Invincible(41)

The crowd quickly started to boo, not wanting to see this kind of stuff. They wanted to see a fight. Knuckles to face. Blood. Teeth shattering. That’s what they put their money on.

Wes backed up and waved to Phantom to get up.

“Come on!” Wes growled. “Get on your f*cking feet!”

The crowd cheered. They were now all on Wes’s side.

Phantom kicked back and sat there for a few seconds. Those seconds were like hours to the men drinking and betting and waiting for a clean knockout punch.

“Get him Wes!” someone screamed from the crowd.

“Kick his f*cking head off!”

Wes just stood there.

Time kept ticking by. My hands became jittery. I wanted Wes to end this fight and help me get the hell out of here.

Phantom rose to his feet and wiped blood off his face. He then cracked his knuckles and spit at the ground. It was a glob of dark red blood.

Phantom then let out a scream and ran at Wes.

It was nothing I’d ever seen before. Normally guys would go nose to nose or chest to chest. But Phantom literally tackled Wes. He took Wes to the ground and started to unleash on him. It reminded me more of a girl fight where the two screamed and pulled at each other’s hair.

The crowd cheered and then hated it. They didn’t want the guys on the ground. They wanted them standing and swinging, like real men.

Wes managed to fight Phantom off him. He rolled on the concrete ground and pushed back up. He got to his feet and Phantom charged again. Wes slid out of the way and lifted his knee, smashing it against Phantom’s ribs.

When Wes threw his head back, his long, sweaty hair flew back too. He looked around at the crowd. He had a few cuts on his face. He looked like he was in a fight. I wasn’t sure if he was looking for me or what.

Wes turned and reached down for Phantom. He grabbed his hair and pulled back a fist.

Finally… he’s going to f*cking finish this.

I hated myself for thinking like that. To actually be excited at the physical pain of someone I knew nothing about.

I actually moved up on my toes. I was ready to watch this.

What was wrong with me?

The truth was that it turned me on. To see Wes fighting. To see Wes winning.

A hand touched my shoulder.

I jumped and screamed.

I slowly turned, fearing the worst. Fearing that I would be facing Luke.

It wasn’t Luke though…

“Rose, you need to come with me,” he said.

I didn’t know his name. But in his other hand was a badge.

The police were here… they got me.





26.


(Wes)



I knew the punch would knock him into next week. He’d wake up and not know what day it was. He’d probably struggle to remember his name for a few seconds. He definitely wouldn’t remember the last time he f*cked a woman. All those memories would be gone for a long time.

But what choice did I really have here?

I needed to knock him out.

I needed to end the fight, get Rose, and get the hell out of here. I had played the game long enough. To keep Danny happy. To keep Tommy happy. To keep the truth about Aton hidden. Now it was my time to protect Rose and get to the bottom of everything.

As my fist came forward, Phantom looked at me with big eyes.

Then he mouthed one thing: Please…don’t… I know…





27.


(Rose)



I thought about running, but what good would that do? I was in a crowd of strangers and if this cop yelled for help, they’d all help. I couldn’t get to Wes. I couldn’t yell for Wes. I just stared at the detective’s stone like face. He had a steel-like jaw with a little scar on it. He looked mean and nasty.

Then it hit me…

A f*cking detective was here. At an illegal underground fight.

This entire thing could blow up really fast.

“Look, Rose,” he said. “I’m not here to bust up this little thing. But I will if I have to. And I’ll tell everyone it was you who called me. Imagine that… I know how these f*cking things work.”

I swallowed hard.

My back was to the fight.

The crowd was cheering, yelling for more punches.

I guess Wes hadn’t ended the fight yet.

Fuck.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You already know what I want.”

“Then say it. I have rights.”

The detective grinned. “You have no f*cking rights. Tell me about your best friend… Macie…”

And there it was. Maybe not the worst thing that could happen to me, but it was up there on the list.

I was wanted in the murder of Macie.





28.


(Wes)



Goddammit, I believed him. I let Phantom slide a little. I let him go and let him get up to his feet.

“Hit me,” he said. “Then come at me so we can tangle.”

This was either something serious or the greatest fake out of all time. And I was playing right into it.

It was the eyes though. Always the eyes.

You could tell a lot about a fighter’s eyes. Whether they were afraid or not. Whether they were drunk, high, or just stoned with adrenaline. The truth always hid in the eyes. That’s why people were often taken out. Dead eyes can’t spit the truth, can they? Dead eyes, glossy and lost.