Death Blow (15 page)

Lila and Barrett woke up the next morning to his cell phone
going off loudly.

“Fuck,” Barrett muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of
his hand. Lila stretched out, arms above her head. Barrett looked at her, still
naked, basking in the morning sun. He slid a hand up her sternum, grazing both
her nipples as he passed them, and then up to her neck, pulling her face
towards him and kissing her.

“Good morning,” he whispered. Then he grabbed his phone and
answered. “Yeah? What? When?” He rubbed his face. “Are you kidding me?” He
bolted upright, got off the couch, pulled his underwear on, and walked out the
front door. Lila was a little startled by the abruptness of Barrett’s exit, but
she was still waking up. She rolled around, looking for her clothes, but the
first thing she put her hand to was Barrett’s t-shirt. It felt cheesy to put it
on, but when she picked it up, it emitted a puff of his scent, and she couldn’t
resist sliding it over her head. She got up and padded into his small kitchen.
She hadn’t really gotten to take a good look around his place. Everything was
surprisingly neat and simple—Barrett seemed to have only what he knew he
needed, and only things he knew he’d take care of. She spotted the coffee maker
and tentatively opened the cabinets until she found grounds. She started
brewing a pot.

She heard the door shut.

“In the kitchen,” she called. She heard his footsteps.

“Well, that’s sexy,” he purred from behind her.

“What?” she looked coyly over her shoulder.

He was still in just his underwear, walking towards her,
devouring her with his eyes.

“You, in my shirt, making coffee.” He snaked his arms around
her waist from behind, nuzzling into her neck.

“You’re easy to please,” she laughed. “What was the call
about?”

“Ugh, scheduling bullshit. I wasn’t supposed to fight
tonight but they’ve scheduled one for me, a fucking sudden death match.” He
groaned, kissing Lila’s neck.

“What’s a sudden death match?” she asked.

“No submissions, knockout or nothing.”

“Why would they schedule that?”

Barrett shrugged. “Guess people weren’t happy about last
night’s default, so the syndicate is trying to make up for it.”

“The syndicate?” Lila turned to face him. Jackson had always
been very closed off about all the fighting protocol and—
oh my god
,
thought Lila.
Jackson
. She kissed Barrett. “I’ve got to get my phone,
just a second.” She moved past him and went back into the living room,
searching the couch for her phone. Had she brought it in here with her? No, it
was probably still in her car. “Be right back, think it’s in my car!” she
called, grabbing her keys and heading outside.

The day was sunny with a nice breeze that wafted Barrett’s
t-shirt around her thighs. Lila felt happy, blissful even, right now. Last
night with Barrett had really opened him up to her, and vice versa, and this
morning, for the first time ever, she thought she sort of knew what people in
love felt like. Maybe love was just this feeling all the time.

She got to her car, opened the door, and popped her head in.
Sure enough, there on the driver’s seat was her phone. But there was no missed
call from Jackson, not even a text message. “That’s weird,” she said to
herself. Something didn’t seem right about that. She brought the phone back
inside with her. In the kitchen, Barrett had poured two cups of coffee and
was—Lila couldn’t believe it—scrambling eggs in a frying pan. She stopped in
the doorway, and he looked up at her, smiling.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. He cocked his eyebrow at her. “I
think I’m going to pass out, oh god, someone catch me.” She faked fainting
against the doorframe. “Is that Barrett Warde,
the
Barrett Warde,
ladies’ man extraordinaire, premier dirty fighter, cooking breakfast like a
domestic
?”
She broke into laughter and walked over to him, kissing up his bicep. He
scoffed at her.

“I’m a lone wolf. No one’s going to make me breakfast except
for me, baby,” he joked, putting on a low, scratchy voice.

“I’ll make you breakfast next time,” Lila said quietly,
grinning at him.

“I’ll remember you said that. Get some plates, they’re up
there.” She reached for the cabinet he’d nudged towards and got two of them
out. “Butter on your toast?” he asked, heading to the fridge.

