“Um…” She glanced between Braxton and me, then straight at Lyla, who took a menacing step toward her when she didn’t answer quickly enough. “Deal,” she squeaked, snatching the money out of his hand and then kicking off her shoes long enough to take her jeans off right there.
I cringed as she got catcalls and whistles from guys standing close by. I moved to shield her, giving her some privacy, but she actually seemed to eat up the attention.
Shoving the jeans in my direction, she folded her money and tucked it into her shirt before bouncing back to her friends.
“Hurry and put them on,” Lyla ordered. “We need to get you covered. Now.”
Sighing, I toed off my street shoes and then pulled on the jeans. They were a size too big, but they would do. My two friends seemed to breathe a little easier as soon as I started zipping them up.
Bending, I pulled my Converse back on, and when I straightened, I glared at them. “Happy?”
“Immensely,” Braxton said with a nod. “Now, let’s go. The fight is about to start.”
Putting his hand on my back, he guided me through the crowd that had now begun to scream. Apparently the first fighter was already out.
“Is Barrick fighting?” I wasn’t sure I could stomach watching him fight again.
“No. He’s the ref tonight,” he answered distractedly as we moved toward a roped-off area close to the cage.
“Really? I didn’t know he did that too.”
Braxton shrugged. “Sometimes they have to get another fighter to ref if the official doesn’t feel safe in the cage.”
“And the official doesn’t with tonight’s match?”
“Definitely not,” was all he said as he lifted the rope and waited for both Lyla and me to take our places.
I looked at the metal cage, and my gaze latched on to Barrick, who was already standing there grinning at me. I waved and he winked, making my heart do this crazy little jump in my chest.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped me off Wednesday night, but he’d texted me the night before and earlier in the day. He hadn’t mentioned an Underground match tonight, though, making me wonder if these fights weren’t announced until the last minute.
Dressed in tight workout shorts and a black-and-white striped referee shirt, he looked massive up there compared to the fighter behind him. The other guy was leaner, but not by much, and maybe an inch or so shorter. I barely noticed him, though, as Barrick flashed me that damn dimple, making me forget about anything but him.
“And now…” The announcer’s voice filled the entire building, stopping all chatter as every eye was suddenly on the spotlight shining on the door I assumed led to a locker room. “The man we’ve all been waiting to see pulverize tonight. Howl-errr.”
The crowd actually started howling as one, like a pack of wolves in sync with one another. Beside me, Lyla was the loudest of them all, grinning, her eyes shining with pride as Howler came out.
Wearing only a pair of workout shorts that were molded to his thighs and hips, no shirt, and his knuckles taped, he looked like some blond fighting god. His face was impassive as he walked through the parted crowd, his eyes narrowed on his opponent in the ring.
“Don’t freak out, okay?” Braxton urged close to my ear. “If you get scared or anything upsets you, let me know. I’ll get you out of here.”
I didn’t understand what could be so upsetting, but I nodded. The only reason the last fight had been so hard to watch was because it had been Barrick getting pounding on.
The cage door opened, Howler stepped inside, and it became obvious why an actual official would be worried about their safety with the two fighters currently in the ring.
Barrick grabbed Howler around the waist, holding him back when he would have attacked the other guy, who was already running his mouth. Slinging him back with force, Barrick stayed between them, putting his hands out to warn them to keep back.
“This will stay a clean fight, or I’ll beat the fuck out of you both,” he snarled at them. “Do I make myself clear?”
The two men nodded, but I wondered how long they would follow the rules.
Barely two minutes in and both fighters were bleeding. The longer the match went on, the bloodier it got, and while I was having trouble watching, Lyla couldn’t take her eyes off Howler.
The other fighter, Chains, went to sucker-punch Howler, but he ducked at the last minute. The blow landed on Barrick, and he stumbled back. I gasped when I saw his mouth was bleeding.
“He’s okay,” Braxton soothed. “Nothing he can’t handle.”
I only nodded, my eyes glued to Barrick, unable to look away as he shoved Chains back, yelling at him to keep it clean.
For the next half hour, things only escalated more and more. There was no bell to ring to announce the end of each round because there were none. I didn’t understand the rules, but it was exhausting to watch two people beat the hell out of each other.
“Howler, knock his ass out, or I’m never going to talk to you again!” Lyla shouted when the two were pounding on each other close to our side of the cage.
His dark-blond head snapped up, his eyes going straight to her like he had some radar that told him exactly where she was. Something passed over his bloodied face, and he gave a single, firm nod.
“Knock him out, or kill him?” Braxton grunted at his cousin.
She shrugged without concern. “I don’t really care one way or the other. I fucking hate Chains.”
It took another few minutes, but then Chains was on the floor of the cage, knocked out cold. Barrick rushed to check the guy, making sure he was only unconscious and not actually dead as I feared.
A count of ten and then the announcer was proclaiming Howler the winner, while Barrick held his arm in the air.
“What took you so long?” Lyla yelled toward the cage, and Howler scowled at her before grinning.
I shook my head, not understanding the two of them in the least. It was too much of a headache even to try.
Chapter 8
Mia
“Hold still so I can see it,” I grumbled as I dabbed at Barrick’s lip over dinner later.
We were sitting at some diner a few miles from the Underground with Braxton. It was just the three of us since Lyla had gone with Howler after the fight. Most likely to an after party from what I’d overheard them saying, so it was anyone’s guess when my roommate would be home later.
“It’s fine,” Barrick complained, popping a fry into his mouth and then stuffing one in mine. “My teeth just cut into it when I got hit.”
“It’s going to bruise.” I wanted to wail because his face had just started to heal after his own fight earlier in the week. The gash above his eye was closed, and he only had a single butterfly stitch over it. “Doesn’t it sting when you get that grease and salt in it?”
He rolled his eyes and pushed two more fries into his mouth. “You’re acting like I broke my jaw, firecracker. It was just a pop to the mouth.” Dipping a fry in ketchup, he touched it to my lips. “Come on. Eat for me.”
Sighing, I glared at him for all of a second before opening my mouth and biting the fry in two. Smirking, he ate the rest before picking up his burger that was brimming with veggies and condiments.