Fight For Me (Dark Renzetti Series Book 2) Read online

  He tries to twist out of my hold but with my lower legs across his chest, he’s not going anywhere.

  He bellows as his elbow pops out of place and bends backwards just as I see the ref running over to stop me. Before he gets there though, I twist my body and lift my pelvis up causing his forearm to bend back much further than would have been allowed had this been a legal fight. The ref pulls me up off the warehouse floor and declares me the winner while Martin screams at his oddly angled elbow.

  Martin walked into the ring with a cocky smirk on his ugly mug but someone failed to warn him; getting into the ring with me is equivalent to free swimming with hungry sharks.

  Oh well, I’m the winner tonight and the winnings are enough to get me where I need to go.

  It’s been one year since I moved into Lopez’s house and three months since she moved to the assisted living facility for the elderly. She had another stroke so her doctor thought it’d be best for her to have professional care around the clock. Lopez seems to be doing great which makes me less worried about her and she seems happy with the choices I’ve made so far as well. I’ve put the house up for sale with a reliable realtor who came highly recommended and I’ve made arrangements to move to New York. I wanted to get moving as soon as possible but I needed to earn some more cash so I’ve picked up a lot more fights lately.

  Tonight’s fight will be my last here in Cali and it seems I’ve caught the eye of Diego Blanca, boss of the Blanca cartel in La Paz, Mexico. It’s a piece of his crew that runs the ring here and in a few other states. I heard him trying to get my attention by yelling out my name but like always I ignore the congratulatory shouts and dodge the pats on the back.

  I don’t fight for the spotlight, at least not in this small time ring. I fight for the money and the outlet. For the rush of feeling my opponent break under my hands. I do it to let my demons out for a while before they build up to a point that I kill someone.

  Again.

  My first year in juvie I killed one of the older kids. I was just thirteen years old when he caught me unaware in the dinning hall and sucker punched me from the side causing me to blackout. I don’t remember what happened but when I came to, I felt every single bruise he and his crew of punks left on me. They kicked my ass that day but he didn’t realize that he just woke up the sleeping beasts within me and that night I caught him in the shower and none of his friends could yell fast enough to warn him of my advance. I jumped onto his back and pulled his head back, exposing his neck to the makeshift knife I made. I stabbed him repeatedly until the shivvy broke off in his neck.

  As I let him drop to the floor, the water still flowing from the shower head allowed me to see the inner workings of his throat. While I watched his life’s essence stream into the drain and the light seep from his eyes, I smiled at the relief and satisfaction of letting my darkness take over.

  The build up of anger and rage are heavy on the mind and soul.

  Shaking those thoughts off, I continue to make my way to the back of the warehouse where the changing room is. As soon as I’m behind the closed door, I begin cleaning the blood and sweat off, finally allowing myself to feel the pain within my body. There’s no showers here but I use my water bottle and towel to wash up as best as I can so I can disinfect the deep cut on my right eyebrow. Bare knuckle fights are brutal on the body, just ask the guy I beat.

  As I get the second butterfly suture on, Diego Blanca walks in.

  “Twitch DeLuca! That was some great skills you showed out there. I’ve heard a lot about you but I thought it was an exaggeration; I’m glad to see how wrong I was.”

  I don’t know what to reply so I just tip my head instead of saying anything. If my silence bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

  “Listen kid, you beat my best fighter who is undefeated in La Paz. I think it’s time I replace him and who better to take his spot than the man who took him out, hm?” His deep voice is heavily accented but not hard to understand. He looks like he could be conducting a meeting in a CEO office but he also looks like he could easily smile while dropping you into a barrel of acid.

  I understood the man’s reasoning for a new fighter but cartel or not I need to stick to my plan and get to New York.

  “Sorry boss but this was my last fight. I have a family I need to get to in New York and to get there I need this cash to pay the guy who restored my car.”