“Yeah,” Lila said, still gaping a bit. She had never dreamed
it would break up this quickly, that things with Barrett would go so well so
fast. He was like a whole new person with her now.

They ate breakfast at his tiny wooden kitchen table, joking
and laughing about stuff, talking about things they liked. They shared a deep
love of bad 70s disco music, it turned out, and Barrett could bust some pretty
hilarious moves to Lila’s horribly off-key singing of “Ladies’ Night.” They
both liked scary movies and sushi, and neither of them watched any sports.
Barrett loved a good, cheap mystery novel. Lila had a weird penchant for home
decoration magazines. At one point, Lila had her bare legs up in Barrett’s lap,
his hand placed casually on her calf, and she thought maybe none of it was
real. Maybe she was going to wake up in her childhood bed, alone, maybe to the
sounds of her dad stumbling in, piss drunk and angry.

She didn’t. She was awake.

After a day of lounging, making love, and exploring each
other, Barrett and Lila headed to the Club. Thankfully Lila’d taken to throwing
a spare work outfit in her backseat, since she’d been staying at the Morans’ a
couple nights, whenever she and Jackson talked for so long she couldn’t make it
home.

And Jackson—she hadn’t heard from him all day, had texted
and called several times over and gotten no response. She’d even sent Cassandra
a text, checking to make sure he was okay.

-He’s fine, sug, just preparing 2 fight 2nite ;)

For some reason, Lila didn’t find this response reassuring.
When she dipped under the high level of satisfaction she was feeling from
spending time with Barrett, a big ball of discord sat at Lila’s core. Something
wasn’t right, but hopefully, she’d get it figured out at work tonight, when she
could see Jackson again.

She and Barrett pulled up in her car and parked in the
garage. Stepping out, she double-checked the code for the night and headed for
the elevators.

“You go ahead,” Barrett said, heading her off to get a kiss.
“I’m going to do a few laps around the garage, get in the zone. I’ll see you
after the fight.”

“Hopefully. If not, I’ll see you when you wake up.” She
winked at him and slapped his ass, and he did the same, but several times over,
all the way to the elevator. He kissed her again, something like a goodbye
kiss, and jogged off as the doors opened up and Lila stepped inside. At the
underground level, she said hello to the guards working tonight and headed for
the bar. She was tending tonight, and Raechelle was running, so Lila was the
first one there. She took her time setting things up.

“Hey sexy.” Raechelle had arrived, bouncing over with her
red hair.

“Hey girl, what’s up?”

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

Lila smiled slyly. “Nothing.” Raechelle narrowed her eyes.

“What’s up with you, Lila? What’re you smilin’ like that
for, hm?” She walked to the end of the bar and dropped her clutch into the
cubby.

“Oh…it’s nothing.” Again Lila smiled mischievously.
Raechelle jumped up to wack her across the bar.

“You better tell me right now! Does it have something to do
with, dun dun DUN, Barrett?!” Her green eyes flashed at Lila, anxiously
awaiting the news.

At that moment, the elevator doors slid open again and out
walked Lyle, Cassandra, and two big, scary looking men behind them, well
dressed but cruel-looking. Lila’s stomach churned a little at the sight. Lyle
and the men went off and sat in a corner of the seats, and Cassandra slinked
her way over to Raechelle and Lila.

“Hey girlies,” she said, smiling, “how y’all doin’ tonight?”
Lila and Raechelle both responded, though Cassandra didn’t seem too interested
in what they said. “Mmhm, well,” she took out a compact and checked her
lipstick, a dark plum shade tonight to match her dark grey lurex mini-dress,
“we’re having somethin’ of a business meeting over there before the fight
tonight, so do us a favor and bring over 4 Grey Goose rocks, would you?”

“The fight tonight?” Raechelle asked. “There’s only one?”

“Yep,” Cassandra smacked her lips together. “Sudden death
match tonight.”

