REBEL: #4.5 The Beat and The Pulse (2 page)

I
watched
as Crowbar was carried out of the cage on a stretcher, clutching his shoulder in agony.

Rebel had just left the ring without a care, not even worried that he’d just dislocated a guy’s shoulder. He’d pushed through the crowd and disappeared, not even stopping to talk to anyone who approached him. Arrogant, much?

Shaking my head, I pulled my black leather jacket tighter around myself, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea. I knew it’d be rough but not this rough. Rough wasn’t the right word…brutal. Yeah, brutal, but I was a cop and had seen much worse shit. Nothing could top some of the call-outs I’d attended. Road accidents, domestic assaults, home invasions and the worst…murder scenes. It was rough out there, and you had to be tough enough to cope with seeing the worst humanity had to offer. Some of the shit I’d seen would scar a regular person for life. What was some cage fighting compared to that?
Nothing
.

Glancing around, I saw hordes of people crowding the bookies and collecting their winnings, the losers who’d bet on Crowbar were huddled around the bar drowning their sorrows. Faces were turned away, talking about the fight and what they’d won, and for one glorious moment, they weren’t looking at me.

Weaving through the throng and around the bleachers, I cased the rest of the joint, taking note of the lay of the land. There wasn’t much else to see in a place like this. At the opposite end to the bar and the bookies stations, there was a double door that led to another area. Two security guards leaned against the wall, arms crossed over their chests, talking animatedly to one another. This must be where the fighters went before and after their fights. It also had to be where they kept the money and the paper trail. That was where I had to go.

Pulling my mobile phone from my pocket, I pretended to check my texts while keeping one eye on the crowd. Nobody was looking at me. When I glanced at the security guards, they weren’t even watching the doors, which were propped open. All I had to do was dart forward, slip through, and I’d be in.

Sounded like a plan to me. And if I was caught? I hadn’t thought that far, but I wasn’t about to let my opportunity slide. Stepping forward on light feet, I was through the door and into the empty hall beyond.

There was a lot of noise coming from the far end. Slamming lockers, male and female voices…the sound of running water. That must be the change rooms for the fighters. I was definitely not going in
there
. That would be like a lamb going to the slaughter.

Not knowing how much time I’d have before someone found me lurking, I edged forward, checking each door along the hall. Coming across what looked like an office, I opened the door and peered inside. It was dark and unattended. If I was going in, I’d better go now.

“What are you doing?”

I turned sharply, pressing my back against the wall. My gaze collided with the fighter from the cage, the one who seemed to have staked his claim over me like some animal.
Rebel
. Up close, he was even more magnificent than he was out there. His eyes were a rich chocolate brown, his muscles so defined I wasn’t entirely sure they were real. He’d attempted to clean up some after his fight, but blood was still smeared across his forehead from where his eyebrow had been split. It was a tiny cut, but it’d been a bleeder.

When I just stood there and stared at him in awe, he grinned, looking like a lion that’d gone hunting and found his prey.

“This area’s off limits,” he said, inching closer. “Fighters only…unless you’re with one.”

I swallowed hard, trying to look away, but I was caught. “I—”

“Are you with me?” he asked, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

I knew what he implied, that he wanted to have sex with me, but could I get out of this without stooping to those levels? My nipples began to ache, hardening against my bra as I clenched my thighs together.
Fuck
. My body wanted to get under that, but my brain wanted to get out. Involuntarily, my gaze dropped to his lips and they curved into a satisfied smile.

Stepping forward, Rebel pressed his body against mine, pinning me against the wall. I felt every hot, hard inch of him, and when he pressed his groin against my belly, I gasped. He was sporting an erection, and he didn’t seem to give a crap who saw us in the hallway.

“Do you have a name?” he asked, leaning forward, his lips brushing against my ear. His breath was hot against my skin, making my arousal spike even more.

I swallowed hard, pressing my palms against the wall behind me. “Charlotte.”

“
Charlotte
,” he murmured, sending a shiver down my spine. “What are you really doing back here?”