  Before tonight’s fight, I made a side bet with a friend named Albert. He’s the best mechanic in San Diego and we made a deal, if I won before the fifth round he’d fix up the car Lopez gave to me for my birthday. It was a car that belonged to her dead husband and the restoration of the 1969 Chevelle SS would have cost me ten grand but since I won the fight in the second round, I only have to pay five grand. The beautiful black car is exactly my style, completely blacked out—seats, body and rims—and it’ll be my treasure until the day I die.

  Shit, I’ll probably be buried in it.

  “How about this, Twitch, I’m heading to New York myself so why don’t you fight for me and I’ll make sure you have a spot in the Barbarity Ring when we get to the city? I get fifty percent of your winnings and you fight for me for a year, plus I’ll pay for your car.”

  My ears perk up at the mention of the famous underground ring that is still fairly new but is an unstoppable force. All the top fighters talk about getting a chance to enter that ring. They say it’s where you go if you want to fight in the UFC. Scouts, coaches, and managers all discreetly make their way there to scope out young and fresh fighters.

  It was started a year ago by a woman who also fights. Silver is what they call her. Rumor has it, she’s been offered a spot on the women’s UFC division but she declined because there are too many rules. I had planned to find this ring and hopefully get my name known when I got to NY so Blanca handing me this chance is a once in a lifetime opportunity, but I keep my face blank.

  “I appreciate the offer boss but I can’t keep only fifty percent of the winnings. If you want me to fight for you for a year, I’ll do it but I keep eighty percent and nothing less.” I shrug my shoulder as I watch a mixture of mirth and anger flash in his eyes. I’ve heard about the ruthless mafia boss so I know I have to watch my tone with him but I’m no one’s bitch and even though this man strikes me as a stand-up guy, I won’t let anyone push me around for their own gain.

  Just then one of Blanca’s soldiers comes into the makeshift locker room. “It’s your daughter, Jefe,” he says as he hands over a cell phone.

  The man looks over to me and gives me a nod before returning to guard the door.

  “Sí, hija, he terminado las reuniones aquí, así que mañana estaré allí.” Yes, daughter, I have finished the meetings here, so tomorrow I will be there. He pauses listening to his daughter’s response. “Sí, sé que es la pelea más grande del año.” Yes, I know it is the biggest fight of the year.

  Obviously, he plans to arrive in New York tomorrow, just in time for the annual event. I wanted to be there for it but I’ll be driving and not flying a jet so there’s not a chance in hell I’ll make it this year. Unless...

  When Blanca ends his call I ask him, “So will you have another fighter available for Barbaric Night?” My tone and facial expression suggests I have zero fucks to give as I roll up my towel and stuff it into my gym bag but my heart is pumping faster at the prospect of entering the event myself.

  “Well, I was until you broke Martin’s elbow and left multiple skin lacerations like you took a whip to his face. Now though, I don’t have a good enough fighter to enter unless you’ll take sixty percent and a year contract with me?” He ends that sentence on an upturn like it's a question but his eyes say he knows I won’t take it. He’d be correct.

  “Seventy, one year contract and you ship my car to New York.” I hold out my hand and wait for him to shake.

  His booming laugh reverberates around the empty room but then he says, “The cojones on you are big, huh? I’ll ship the
car free of charge but you drag out a fight to the end. I can make much more money that way with the side bets. Deal?”

  He doesn’t even wait for me to agree before his rough hand is gripping mine. He pulls me forward and though the man is slightly shorter than my six feet three inches, he exudes lethal power but it’s his words that are deadly.

  “But do not fuck me over Twitch because I know every spot on the human body that can give you a painful death and I’ll draw it out for weeks.”

  I give him a tight nod and bite down the words I want to tell him. Even though he pissed me off with his threat, I know how to respect and bide my time. If he thinks he can intimidate me he’s severely wrong and if he continues with the threats I’ll have to show him how unintimidated I am by him.

  I finish cleaning up in the changing room and head out to find Albert but just as I walk out the door, the guard who gave Blanca the phone walks over to me and hands me a bottle of water.

  “Mr. DeLuca, I am to escort you to the runway. The jet has been readied for departure.”

