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

  I’ve been pacing and warming up all night; keeping my body loose and lithe. Wrath courses through my veins, not a single minute throughout the evening has tamed my thirst, instead, it’s amped me up more and more. But then my closed-circuit TV shows Twitch and Tanner stepping into the ring. I pull my earbuds out and turn up the volume to listen in on the fight.

  Barbarity isn’t legally televised, ESPN won’t be showing this evening on TV, but if you have the right tech-knowhow, you could watch this unfold on the dark web. The criminal world’s version of “cut the cord” gives you unfiltered access to the fight but for me, this is my security camera footage. The only real-time showing of Barbaric night. Even the dark web gets a late viewing of my ring; gotta keep my tracks protected at all times. The FBI watches the dark web too, after all, and though we pay off the right people, there are some assholes looking to earn their stripes by taking me down.

  Coming back to the present I sit and watch as Tanner walks over to Twitch. “Good luck tonight, ya bastard.”

  Tanner is a good guy, one of the few within the mafia world who is legitimately kind but because of that kindness, if you cross him… Let’s just say he has a Mr. Hyde to his personality.

  Twitch’s laughter has my heart speeding up and a flutter go through my stomach. His deep voice makes me feel like I just took a shot of Fireball Liquor; my whole chest is heated. Even through the TV this man has an effect on me. I’m not like most girls who will deny, deny, deny until they’re blue in the face. Yes, I try to keep myself from acknowledging the attraction, but I’m no fool. Twitch is gorgeous and I want him. I may not act on it—hell, I may play hard to get too—but there’s no ignoring these feelings. New as they are to me.

  “Good luck to you, bastardo.” Twitch says with an arrogant lift of his chin even as they touch gloves. God, as much as his confidence pissed me off earlier, it’s sexy as hell to see a man back up what he says.

  The men separate and go to their sides of the cage. The fight master steps in and announces the fighters and their weights, further reminding me that I put Twitch against our best floor grappler in the men’s division. I hope Tanner doesn’t get him on the ground because looking at Twitch’s bulk I’m certain he will lose.

  “Come on Twitch, win me some money.” I say just as Jefa comes in with Johnny.

  “You bet on Twitch? After putting him against the Irishman so that he’d lose? Talk about whiplash,” Jefa says with a wink. Yeah, she knows how I feel. I spilled my confused guts to her earlier and much to my dismay Johnny cackled the whole time. I swear, he’s a child.

  “Typical women, the confusing creatures. You don’t even know what you want, do you?” He says as he plops down next to me bumping me with his shoulder. I roll my eyes at him.

  “Typical men, the meathead brutes.” I laugh when he grabs my thigh, tickling the crap out of me. The big brother that he is, he knows all my tickle spots.

  “Enough, children. The fight is going on. Come on Tanner!” I give Jefa the stink eye.

  “You bet on Tanner?” I don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s the one she always bets on.

  “Don’t get salty on me, Silver. I didn’t know you had the hots for daddy’s new guy. Not my fault you put him against my good luck charm.” That’s what she calls Joseph, like it’s not rude to compare an Irish man to a four leaf clover. Tanner never tells her off though, he doesn’t mind being Jefa’s charm. I think he secretly likes her but it’s Nico ‘the Cold’ Renzetti who has her heart.

  Tanner throws a solid kick that Twitch takes to the side of his thigh. Suddenly, it’s like that kick set off a fire in Twitch. He quickly throws two punches at Tanner; one hits his chin while the other hits his shoulder. Twitch continues his assault, relentlessly attacking Tanner and I’m hooked; mesmerized by this man. The way he moves—fast, calculated, and precise—has me slowly standing from my seat while my stomach and core burn.

  Damn I want to be out there next to the cage. I want to push my fingers through the chain link fence and watch this warrior go to battle. I can imagine the vibrations his powerful hits send through the ring side seats.

  My mouth is dry as I watch his arms shoot out like bullets; target locked, trigger pulled.

  My heart is racing as Twitch gets Tanner up against the cage, landing punch after punch on the Irishman. When Tanner continues guarding his face with his gloved hands up, it’s apparent he’s waiting for Twitch to get tired.

