Beyond Addiction (18 page)

It was easier to believe the rest of it when you saw them like this. It was easier to believe that Dallas O’Kane could be ruthless enough to rule a sector and decent enough to rule it well. Because he wasn’t some naïve dreamer about to be clobbered by reality, or a sociopath who’d learned how to hide his darker nature.

O’Kane didn’t hide from his inner darkness. He embraced it. Channeled it, and taught his men to do the same. And one night a week, they took it out on people who could handle it.

An outlet and a statement.
Fuck with us at your own risk.

And Finn was about to fuck with them.

Bren stood beside him, a sweating beer in one hand. “You look like you’ve got the itch.”

“Maybe.” At least it would get the shit out in the open. Half of the O’Kanes were probably dying for the same chance Jasper had already enjoyed—the chance to make him bleed. “Seems pretty inevitable either way.”

“No one’s going to make you fight.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have to.”

“Truth.” Bren took a long swallow of his beer. “Question is, how do you handle it?”

Finn shrugged and watched as two men hauled the loser to his feet. He was swaying, staggering even with support, but he was alive. As long as the fights weren’t to the damn death, nothing that happened within the chain-link walls mattered. “I’m more worried about how Trix is gonna handle it.”

“She’s used to the fights.” Bren tilted his head. “It’ll be different watching you go a few rounds, though.”

“Because Trix and I have a fundamental disagreement on a few things.”

Bren snorted. “Like the acceptability of you taking a couple of hits to the face?”

“And the fact that I have them coming.” Finn rubbed the knuckles on his left hand. “Absolution’s not always a bad thing.”

“You do what you gotta do,” Bren advised solemnly. “It’s no good doing what makes her happy if it drags you down at the same time.”

Trix wouldn’t be satisfied until he found a place with the O’Kanes, and that couldn’t happen until he met them on their turf and let them pound out a few rounds of frustration on him. “So let’s make everyone happy. Dance with me, Donnelly.”

“Want to jump right in with both feet, huh?” Bren raised both eyebrows and grinned as he shrugged. “Hell, yeah. I’ll play.”

Finn stripped off his shirt before turning to find Trix in the crowd. She was standing beside the cluster of couches and chairs where the O’Kane women were watching the proceedings, for once dressed in the same leather and denim as the others.

She stared back at him, her features set in an inscrutable mask, but one hand was clenched into a fist at her side. A tiny blonde laid a hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed immediately, though her expression didn’t change.

No, Trix wasn’t going to be pleased with this, but he’d have to make it up to her when he stopped bleeding.

Another fighter was already headed for the cage, but he stopped abruptly when Bren stepped up to the door. Silence fell in their immediate vicinity and rippled outward. Heads turned, curious gazes fixing on Finn.

He weathered the assessment and tried not to let it injure his pride when the silence broke on the first shouted bet. “Two hundred credits on Donnelly!”

Other voices joined the first, a flurry of bets being placed and taken, money and credit sticks flashing under the harsh lights. Then another voice rose above the din, familiar and firm.

Jasper. “Five hundred on the new guy.”

Dallas O’Kane himself appeared at the cage door, holding it wide in expectation. It was the first time Finn had come face-to-face with the man since he’d arrived in Sector Four, and his expression now—

Resignation. Challenge. They wouldn’t have gone together without Jas’s words hanging in the air, words that amounted to a statement of acceptance. Finn was
the new guy
now, and Dallas didn’t know whether he liked it or not. Maybe Dallas knew something Jasper didn’t. Something Finn’s gut had been telling him all along.

His escape from Five had been too easy.

Finn watched Dallas, but the man’s face gave nothing else away. He was the king now, the lazy, confident leader of Sector Four, and he smiled as he waved Finn up into the cage. “Don’t hold back. Bren’ll just make you pay for it later.”

“I never hold back,” Finn replied, letting the words fall like a warning. “Not anymore.”