  I take the bottle but I don’t drink it. Can’t be too safe, for all I know, this guy could be related to Martin.

  “Twitch. Call me Twitch and I need to go pay someone first and then we can go,” I tell him as I search the sea of faces for my mechanic.

  “If you are talking about your friend, Mr. Blanca already paid for your car and left instructions for him to deliver it to the airport tomorrow morning.”

  Good. That means my winnings will help me when I get to New York.

  “Okay but I need to pick up my belongings. I wasn’t expecting to leave tonight so I’ll meet you at the runway in an hour.” I try walking away but the guard stops me with a hand to my shoulder. I stare at his hand until he removes it and holds his hands up in surrender.

  “Forgive me, I meant no disrespect.” He swallows thickly before continuing. “I- I only meant to tell you that I was left here with you and I am instructed to drive you wherever you need to go. I am at your disposal.”

  I turn and fully face him. “Fine but do not ever make the mistake of touching me again, capisci?”

  “Yes. Understood. Now, if you’ll follow me, I have a car out front for you.”

  He waits for my nod before turning and leading me out. I feel bad for the guy. It’s not his fault that his boss, while generous, has me anxious. I feel like I’ve lost a bit of control over my free will and I’ve worked hard to keep from being under anyone’s rule. I’ll have to speak to Blanca about that if it continues. I’m only his fighter not his soldier.

  The next hour flies by and soon I’m seated in a private jet. The aircraft is immaculate with it’s plush carpet, wide cream colored leather seats and open floor plan. It feels like I’m sitting in a presidential suite and looking over at Diego as he chats with his people, I guess I am.

  “Champagne?” a pretty stewardess asks with a timidness that has me flinching inwardly. Although I showered and don’t really have bruises on my face aside from the open cut on my brow, I’m sure I look out of place sitting here in this over the top luxury jet. This is not my scene at all. I’m a fighter who dresses like a greaser not a suit wearing mafioso. I don’t even think a suit would fit me.

  My small wardrobe consists of ripped jeans with hanging wallet chains and white tee shirts. The nicest items I have are an array of different colored suspenders and bowties but they’re always paired with my jeans and combat boots so I don’t think they count.

  “No thank you but can you tell me how long before we arrive in New York.” I try to soften my voice because this broad looks like she’ll run if I speak too loudly.

  “Five and a half hours, sir.”

  I nod and she moves on to someone else.

  I’m mentally calculating how much time I’ll be able to rest before tomorrow’s fight when Carlos, my guard, sits next to me. He pulls out a packet of ibuprofen and hands me the glass of iced whiskey he’s holding. “You look like you could use the medicine.”

  He’s right, I do need the medicine. I have a raging headache and sore muscles and this cut on my brow is swelling. It’s the same cut that opens up during every fight. The tissue is so weak that even if I rub my brow too roughly it’ll open up.

  Taking both the drink and packet I ask, “When does the Barbaric fight start and how many categories does Silver have this year?” I pop the pills in my mouth and chase them down with whiskey, holding the cold cup to my brow to help with the swelling. I normally don’t drink but I need to decompress and loosen up my muscles.

  “The fight starts at eight p.m. and I believe she has everything from Flyweight to Cruiserweight. All the slots are filled but I think Mr. Blanca already spoke to his daughter about finding another middleweight for you to compete with.”

  “You mean Silver, the Barbarity Queen? She’s his daughter?” I’m a little thrown off. No one ever mentioned his daughter, future boss of the Blanca Cartel, is the infamous Silver.

  Carlos chuffs a little. “No his daughter is Camila but everyone knows her as Jefa. She’s Silver’s right hand. They run Barbarity together with the blessing of Diego Blanca and Andino ‘Hangman’ Renzetti. Two of the most powerful families letting their girls run a ring that’s dominated by men? Unheard of and because of that, word has spread like wildfire. Barbarity is known all over the world.” He sounds like he’s preaching the gospel or some shit but if I’m being honest, Barbarity is a motherfucking religion. At least it is for me. I’ve been dreaming about fighting there since I heard about it a few months back. I can only imagine the vibe there, the rumble of the audience as they cheer for blood.

