. Luther knew as well as I did that we had seen plenty of bodies dragged out of those rings, lifeless or close to it. It came with the territory. Underground fighting wasn’t some glitzy prize-fight bullshit. It was brutal. It was blood, fists, and survival. That’s why I’d stuck with it so long — it was real, unforgiving. And I was good at it.

He cleared his throat, shifting back to logistics. "Alright, so we’ll get the fighters. Set security, and the fight will be scheduled on Friday or Saturday. Yeah? We’ll work with Spato.” He cleared his throat, and I tried to ignore the warning tingle along my spine. “You still want the same crew?”

"For the most part," I said, keeping it vague. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Luther. He was probably the only person I did trust if that were a thing, but I didn’t need to be crazy. At one point in my life, I’d included Victor in that circle of trusted people. I clenched my jaw tightly. Just looked at what happened with that.

Betrayed.

“Alright,” Luther said uncertainly. “That’s good. Jolly is good with the lightning, and Russel has always been our go-to for setup.”

“Yeah. Same old crew.” There wasn’t any reason to change the regulars out, right? “Not Jade, though.” Victor had turned Jade into somewhat of a fanatic, twisting her into someone that I couldn’t stomach. Now that he was gone, I didn’t have to bring her around. Bonus.

“Why?” Luther asked, his voice sharpening with curiosity. "What the hell are you doing, man? You disappear, Victor ends up dead, and now you’re calling me acting weird.”

I tensed, my grip tightening on the phone. “Jade was into that shit with Victor. That’s why.” I waited a minute, thinking things over. “How’d you find out that he was dead?”

“I just got a call. You okay about the whole thing?” Luther asked. That was interesting. I chewed on it a little and wondered who it would have been that could have called him since I knew it certainly wasn’t me and couldn’t have been anyone else involved. The number of people present when Victor died was small. Everyone there had made sure to dispose of Victor’s body quietly. In theory, nobody should know he was dead.

“I guess.” I wasn’t sure if I was okay when I was honest with myself, but probably not for the reasons that Luther was asking.

“Are you okay?” I felt obligated to ask. What I meant to ask was if he was alright that I killed his friend. We had already gone over this, but I was second-guessing the conversation now.

“Yeah, like I said — the guy was a scary fucker. You did us a favor.”

“Fair enough,” I answered, dropping it. I exhaled slowly, my eyes flicking to the monitors I had set up. Veronica’s house was still quiet. No movement. Not yet. “I never want to talk about it,” I clarified.

I wasn’t sure it was fair to set the stipulation, but I didn’t feel there would ever come a time when I could think of my first childhood friend without being scraped raw.

"Touchy," he muttered. "Alright, fine. You’ve always had your reasons for being cryptic. Just make sure whatever you’re doing doesn’t blow back. I don’t need any heat."

"It won’t. Keep your focus on the fight."

"Yeah, yeah. So, I’ll call you tomorrow to verify that we’ll be on. If so, I’ll get bets rolling and text you the final numbers."

"Good. And make sure to use secured lines. I don’t want any surprises,” I added, thinking of my little spy.

"Please, Havoc. Do you think I don’t know how to run my own show? I got this. "

"I’m just making sure you do."

There was a pause, then Luther chuckled again, a softer, more familiar sound. "It’s good hearing from you, man. Missed this."

"Don’t get sentimental on me now," I said, though a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Wouldn’t dream of it." He paused for a moment before adding, "Stay out of trouble. And maybe try not to disappear for another two months?"

"No promises."

"Didn’t think so. It should be your tagline. No promises. You got a place for me to stay there?”

“Yeah, bro. I bought a place.” I could practically hear him thinking on that.

“Cool.” The word was full of meaning, and I knew we’d be having it out once he arrived. I’d never done this before — bought some random place in a city. We had always lived in Seattle. “Catch you later, Havoc.”

I hung up, tossing the phone onto the couch beside me. The fight was coming together, and the logistics were solid. Luther could handle the operations on the ground here, but I had my own plans to deal with .

I turned my attention back to the monitors. Veronica hadn’t moved from her spot yet. Good. I had more time.

Time to figure out my next move. It was time to decide how much further I would drag her into this world.

Because once she was in, there was no way out.