  “Back off Twitch, save your energy!” I’m yelling at the TV like he can hear me. Instead of listening to me, the asshole continues his assault but then he does something that surprises the shit out of me.

  Twitch backs off and drops his arms.

  “What the fuck is he doing?” Johnny asks standing up.

  “Looks like your guy is giving in, babe.” Jefa says with smug confidence as she stands next to me.

  Tanner slowly moves from the cage, dropping his hands just slightly and like a bat out of hell, Twitch moves into action, stunning me further. Have you ever seen those crazy football plays on YouTube where the quarterback acts like a time out has been called but then, as the rivals let their guards down, the quarterback begins running; touchdown before the rivals even begin to make chase? That’s exactly what Twitch just did.

  One moment he’s standing in front of Tanner, the next he’s behind him. Twitch wraps his arms around the Irishman and lifts him off the floor, twisting slightly before slamming him down onto his back. The crowd roars so loudly the door rattles against the frame while I grip both Jefa and Johnny’s arms with my taped hands as Twitch crawls over a dazed Tanner. He’s unable to fully mount Tanner though because the Irishman throws a right hook, which Twitch takes to the ribs. Fuck, that hurt me just watching.

  The men begin to grapple on the floor; Tanner trying to block the knees and hammer fists coming his way while Twitch is trying to put Tanner into submission. Each man is trying to gain and keep the upper hand and before we know it, the first round comes to an end.

  As I let go of the breath I was holding, I watch the men separate and head to their sides of the cage. It’s then that I notice Twitch is bleeding. I knew he had a cut there from a fight previous to this one but I didn’t think it would open so fast.

  Fucking hell, Tanner’s Mr Hyde comes out when he sees his opponent bleed. This is going to be a bloody battle.

  As if reading my thoughts, Johnny looks at me. “I better get out there. Twitch doesn’t have a coach in his corner besides his guard, and I need to get that cut to stop bleeding or he’ll lose focus trying to wipe blood from his eyes.” Johnny grabs his kit before running out of the room.

  “Oh my ovaries! This fight just got insanely hot.” Jefa’s breathy voice cuts through my mind.

  “Eyes off, ragazza,” girl, “He’s mine and I don’t share. But yes you’re right, this just got interesting.”

  Jefa’s chuckles fade to the background when round two starts.

  What did I just sign Twitch up for?

  Have you ever had a moment where time seems to slow down? Be it a car accident or the first punch you ever received, maybe even a sexual encounter? That’s how it felt for me while walking into the famous Barbarity Ring.

  Earbuds in with my pre-fight hype song, ‘We’re In This Together’ by Nine Inch Nails playing loudly, I walk into the arena. I see but don’t hear the men and women cheering as I pass them by. Slamming my gloved fists together I keep my eyes on the cage even as people reach out and touch my shoulders.

  This is me.

  This is my fight.

  This is my time.

  Tonight, I’ll walk away as King of Barbarity.

  All of these people are part of the criminal underworld and all of them are either betting against me or for me. None of them know me now, but soon they will.

  I feel sorry for the schmucks who bet on my opponent.

  I touch the sides of the cage as I step through its threshold, showing respect for the
ring. I’m the first one in here so I take advantage of the space to keep my muscles warm. I side jump along the fence throwing jabs to keep my arms loose. To keep my focus, I leave my eyes lowered, running through combinations in my head. The roar of the crowd fuels me, their rumbling vibrations pump me up further.

  I keep the music blasting through the earbuds but I feel Gabe tap me on the shoulder, letting me know my opponent is making his way to the ring.

  Joseph Tanner is one tough son of a bitch, as are most Irish fighters. They’re bred for this, fighting is in their DNA.

  Aye, but I’m a Romano, I was born for this shit.

  I’ve seen some of the videos leaked on the dark web and Tanner is a powerful fighter. He’s ruthless as it is but I’ve been told countless times that he gets wild as hell when he sees his challenger’s blood. There are some fighters who go into a frenzy at the sight of blood and I happen to be one of those fighters. With the wound on my eyebrow, I’ll be a bleeder tonight so this should be an interesting fight.

