Risk (Gentry Boys #2)(44)
There was another man who I hadn’t seen at first because he’d been sitting. He stood up then. His shirt was off and I could plainly see the hate symbols inked into his skin. He was a big bastard, but then so was I. That wasn’t what got to me. I stared at the shit decorating his chest. A man who wore such evil in plain sight wasn’t afraid of consequences. Hate and fearlessness, what a f*cking lethal combination. He grinned at me.
Feeling increasingly wary, I fell back into the shadows and watched the shiny people from a distance. I saw Gabe with his arm around a leggy brunette. He had a wine glass in his hand and was laughing uproariously at something being relayed by a white-haired man in a suit.
“Bullshit, eh?”
The voice scared the crap out of me but I stood still. I felt the heat of another person very close by and then he stepped out of the darkness enough for me to see his face. He was likely in his mid thirties with a solid build and leathery pockmarked skin. There was a glint of humor in his eyes though.
“Fuckin’ fakes out there,” he said, looking me over thoughtfully. “I know you.”
I didn’t retreat. I met his gaze and nodded. “You do, in a way.”
He chuckled softly. “We fought once. You were good.”
“No,” I shook my head. “It was my brother Cord you fought, Emilio.”
He stared at me in silence. I raised my eyebrows.
“That is your name, right?”
“For now,” he answered. His gaze traveled over to the men I’d seen. I realized one of them, likely the big shit who’d stood up, was going to be fighting tonight.
“Gentry,” Emilio said, nodding as if he’d just remembered. “That’s who you are.”
I swallowed. “This is your fight, isn’t it?”
“Hell yeah. Big payout. My kids need shoes.”
I looked around. “I remember you having quite the entourage last time.”
Emilio’s eyes narrowed as he looked to over to where the shaved men were milling like hungry dogs. “This ain’t the place for a crew like mine.”
“Gabe set you up with this?”
Emilio smiled. “Gabe who?”
“Right.” I gestured to the ring. “So what do you know about this guy?”
Emilio’s smile vanished. “Name’s Jester and he’s out of Kingman.” He made a sign of disgust. “A real angel. He takes ahold of your pretty head, amigo, and that shit’s comin’ clean off.”
I mulled this over as Emilio lit a cigarette, his voice low. “Mother f*cker. He gets you on one knee and you ain’t gonna stand again. Not in an hour, not in a week, never.” He sighed and took a big drag from his cigarette before exhaling into the night. Then he smiled again, showing the gold caps on his teeth. “But don’t get your pants wet, Gentry. I’ll take care of this. Then next week it’ll be us in there.” He pushed a finger into my chest. “You and me.”
There was no time to respond because the announcer, a baby-faced old man with a booming voice, started ringing a bell. In the middle of the rooftop party was a large roped off clearing. He stood in the middle of it. Everyone turned to him excitedly. I looked at the gilded surroundings and at these polished dipshits standing around. I wanted to dropkick every single last glassy-eyed one of them.
Emilio was already gone. He’d slipped away at the sound of the bell.
The announcer beamed at the waiting crowd. This place certainly had a different vibe than the street matches I was used to. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming out on this fine evening. Please note that as of this time all betting is closed.” He motioned to the outskirts of the ring. “A match for the ages! In one corner we have Emilio, hardened by the bowels of the barrio. In the other corner we have Jester, who is looking to maintain his undefeated status. In the end, only one will be standing. The fighting begins at the next bell.” He smiled and looked at the fighters. “And gentlemen, rules don’t live in this house.”
The announcer retreated. Emilio and Jester took the ring and seconds later the bell went off. Emilio shuffled, circled. Jester stood still, watching with coldblooded calculation. Emilio took a jab and Jester evaded without taking a step. Some Tiki torches had been lit to give the scene an oddly tribal feel. A few of the spectators sipped their damn wine as they stared. I saw Gabe’s hand squeezing the ass of the girl who’d been glued to him. He saw me watching and grinned before returning his attention to the ring.
Emilio was sweating. I could see it clearly. I stared at him and thought the same thing I’d thought the night Cord took him down. He was a strong man. But his strongest days were behind him. He was soft in a few places and he wasn’t as quick as he should be. If he didn’t find a way to get his opponent down quickly, then it was all over.
Jester was content to watch, forcing Emilio to make the next move. When he did, Jester got him in the jaw. I heard the impact but understood it was a soft hit. It was meant to rattle the other guy a little and start the show. I remembered what Gabe said about getting the crowd interested. I could see a few of them licking their lips and shifting with excitement as Jester got two more blows in.
Emilio was tired of being toyed with. He spun and landed a hard hit into Jester’s chest. It should have knocked him over. It would have knocked almost any other man over. But that Jester dickhead remained standing, staggering only slightly. His eyes narrowed. He was only willing to play along until something pissed him off. He was now angry. He let fly with a kick to Emilio’s face. Emilio tried to block him but it wasn’t enough. The blow crushed his nose. There were a few female gasps as blood spurted. I expected there would be some whoops from Jester’s corner but apparently that wasn’t their style. The firelight shone on their bald heads and they watched with the predatory look of a pack awaiting their alpha’s victory.