  Fuck yes. That’s my scene.

  “Did you know that Silver is going to be fighting for her throne this year?” he asks conspiratorially, like an old lady spreading gossip in the pews.

  I grunt instead of responding to him as I close my eyes and get comfortable in my seat. I’m over this conversation now but my companion obviously can’t take a hint.

  “Yeah, she’ll be fighting for the first time in a year. She was called out by the Russian Princess, on the evening Silver and Jefa announced Barbaric Night. Look.” He puts his phone up to my face showing me a paused video. The image shows three women standing in the caged octagon. “The one with white hair is Jefa, this one is Princess Popov and the third woman is Silver.” He points to each woman while naming them and then presses play.

  The ladies stand for a tense moment on the bloodstained floor while a smirking Jefa holds a mic to Popov’s thinned lips. I can’t see Silver’s face because Jefa’s blinding white hair is blocking her but both her and Silver look like a couple of lionesses ready to attack at any moment. I wonder what was said before this.

  I’m about to tell the moron to play it from the beginning when I hear a heavily Russian accent. “I look forward to dethroning you, Silver.” Popov’s voice is deep and completely opposite of the woman’s feminine face.

  I watch in fascination as Silver grasps her hand in a firm grip. The Barbarity Queen holds herself with poise like royalty, a queen who is to be respected and feared. She has an air of lethal confidence and though I still can’t see her face, her stance shows arrogance. The dress she’s wearing shows off her fit body. She’s not over the top ripped but there's no doubt in my mind she packs some serious power in that tight body. Her legs are toned as well with an ass that should be criminal. The kind of ass you want to leave handprints on.

  The other girl, Jefa, moves out of the way just in time for me to see the wicked smirk on Silver’s stunning face but then there’s a grunt of pain from Popov and I see the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen as Silver beams at her challenger who is now holding her hand close to her body.

  I forgot Carlos was next to me until he suddenly laughs and says, “She dislocated Mila’s finger. That girl has some power in her. I’d hate to get a handjob from her.”

  What the fuck? I don’t think—I just swing.

  My fist meets
his mouth, knocking him backwards. His phone goes flying as he grabs at his mouth like he can stop the blood from flowing. He mumbles in fear as he tries to scoot away from me when I stand and tower over him. I reach down, taking his collar in my hand and pull him out of the seat but Diego’s voice stops me in my tracks. I don’t take my eyes off Carlos but I listen to the cartel boss.

  “What’s going on here?” Diego demands.

  “This moron thought it’d be okay to disrespect a woman in front of me like I wouldn’t do shit about it. Isn’t that right, maiale?” Pig. I’m about to punch this fucker’s teeth in some more but Diego grabs Carlos by the hair and rips him out of my grip.

  “You’re done, Carlos. Get to the back of the fucking plane now.”

  Carlos sputters and tries apologizing but Blanca tosses him to one of his other guards. “Get this disrespectful piece of shit out of my sight.” He watches the guards drag Carlos to the back until they’re out of sight.

  I stand there waiting for a reprimand for hitting one of his guys but Diego claps me on the shoulder and gestures to the seats. As we sit and relax again, a flight attendant, looking completely unfazed, quickly comes over with drinks without being summoned. Seems like they’ve seen this before. Makes me wonder how the hell a cartel boss like Diego ended up with a moron like Carlos for a guard.

  “He’s my sister’s son and I offered him a position as a favor to her. The pendejo doesn’t deserve the kindness though.” Well, I guess that answers that.

  We sit for a few moments in comfortable silence until I remember Carlos’ phone fell. I pick it up and see it’s still on the video so I play it back from what I’m guessing is the beginning.

  At first you can’t hear anything she’s saying because the person behind the camera is screaming his head off along with everyone else. Silver stands there with a glint in her eyes as she waits for the audience to calm. And when they do, her soft voice comes through clearly, making my mouth dry from the sensuality of this woman.