Fight(50)

Dmitry knocked his right hand on the table and then chuckled. “Goddamn. That’s a tall order to make.”

“I made it,” I said. “So what’s the problem?”

“Have a seat.”

“No.”

Dmitry nodded. “I will then.” He sat back down. He opened a drawer and dug through it. Then he brought out a picture. He put it on the desk and turned it around and slid it forward. “So you’re here for this?”

I stepped forward and looked down at the picture. For a second I lost my breath. The picture was of a little girl, maybe four years old. She had dark, curly hair, a big smile, but the eyes got to me. They were Winter’s eyes. It was definitely her daughter. The daughter she had been forced to give up.

“Cat got your tongue there?” Dmitry asked.

I looked at him. My right hand was in a fist. I really thought about going after him.

“Easy,” Dmitry said. He lifted his right hand and put a gun on the desk. “I know how to take care of myself. So let’s just be men and talk.”

“I’d rather fight.”

“Understandable,” Dmitry said. “This isn’t your gig. So why are you here?”

“You took something that’s not yours. That little girl doesn’t belong to you.”

“She’s taken care of, along with her mother.”

“So let me try your game,” I said. “What do you want from me to get them?”

Dmitry nodded. “That’s a tough decision. I was just going to kill them.”

“Why?”

“I have no f*cking use for them now.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Dmitry grinned.

He leaned back in his chair.

I made my move.

I grabbed the gun and pointed it at him. “Where are they?”

“Don’t do this, Tripp. I want to like you.”

“Fuck you. I have no loyalty to anyone. To anything.”

“Except that little tight slit between Winter’s legs, right?”

I pulled the trigger.

My eyes went wide…

Click.

I dropped the gun and Dmitry stood up. “And I thought we could trust each other.”

The door to the office busted open and I turned just in time to have three huge guys charge in after me. My instinct was to fight, so I started throwing punches. I had no chance - and I f*cking knew it - but if I didn’t fight, then what was the point of living?





32.


(Winter)



I opened the door and Stoney threw his arms around me.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Oh, f*ck, Winter. I’m just so f*cking sorry for everything. For Rocky. For Endo. For everything. What a goddamn mess.”

He squeezed me tight. I felt nothing. Stoney and I never had a thing for each other. Well, maybe he eyed me after Rocky’s death, but no more. I was Tripp’s. No matter what it took.

“Is Tripp okay?”

“No,” Stoney said. “I’m just so sorry.”

I broke away from Stoney’s hug, but he kept his hands on my shoulders. He looked ready to cry.

“Stoney, what is it?”

“Everything…”

“You don’t have to be upset. It’s not like you caused any of this.”





33.


(Tripp)



I took one more punch and they let me go. It felt like someone had thrown a cinderblock into my gut. I collapsed to the ground and put my hands to the floor. Outside the door people were cheering.

“That’s enough,” Dmitry said. “You three leave now. Go run security.”

The door opened and shut.

I climbed to my feet and wiped blood off my mouth. I looked at Dmitry. He was standing there, a smug look on his face.

“That’s how you do it?” I asked.

“I take care of things. It’s not always about being fair, Tripp. It’s about winning. My father taught me that as a young kid. So, can we start over? Find some trust?”

“No,” I said. “I have no interest in trusting you. Or helping you. I’m here for Autumn. Give me the kid and I’ll leave.”

“You have no muscle here,” Dmitry said. He stepped from around the desk. “Come on, let’s walk. You need to keep moving. It’ll help blood flow and chase away the pain.”

I had no idea if that was true or not.

Dmitry opened the door and we walked out together. We went to the railing just as the first fight was about to begin. It was two scrawny guys in the middle of a square. One had his fists up. The other hand his hands down, loose, dancing around.

“This is the warmup,” Dmitry said. “We let these fools knock each other around a little. Gets the crowd excited.”

“Why the low class shit?” I asked.

“It makes money.”

“Can’t be much though.”

Dmitry looked at me. “Brings in the exact clientele I need for my real business.”

Real business.

I looked back down at the floor and realized what that was. In the corners of the warehouse were a few more tables. Sex, drugs, and fighting. That’s what Skull X did. Seeing women sitting behind the tables, in nothing but bikinis, waiting to be paid for.