Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet Page 24


“You owe me for my services.”

“Aw, so all those times I saved your life?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Bill me.”

He leaned in and whispered, “I would rather f**k you.”

“I would rather you let go.”

“But you haven’t answered my question.” He put his mouth at my ear, his breath fanning over it, down my neck, and spilling onto my shoulder in an intoxicating wave of delight. “What do you want me to do with my body, Dutch?”

After a solid minute, I said, “Take it to go see your sister.”

Mentioning his beloved sister was like throwing ice water in his face. He cooled instantly, his body tense, rigid.

“You’re on,” the trainer said more forcefully. “Get out there and—”

When Reyes turned on him like a cobra ready to strike, the man stepped back. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he raised his hands in surrender. “We’re going to lose this spot if you don’t get out there. That’s all I’m saying.”

Reyes seemed to calm. He turned to me, wrapped his fingers into my collar, and pulled me forward until his mouth was only centimeters from mine. “Go home.” He let go with a soft shove, and I swatted at his hand in response. But he was already headed for the door.

Go home, my left ass cheek.

6

Why kill them with kindness when you can use an axe?

—T-SHIRT

I stood in a less crowded area of the warehouse, still dumbfounded. He was living with her? That woman? That stalker? To say that I was astonished would have been the biggest understatement since “Houston, we have a problem.” I was thunderstruck.

But holy cow, he was living with her? My jealously seemed endless, and I hated it. I would rather be attacked by rabid fire ants than be jealous. The superfluous emotion was a combination of fear, rage, humiliation, and insecurity. I looked down at the expanse of girl parts I carried on my chest, also known as Danger and Will Robinson. Clearly, I had no reason to be insecure.

As much as I did not want to see Reyes fight again, I sidled into a dark corner to do that very thing. He wouldn’t be able to see me from here and get his panties in a twist. Thankfully, the platform was high enough for me to see the action over the crush of spectators. But I stepped onto a cement pylon a metal beam was bolted to, wrapped my arms around the beam, and searched for Reyes.

He’d been talking with his trainer and turned to go into the cage, but after walking up the first step, he paused. Looked down. Took a deep breath. Then placed a pointed stare right on me. I scooted farther into the corner. How could he possibly see me? Maybe he was looking at someone else. He tilted his head before lifting a long arm and pointing to the exit behind me.

In one choreographed wave, the sea of heads turned to investigate. I turned, too, so they wouldn’t know he was talking to me. When I looked back, he’d crossed his arms over his chest and glared. I jumped off the pylon and crossed my arms, too. Only mine were crossed in defiance. If he wanted me out so bad, he could come drag me out himself.

Wait, no, that probably wasn’t a good idea.

Before I could decide what to do, the crowd started to cheer again as Reyes’s opponent appeared out of the rooms opposite him. Reyes shifted his focus when the guy emerged on the stairs. I could see why. He was even bigger than the last, more muscular. Reyes was a big guy, but he was lean, solid, built for speed just as much as for strength. This guy was all strength. He looked more like a professional bodybuilder than like a fighter. And as awesome as Reyes’s reach was, this guy’s had to be at least four inches longer.

My heart jumped and lodged in my throat at the sight of him. I knew Reyes was a supernatural being, but he was wounded and this guy was huge. I took a step forward as he entered the cage. But Reyes stayed on the stairs outside his entrance. Watching. Studying. He’d dropped his arms and dropped his head and stood eyeing the guy from underneath his lashes as though he were waiting for something. But what?

The crowd fell silent as they waited with bated breath. The opponent had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring back at Reyes. Then he frowned and looked down as though confused. That’s when I saw it: A blur in his movements. A disturbance in his aura. He shook his head as though to clear it. A heartbeat later, his eyes were locked on to mine. They widened in surprise as recognition flashed across his face. I had no idea why. I’d never seen the guy. But when he let out an animalistic shriek, fear rocketed down my spine and across my skin.

I stumbled back as the guy ignored the exit gates and bounded over the cage with the speed and grace of an animal. A huge animal with a deep-seated hatred twisting his features. I tried to slow the world, to stop his progress—I’d done it in the past, before the Earl Walker incident—but it wouldn’t happen. I couldn’t control anything, including the raging beat of my pulse in my ears.

Somewhere in my periphery, I noticed Reyes as he tried to intercept him. He’d scaled the cage in one leap and launched himself into the air, missing the guy by inches. He reached back, grabbed the top of the cage, executed a magnificent turn in midair, and launched himself again. The cage walls buckled under the pressure of his weight and the force it must have taken him to catapult himself into the crowd.

Then he disappeared behind the opponent. The hulking fighter landed only a few yards away from me and barreled forward, pummeling anyone who stood in his way like a battering ram, his face a mask of furious determination.

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