Chapter Nine

Danny

I hated the apartment feeling empty for some reason, which threw me. Empty was usually my safe space. Empty being just Sadie and me. It was weird because a few days ago I would have loved this, and now?

I wasn't ready to admit I was missing any sort of a distraction.

But you are. And he had a name.

He hadn't panicked when he'd seen me panicking. I suppose there had to be a joke in there somewhere, but I wasn't feeling it.

My cell phone buzzed and, glancing at the number, I sighed. I knew I could only avoid Mom for so long before she'd be calling Rawlings to check up on me, and it wasn't that I knew she loved me and worried. She was just sometimes a little too much.

We weren't a military family. Both she and Dad had been bemused when I decided to join basic training instead of trying to get a scholarship in some sort of computer science. I'd been building computers since I was around nine, so they both thought that was the way I was going to go. What they never knew, what they will never know, was the shit-show my school life was.

We didn't have any money. Dad worked long hours. Mom juggled three jobs around family. All to send me to a school supposedly to give me a leg up but that was full of rich, entitled pricks that made my life a misery from day one.

A sharp shove to my back had me hitting the lockers. I didn't need to see to know who it was from the sneering voice. "Come on, scholar-shit, let's see what you're really made of."

Except I hadn't been there on a scholarship. Mom and Dad paid a ton of money to send me there. Not that I said that. There was no point. Not when my locker was filled with dog crap. Not when my books were ripped, and I faced detention. Not when the obligatory sports turned me into one massive bruise, because every other person on the team made me their target.

I stuck it out. Stuck it out until I left and enlisted. Half of me had been expecting the army to contain the same bullies, but it hadn't, or not with me anyway. For the first time my skills had been useful. Basic training had been impossible at first, but somehow my skinny body had packed on lean muscle, and I'd thrived. I'd jumped through all the hoops I needed and thought I'd hit the jackpot when I got assigned to Diesel's team.

They didn't know what to do with me at first. Diesel, Gray, and Aubrey were a world away from me in experience and skill, but there must have been something they saw in me, and I quickly proved my worth.

My mind shied away from how it ended. After the episode this morning, it wasn't a good idea to remember.

I glanced at Sadie, who was looking at me like she always did. Ready to follow or ready to have my back. "I really wish I could." I wanted to follow Kane desperately.

But I knew four years later I was still the coward that had been created in that hole. Maybe I would always be.

And I hated myself for it.

Kane

"Who is it?" Ringo asked, and I glanced at the man. I would put him up there in age with Rawlings, so he had to have ten years on me, at a guess. Not that he wasn't fit. An understated fit, but one look at those whipcord muscles and no one with any sense wanted to get in his way. He had some half-visible tats just below his short-sleeves. Dark brown hair cut military short and green eyes that were so sharp they could cut glass. He had a scar that ran vertically from his ear down his throat and stopped about collar length. I assumed he'd served with the rest of them, so he probably disliked me as well.

Nah, Rawlings didn't dislike me. I was a business asset. But anything was better than where I'd come from, so…

"It's the same kid from the gas station and the Saunders place."

I was expecting a question, a verification. You sure? But Ringo just texted—I assumed Rawlings—which he confirmed a moment later. "Diesel says will the kid know you recognize him?"

I shook my head. "He was masked both times. He still might freak out, though. He definitely saw me both times."

Ringo tapped the steering wheel. "He ain't hiding. This is a public gym. He has to have some confidence in not being recognized."

I watched him go inside. "What about the scar? He's allowed?"

"Ricky, the gym manager, allows anyone that can fairly throw a punch. If they play nasty, he won't have them back. He has matches and takes a percentage, but he's just paying his bills. He's had outside interest in sponsoring the fights a few times, but he won't let anyone cheat. He doesn't care if you have a scar or a fucking wooden leg, there's always an opponent." Ringo tapped his fingers on the wheel. "It looks busy. Fights are usually at night, but maybe they have some going on today."

And an idea crept in. "Does Shae Turner fight?"

Ringo turned to eye me. "Yes, as he's enhanced. Why would you think that's a good idea?"

"Because any other sort of interaction would be sus. He's not gonna believe I want to meet people."

