Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(29)

"Damon," he said as he moved forward, Kennick and Tricia at his heels.

"No," Mina said from the other side of the door. "I still don't know where he is."

They were in a locker room, a small one.

"I looked for him in the crowd, didn't see him," she said. "But I did see something else. Come here."

"How did you get back here?" Tricia asked, thinking that this was a  pretty crappy organization if anyone could waltz into the back rooms.

"I'm good at sneaking," Mina said flatly, leading them towards the far  door. She cracked it open just enough that Kennick and Cristov could see  through it to where she pointed. "You see those men?"

There was a crowd of ten burly, angry-looking men in leather vests crowded around one corner of the makeshift ring.

"They're wearing Steel Dragons cuts," she said, closing the door again.  "We shouldn't let them see us. But they're here. It's for real. Jenner  wasn't lying. Also, the fight is supposed to start in like two minutes."

"Jenner? Isn't he that guy who … " Tricia began to speak, confused. Damon  had told her about Jenner. Was he suddenly trustworthy now? And still,  fear clawed at her stomach. Steel Dragons. The words were like poison to  her sanity.         

     



 

Her question was cut short as the door swung inward; the Volanis  siblings were blown backward by the massive shape that stalked in.

"What the fuck are you all doing here?"

Damon's body seemed larger than usual, his work at the gym paying off in  bulk. And his eyes were certainly bigger than Tricia had ever seen them  as he looked from face to face.

"What are we doing here? What are you doing here? You said you were done with this shit and … "

Cristov lunged forward to meet his brother; Cristov was smaller, it was true, but not that much smaller.

"How the hell did you find me?" Damon asked, interrupting Cristov's  tirade; his eyes moved to Tricia, narrowed, a scowl crossing his face.  "Did you tell them? Did you tell them, Tricia? You promised … "

"I didn't," she said, her tone more angry than pleading. "I didn't say  shit. They came here on their own. And we better be fucking thankful  they did, because you're going to get totally screwed out there. It's a  set-up, Damon."

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"She's right," Kennick said, now moving between Cristov and Damon. He  was the smallest of his brothers, his life spent training for leadership  rather than battle. If it came to blows, Cristov was the only one who  would stand a chance against Damon, having sparred with his brother  since they were teenagers. But if Damon was going to listen to anyone,  it would be Kennick  –  or Mina.

"Listen, we got some intel on where you were," Kennick went on. "The  Steel Dragons set this up. Or, they had a hand in it. That guy you're  about to fight, he's been paid off to fight dirty. I don't know if he  brought a piece, or a blade, or if he's just gonna go hard on the  nut-shots, but he's not supposed to let you leave the ring alive. They  want your blood, Damon. Didn't you see them out there?"

Damon didn't answer the question, but the quick glance of his eyes  downward answered it for him. Cristov stiffened, but Kennick silenced  him with a look. He saw them, and he was going to do it anyway, Tricia  thought. That's how bad he wants it …

"Who told you?" Damon asked, shaking his head. Tricia recognized the  slow acceptance in his eyes, along with a sort of sorrow, a terrible  crush as he realized that the fight he'd been waiting his whole life for  would never happen now. Good, she thought from some deep place in her  mind. It would never have made you happy, Damon …

And now he'll never learn that on his own, she thought, wincing inside at the pain in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter who told us," Mina said from the side. They know he'd  never go for it if he knew it came from Jenner, Tricia thought.

"Stop being a stupid prick and come back with us," Cristov growled  behind Kennick. Tricia noted the way his hands fisted, his chest heaved.  The man was all fire and rage. That was Ricky's lover. That was the man  who'd saved her once. And this was the man that Damon brought out in  him.

"You don't understand," Damon said, shaking his head. "It doesn't  matter. I don't care. Now that I know about it, I can prevent it. I need  to fight. I need this fight … "

"We need you," Mina said, stepping forward. "We need you a lot more than you need this."

Damon looked at his sister, eyes softening.

"Please," Tricia said, standing off to the side. "Damon, listen to them. Please."

He looked at Tricia, and his jaw went slack. His shoulders slumped. She  thought she'd never seen him so broken, so sad. It made her heart feel  like shattering.

"Fine," he said, finally, looking down. "Let's go, then."

Kennick and Cristov stepped to the side as Damon pushed past them  towards the back door. Outside the other door, the faint sounds of a  discontented crowd reached them. Damon was at the back door, pushing it  open, when a man swept in through the front door.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" the man said, pointing to  Damon, who didn't turn. "I got a crowd out there that wants blood, and  fast. We had an agreement … "

The back door slammed shut.

"Agreement's off," Cristov said, turning to the red-faced man. "Damon's  not fighting. Whatever he owes you … just send us the bill, huh?"

"What? What the fuck do you mean he's not fighting? I need him to fight, goddammit, I need him, Jesus Mary and Joseph … "

They left the man cursing and blubbering behind them, all feeling  relieved  –  and yet, at the same time, heavy-hearted. Things didn't feel  finished. The storm was still coming. Damon had given up  –  for the first  time in his life, perhaps, he had yielded.         

     



 

There would be something owed for that, they were sure.

And when they stepped outside, into the first real slough of rain, they saw what payment was owed.





32





Damon left his family and his woman behind to deal with the angry  promoter, walking out the back door before he could change his mind.  Fucked. This was fucked. So long he'd waited, so damn long, and those  biker fucks had to …

"Hey!"

The shout barely made it to Damon's ears before a roll of thunder shook  through the sky. Rain began to come down like a fine steam, the drops  piddling across the cement, making Damon's shirt feel slightly larger  and less comfortable than it had moments ago. Damon turned. A man stood  against the building, where a second door led to his opponent's locker  room. The man threw a cigarette onto the ground.

"Hey, you fuck! Where you going! We're supposed to be in there any second!"

The rain came harder, turning fabric to glue, making the world heavier.  Damon's heart thudded in his chest. The man heaved himself off the side  of the building, began to cross the pavement towards Damon.

How long had it been since Damon had seen him? The years hadn't been  kind. He was big, impressively big, but his muscles were a façade. His  stomach protruded: a fat, sturdy drum. In a moment, Damon figured out  his angle. He could take a lot of hits. Enough to wear a man down. His  hair was thinning, his face carved and etched with wrinkles. Damon felt  something strange welling up inside him and he stamped it down. Anger  coiled around his shoulders, tensing his muscles.

"This is over," Damon said, but the words were swallowed by the thunder,  a flash of lightning across the sky. "I'm not fighting you."

But, oh, how Damon wanted to. Curly Gottlieb stalked forward, his face a  grotesque mask of cruelty. He was there. Right there. He was coming  closer, walking right into Damon's hands, offering himself up on a  platter. Suddenly, Damon was a kid again, his heart thumping hard  against his ribs as he watched this man take something that didn't  belong to him, something sacred precious, watched this man hurt someone  as terribly as a human could be hurt …

"Damon," he heard another shout, this one recognizable, over the  increasing sound of rain hitting ground, the downpour like a curtain  now. Wind swept around Damon, solid and immovable as a boulder.

"Fuck that shit, boy, you get in there and fight me," Curly bellowed. "I need that money and … "

"Damon!"

"Do you know who I am?" Damon growled, staring at the man, now only a  few feet away. Everything Damon had been chasing for twenty years stood  between them, every nightmare, every thrashing pain in his heart, every  dark corner of his mind. "Do you recognize me?"

Curly didn't look like he did, and he didn't look like he cared, either. The man pointed to the door to Damon's locker room.

"Get your ass inside, kid, and let's give ‘em a show," he said. "Been waiting for you to get out there … "