Vincent’s cell vibrated in his vest pocket. He fished it out, glanced at the screen, then sighed. Tina would have to wait. He slipped it back in his pocket and waited for his Brother to respond.
“Whatever you say,” Dog Tag conceded.
“Good.” Vincent slapped him on the back. “Time to get this over with.”
He led Dog Tag out of the gazebo, well beyond the picnic tables and grill. Sand and water made up the boundaries of the fight arena. Better than asphalt in a parking lot or a clubhouse full of furniture.
Chez joined them with Crash at his side. “We agree to the terms. The last man standing wins.”
Members from both clubs formed a wide circle around the four of them, shielding them from view of any outsiders. The sun had already set and the streetlights were on. Vincent approached Crash, his hands fisted at his sides, a snarl on his face.
“I’m going to check for weapons,” Vincent said, patting him from his shoulders down. Satisfied he didn’t find anything, Vincent nodded at Chez.
The president of the Man-o-Wars did the same to Dog Tag. “Done.” He retreated into the circle, leaving his Brother to stand on his own.
Vincent shook Dog Tag’s hand, then claimed his spot next to J.T. He knew Dog Tag had what it took to end this quick. Time to show the inferior Man-o-Wars how real 1%ers handled their business.
Crash was a blur of motion as he scooped up a fistful of sand and attacked Dog Tag. Unprepared, Dog Tag stumbled back a foot from the impact of the body slam, spitting at the same time. The son of a bitch fought dirty, and Vincent growled as he watched Dog Tag blink to clear his vision. Crash grinned sadistically, waiting for Dog Tag to recover.
Big mistake. Dog Tag landed a crushing blow to Crash’s cheek, following up with a swift kick of his boot heel to his shin. This time Crash retreated in obvious pain, but Dog Tag didn’t relent. He went at him like a battering ram, delivering a combination of punches to his chin.
“Like hurting women?” Dog Tag yelled. “Like leaving scars?”
Crash huffed out a breath. All that drinking hadn’t done him any favors; he appeared out of shape and tired already. He missed one hit, but landed another on the shoulder of his opponent, who laughed bitterly and started to do fancy footwork like a prize boxer. The Sons of Odin members cheered him on.
“Make him your bitch.”
“Fuck him up, Brother.”
Vincent knew what his Brother, a former member of the Special Forces, was capable of. And if he doubted Dog Tag’s ability to rein in his raw strength and temper, he’d never question him again after this fight. Or maybe it was intentional, and he wanted to play with his prey the way lions did before the kill. There were a couple more whacks before Crash fell to his knees, shaking his head in confusion.
Dog Tag stepped back, likely returning the favor of granting his rival a second to gather his bearings. Only Dog Tag didn’t fight like a bitch. What you saw was what you got.
“Get up!” Chez yelled.
Crash reacted immediately, staggering to his feet. Dog Tag came at him again, sweeping his right foot underneath his boots, sending him back to the sand. Then Dog Tag leaped on top of him, straddling his head.
“Admit what you did to Saline.”
The circle of bodies shifted, some of the Brothers closing in on the two fighters.
“Confess,” Dog Tag demanded, using his powerful legs like a vise.
Crash kicked his feet, but didn’t answer.
Dog Tag punched him in the nose, his chest heaving for air. “Goddamnit,” he spat. “There’s no way you’re getting me off your chest. Saline!”
Vincent looked to his right, where Saline was sandwiched between John and Lurch. He didn’t want her directly involved, but if he contested now, Dog Tag would look weak in front of the Man-o-Wars.
“Want me to stop her?” J.T. asked.
“No.”
“Saline,” Dog Tag called to her again.
She emerged, face flushed, but determined to go to him. “I’m here.” Slowly she walked across the circle, until she stood where Dog Tag could see her.
He wrapped his hand around Crash’s throat, then gazed up at her. “I’d never ask you to do anything that would hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Show the Brothers what this asshole did to you. Let them see why I took you away from him.”
Crash made a pathetic attempt to use his body weight to knock Dog Tag off balance, but Dog Tag simply squeezed his neck to maintain control of him.
Saline eyeballed the closest men in the crowd, looking nervous and unsure of herself. Vincent couldn’t leave her standing there alone. He quietly came up behind her.
“I’ve got your back,” he said.