Dallas inclined his head once. Understanding. “Get in there and make Trix proud.”

Nothing else to do but climb into the circle of steel and concrete and get ready to bleed.

Bren shed his shirt and tossed it out the open cage door. A brunette waiting on the other side of the bars caught it with a scowl. “Don’t let him hit anything important,” she called out as the door clanged shut. “I got plans for you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, sweetness.” Bren stretched his back and arms, moving with deceptive laziness. “This is a clean fight.”

“It better be,” she muttered, shooting Finn a glare that made him wonder if she’d be the next one into the cage to pound on his face. She probably would be, because that was the truth about Sector Four he couldn’t afford to forget—the women were as deadly as the men.

Even Trix. Hell, for him,
especially
Trix. He could see her from here, her red hair standing out amongst the blondes and brunettes clustered around her on the couches. He flexed his arms, feeling the gentle ache that warned him he had to go easy after this. He’d been abusing his body more than usual, which was saying something.

But tonight was for Trix, even if she’d never believe it. So he shook his arms and met Bren’s gaze with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

There was no music, but the sound of stomping feet and shouted encouragement filled the cavernous warehouse. He and Bren circled one another, but only for the span of a few pounding heartbeats.

Then Bren lunged, driving straight toward his midsection.

Finn wrenched his body to the side, turning a powerful punch into a glancing blow that still drove a grunt from him. Bren had the muscles and bulk Finn had always associated with someone strong but slow, but the fucker recovered with a speed that would make an acrobat envious.

In the streets, Finn wouldn’t have messed with someone like him, not with his bare hands. Maybe with a bullet to the back of the head, if it had to be done. Quick and neat, because fists were for intimidating people, and there was nothing to be gained from trying to scare someone you were planning to kill.

In the time it took that thought to form, Bren had circled around and swung again, opening the split Jas had left on Finn’s lip and giving him another taste of his own blood.

Fuck.
Focus
. He shook off the pain, ignored it the way he had his whole damn life. He punched this time, driving for that slab of rock Bren called a jaw.

Bren took the hit. His head snapped back, but he shook off the blow with a bloody grin that looked anything but dismayed.

The crazy bastard was having fun.

Finn felt his own mouth curving up in response almost in spite of himself. Energy zipped through him, riding the realization that nothing about this was life or death. Just two guys taking a few swings, accepting the pain as the price of being alive and relishing the knowledge that the stakes were low.

It was like putting down a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. His next punch went wide as Bren twirled out of the way, nimble as a dancer, but Finn was moving faster now, too. He avoided a jab and went for the other man’s midsection, catching him with his shoulder and driving him back against the cage bars.

Bren’s chest heaved, and it took Finn several terrifying seconds to realize he was laughing. “That is fucking creepy, man.”

“Who cares?” Bren shook him off amidst the roar of catcalls and encouragement. “You’re in O’Kane territory now. We do what we want, and fuck whoever doesn’t like it.”

Now there was a motto he could get behind. One he could embrace wholeheartedly, because he’d been living by it his whole damn life already.

We do what we want, and fuck whoever doesn’t like it.

Bren’s laughter was contagious. Grinning like he was as crazy as the rest of them, Finn swung around and punched his new friend in the teeth.

It took almost five minutes for Trix’s jaw to unclench enough for her to speak. “They look like they’re having
fun
.”

“Well, Bren probably is,” Rachel mused, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “You know, getting pounded on?”

She made it sound so filthy, and Nessa laughed, nudging Rachel with an elbow. “He better not like it too much. Six gets possessive.”

They were trying so hard, and Trix had to blink away tears. There was no mistaking the intention behind Jasper’s bold, outspoken bet, or Dallas’s pep talk before the fight.

As far as the crowd gathered in the warehouse tonight was concerned, Finn was a brand-new O’Kane, hanging out with his friends, a breath shy of getting his ink.