I couldn’t actually say I was snooping for evidence that could bring down the whole cage fighting ring, so I said, “Looking for you.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

He narrowed his eyes like he was trying to work out if I was telling him a big fat fib. After a moment of deliberation, he raised a big hand and cupped my face, the feel of his rough skin against my flushed cheek sending everything into overdrive. Fuck, if he kissed me, it was over. I had to get away before I let my integrity circle down the drain.

Rebel pressed his lips against the curve of my neck, the tip of his tongue lightly dancing across my skin. A moan escaped my lips, and I thrust forward, rubbing against his erection.
Shit
. I did not expect that to happen.

He moved from my neck, across my cheek, and his lips brushed against mine, activating my flight mode. I pushed against his chest and he shot backward, separating our bodies. At least the guy knew the action meant no…he had that going for him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I blurted a little too quickly.

Pushing off the wall, I strode down the hall away from Rebel, with my head down. Fleeing the viper’s den, away from the king cobra himself. Oh god, and talk about living up to the metaphor.

At least he wouldn’t suspect what I was really looking for. All he would see was a woman who’d gotten in too far over her head and had made a run for it.

Of all the possible scenarios that I’d run over in my mind, having a physical reaction of epic proportions was not on the agenda. It hadn’t even touched the edges of my radar.

How was I to bust open Australia’s tightest, illegal cage fighting ring if a man like Rebel was standing in my way? A man I wanted to hand myself over to, a man who I’d let do whatever he wanted to me.

I had no bloody idea.

T
here was
nothing worse than being left with a hard-on after an epic fight.

Well, there was one thing that was worse. Not being interested in going someplace else after being rejected by beauty fucking personified.

Being groped by everything with a pair of tits while doing the rounds of The Underground, had me bothered—and not in a good way. Charlotte was gone. I shoved off all the fake bitches and went out back, locked myself in a shower and beat it out of my system one-handed. First time I'd ever gone at it in the place alone.

The next night, I dragged my sorry ass back in to fight, but there was no sign of her. I began to think she was one of those one-time girls. They thought they’d come for a little fun, try and hook up with a fighter but when it came to the crunch, realized that they were too scared or too fuckin’ good to stoop. Those girls never came back.

I didn’t think Charlotte was one of them, not entirely. The way her body reacted to mine…we’d been like magnets. I’d pressed into her and she’d mewled like a fucking kitten in heat. It was little shit like that that got my blood running. I was all about the physical.

Being the kinda guy I was, which was bad news, and being in a place like this, meant I was the man of the moment. I fought and won, I made people very rich, and I didn’t want for much. I had cash and women lining up to please me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the life I wanted. The Underground was a means to an end.

My entire life was about keeping my head from being dragged under. Keeping myself on the straight and narrow, keeping myself from prison, and keeping myself from getting deader than dead. I’d come from poor roots, had always been poor, resorting to stealing to keep myself from ending up on the streets. Unfortunately, that had led to a lot of arrests and community service…and a couple of short stints in juvenile detention as a teenager. Long story short, I was a dreg of society. A bottom dweller.

The only way out of this life, the only way that I saw, was to do what I was good at. Fighting with my fists. At The Underground, I got paid for winning. I’m talking about thousands of dollars. More money than I’d ever seen in my entire life. Winning a Championship in this place was worth
millions
. The last guy had taken one point five million, opened his own gym, and he’d been just like me. He’d done a four year stint in prison, gotten out, fought, and had taken his life back.

I wanted that. I wanted it so much I could hardly breathe thinking about it.

Up until tonight, it was the only thing that entered my mind when I walked into The Underground. Now another piece had added itself to the puzzle.

Charlotte.

First place to ask was the security guards that minded the entrance to the fighter’s only area. My guess was she’d snuck past them, because they wouldn’t let just any crazy bitch back there. She might’ve slipped them a fifty—she was dressed nice so she obviously wasn’t hard up for the cash—but from her reaction, I wasn’t so sure.

“Hey,” I barked at the guards who I knew had been there last night.

“Hey, Rebel,” he said, giving me shifty eyes. He knew I wanted something because I never bothered talking to them unless there was something in it for me.