  I watch Joseph ‘Irishman’ Tanner as he steps into the ring with the most joyous smile on his bearded face. He walks over to me so I pull out my earbuds.

  “Good luck tonight, ya’ bastard.”

  I can’t help the laughter that spills from me. I’ve never in my life heard the accent of a true Irish. It’s so fucking fluid and different that his insult sounds more like something friends say to one another.

  “Good luck to you, bastardo,” I tell him as we touch gloves.

  He laughs loudly as he moves over to his side of the ring but we keep our eyes on each other even as his coach talks to him. Prepping him for the fight by directing him to my possible weaknesses.

  He’ll find no weakness but I know he’s spotted my eyebrow. Maybe he thinks it’ll help him, give him an advantage but I’ve spotted his left shoulder which is slighting lower than his right. Looks like the Irishman has had his shoulder dislocated one too many times, it’s worn out and I can almost guarantee any arm hold will pop it out easily.

  The ref calls us to the center. “You know the rule guys, no hits below the belt. Touch gloves and let’s fight.”

  Once we separate to the fence we wait for the bell.

  Life gives us choices and demands that must be met with the same ferocity they’re given with. Make life your bitch or you become its bitch.

  There’s no easy recipe for success but our choices are usually simple so when the bell sounds and the Irishman rushes towards me, I smile. I’m always ready to fight and this right here is where I thrive, where my demons dance and sing.

  I twist a little taking his powerful kick to my thigh. I’ll have a gnarly bruise there tomorrow. I block his fist and then throw a two punch combination; nailing his jaw and shoulder. I continue throwing combinations at random, similar to how I treat a punching bag.

  His grunts are music to my ears but he’s not fighting back. Even when I forced his back to the fence, he continues to block his head from my hits.

  Finally I reign in my demons and force my itch for blood to back off. I step back, even as the crowd boos, and watch Tanner eye me from between his raised fists. Again, he won’t find any tells on my face. He won’t see my plan written in my features. I even slow my breathing as much as possible, making him think I’ve exerted little on my attack.

  As soon as he pushes off the fence I move; sidestepping and getting behind him. He’s fast too but not fast enough to counter my attack. I wrap my arms around the barrel of a man and roar as I lift him off his feet, bending my back before twisting to slam him down onto the cage floor. Being so close to the cage, his left shoulder hits the fence on the way down. I try to fully mount him but the position is just too off so by the time I get into the position, he throws a hook at me that hits me square in the ribs.

  We spend the next minutes grappling and by the time the ref calls the end of the first round my brow is bleeding and the Irishman has a dislocated shoulder.

  I walk over to my side of the cage and accept the water Gabe gives me.

  Dammit.

  I need my first aid kit. I use the water to rinse my mouth and wash some of the blood out of my eyes but that won’t stop the wound from bleeding.

  I look over at Tanner and see his coach popping his arm back in place. In UFC he wouldn’t be allowed to continue the fight, the doc would call off the fight and the winner would be picked by the judges. Here in the mafia world, if you can stand, you can fight.

  Over Tanner’s head I see Johnny running down the aisle carrying a beautiful first aid kit.

  Climbing into the cage he rushes over to me and pops open the small folding stool so I can sit.

  “You did good Twitch, I don’t know your record on fighting or your style but I saw street moves. It’s throwing the Irishman off. He’s used to southpaw or some form of jujitsu. Rinse and spit,” he says nodding to my water bottle. I do as he says, spitting into the bucket gabe has up against the fence. “Alright, so you’ve noticed Tanner’s arm. Don’t use that weakness unless you absolutely need it. You won’t have the respect of beating him if you use it otherwise. Next, Tanner is really good on the floor.”

  “You and your girl already told me this. Tell me something useful, Johnny,” I interrupt his speech as he applies epinephrine to my brow.

  “I’ve always noticed that when Tanner gets tired he leaves himself vulnerable to choke holds. Find your opening. Tire him out but keep your strength.”