“Ah,” Raechelle’s eyes widened a bit. She’d clearly seen one
before.

“We’ll bring those right over to you, Cassandra,” Lila said,
watching the woman closely, trying to get a read on what was happening here.

“Thanks, sug.” She placed the compact back in her clutch.
“Oh, and thanks for checkin’ on Jackson today,” Cassandra winked at her. “He
really appreciated it.”

If Lila thought her stomach had done funny things when this
quartet walked in, it was nothing compared to the gymnastics her guts were
pulling now. She hadn’t even thought about it until this very moment—if there
was only one fight tonight, one sudden death match, and both Barrett and
Jackson were scheduled to fight…then they must be fighting each other.

Lila felt like passing out.

The stands were packed now, smartly dressed patrons sitting
in an eerie calm as everyone waited for the sudden death match to start. Lila
was a wreck, biting her nails, messing up drinks, jumping at every sound. She’d
confessed a little to Raechelle why she was in such a state, but how could she
put into words what she was feeling? The last place she wanted to be was here,
for this fight; the last thing she wanted to happen was this fight, but she was
about to witness the whole thing. It didn’t matter now. Nothing she could do
would convince either of them not to fight it. She thought about asking
Raechelle if she could just leave, but it was a big crowd tonight, and although
they were relatively calm thus far, she was sure one person couldn’t run the
bar tonight, not on her own.

A lot of money had changed hands tonight. Lila usually
ignored the betting—she didn’t much care what the odds were or how much was
placed on who—but tonight, she couldn’t help overhearing. It sounded like the
odds were heavily stacked on Jackson to win. She was sure this meant that
Cassandra and Lyle, and maybe their frightening friends, had personally put a
lot of money down on him. It made her sick to her stomach.

When they made their way out of the locker room, Lila
couldn’t watch, but she also couldn’t help but watch, stuck in the middle of
the train wreck cliché. Barrett found her and smiled at her—but Jackson
wouldn’t look at her. She knew he could feel her boring into him, begging him
to turn her way, but he wouldn’t do it. Lila didn’t know what had happened, but
she knew it couldn’t be good. She knocked over a whole shaker of cocktail when
someone’s phone went off, because she thought the bell had rung. Finally, of
course, it did, it had to, and the worst fight of Lila’s life began.

The crowd was shockingly, horribly quiet. No one was
cheering, no one was yelling. Lila could hear ever footstep from the mat as
Barrett and Jackson—her lover and her newfound best friend—danced around each
other. What was worse was that no one needed any drinks, so Lila didn’t even
have tasks to occupy herself. All she could do was stand at the bar and watch. Barrett
took the first swipe, a right hook to Jackson’s jaw, but Jackson was too fast
and dodged it, going in for Barrett’s ribs but hitting his guard instead.
Jackson surprisingly towered over Barrett a little bit, definitely the bigger
of the two, by a long shot. Lila had never noticed this before. A swing and a
miss, a swing and a miss—they were fairly well matched, it seemed. But Lila
knew neither of them had really tapped in yet, and she didn’t know who would win
out when that happened.

Jackson was the first one to land something, a punch to
Barrett’s gut that rang out in the silent den. His
oof
echoed, but he
kept his guard up and moved away. Jackson was on the attack though, and there
was a bloodlust in his eyes that shook Lila. Something about this fight was
different. He landed another one, a hard left hook to Barrett’s face, that
cracked loudly on his jaw. Lila winced. Jackson thought he was on a roll, and
went for an uppercut, but Barrett caught Jackson’s attempt with his hands, spun
around quickly, and flipped Jackson over onto the mat. The heavy thud of his
body hitting the surface was sickening in the quiet atmosphere. Jackson
scrambled up, angry now, and Lila caught something like fear in his eyes, which
flitted over to where his parents and their business partners sat and then
flashed back to Barrett.

