Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(24)

From behind us, Brawler excuses himself from the room. I turn to watch him go. At the last second, he looks up to meet my gaze. There’s fear there in his sapphire blues, but the unnerving part is that I think it’s aimed at me. I watch him as he makes his way down the set of steps and stands at the edge of the makeshift ring while Rocket settles us into a corner on the furthest barstools away from Mag.

Apprehension grips me. I’m in the lion’s den with no chance to escape and not a single ally in sight.

When I sit, Rocket moves his stool closer and then settles his hand at the small of my back. “I knew you were something special when I first saw you.” His pale blue eyes sink their teeth into me. “Kyla,” he muses, like he’s trying to imprint my name on his tongue. The thought makes me shudder, but I look up and smile anyway. His face reveals all the interest he has in me, but I don’t think it’s companionship he’s looking for. It’s straight up lust.

Well, I can’t just sit back and stare into his eyes. They make me want to draw a line in the sand when I shouldn’t have a line at all. “So, you like the way I fought?” I ask tentatively.

His hand on my back connects more assuredly. He leans over until his lips brush my earlobe. “More than you know.”

I pull away slightly as my body responds to his touch. His lips feathering over my ear felt…nice.

Rocket leans back. I think he’s just taken the hint, but it’s not that. He stands from the stool, a dark look crossing his face as he stares at the fights below. “What the fuck? I didn’t think he was on the card tonight.”

I follow his gaze. My eyes round when Brawler drags a guy into the middle of the ring, his fist connecting with his face.

Mag moves closer to the window without a sound. “He’s not.”

“Christ. Does he think we give out free fights?”

Rocket slams his fist down on the small bar top in front of us. I jump, unable to prepare myself for his outburst. His anger seemingly coming out of nowhere.

When I glance down again, Brawler’s looking straight at me. Our gazes collide like warriors throwing down a gauntlet. Then, he turns, a smile playing over his lips as he smashes his fist into his opponent’s surprised face.





9





My heart skips a beat as the anger pulsing from Rocket settles over me like a cold chill. I had him pegged as a man that was all show. It’s not like he looks like a wuss, but people in positions of perceived power use that power to throw their weight around without backing it up. Instead, he’s fuming. A knot tightens my core, a warning that he’s not to be fucked with.

“Watch her,” Rocket orders Mag as he gets to his feet. “I’m going down to deal with this fucking mess.”

I lean over to look back down at the crowd. They’re going nuts. Brawler must be a favorite because everyone is yelling and screaming. Even from up here, I can tell the room below is pulsing with violence. The angry shouts permeate this room’s sound barrier, muting it to a dull roar. As soon as Rocket makes himself known, though, the cries turn to silence in a ripple effect. Brawler, unable to ignore the reason for the sudden change in the room, lets the guy he dragged into the fight slump to the floor.

Rocket heads out of the main room toward the locker area. Brawler brushes his knuckles against his joggers to wipe the blood away and then follows him. The crowd parts, people giving them ample room to get by.

“Jesus,” I mutter, surprised at the show of brutality and respect. To be one, I didn’t think you could be the other, but I was wrong.

Mag makes a low sound of agreement. I turn in my seat, forgetting he was still in the room with me. Nothing is going on below now. In fact, the crowd starts to scatter and leave. Looks like Brawler threw in a finale that never should’ve been.

“He’s going to be in big trouble, huh?”

Mag’s gaze slices toward me. “He’s used to it.”

I let that sentence linger in the air. I’m not touching it with a ten-foot pole. I have no idea if I can trust this Mag guy or not. Ha. What am I thinking? I can’t trust anyone here. “I’m Kyla, by the way.”

“Magnum,” he says. He shifts. The hard outline of a gun on his hip I hadn’t noticed before protrudes. I’m beginning to think there’s a pattern with the nicknames everyone has. Magnum has a gun. Brawler likes to fight. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard someone call Oscar Bat before. Johnny’s called Rocket, which I can only imagine what the hell that means. Several meanings flick through my head, but I don’t dwell on any of them.

“You’re security?”

He nods but doesn’t say another word. He just keeps staring at me, which is as unnerving as it sounds.

“Not much for talking, huh?”

He cocks his head. “Don’t mind talking. Just not when I don’t trust someone.”

I shrug and look away. Instead of staying seated, I get up and look around the room. The ladies who’d been walking around with the trays are now behind the bar, sending me dirty looks. A bunch of questions hang from the tip of my tongue, but I won’t be getting answers. Magnum is as tight-lipped as they come, and the girls all look like they would murder me to be in my position.

A phone rings, and I look around to find the source. Magnum pulls a cell phone from his pocket and holds it to his ear. “Boss.” He nods. “Of course. Yes. Bye.”