“Do you know a bird by the name of Charlotte?” I asked. “Tall, blonde, lips that look like they can suck for days?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Blondie,” I said. “Snuck back here last night.”

The dude frowned. I guess that meant he’d been distracted, and she’d gotten by without anyone seeing her.

“You’re real fuckin’ good at your job, mate,” I snarled. “Letting random chicks sneak where they’re not allowed.”

He began to pale. The dude knew he was in trouble. “D-don’t tell Max,” he stammered.

Max was one of the head honchos of The Underground and the head referee. What he said carried a lot of weight around here, but so did the shit the king of the cage rattled off. And who was the king? Motherfuckin’
me
.

I jabbed a finger at him, poking him hard in the chest. “You owe me,” I said. “When I want something, you deliver.” I stared him down, and the guy had sense enough to look like he was about to piss himself.

He swallowed hard. “Anytime.”

Turning, I slammed my shoulder against his, making him stumble. Striding through the arena, the crowd parted as I made straight for the bar. If anyone knew the gossip in this place, it was the bartenders. Next on the information superhighway were the bookies.

People instantly moved to the side when they saw me, and I leaned against the bar. I always got a kick outta it, considering that outside of these walls, I was looked at like I was scum. In here, I could pretend that I mattered more than the cash cow I was for these people.

A woman stopped in front of me, tapping her hand against the top of the bar. “What can I get ya, fighter?” she asked. She didn’t try to flirt, she didn’t even shove her tits in my face. She had this punk rock look about her, black hair, fingernails painted black…she even wore a tight little
Ramones
T-shirt. She was straight up, no bullshit, and I liked her instantly.

“No drink. I’m lookin’ for information,” I replied.

She smiled. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She turned and yelled at the guy serving next to her. “I’m going out for five.”

The guy looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

“Get fucked, Tony,” she said. “He’s got no chance in hell.” Rolling her eyes, she gestured for me to follow her and slipped out from behind the bar.

She led me through a service entry behind the bar, and we emerged outside by one of those big wheelie bins and a stack of used kegs. The air was cool, almost too cold to be standing there in nothing but a pair of shorts and a hoodie. I had thirty until it was time to fight.

“Rebel, right?” she asked, leaning against the wall, and I nodded. She pointed to herself and declared, “Lori. I like to be referred to as my actual name, not babe, chick, or bitch. Got it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Manners will get me everywhere?”

She snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

I grinned. “Then you’ll get your pleases and thank yous,
Lori
.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked, returning my smile. I reckon she’d decided that she liked me, too. I was good with that.

“There was a woman here last night. Yea tall,” I held my hand up to chin height, “almost white blonde hair, slight curl to it, pale skin, pink lips.”

Lori held up a hand, tossing her black hair back over her shoulder. “You pretty much just described a woman’s vagina,” she said with a laugh.

I groaned. “I’m lookin’ for her. Name’s Charlotte.”

“You know there’s a fuck load of women that come in here thinking they want a walk on the wild side,” Lori said, rolling her eyes. “Very few can handle it.”

“I know,” I replied with a grunt.

She laughed at my reaction, shaking her head. “You fighters and your women. You like to try them all, but when you find one that you want to keep…”

“What about you?” I asked. She seemed so anti-fighter, it made me wonder why that was.

She smirked, pushing off the wall. “I haven’t seen your Charlotte,” she said and pointed back to the door we came through. “Now scram. I’m sure you’ve got a fight lined up.”

Letting out a laugh, I began to walk backward. “Keep an eye out, will ya?”

“What’s in it for me?”

I smirked. “Satisfaction when you see this asshole fighter find the woman who sticks.”

She cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes flashing. “Trying to restore my faith in your kind?”

“
Thanks
for your help,
Lori
.”

Melting back into the fray that was The Underground, I didn’t have a fucking clue how life worked anymore. How was it that I wasn't attracted to a rad chick like Lori and was instantly hard for a woman I’d only spoken a handful of words to? How did that work? On the surface, it didn’t, but below…below, it was fucking
hot
.

One thing was for fucking sure. I couldn’t get the mysterious Charlotte outta my head.

I just had to hope she’d have the guts to come back.