  He can’t tell me more because the ref calls time. With a nod to Johnny I bring my eyes back to Tanner. He looks like a mad man, beating his fists against one another like he didn’t just suffer a dislocated shoulder. The wildness in his stance is exactly what I need from him. An untamed frenzy to get him going and tire him out.

  Slowly, while keeping my eyes on Tanner, I roughly rub my brow and smile as the blood begins to flow.

  Instead of standing back or meeting him in the center of the ring, I run at him. As soon as I’m close enough, I begin my combination of punches that he tries to dodge and block but those are just a distraction. Soon I have him up against the gate again but instead of punching him I begin kneeing him everywhere I can. Finally, he tries blocking and punching, giving me the opening I needed for his neck. As soon as his hands drop from their raised positions I push him sideways and wrap my forearm around his neck. He dipped his chin at the last second so I don’t have him in a perfect hold but I continue pulling anyway.

  Either his jaw will break or he’ll give in and lift his head up.

  We drop down onto the floor after he moves his chin. With my arm still tightly held around his neck, I roar when one of his thrown elbows breaks one of my ribs and his heels bash my shin bones. His fists are flying everywhere including my fucking nose but there’s no way in hell I’m letting go. A weaker man would have passed out by now or at the very least he would have tapped out. If I let this fucker go it’ll be like releasing a hellhound.

  Fucking hell, this bastardo is battering me.

  Tanner never taps out but suddenly the ref is there tearing my arms away. Tanner passed out.

  I push his body off of me but continue laying there, breathing hard and feeling like lead runs through my veins. Movies and shows make it look simple but putting someone to sleep like this takes a hell of a lot of exertion. I feel like I stopped a runaway truck with my face and body.

  Lying here on the floor of the cage while the doctor looks over the Irishman, I notice a camera hanging right above the cage. I don’t know why but I can feel her eyes on me. I know it in my tired, bruised and broken bones that Silver is watching me through this camera. With that in mind I give her my biggest smile, which I’m sure is covered in blood, and flip the camera off with both hands.

  Take that you cocky little beauty!

  Johnny is suddenly hovering over my face laughing.

  “Yeah, she’s watching you, man. Should have heard her screaming the whole time. We’ve never seen someone so wild.
Even Tanner here isn’t suicidal like you. Good job, ragazzo.” Boy. “Let’s get you outta here and to the back so Jefa can clean you up.”

  As he lifts me up there’s only one person I want cleaning me up and it definitely isn’t Jefa.

  Silver was screaming for me. She was cheering me on. I’ve never had that before, someone in my corner.

  The guards open the door to my office to let Johnny and Gabe through. Behind them is Twitch, smiling like a crazy man with a broken nose and busted eyebrow. I have to hold myself back from slapping that smirk off his face.

  This punk ass, James Dean meets Beach Boys motherfucker had me hyperventilating back here. He’s completely reckless when he fights. He could have easily wrapped his legs around Tanner’s to keep him from kicking and bucking.

  It’s obvious Twitch is a true street fighter who’s never had any real training but it’s his bull headed attitude that keeps him from fearing his opponents and letting him enter a fight with a steady head. His recklessness throws off the other fighter, as I just witnessed in his fight with Tanner.

  I watched the whole thing when I should have been prepping for my own fight, but fuck that, Twitch had me hooked like a drug addict.

  Jefa shakes her head at me, “Don’t look so worried, Sil, he’s fine. Johnny, get her ready. Gabe and I will clean up Twitch.”

  I try to act like I wasn’t just standing here chewing on my lip like a scared girlfriend, especially when Twitch looks up and gives me a two finger wave with that knowing smirk on his bloody face.

  This guy.

  His whole face is covered in blood including his hair. His neck and chest are covered in tattoos but I can still see the blood darkening the ink. “Get his nose set and stop that bleeding. There’s ice and Vodka in the fridge.”

  “Ya hermana,” Enough sister, “Go get ready, don’t worry about this.” Jefa pulls on some gloves while Gabe puts rolled up gauze in Twitch’s mouth. They move calmly and easily, no frenzy or chaos to be seen.