~~~
By the time we move through customs, it’s after midnight London time. Having slept for somewhere in the vicinity of six hours and it being around five o’clock at night in Vegas, my stomach growls for some grub.
“Any chance London has a Denny’s?” I hike my duffle further up on my shoulder, following Rex through the glass doors that lead outside. Freezing air hits my face to knock off the lingering hangover. I’m grateful I followed Rex’s advice to pull out a sweatshirt earlier. It’s cold as shit.
“I’ll ask Caleb.” He squints against the freezing wind. “Fuck. I hate being cold. Gonna have to change my pirate name to Captain Shriveldick.”
I cough out a laugh and burrow deeper into my UFL sweatshirt. “He’d make a better sidekick to Lord Flaccid.”
He stops and glares at me. “I’m not your sidekick, dude. I’m the Batman to your Robin.”
“There’s no way Shriveldick trumps Flaccid. Think about it. Flaccid still has size, but lacks strength. Shrivel is… Well, he lacks everything.”
“Fuck that! Shrivel—”
“I thought the good ole US of A was sending me a couple of fighters, not two numbnuts discussin’ the attributes of their tiny peckers.”
Rex and I both turn toward the country twang to find Caleb standing there with his arms spread wide in greeting.
“Hole-ee-shit.” Rex infuses a very unnatural sounding country accent to his voice. “How the fuck are you, man?” He wraps the big blond in a back-thumping hug.
“Can’t complain much.” He releases Rex and swings his gaze to me. “Fuckin’ A, you grew, boy!” He reaches out and shakes my hand. “Last time I saw you, you were”—he holds his hand up to his chest—“yay high.”
Rex slaps me in the chest. “Kid’s been working his ass off.”
He looks me up in down. “I can see that.” He flicks a finger toward my eye. “Who gave you the shiner?”
My heart thuds at the reminder. I push the unwelcome feelings back. “Blake.”
Caleb grins. “Very nice.”
“Any chance we can finish this get-to-know-ya somewhere with a heater?” Rex’s gaze takes in our surroundings. “And less wet.”
“Welcome to London, dude. Get used to it.” He nods toward a navy blue car the size of a roller skate with four doors. “I’m over there.”
My brows pop high. “That?”
“How the hell do you expect us to fit in that thing?” Rex stares at the wheeled dot with curiosity.
“We’re in London, brother.” He slaps Rex on the back. “This Vee Dub Golf is considered a full-sized vehicle.”
I rub the back of my neck, already feeling the muscle cramps that will surely follow being crammed into the backseat. “Not sure the name implies full-size.”
“You two spoiled American pussies would rather take a cab? ’Cause I’m telling you the taxis here aren’t any bigger.” He motions to a line of small black cars.
“I’ll ride in the back.” I pop the hatchback and toss my shit in, Rex coming up beside me to do the same.
We climb inside the car, and I’m surprised how spacious the interior really is. I still have to sit at an angle to accommodate my legs, but that’s mostly because both Rex and Caleb’s seats are cranked back so they have plenty of legroom. I make a note to call shotgun next time.
“Any chance there’s a twenty-four-hour diner close by? It’s dinnertime in Vegas, not to mention the kid and I are battling a little brown-bottle flu.”
Caleb pulls out and—oh shit—I have to turn away because driving on the wrong side of the road and on the wrong side of the car is freaking me the fuck out. “Nah…only thing here open twenty-four hours is Mickey D’s.”
“Killer, you down to top this body torture off with some fast food?”
“When does training start?” I ask Caleb.
“First thing tomorrow morning.”
“Fuck.” I shrug and my stomach growls its answer. “May as well.”
“No barfing tomorrow, ya hear?” Caleb makes a left turn, and the first few sprinkles of rain hit the windshield. “We’ve been scaring the shit out of everyone here, telling them that Killer from Team USA is coming in ready to destroy. You’ve got a rep to uphold.”
Rex chuckles and grins back at me before facing Caleb. “He won’t disappoint. Trust me. The kid is ready. A little hangover and a heart-attack meal won’t change that.”
While staring out the window, all I can think is I hope to God he’s right.
Fighting is all I have left.
Failure isn’t an option.
~~~
“Wake up, princess.” A sharp sting on my cheek pulls me from sleep. “Come on. I’m only here for a few days, and we’ve got shit to do.”
I crack one eye open and stare at Rex, who’s standing on my bed, wearing his training clothes and a shit-eating grin. “What makes you so perky this morning?”
“First of all, it’s the afternoon.”
I rub my eyes. “No shit?”
“You slept like a corpse. Why didn’t you set your alarm?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Your phone, jackass.”
My gut tumbles. “Didn’t bring it.”