Broken: Round One (Broken #1) (6 page)

I glance down at the denim shorts and white tank top in my hands. I’m going to look ridiculous in this. Thank God it’s dark down here or everyone would see just how white I really am—and when was the last time I shaved my legs? I cringe at the thought.

In record time, I pull off my scrubs and toss them into the corner of the room. I struggle trying to pull the shorts on over my black shoes, but thankfully, when I sit down on the edge of my cot I manage to put both feet through without much hindrance. Most people take their shoes off before putting pants on, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting my bare feet on the damp ground.

Surprisingly, the jean shorts button up well and fit nicely. I run my finger around the band at the top and peer at my ass from over my shoulder. It doesn’t feel like my cheeks are hanging out. I run the palm of my hands down the back of the shorts to confirm it. My ass isn’t showing. Who would’ve thought they still make denim short shorts that cover the butt? It’s a miracle. When I look back up, I see two blue irises flick over my belly and onto my chest. I freeze, unable to help my eyebrows that pull together of their own accord. Though caught in the act, Jai doesn’t look away. Instead, his stare follows an invisible line up my cleavage, my throat and onto my face. Of course I wore my least attractive bra. Why not the lace one? Why did I choose the one made from cotton? My throat dries, my cheeks burn, and my fingers twitch at my sides, but I don’t cover myself up. I analyze his face, but he gives off no indication if my body is to his liking. Not that I want it to be … or maybe I do. I don’t know. I’ve never been so confused in my life.

Without a word, Jai turns back to peer into the tunnel.

“You’re a pervert.” I tease, arranging the tank top in my hands before pulling it on over my head.

He doesn’t look back, but I hear his smile as he speaks. “I prefer the term ‘opportunist’.”

I straighten the tank against my belly. It clings tightly to me, and the lack of nutrition in my diet shows. Hip bones … this is why I wear baggier clothes. I’m actually surprised my breasts have held up. I smooth my palms over my stomach and suck in an inhale. When I blow it out, Jai turns and this time, his eyes skip over my chest and lock onto my hair.

“Ready?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“Almost.”

He steps forward and I hold my breath as he reaches out and tugs on the band holding back my locks. With a swift yank, he frees my black waves and they fall around my face. I feel little as he rakes his giant hands through my hair and I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but every now and then he’ll catch some between his fingers and squeeze until my lips part and a nervous breath of air slips out. Whatever he’s doing, it feels erotic. If it were normal, my blood wouldn’t be heating the way it is and my pulse wouldn’t threaten to beat through my skin.

I open my mouth to speak, but Jai turns around and steps out into the tunnel.

“Let’s go.”

* * * *

The cage rattles and shakes, and my heart leaps into my throat. The slap of limbs on the canvas and grunts forced from lungs penetrate the roars of the crowd. I’ve never seen anything so gritty, so magnificent. Excitement prickles over the surface of my skin like electricity on metal, but beside me, Jai sits against the wall of the tunnel, toying with a loose string on the sleeve of his shirt. How can he be bored by the action unfolding in front of us? He’s used to it, I suppose, but this is an entirely new world for me. A world that’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Every few seconds, when the fighters give themselves a quick breather, my attention flickers to the railing above the cage and the thick fingers that grip it. Skull shifts as my eyes flick over his hands, resting his elbows on the rail and leaning over to get closer to the fight. As the fighters clash and crash against the canvas again, I let my gaze move to Skull’s face and the detailed skull that stains it. I can see every bone, and every space is colored a coal black. For a moment, I find myself captivated by it—mesmerized. He is easily the scariest thing I’ve ever seen and although yesterday’s events no longer mark his skin, I feel as though I can still see the innocent man’s blood on his hands. Though scary, I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever loved a woman and what a smile might look like on his lips. I wonder what color his eyes glisten when he’s fallen in love …

I look back to the fighters who are both standing on jelly legs and exchanging heavy punches, blow for blow. One fighter, with slightly more energy than the other, ducks an incoming punch. It swings over his head, sending his opponent off balance. He wastes no time in straightening his posture and throwing a hammering punch to his chin. I gasp and shield my mouth as the opponent’s arms flail and his face snaps to the side. I see it in his eyes, the glazed look, and suddenly his head is heavier than the rest of his body. My heart pounds in my chest, in my head, in my throat—everywhere—and I can’t help but inch closer. Subconsciously, I reach back and touch Jai’s arm to steady myself as I step forward. I use him as security, in case I need to be pulled back at a moment’s notice. The dazed man sways like a tree in the wind before crashing to the canvas.

The room goes silent.

He doesn’t move.

The only sounds are the straining of the thick chains that rub against the metal railings, and the tiny passages of rain water that drip onto the concrete around us. My mouth is open, my eyes wide. I’ve never seen a knockout before.

Everyone else jumps to life, cheering the victor. The sudden surge of celebration startles me and I jump backwards, desperately clinging to Jai’s arm. The uproar vibrates the floor under my feet. I feel it in the rubber of my shoes and in the fabric of my socks before it climbs my legs. I pant, unsure if I should cheer or cry. My chest hurts, burning like I’ve smoked an entire packet of cigarettes and I realize it’s not because of the crowd. It’s because of the man that lies unconscious on the floor of the cage.

That could be me.

That will be me.

I survey him a little longer. There’s something not quite right about him. He’s still … dead still. I don’t notice two of Skull’s men, the ones from yesterday, approach the cage until they unlock the door and the winner leaps out. He clenches his torso and puts on a brave face, but it’s not enough to hold back the contents of his stomach. I cringe and look away as yellow bile spews from his mouth. Ignoring him, the goons step into the cage, unbothered that it bounces and trembles under their weight. At any second, the chains could snap. I think I’m the only one who cares.