Ringo chuckled. "Fuck, I might actually like you."

"Yeah, well let's see if he tries to kill me first." Ringo scoffed at my words. "I'm not a Vance," I said, remembering what Rawlings had said, "and I have no idea what his scar might be hiding." And I remembered the confidence Saunders had, and the lack of concern when he saw me, plus the unconcerned reaction of his dad in the gas station. The kid had to have something.

"Did you get any clue of an ability?"

I eyed Ringo. It was like he'd read my mind. "No, but Saunders and his dad didn't worry when they saw me."

Ringo kept his gaze on me and shrugged. "In the gym you're not allowed any woo-woo shit. Strength, speed, sure, but nothing likely to cause a permanent injury." He paused. "Maybe all you need to be is Kane."

I didn't know how to reply to that, so I got out of the truck. What was it about Diesel's guys and huge trucks? Although, I hadn't seen what Danny drove.

I followed Ringo to the door and wondered if Danny was okay. We'd left him alone. Okay, so he had the dog, but what if he spiraled again? I surreptitiously pulled the phone out of my bag and glanced at it as we walked inside. Maybe I should send him a quick text? I managed "u ok?" before another voice had me looking up.

"Hey Starr." An older guy bumped knuckles with Ringo, then looked at me.

"Kane Diaz, meet Ricky Jones. This is his gym."

"Sir," I said respectfully and held out my hand, which he shook.

"Well then," Ricky said. "Can you fight?"

I hesitated.

"Fairly," he stressed.

"Yes, sir," because the gym was about the only place I'd been allowed to go. I knew how to hit a bag. Faces, not so much.

"Good. First match starting in a few. They're always ready for fresh meat."

Ringo frowned, waited until Ricky had walked away, then leaned in. "Like I said he usually does all the fights on a Friday night. I thought it'd be quiet, sorry."

Which might work out in our favor, though. I glanced around and watched the few exercise areas. The place was huge. Some treadmills and benches in an area to the side, plenty of weights, rowing machines. Nothing too fancy. Reminded me of jail. Except the free weights, of course. As a possible weapon, they were banned.

The ring was the pride of place, and I watched as Shae Turner came out of the changing rooms and over to a guy sitting at a desk, presumably taking names and money.

"What's that?"

"That's the list of matches," Ringo said. "They take names and details and see if they can match fighters."

I watched as the guy shook his head at Shae, even as Shae thrust a wad of cash at him. "What's wrong?"

"He doesn't have an enhanced available and willing to go up against him," Ringo said. My feet were moving of their own accord before Ringo had finished talking, and I was standing in front of the guy taking names before I knew it.

"Kane Diaz," I said. "How much?" I had the last of the cash Rawlings had given me. I didn't look at Shae, but I heard the sharp inhale, and blindly gave the man what he asked for.

"Okay, you're on after the next round," he said, and only then did I look at Shae, who looked like he was going to bolt.

"Stroke of luck," I rambled. "First time here. My friend told me they took us." I didn't need to point to the scar. I knew he would understand the "us" comment. I saw the panic he tried to hide in his sharper breaths. His pupils narrowed by 0.11 of an inch and a flush slightly darkened his skin at the same time as the pressure of his teeth paled his lips. His knuckles also whitened as he clenched them. I kept my gaze steady. Prison had taught me not to react. It was a place where the wrong facial expression might get you killed. It was a skill to learn quickly.

"You want to fight?"

I didn't blame his suspicion or hesitation. I knew he'd recognized me, but hopefully he thought his mask had covered enough of his face that I didn't recognize him.

"I need the money." I shrugged. If he knew who I was, that was believable. Hell, it was probably believable either way.

"Enhanced rules," the guy that had taken the money said.

Shae nodded, but I wanted a clarification. "Which are?"

"Enhanced can only fight another enhanced, or a triple undefeated champion. You're only allowed to use strength and speed."

I opened my mouth to agree, even though my first reaction would be to ask how they were supposed to know, but a voice behind us said, "I'll fight the kid."

Both Shae and I turned to see a man. I took in the bulging muscles, the scars, that tattoos that started on his face and just got bigger, and the scars underneath a lot of them.