Jackson let out a scream and rushed him, pinning him to the
ropes and showering Barrett’s ribs with punches. Thankfully, Barrett kept his
guard up around his face and was spared any serious damage, and at the split
second that Jackson broke his stride, Barrett swept his left leg and sent
Jackson toppling backwards. Immediately, Barrett was on top of Jackson on the
mat, punching him once, twice, three times in the face, blood starting to flow
again from Jackson’s nose. Jackson shoved Barrett off him to the side, and
lashed out with his knee, which caught Barrett in the back. They both hurried
to their feet, but Barrett was faster, and by the time Jackson was upright,
Barrett was right there. He spun an impressive kick across Jackson’s face, who
was starting to seriously falter. Lila had never felt so many things in her
life, reeling with every blow on both of them, rooting so fervently for them
both, hating one of them when he was attacking the other.

Jackson was dazed, and Barrett saw his window. He drove
several punches home, to the gut, to the ribs, to the face. Jackson was trying
desperately to keep his guard up and failing. Barrett kneed him in the stomach,
sending Jackson doubling over, which gave him the opportunity to hammer punch
Jackson in the back. He sprawled out face-first on the mat. The crowd was so
silent it was like they were melting in to themselves, like no one was actually
there. They all hung, breathlessly, on the action. Lila didn’t dare look over
at Cassandra and Lyle. Jackson tried to crawl to standing, but Barrett grabbed
him by the shoulders and hoisted him upright. His wolfish side had set in, and
he was ready to win this fight. He let Jackson go, who stumbled backwards into
the ropes, catching them to hold himself up. Then, like a lightening bolt, he
socked Jackson once in the nose, a sickening crack ringing out. Twice in the
nose, again Barrett hit him with a crunch. Jackson was barely standing now,
barely present or conscious at all. If the ropes hadn’t been there, he
assuredly would’ve fallen backwards. Lila stared at Jackson and, to her
surprise, his glazed-over eyes finally traveled the Club and found her. They
held each other’s gaze, and something inside of Lila swelled. Jackson was
trying to tell her something.

At that moment, Barrett grabbed behind Jackson’s head, his
fist passing in front of his face and breaking his eye contact with Lila, and
slammed Jackson’s face into his knee. Jackson hit the mat again after a
nauseating squish filled the air of the arena, and he didn’t move. The ref
counted one—Jackson didn’t move. The ref counted two—Jackson didn’t move. The
ref counted three—no movement. The bell rang—Barrett had won.

At this point, the crowd erupted, half in uproarious
cheering, half in hate-filled damnation. Lila couldn’t tear her eyes away from
the ring, but she heard a couple patrons nearby yelling about the match.

“Oh my fucking god! Oh my god! Barrett won!?”

“That’s insane! That’s fucking insane!”

“The odds were 80 to 1! 80 to 1!”

But she couldn’t think about anything. Barrett was out of
the ring, heading towards her with a large, black briefcase. He looked pained,
not because of anything physical, but because of how he assumed Lila must be
feeling.

“I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. We’re not supposed
to—“

“I know,” Lila cut him off, dazed, still staring at the
ring. Jackson hadn’t moved yet.

“Lila,” Barrett put his hands on her shoulders. “Lila, I’m
sorry. Do you hate me? Please don’t hate me.” She could hear him, could
understand what he was saying, but she wasn’t thinking anything. Jackson still
hadn’t moved.

“No, Barrett,” she said airily. “I don’t hate you.”

“Lila,” he whispered to her, holding up the briefcase, “I
put money on myself. I put $27,000 fucking dollars on myself. I—holy shit,
that’s so much money.” He stroked an edge of the briefcase. “Lila, there is so
much money in this briefcase.”

Cassandra and Lyle had made it to the ring now and the ref
was saying something to them in low, secretive tones. With a sharp yelp,
Cassandra’s hand flew up to her mouth, and both she and Lyle stared at Jackson
on the ground, who hadn’t shifted at all.

“Oh my god,” Barrett breathed. The sudden death match had
suddenly become very literal.

Lila blacked out.