The men reach down and slap the man on the face. He doesn’t move. They peer up at Skull briefly before testing his pulse. I keep my attention on Skull and all it takes is a shake of his head and the goons scoop up the unconscious man. When they have all of his weight in their arms, I notice a slight trail of blood leak from his mouth and nose. My blood runs cold. Is he … dead?

Outside the cage, the two men pull him higher in their arms. I expect them to carry him somewhere, to a little nook in a tunnel with someone that can help him—like a little healing bay or something. Instead, Skull announces that sometimes it doesn’t always work out and reminds us it’s a dangerous game.

And then they toss him over the edge and into the tunnel like week-old trash.

Like fucking trash.

Subversion

I pace the room, taking three steps each way before having to turn again. Jai watches me from the doorway, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He thinks I’m overreacting. He treats me as if I’m the only one who finds it appalling they tossed away the loser of the fight like he was nothing.

“He was dead already, Emily.” He sighs, apparently sick of saying it. “The punch was too much. There’s nothing anyone could’ve done.”

Silent tears burn down my cheeks and I hug myself tighter. “He probably has family … they’re never going to know what happened to him.” I inhale sharply. “What if he has a wife? Or children? They’ll grow old thinking their father left them without explanation.”

“If he was down here, he did leave without explanation.”

I stop pacing and glare at Jai. “Do you have any compassion? A human being died and he was treated like trash.”

Then, realization dawns on me, and all of the emotion I feel, all of the fear and outrage swirling around in my chest, drains out through my shoes. Even my tears dry up.

“I’m going to die down here and they’re going to throw me away.”

Jai rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “You’re not going to die.”

“I am.”

Why does he think I’m being dramatic? I have no fighting experience yet here I am, trapped underground with fighters and the only way out is to win, lose or die.

“How does it work, anyway? Do they go alphabetically? By size? Draw straws?”

“It’s random. Skull has Marcus choose a male and female and then they choose their opponent.”

I frown. “So there’s no real structure to it?”

He shakes his head.

“Shit. Look at me. I’m an easy win.”

I could be called to fight at any second and I have no idea how to throw a punch or how to block one. I’m as good as dead.

I’ve never been a dramatic person. I’ve always been detached from my life, ready for it to end at any second and be okay with it, but not like this. There’s no dignity in dying like this.

“You will be fine. How many times do I have to say it?”

“You said it yourself, Stone. I’ll last a few minutes—maybe.”

“And maybe you will, but don’t forget, if you play it right, it can take a second to win a fight.” He pushes off of the wall and saunters closer. “So you don’t have any technique or strength. Big deal.”

Gee, thanks.

“You have speed and logic on your side. Most fighters are trained to think one way, and one way only: win, at all costs. They’ll take a single look at you and go for the knock out, completely bypassing ground game and submissions. If you don’t panic and learn a little about position and evasive techniques, I think you’ll do just fine—or, you won’t die, at the very least.”

He stands a foot away from me, hands placid at his sides. I wonder if he’d still offer to help me if I didn’t owe him ten thousand dollars. If by some freaky chance I managed to win back the money, would he dump me on my ass to fend for myself? Or would he continue to help me? He said he has a goal down here and that I’m a distraction. What’s his goal? To win money? What does he need that kind of cash for? It seems he has plenty of it. All of his clothes are branded with top-end sports logos, his little music player is Apple, and let’s not mention the twenty thousand dollars he casually pulled out of his pocket for us to be accepted. He doesn’t need eighty thousand dollars.

“You want to help me?”

His jaw tightens for a few seconds before he relaxes it. “You owe me money and I need it back.”

Intrigued, I angle my head. “What do you need it for?”

Jai’s blue eyes darken and in this light, they appear black. “What does it matter? It was mine to begin with.”

Slowly, I join a little piece of it together. “Money can’t be what you’re here for. If you were in desperate need for money, you wouldn’t have wasted ten thousand of it on me.”

His dark eyes flare as he squares his shoulders to tower over me. Normally, I’d cower at such a sight, but right now, I’m making progress. I need to know just whom I’m being associated with.

“Careful, Kitten. My business is the last thing you want to paddle around in.”

The way he says it intrigues me. Maybe I want in on the danger. Next, I recall the way he was looking at Skull. Everyone else watched him with absolute adoration, but not Jai. I saw his distaste. I felt his anger. There’s something much bigger going on here.

“I saw the way you were looking at Skull.”

His poker face remains fierce and firm and I briefly wonder if he’s ever been in the army. The way he holds himself feels … disciplined.

“I saw the way you were looking at him too. You like the skull? It turns you on?”

Fire rushes in to my face, painting me red before settling in my cheeks. His tattoo might intrigue me, but I’d never go as far as to say it turned me on.

“I may have been a little curious,” I admit, not that it’s any of his business. “But Skull is a disgusting human being. His lack of compassion for human life overshadows any freaky fetish I might have conjured up.”

His lips tighten into a straight line. Could he be jealous? Is that even possible?

“He may look like he has the world at his feet, but he’s one careless step away from losing it all.”

Oh, shit. There it is. I was expecting some kind of messed-up plan, but that … that is actually insane.

“You want to take him down?” I ask in a harsh whisper. “Are you insane?”

Of course, Jai plays indifferent, as if I spoke to him in another language. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You implied—”

He shoots forward, slamming his large body into mine and clamping a hand over my mouth. His face is etched with red-hot fury and I fight against him, but a firm hand planted on my lower back keeps me from getting any distance.