An ache of longing twisted in her chest, and she reached for Rachel’s whiskey, gulping it down to brace herself.

Rachel chuckled. “Help yourself.”

“Forget the whiskey.” Nessa leaned over the edge of the couch and came up with an unlabeled bottle. “I brought this for you and your man, Trix. Celebrate his first fight night.”

If it didn’t have a label, it had to be from one of her tiny premium batches, the stuff you couldn’t buy. “Thanks, Nessa.”

Nessa smiled and squeezed Trix’s hand. “Bring him around the warehouse some time, huh? If he’s gonna stay in Four, he needs to know his liquors.”

“You bet.” Still struggling to maintain her composure, Trix turned her attention back to the cage.

The men were grappling now, slicked with sweat and even a little blood. She watched as Finn slammed Bren against the side of the cage and broke away, getting enough space to take another swing at Bren’s jaw. Bren let it land and returned it, driving a fist into Finn’s gut so hard they ended up against the opposite side of the cage.

Finn was grinning like Trix had never seen before, his face alight with pleasure as he took advantage of Bren’s momentary hesitation to land a solid left to the jaw.

Bren fell to his knees. A hush rippled over the crowd, obliterated by protests and cheers when he reached out and slammed his hand on the concrete beside him.

Rachel stared, openmouthed. “Bren tapped out. I don’t fucking believe it.”

“I do,” a new voice said. Noelle dropped to the arm of the couch and squeezed Trix’s shoulder. “Jas and Bren know what they’re doing.”

Jas was showing acceptance by making sure everyone saw him put his money on Finn. Bren was acknowledging that he’d fight him and yield, because he was worthy of the concession.

Not-so-tiny gestures, and they screamed almost as loudly as ink.

In the cage, Finn swiped blood from his lip and held out a hand, offering Bren help he didn’t need to climb to his feet. The man took it anyway, grinning as he rose.

Trix was halfway to the cage by the time Dallas opened the door, and she didn’t stop until she was inside, stumbling into the circle of Finn’s arms.

“Hey, hey.” Finn caught her with one arm around her waist and used the other hand to tilt her head back. “I’m still in one piece.”

“You’re bleeding. Again.” But, in her heart, she knew this time was different. He wasn’t bleeding
because
of her family, but
with
them.

“Only a little,” he rumbled. He smiled, and winced when it tugged at his split lip. “My knuckles are worse. That bastard’s face is like a rock.”

“That’s why people don’t hit Bren,” she said through a laugh. “Rookie mistake.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” Finn rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “That girlfriend of his isn’t gonna knife me, is she?”

“Better stick close to me, just to be safe.”

His hand slid to her lower back, pressing her hips to his. “How close?”

Before she could answer, Dallas slammed a hand against the side of the cage. “All right, Trix, make way for the next show. Unless you want to
be
the next show.”

She grasped Finn’s hand, turned, and stopped short. Mad stood in the open doorway, tension lining his body in stark contrast to his casual posture. “My turn.”

Mad didn’t want to show tacit approval by facing Finn in the cage. He wanted to beat the hell out of him, exact some measure of vengeance for everything that had happened to Jade. But if Trix protested, said any goddamn thing at all, it would be a statement of weakness—not hers, but Finn’s, and he couldn’t fucking afford it.

He never could.

She squeezed his hand harder, and Finn stroked a soothing thumb over the back of her hand. When he spoke, the words were light. Lazy. “Sounds fun. Bren let me off too easy anyway.”

“Okay.” She had to edge past Mad, and she couldn’t resist stomping one boot down on the bridge of his bare foot.

Mad didn’t flinch.

Dallas swung the cage door shut with a
clang
and slung an arm across Trix’s shoulders as the men within began to circle. “Better to get it out now, love. Clear the air.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“You know Mad better than that,” Dallas chided. “He’s worried. About Jade
and
about you. It’s not making him very smart right now, but it means he’ll get over it.”