Sarah leaned forward and started to collect the pictures. She swiped them all together like a deck of cards and then flipped the stack over so I couldn’t see anything.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve just been sitting here. You know?”
“I know,” Sarah said softly. She touched my hand. “I know. The entire club is mourning. It’s going to take time, sweetie. But it will be okay.”
I blinked and felt tears in my eyes.
It wasn’t for Rocky. Well, maybe it was. Maybe just because he was dead. I mean, murder. The end of it all. Rocky had killed people. How many, I don’t know. But he did. The MC had darker ties and had connections I wanted nothing to do with. Sometimes the less you knew the better.
Then again, that could work against you.
“Tell me something,” Sarah said. “Get it off your chest.”
So I did.
I looked right at Sarah.
She always tried to find the sunshine during the darkest days.
Well, there was no sun here.
“Rocky was murdered,” I said.
“Yeah, I know that,” Sarah said.
“The MC doesn’t know who fucking did it. And correct me if I’m wrong, but if one goes, the other goes next, right?”
Sarah’s face dropped.
Reality settled into her like it had settled into me.
Then she said what I’d been thinking for days now.
“You’re going to be killed next.”
3.
(Tripp)
The guy had a wicked right. I could at least give him that. It was like his right fist was a brick. He landed two good punches and I swore it would never happen again. Each time after that, I had my arm ready, blocking his punches, swinging at him, smacking everywhere from his gut, to his chest, to his chin, to his eyes. That’s how I worked. Top to bottom, bottom to top. Technically speaking my fighting style was probably shit. If I was put into a real ring with gloves and rules, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out.
I wasn’t in the business of fighting for entertainment. I fought to hurt. I fought to kill. I fought to win. I fought to survive.
When I punched the guy - announced as Killer Kidd - smack in the nose, he stumbled back. He grabbed his face and let out a scream. That was my cue to fucking attack. I lunged forward and started to unleash on him.
Left, right, right, left. I hit him in the ribs and Killer Kidd put his hands down. That opened his face for me. When I smacked him in the face a few times, he lifted his hands. Up and down, up and down, no matter what he did I always found an open spot to hit him. It was hard to fight against your body’s instinctive need to protect itself. It was always smarter to keep your face covered and train your mind and body to accept rib punches.
I had Killer Kidd back against the cinderblocks. The crowd backed up a little. They were so loud and fucking annoying. Screaming in my ear and in my face.
“Kill the fucker!”
“Fucking do it, Tripp! Get him! Get him!”
“Rip his fucking throat out!”
“Fuck you, Kidd! You’re costing me a fucking fortune!”
Sometimes I could block all the comments out, sometimes I couldn’t.
I grabbed Killer Kidd by the collar of his shirt and pulled. The shirt ripped as he stumbled forward. I yelled as I threw him, the shirt tearing from his body. He landed on the ground with a bloody thud. I went after him, putting my knee to the middle of his back. He was smart enough to cover his head, so I went to town on his ribs.
Then a buzzer screeched and I had a fist cocked back.
I saw Aldo at the end of the circle, his tall bodyguards next to him. There was another guy - Mr. Matty - who was an accountant for the city, but loved to organize all the bets and rules for the fights. He had a buzzer in his hand.
“Time!” he called out.
My fist shook.
If I swung after the buzzer, the fight would be called in favor of Killer Kidd.
Aldo shook his head and like the good rabid beast I was for him, I stood and walked away.
The crowd was cheering and screaming.
This was the bullshit part of the fights. The rounds. Some fights were just get in and go until it was done. The bigger fights were done in rounds. That was because Aldo and Mr. Matty could collect more money. People could bet on the winner and bet on the round. They could bet on how the fight would end, too.
It was all about money.
Even for me.
Sometimes Aldo could give me a bonus to satisfy his needs. It was completely against the rules to conspire, but nobody was going to stop Aldo from doing it. Christ, the fucking fights were already illegal.
Aldo walked up behind me as I took a drink of piss warm tap water. I spit it out to the floor. My own blood tasted better than the fucking water they gave me to drink.
“We need to end it,” Aldo said, his voice thick and accented. “Right now. This round. Any longer and we’re going to have a problem. I need to get out of here, Tripp. With you.”
I nodded.
I didn’t look at Aldo because I didn’t need to.
I stared at Killer Kidd. His guys were wiping the blood off his face. His left eye was swollen mostly shut. His right shoulder looked fat and purple.
I had him.
A couple more punches and he’d be done.
“Warning!” Mr. Matty cried out.