I also registered the quincunx, or the five dots just visible on his right hand between the thumb and forefinger showing he'd done time, and the five-point star on his bare chest that I knew designated his affiliation with a huge gang out of Chicago.

Fuck. No way could this kid fight him, unable to use any talent, not and be able to live. "I'll fight him," I said, my heart pounding in time to the noise around me.

"Wait your turn," the man said and put a pile of cash down on the desk.

"Wait, I already paid." I said, but the guy taking the cash shook his head.

"Champion calls dibs but it's up to the kid." He looked at Shae. "You want the enhanced or Karlo? He's a seven times undefeated champion." Karlo got out another pile of bills from his back pocket and put them down.

Shae's eyes widened, but he didn't even look at me. "I'll fight Karlo."

I opened my mouth a second time, but Ringo yanked me back and got in my face. "You cause trouble and they'll throw you out."

I walked away with him. "This is fucked up and you know it."

Ringo nodded. "He must have something going on."

But strength and speed? I glanced at Shae, who was now in the ring, no gloves. Karlo was offered a face protector, and he shook his head. Then Shae was offered the same and Karlo laughed, muttering something I couldn't hear. Shae's eyes narrowed, and he refused, and I absolutely knew Karlo had goaded him into it.

A crowd had gathered, and I saw Ringo talking to an older man by his side, but then he turned to me. "They never get enhanced and regular fights. No one ever wants to risk it. This is going to make a ton of money for the gym that Ricky can't turn down."

I glanced at them in sheer exasperation as Shae and Karlo warmed up. "Well, I hope like fuck Shae's got something because he isn't going to last the first ten seconds, if not."

A moment later, we all knew what.

It was speed.

Shae practically danced out of every one of Karlo's fists. Sure the guy was smart and guessed the direction Shae dodged in, but the glancing blows were nothing. A split lip, a few bruises. Shae took one to his side that probably hurt, but the bell went before Karlo could inflict any real damage.

And Karlo was pissed. He growled and stormed back to his corner.

"It's the first fight he's had that has lasted more than the first round," Ringo told me, but all my focus was on the fight. I saw the corner-man bend and whisper something to Karlo, who nodded, leaned over, and tightened his laces.

I frowned. That was odd. It seemed a nervous habit more than anything because the corner-man—a thin older Latino guy—had already checked them. It drew my attention.

His sneakers were expensive. I'd seen these particular Air Jordan's inside on one of the gang leaders and knew they retailed at over twenty thousand dollars. I also knew the sole width for a man of Karlo's size was 320mm because I'd paid attention, even if he bought a bigger shoe. The shoes he was wearing were over an inch thicker.

The bell dinged for the start of round two and it went the same way for a minute. Karlo not really connecting, but Shae couldn't just keep avoiding his fists. At some point something had to happen.

Then it did.

Karlo glanced at his corner-man, and then feigned with his left, as he brought his right foot up to catch Shae on his right side. The direction of the kick was oddly deliberate and in that second I absolutely knew the shoe contained something other than Karlo's foot.

"Knife!" I screamed and leaped for the ring.

It was enough for Karlo to pull his kick a little out of surprise, but the blood still bloomed on Shae's skin and Shae went down hard. Everyone rushed in and for the too-many-long-seconds it took Ringo and me to get to Shae, he was surrounded.

I rammed into the crowd and moved them, then elbowed my way in as one of the corner -men bent and pressed a rag to Shae's side, shouting for medical attention and an ambulance. I bent down and Shae's pain-filled eyes met mine. He shook his head minutely. "No cops."

I nodded and despite a sudden shout of protests, hooked both my arms under Shae's body, hefted him, and ran. We were out of the gym and in Ringo's truck by the time everyone had gotten over the shock enough to try to stop us.

"I hope you know what you're fucking doing," Ringo bit out. But my mind played back the length of the blade, the speed, and the direction of the injury. I knew it hadn't hit a major organ. "Let's get him home."

Ringo grunted. "Danny can sew him up."

I cradled Shae as we peeled away from the gym and wondered what mess I had gotten myself into now.