Sneak Attack (22 page)

My gaze connected with Mia’s and the panic and fear I saw there nearly made me stay. She was my world, and I couldn’t put her in anyone else’s hands but Slater’s. But Slater needed me too.

Slater, my friend who hated violence with every fiber of his being, was unarmed and alone with two guys with guns. I didn’t have time to waste.

A hip bumped into mine. “I’ve got her,” Kizzy said, voice low, expression fierce.

Nodding, I brushed a kiss over Mia’s forehead and lifted the rope to climb through. I shot one last look at Giovanni. That single glance served as a reminder about what I was entrusting to him. And what the cost would be if he let me down. Let
us
down.

I would end him.

O
ne more round
. Finish it.

Kizzy slapped my ass before the bell rang, and Gio loomed over my shoulder. “You can do this,” she yelled in my ear.

I nodded and faced Evie, who seemed more annoyed by the delay than exultant in her certain win. Not that I intended to let her win. I couldn’t. I’d told them I wouldn’t fold. That I couldn’t be bought. I didn’t know if Evie could be, or if she was a pawn in their game like Olivia clearly had been. But none of that had any bearing here.

My sister was waiting for me on the other side of this, and the sooner I put this away, the sooner I’d be able to make sure she was okay. I’d never let her out of my sight again.

That scar on Evie’s jaw seemed to shimmer in the harsh overhead lights. All I had to do was aim there, and kept punching. Ethics didn’t matter right now. She was probably bought and paid for. If I broke her head open again, it was no worse than she’d gladly do to me—and had tried to do with that armbar.

My
fucking armbar.

I charged toward Evie, fist extended, and she grabbed me, whirling me around so fast that I didn’t have time to counter.

Too slow. Too damn slow.

Before I knew what was happening, she’d backed me into the ropes. Her fists pressed down against the sides of my neck, turning my head in an awkward position. My breaths shortened, the angle cutting off my air. Even with my depleted oxygen, I started trying to fight the choke hold the way I’d been taught. Opposite shoulder, out. I got my good arm up on her shoulder and slammed it against the side of her face. Somehow I started to gain the leverage needed to get myself out of the chokehold.

Only a few more seconds. You can do it.

Just as I was lifting my leg between hers, intending to open her guard enough to free myself, she twisted my numbed arm. And it wasn’t numb anymore. Far from it.

Dully, I heard something snap, and realized it belonged to me.

The pain was unspeakable. Horrifying. But even as I tried to breathe through it, to center my mind as years of training and teaching in the martial arts had taught me, spots were forming in front of my vision. I couldn’t see the crowd anymore. Inkblots were forming over their faces, spreading out to encompass everything. There was nothing but black, and falling, falling, falling.

And then I didn’t hurt anymore.

H
alfway down the stairs
, I stopped as a distant, excited roar went up from the crowd. I recognized it for what it was. Someone had won.

Someone else had lost.

My heart turned over in my chest and I gripped the rail, fighting every instinct that demanded I turn back. How could I have left her alone? She needed me. I loved Slater like a brother, but she was the blood in my veins. Knowing I’d walked away from her when she needed me most, trusted others to ensure her safety, was like a million knives carving into my skin.

Then a scream sounded from down below, deep in the tunnel, and my feet carried me forward without my help.

I stumbled into the black, lit only by occasional sodium lights high on the rough-hewn walls. It was like a fucking long cave, in the middle of a warehouse in Brooklyn. I felt my way forward, running my hands along the uneven walls, squinting until my eyes began to adjust to the near darkness. The sound of sobbing forced me to move faster. I cursed as I slipped on something wet and nearly went to my knees. My palms hit the floor to break my fall. After regaining my balance, I lifted my hand, turning it toward the thin shaft of light.

Thick red liquid coated my fingers.

Goddammit.

I surged forward, my vision finally adjusting. The tunnel turned right and opened up to another flight of stairs, this one slightly better lit. Slater knelt at the base of them, and leaned over a prone body.

Bloody blonde hair spread over the cement floor.

I crouched beside him and touched his shoulder, but he shook me off. “They hurt her,” he whispered, his voice choked. “Punched her right in the face.”

A glance down at the blonde made me catch my breath. Her lips were puffy and cracked, and her nose was bleeding heavily.

I shoved him out of the way and felt for a pulse. It was strong and steady, though she was unconscious.

“She’s going to be fine,” I said, in spite of not being certain it was true. My best guess was that she would be, but I didn’t know if they’d done something to her I couldn’t see.

And I honestly didn’t know if I cared.

She’d harassed Mia, stalked her and tried to scare her. Some of that might have been due to the company Olivia had fallen in with, but what sane person would think hanging out with people like that was a good idea?

Your friend Gio seems to have no problem.

