Series: Kings MC Romance #2
their ol’ lady came out for the cage fight. No other MC members are allowed on
a night like this. It’s in-house and exclusive. Keeps the outcome private and
the bruised egos of the losers contained. I plan on bruising more than their
egos. I want them carried out on a fucking stretcher.
honor, or respect the patch and the brotherhood it stands for. They’re weak
men. Men who get off on torturing and raping a woman who couldn’t defend
herself against them. I don’t see them as equals. I’ll never see them as
is where we have our fight cage and private bar. Wooden benches line two walls,
the cage taking up the other two. Between the benches and the fight cage are
high top and low top tables with bar stools and chairs. Every seat is filled
and the liquor is pouring heavily. A few bucks make their rounds on who’s going
to win the fight. It’s fun play for my brothers, but for me, tonight is about
so much more.
harder to see, but it’s there as a lingering memory of previous fights. Fights
I’ve been a part of. Blood I’ve contributed myself. You don’t last in the
Serpents as long as I have without shedding some.
getting themselves worked up for the fight. A slap to the face, some words for
courage, a shot glass thrown back. Next to me are Mercy, John, Tex and RJ, some
of my closest brothers. Mercy slaps my bare back and hands me a shot.
I pull it over my head and toss it on a chair. Reaching into my pocket, I
retrieve the brass knuckles I brought. That’s an advantage with the cage
fights—there are no rules.
Drake and Levi need to enter. Shirts off and in their jeans, they go into the
cage, bouncing on the tips of their feet. They’re wired and ready, probably
high on coke too. Another advantage for me. With intent steps, I flex my
muscles and give Christian a hard stare as I enter the cage.
tall and gangly, has speed, but will easily be put off balance. Drake has
muscles, a solid core, slightly shorter than I am, but he always steps before
he punches. It’s been engrained in me to study the way every man I know fights,
especially the ones closest to you.
they’re high. The corner of my mouth raises when the circling starts. They’ll
come at me together at first, in hopes to overpower me, wear me down. Then once
I’m tired, they’ll split up and go for individual attacks to give themselves
breaks and ensure I remain exhausted. They’re dumb fucks if they think the
fight will last that long.
ram him into the cage bars, knocking the wind out of him. Grip tight on his
throat, I bring the brass knuckles down on his face. Blood spurts from his
nose, then again from his busted lips.
Enraged, I turn on Drake and see him holding the bloody switchblade.
kick his leg out from under him. The blade drops and I flip him over slamming
him to the ground. No hesitation, I snatch the blade and whip it across his
cheek. Blood pours from the thin, neat cut. Flicking the blade into my other
hand, I nail it into his thigh.
system, he bellows from the wound, but still has a lot of fight. Seeing Levi
come at me with a set of spiked knuckles, I get one brass-knuckled punch to
Drake’s face before I duck and roll, dodging the swing of Levi’s arm.
down my skin on the inside of my jeans. That’s gonna need stitches. I need to
move fast before I lose too much blood. Drake pulls the blade from his thigh
and limps to his feet, holding the bars of the cage.
and hollering inaudible words at us. They’re hungry for more.
legs, so he comes at me first. With an uppercut of the brass knuckles, he lands
on his back. One hard boot to his face and he’s lights out.
grazes my arm, slicing it enough to make me bleed, but not enough to make me
give a fuck. The fresh scent of copper fills my nostrils. Crimson red covers
Drake’s face and stains his jeans. Watching his feet, he lunges again, and I
grab his hand, lock onto it, turn inside his arm and elbow his face, breaking
his nose. Pulling his hand backward, the blade drops. With one swift turn, I
put brass to bone, knocking him on his ass.
heave a breath, controlling my fury before I murder him here in front of
everyone. Rising to my feet, I pull the brass knuckles from my bloodied hand.
The cage door opens for me, and I step out to hoots, hollers, pats on the back,
and shots shoved into my hands. I down two for the pain.
her—my Sparrow. Running to me, I enfold her in my arms, kissing her hard and
bestselling author of paranormal romantic suspense and contemporary
romance. She writes sexy and suspenseful stories with hot alphas and
kickass heroines with twists you don’t expect. She also writes beautiful and
sexy romances with tough women and their journeys at finding love. Betty is a
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and all things romantic. She lives with her amazing hubs and five fur babies.
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