The F King:A Bad Boy Romance(61)

"Probably."

Renato garbled something in response, and I was sure I wasn't the only  one who had no idea what he said. Gavino continued as if Renato hadn't  made a sound.

"So you've got a big career change happening if loverboy wins his fight,  and every time a new guy blows his load inside you, I want you to  remember it's happening because Austin Aquila didn't know his fuckin'  place."         

     



 

My heart threatened to break itself in two at the mention of Austin. The  entire time I'd been trapped here, they'd been driving that point home.  A few times, wallowing in self-pity or in terror, like when Renato cut  my head at the hairline with that huge knife, I almost lost control and  let myself believe it.

Then I remembered all those times we shared that nobody else knew about,  those precious little moments that belonged to us and us alone. I never  had anybody to share those with before Austin.

Sometimes we'd lie in bed until birds started singing outside, just  talking, joking, sharing little pieces of ourselves. Austin never told  me about this, but he did let me in to some other private corners of his  past. Maybe he thought I couldn't handle this truth.

Then there was the fact that I was carrying his baby. Our lives were  irrevocably intertwined now. If we had any lives left to intertwine.

I barely contained a sob when I remembered yesterday morning at home  after I read that pregnancy test. It was heart-wrenching to think that  the first thing I ever told my child was shaping up to be a lie.

I promise I wanted to do better, little one, I thought.

There was another promise I'd made too. I held it deep inside myself, so  far down that nothing these mobsters said had come close to touching  it.

I promised Austin that, in me, he had a love he could rely on. That was  one promise I wasn't going to let them turn into a lie. I loved him. I  loved him no matter what. He didn't do this to me. They did.

"Hey Enrico, something's been bothering me," said Gavino.

"What's that, boss?"

"This bitch's name. Skylar Cross. Hey, bitch, did you know a guy …  what  was his fuckin' name …  Malcolm Cross? That was the guy at NHBFC wasn't  it, Enrico?"

"Oh yeah," said Enrico, dragging out the last word thoughtfully.

A long-held hope was suddenly wrenched out of my clutches when Enrico  started laughing at some sick memory. How could my uncle have been mixed  up with these people too?

"Ah, look at that pretty little face," said Gavino. "You did know him. Your dad?"

I clenched my jaws shut as a whirlwind of emotions churned me into knots  on the inside. Grief wracked me anew, bringing a fresh flow of tears  streaming down my cheeks, red from the exertion of my pained grimace.

"You topped him, didn't ya?" asked Gavino.

"Course. Stupid fuck wouldn't drug that fighter, so he wasn't any use to us."

Enrico made a gun shape with his hand and mimicked firing it, and I  groaned in physical pain as Gavino and Renato laughed. The storm inside  of me dragged up some other emotion, something much more hot and  violent.

Anger. It spread from my stomach to the tips of my fingers, which I  bunched into fists behind me. I was shaking with fury, welcoming it over  the fear and sadness.

Through a mouth no less tightly shut than Renato's, I forced out one last promise with every ounce of vehemence I could muster.

"I'll fucking kill you all!"

"Hey look at me, shakin' in fear," said Gavino.

The commercial on the screen ended and faded back in to a sweeping  camera shot of the inside of the New Ashby Event Center, with the  Decagon lit up in the middle and the announcer holding the microphone  hanging by its wire from the ceiling. When he got the signal in his  earpiece, I saw him nod and he launched into his introduction of the  challenger …  Austin Aquila.

"Quick get that fuckin' camera on."

Enrico messed around with the video camera for a second, adjusting it on  its tripod behind me to capture both myself and the TV in the same  frame. The live feed changed cameras to show Austin by himself in the  tunnels, waiting to be called out.

The camera followed him from side to side as he paced back and forth  like a wild animal. His eyes looked like he was watching horrors  happening from a great distance and the bags under them betrayed a  sleepless night.

Whether he won in the first minute of the first round or not, this was  probably going to be the last time I saw him. These guys weren't letting  me go. I was as good as gone. It was strange that the first and last  times I laid eyes on him were going to be the same, on television.

Somehow he heard his cue and he stalked out of the tunnel towards the  ring and the camera switched back to a wider shot, showing the  spotlights following his progress through the middle of a crowd who had  no idea that a young marriage, blossoming beautifully against the odds,  was about to end violently.

"There's been a lot of talk today about the strange behavior of The Killer, John." Came the voice of the commentator.

"There sure has, Pete. From the moment he showed up by himself for the  press conference earlier, and stormed off when the reporter asked about  how the final touches on his training have come together, he's looked on  edge. There's been no sign of his coach or his wife, leading some to  speculate that there might be something going on between them. I  understand our Media Relations team is preparing a statement about that.  Either way, tonight, there appears to be no sign of the Austin Aquila  who has won the hearts and minds of so many over the past several  months. Look at his face, Pete, he's got some vicious ideas going  through his mind, I'll tell you that much for free."         

     



 

"But will it be enough to unravel the enigma that is Brenton Southgate?  Aquila showed that, like all heavyweights, he can muster up knockout  power big enough to take out even seasoned strikers, and that left high  kick wasn't slow, but does he have the toolset to bring down the champ?"

The announcer in the ring nodded again once Austin was in his corner and  began to introduce Brenton Southgate. The commentators listened until  Brenton started his own walk into the middle of the event center.

"I honestly don't think so, Pete. If these two met in a jiu jitsu  tournament or any kind of pure-submission competition for that matter,  absolutely, yes, I give it to Aquila, he's the better grappler, but what  Southgate has is his uncanny ability to defend the takedown and pick  apart his opponents with superior striking. That defence, I think, is  what is going to make the major difference between this fight and Aquila  vs Sanchez."

"So what's your prediction, John?"

"Southgate by knockout in …  the third I say."

In the center of the ring, the referee was giving the fighters the  instructions to protect themselves at all times and obey his commands.  He invited them to touch gloves, but neither fighter made any movements  to do so. Southgate, probably because of the face-heel turn Robbie  Johnson had him playing out and Austin because he was too on edge.

With the cameras rolling, in the event center and behind me, Enrico  pulled his gun out of its holster as the fighters on screen backed to  their respective corners. The referee approached the middle of the ring  and looked to each side as the mobster reached out and held the barrel  against my temple.

The fear was back, blurring my view of the fight with stress and  watering eyes. My breath came in short bursts as iron bands around my  chest tightened.

I tried to close my eyes, to let myself sink down into some daydream to  escape this reality. I tried to feel Austin's arm around me, calm and  strong. Safe.

"Watch it, bitch," Enrico pressed the muzzle against my head painfully until I complied.

I would have to face my last minute on Earth with my eyes open.





Austin





Pacing back and forth on my side of the ring, barely staying inside my  designated area, I was going out of my motherfucking mind. There was no  calm confidence in my abilities and no reassuringly familiar anger  either.

This was fear and confusion unlike anything I'd ever experienced within  the chain-linked borders of this decagon. Although it must have looked  something like the old Austin Aquila on the outside, it was completely  different for me.

The referee approached the middle of the cage and I started huffing air  not entirely unlike Benny had in the office in that construction yard.  The closer he got to the middle, the closer he got to signaling the  start of the fight.

If Jace hadn't done what he said he would yet, and I hadn't fucking  heard he had, then that meant Skylar was sitting in a chair with a gun  to her head and it was all down to me. One minute to tear apart one of  the greatest the sport had ever known.

Of all the fighting assets I needed to do that, the one I needed the  most was pretty much fucked. My mind was flickering between the fight,  what they'd do to Skylar if I failed, what I'd do to them, and failing  to cope with the extremes of emotion that came with it all.