The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(11)

“I’m saying that whatever he had to use sprawl and brawl for was much more intense than what you’ve used it for,” Clay argued in a calm, even voice. “His fighter name is the Slayer ’cause he gets in that ring to kill motherf*ckers. I watched him fight for three days before I made him the offer to come up here. He ended every match in less than thirty seconds.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at his friend, before he looked back to Chuito and tilted his head. “You think you can beat me, boy?”

Chuito held up his hands and looked away rather than answer. “Whatever, bro.”

He really didn’t want to go down in this backward state. The only reason he was here in the first place was because he needed a distraction, any distraction, from his life right now.

An offer from a reigning UFC champion to audition for a fighter spot at this gym he was building was a little too compelling to pass up, even if Chuito had to deal with an * like Wyatt Conner. He knew Wyatt used to be a UFC fighter too, but what the f*ck did that matter to him? He was a pig now. That meant Chuito had to toe the line whether he wanted to or not.

“Are you clean?”

Chuito wanted to flip him off, but instead he just nodded and said, “Sí.”

Wyatt turned back to Clay. “Did you get him cleared?”

“No, I invited him to drive all the way up here from Miami without getting him cleared first. He’s clean.” Clay gestured to Chuito. “You want to fight him? Go for it.”

Chuito snapped his head around and looked at Clay. “?Que?”

“You want to fight him?” Clay looked positively thrilled now as he gave Chuito a knowing smile. “Take a crack at the sheriff?”

“I thought he was your friend,” Chuito said to Clay, before he looked back to the sheriff. “You said you grew up together. Like brothers.”

“Yeah, we did.” Clay nodded. “We actually still live in the same place.”

“Then why would you put him in the cage with me?” Chuito asked incredulously. “If he’s your brother, why would you want him to get hurt?”

“He’s a big boy. He can take a beating.”

He looked away and shook his head before mumbling, “Estos gringos están locos.”

“What’d he say?”

“I said you’re both crazy,” Chuito repeated in English. “I would never put my family in the cage with someone like me just for the fun of it. Money, yes. Survival, yes. For fun, no.”

“Wow, he is really impressed with himself.” Wyatt laughed. “Listen, boy, I am a fourth-degree black belt in karate, and that’s just one of many black belts I have earned. You honestly think you can take me?”

“Have you ever used your black belts against someone trying to kill you? Ever had to fight with your bare hands to keep from dying?”

“No.” Wyatt pulled back as if thinking about it. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I can take you.” Chuito nodded. “Fuck your black belts.”

Wyatt tilted his head and rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked at Clay again. There was a wild gleam in his eyes. A grin tugged at his lips before he said, “I’m doing it.”

“Do it, *.” Clay pointed to the cage in the middle of the rec center, one of the only things in the room. “Let’s see you take him.”

“Okay.” Wyatt gestured to the changing room. “Did you bring fighting supplies? Gloves? Shorts?”

“I got shorts.” Chuito tilted his head toward the door. “In my truck. No gloves. They’re somewhere at home in Miami. I don’t usually fight with gloves.”

“Okay, we got some gloves for you,” the sheriff said. “We’ll get changed, and then we’ll see if you’re really as badass as my buddy seems to think you are. Clay, call Jules. Have her come over. This involves her too.”

“You just fight me. Not for money,” Chuito said. “You just do it because you’re bored.”

“It is about money,” Wyatt assured him. “It’s about the money I have invested in this gym. Clay cannot be the only fighter we have if we want to make this profitable. I can’t fight anymore now that I’m sheriff. That leaves a Light-Heavyweight spot open, and you are not my first choice, boy. Not by a long shot. You have gang tattoos and a chip on your shoulder—”

Chuito laughed. “You think this is a chip on my shoulder? I’ve been on good behavior.”

“Look, here are the facts. I don’t want you in my gym. I don’t want you in my town either.” Wyatt shrugged. “But maybe, just maybe, if you can prove to me that you’re worth the risk, I might agree to sponsoring you because I would like to get my investment back. So I guess that means you’re fighting for your life, doesn’t it? Unless you’d like to go back to Miami and do whatever you were doing before.”

“I’ll fight you,” Chuito said as he stood and looked at the sheriff, who had at least three inches on him. “But I’m not doing it for the fighter spot. I’m doing it because any pendejo who thinks he can beat me when I’m fighting to survive deserves to have his ass handed to him on principle. You have no idea what it means to fight for your life.”

Wyatt snorted. “And you’re gonna show me?”