Layne
THE PIT IS a warehouse made of cinderblocks in a mostly abandoned industrial area of San Diego.
Declan and Laurie enter first, the taller man having to duck to get through the door. There are no windows, nothing but a dark doorway, and a strong earthy smell. Smells like fur, and animals. My footsteps slow.
Before we go in, Sam tugs my hand and pulls me to the side. “This might be dangerous.”
“More dangerous than getting shot at?”
“Yeah.” He licks his lips. “Listen, Layne, I wouldn’t bring you in here, except I’m afraid to leave you anywhere unprotected and I don’t have resources here in California.”
“No, I’m glad. What Data-X is doing, it’s evil.” I think of Laurie’s twitching and Declan’s wild eyed response to finding out I worked there. Sam’s scars. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m in.”
“All right. Stay close to me. Do what I say, no questions asked.”
A few big guys lumber into the building, looking me up and down, and I step closer to Sam. “Fine.” I might take exception to his authoritative tone, only the memory of that morning’s spanking comes flooding back.
In a wolves’ world, disobedience is met with punishment.
Almost makes me want to disobey. But now is no time to mess around.
He offers his hand and I take it. Together we enter the Pit.
The animal smell is thicker. Smoky light filters through the large room. When my eyes adjust, I see it’s a bar, with tables surrounded by the big hulking guys I saw enter earlier.
From one table, Laurie gives us a wave. I ignore the stares I’m getting and hang onto Sam as we go to the tall, nervous man.
“Here ya are, mates,” Declan sets down four pints.
I pick up a pint and squint at the golden liquid. Sam catches my eye and shakes his head, not that I need any encouragement to put the glass back down.
Declan downs his, smacking his lips. “Ya gonna drink that?” he asks me, and I push the glass to him. “Is this the Pit?” I look around the dimly lit room. “Looks like a bar.”
“There’s more here than meets the eye.” Declan winks at me, and turns as one of the big guys comes over to loom at his shoulder. “You the numbers man?” the guy grunts.
“I am,” Declan declares. “Off duty tonight.”
The guy holds up a wad of cash. “My pack’s got twenty large to put down on Nash.”
“I could open for a few. Back in a mo’.” Declan and the guy head over to the corner where they put their heads together.
Laurie pulls off his glasses and polishes them. The lenses are super thick. No wonder he looks bug-eyed.
“Are those prescription?” I ask him.
“My own design,” he says. “The experiments left me almost blind in bright daylight. I still have perfect night vision, though.”
I’m about to ask him another question, when Declan returns. Pushing up on tiptoe, he whispers something into the tall man’s ear. Laurie nods, and pulls out a battered notebook, marking something down.
Sam pretends to ignore them both, so I do the same. More people come into the bar, but the room never gets more crowded.
Declan keeps getting pulled away. Every time he returns, he and Laurie hold a whispered meeting, ending with Laurie marking something down in his book.
“Good night for you,” Sam says to Laurie after Declan is pulled away again.
“It always is, when Nash fights,” Laurie replies.
“Do people know you’re the real numbers man?”
Laurie shakes his head. “Declan wants it that way. He can defend himself.”
“You’re a predator, too,” Sam points out.
“Not like you. I-I mean, I’m better at quick getaways.”
I half listen, wondering what they’re talking about while I keep an eye on a new group of big, burly biker-types who are arguing near our table. They all wear a single earring-a white bone of some kind. Their jackets have a roaring big cat and script that declares them The Fangs. Two of them get into a fight, pushing at each other. Declan dodges one as the dirty blond biker almost lands in his path.
“Fecking cats,” he says when he’s with us again. “Ya ready?”
Sam nods. Laurie leads the way, followed by Sam, who keeps an arm around me.
“Remember what I told you,” he murmurs into my ear.
We head to the back of the bar, where Laurie pulls open a side door. A blast of noise and warmth makes me pause. A set of stairs leads down into darkness. The animal smell is stronger here.
“Rough crowd tonight,” Declan says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I glance back, and the dark-haired Irishman winks at me. It does nothing to steady my nerves as Sam escorts me down into the pit of the Pit.
My eyes adjust to the even dimmer light. Bodies are packed in the cavernous room deep underground, both in the stands and pressed against the chain links of a giant fence. As Declan pushes forward, Sam keeps an arm around my waist.
I’ve never had a boyfriend, so the gesture should be foreign, yet it feels easy and right. It’s like Sam has always been here at my side, intense and protective. On his mission to exact justice and keep me safe at the same time.
“Stay close to me,” he mutters in my ear, and I have no problem remaining pressed against his lean, hard body. Being so close to him makes me feel alive and feminine. My nipples pebble up and scrape against my bra when I think of the raw power moving beside me.
As we get closer, people seem to recognize Declan and make way. Two fighters spar in the fenced square, sweaty bodies gleaming in the spotlights.
“The Cage,” Declan says, and Sam tightens his grip on me.
A few spectators shout and pound on the metal links, but for the most part the audience is milling about, talking, arguing, finding seats. Declan soon gets pulled away for more bets.