Dani’s [POV]
When the bike stops, I finally open my eyes. Damon helps me off, and I take in our surroundings. I’ve never been here before. There are only a few large buildings that resemble warehouses. The first rows of houses are visible in the distance… about ten miles away. Unease overwhelms me. I take off my helmet and Damon’s jacket and hand them both to him. I realize he’s watching me. Perhaps he’s done so for a while. A slight frown crosses his features.
“Why have we come here, Damon?”
“So I can show you why you should stay away from me.” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “That was my intention, but now I think it was a horrible idea to bring you here. You know what,” he continues, preparing to put his jacket on me again, “I’ll drive you to a cafe in the neighborhood over there. It looks safe. I’ll pick you up after it’s over.”
I take a step back. “No. I’m not a chicken.”
“It’s not about that, Dani. It’s about the-”
I never find out what it is about. A man looking a few years older than Damon interrupts us. He has light hair that falls to his shoulders and tired, blue eyes. He must have come from behind the nearest warehouse.
“Damon, it’s good you got here early. Everyone is already-” The man stops dead in his steps when he sees me, his eyebrows furrowing.
“She’s with me, Alex.” Damon’s tone startles me. It’s strong. Authoritative. I’ve never heard him speak like this. Even though they’re the same height, and even have a similar build, the man takes a giant step back.
“You’d better hurry inside. The crowd is restless already.”
The crowd?
Damon looks at me, and before he can bring up taking me somewhere else again, I say, “Let’s go.”
He takes my hand, and I feel oddly secure as I walk beside him, even though this place creeps me out. As we walk by a few warehouses, I can’t help thinking Damon was right. My dress, my shoes… they don’t belong here. They make me feel out of place and vulnerable. We finally come to a stop in front of one of the warehouses. It looks like all the others, but there is one notable difference: while the others were silent, obviously empty, it’s clear this one isn’t. The crowd Alex was talking about must be inside here. We go around the warehouse. In front of the entrance, I see two dozen or so bikes and as many cars. Damon squeezes my hand gently as Alex opens the door to the warehouse.
A few people whistle as we go in, while others chant, “Finally.” It’s obvious the welcome is for Damon, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. I look around wildly, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. In the center of the warehouse is an empty circle with rows of people huddled, waiting for something. Once I see the guy pacing inside the otherwise empty circle, things get more confusing. When the crowd parts at the sight of Damon someone from the crowd yells, “I’ve bet on you, Damon. You’d better win this one,” I finally get it.
“You’re a fighter,” I whisper. Of course. That explains the bruises. Damon lets go of my hand, turning to me. His eyes have lost their usual sparkle. He assesses my outfit again.
“Alex,” he calls. “Keep an eye on her.”
“I will. But that doesn’t mean others will keep their hands off her. Especially dressed like this. No offense, but they might mistake her for a hooker.”
Damon curses. “Just stay put here; nothing will happen to you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“I’ll explain it to you later. Just-damn it, I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he says through gritted teeth. To our right, a group of three hooligans stare at me hungrily. They think I’m a hooker.
Damon shoots daggers at them with his eyes. He puts one hand on my waist, still watching them. He seems to consider something-possibly punching them. Then he turns to face me. With a jolt, he pulls me toward him until we are so close, so impossibly close that I feel his warm breath against my lips. I look at him, a question hanging on my lips. He answers it with a kiss. The moment his lips touch mine, something ignites inside me. Warm and rough, his lips are like magnets-they pull me in with a devastating force. Everything else fades into meaninglessness. The sounds, the people…
When we break apart, my knees sway. Luckily, Damon’s arm is still around my waist. The moment our gazes lock, I become aware of the voices around us, beckoning him to start the fight. Damon drops his jacket and the two helmets on a nearby table.
I’m still floating somewhere above everything while Damon walks backward toward the ring. Just before he turns around, he mouths something that instantly snaps me from the clouds. One word. Sorry. I watch him step inside the ring while the question haunts me: sorry for what? Kissing me? The question drowns in fear when the fight starts. Punches fly in both directions.
“Don’t worry,” Alex says. “Damon’s a pro.”
“He’s got bruises all the time,” I counter.
“Of course. It’s part of the job.”
“How long has he been doing this?”
“Who knows? He joined us a few weeks ago and fights like he’s been at it for a few years. He’s the best there is right now. All the other fighters hate him.” He beams.
“Why are you so cheerful about it?”
“Means he and I can make some good money. Tonight’s match will turn the tide, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gabe,” he motions to the guy Damon’s fighting, “used to be the best before Damon arrived. It looks like Damon will beat him tonight. That’ll mean a lot of money, but also trouble. Gabe isn’t used to losing. He’s the leader and owes a lot of dangerous people money. If he starts losing matches, he’ll have nothing to pay them back with.”
He directs his attention to the fight next. I can tell he’d like to go closer to watch, but he stays put, throwing a glance in my direction now and again, keeping an eye on me, the way Damon asked him to. He needn’t bother. The same guys who looked at me with what were indecent thoughts in the beginning, now look at me like I have a disease. I realized the kiss was Damon’s way of letting everyone know I was out of bounds. And he was sorry for the kiss. Well, I’m not. It made me blissfully happy, even if just for a moment.
As the fight gets more violent, I can’t help moving forward. The punches grow more vicious, thrown with one purpose: win. Damon’s good; even I can tell that. Still, he gets hit, and every time that happens my stomach churns violently. At least he manages to block most of the punches Gabe aims at his face. I turn around when I’m sure the fight is only minutes away from being over, unable to watch anymore. When the crowd erupts in cheers, congratulating Damon, I breathe with relief.
“Well done, Damon,” Alex calls loudly.
“Shouldn’t we go to him?” I ask.
“No, it’s best to stay out of the ring, even after the fight is over.” Alex remains by my side as the crowd moves. One moment, I see Damon washing himself at a sink at the back of the warehouse, but the next moment, I lose him. I bite my nails, only stopping when he appears in front of me.
“Dani, are you all right?” he asks.
“Yeah. You-?”
“I’m okay. I’ll just have a black eye.” He smiles tightly. “Let’s go. Alex, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The hall is still buzzing with people when Damon puts an arm around my waist, beckoning me toward the exit.
“Damon,” a strong voice resounds in the hall. The buzz turns to silence so fast it’s scary. Though I never heard his voice before, I knew it was Gabe who spoke. “I want a rematch.”
Damon and I turn in unison. A livid Gabe stands at the edge of the ring. People step apart, forming a corridor between us and Gabe.
“Certainly,” Damon says in a measured tone. “Alex can schedule it.”
Gabe smirks, but his eyes grow colder with fury. “Make sure you don’t bring your beautiful friend. It might turn ugly for you. Wouldn’t want her to witness it or… get caught in between.” Damon’s arm grows rigid around my waist. For the first time tonight, I feel a real pang of fear. Damon opens his mouth, and I sense he won’t reply so calmly this time. Alex must sense it, too, because he steps in.
“I’ll schedule the match. Let’s go.”
Damon grabs the jacket and helmets from the table. People still congratulate him on the way out, but much quieter than before. They are afraid of Gabe.
The second we’re out the door, I ask, “Why did you agree to a rematch?”
Damon looks at me in surprise. “You can’t deny an opponent that.”
There is a lot of commotion outside, as people rev their bikes and cars.
“I don’t like it,” I say.
“Neither do I,” Alex says. “Gabe won’t fight fair next time.”
“I’ll deal with that when it comes to it,” Damon replies in a final tone. “Alex, call me when you’ve scheduled it.”