Shaking that off, my gaze returned to the pale woman on the floor. Sane didn’t really come into play when it referred to Darren Winthrop. Apparently that applied to his daughter as well. I didn’t understand why she’d gone after Mia. She hadn’t tried to physically attack her, or even done anything that destructive that I knew of—though the slashed heavy bag was more than a prank—but she was clearly unbalanced. Did she blame Mia for her father’s death? Or maybe even losing some chunk of the family fortune? Little did she know Mia hadn’t seen one red cent yet. Still, Olivia’s lifestyle had to have changed after the settlement. And I knew all too well what money did to people.

Slater dragged out his phone, punching numbers with fingers that shook. He spoke to the 911 operator while I pulled off my T-shirt and tucked it under her head. She was a sadistic, twisted bitch, but I didn’t want her to die until I knew why. Until I understood what would motivate a person to further victimize a woman who’d already suffered through so much.

Then I’d make her wish she had never been born.

As soon as Slater hung up, he nudged me out of the way and cupped her face in his hands. “They’re coming, sweetheart. Just hang on. Help is on the way.”

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Christ, ease off. She’s not fucking dying.”

Unfortunately. But if she did now, I wouldn’t get my answers.

He turned to me, and his eyes were ravaged. I’d never seen them anything but that steady, placid green. Now they were wild. Incensed. “How dare you?”

“How dare I? I’ll tell you how I dare.” I grabbed his shirt, shaking him. Had he taken a hit to the head too? “She fucking stalked Mia, calling her, following her, doing who knows what else. She broke into our office at the gym and attacked the heavy bag. She’s a fucking psycho, man.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. I could tell he was trying to make sense of what I’d said. What it meant. He glanced back at her as she whimpered, then he shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you. They hurt her.”

“Don’t believe me? I fucking
saw
her.”

“What did you see?”

“She was at the bar, hanging around. Waiting for Mia, probably. She confronted her in the alley.”

“And you know for sure it was Olivia. No doubt.”

“It was her, goddammit.”

“It wasn’t her. You don’t know her like I do.” He turned away from me to kneel over Olivia’s head, his hand gentle as he stroked her hair.

“You damn idiot, she
used
you. Just like everyone else does. She wanted to get closer to Mia, and she probably cozied up to you to do it—”

His hand stilled. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, like everyone else does?” he asked, so softly that I barely heard him.

I swore under his breath. Jesus, I didn’t want to be fighting with him. He was hurting, and it wasn’t his fault, but dammit, I needed someone to blame for what Mia had faced. Was
still
facing.

Mia. Shit.

I jumped to my feet and stepped over Olivia’s head, intended to run up the stairs and see if it looped back around to the original tunnel. I wasn’t going to waste any more time on a touchy-feely conversation with Slater until I knew if my girl was okay.

She had to be. Winning was in her blood.

Slater grabbed my arm and spun me back, nearly knocking me off the bottom stair. “I asked you a question. Who’s always using me?”

“Abby.” The name popped out before I thought better of it. Referencing the situation with Slater’s brother’s girl was a low blow, one he didn’t deserve. It was a flippant response, as so much else had been with me lately. I’d been operating on adrenaline and nerve and bone-deep fear for so fucking long that I didn’t have a filter anymore. And I couldn’t see past my overriding need to make sure Mia was okay.

“Abby,” he repeated, turning away. “Yeah. Someone else who used me.” He dropped to Olivia’s side and caressed her bloody cheek with careful fingers. His voice sounded distant, hollow. “Don’t think she’s the only one.”

“I don’t have time for this. We’ll talk later.”

“Don’t bother.” He didn’t look up, just kept soothing Olivia. “We’re done here.”

I stared at him for a moment longer, torn between staying with him while he waited for the ambulance—for
his
sake, not Olivia’s—and going to check on Mia. But the thought of the ambulance pushed me up the stairs. Ambulances often meant cops, and cops usually meant bad news when it came to illegal fighting.

I had to get Mia out of there. Home safe, where she belonged.

I ascended the stairs three at a time, realizing when I reached the top of the stairs that I was in a whole other building, just as Gio had warned me. Another old warehouse apparently. I headed to the closest exit, hoping like hell I’d find it unlocked. Strobing red and blue lights cut through the window across the dusty floor, illuminating my way.

The ambulance was here already. That was fast. I had to hustle Mia out of there in a hurry.

I shoved open the door and ran outside, crossing the parking lot. People were streaming out the building like rats scampering back into their hidey holes, but that was usual after a match. As soon as the victor was declared, the crowds got lost. No one wanted to get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time if there was a bust. Cops usually had better things to do than to shake down underground fighting rings, but—

“Fox!” Carly’s frightened shout stopped me dead halfway to the ambulance. I’d intended to tell the EMTs where to find Slater and Olivia, even lead them there if necessary.
After
I’d made sure Mia was okay.

Then I saw the drape of the dark braid on the stretcher being carted out of the building, and everything inside me shut down. Every vital process screeched to a halt. Breathing first. Vision next, until it narrowed to a pinprick hole that only contained the stretcher and the white, white sheets. My heart last, stopping so swiftly that I would’ve lost my footing if Carly hadn’t been at my side.

“What happened?” My mouth was operating independently of my brain, because that part of me had ceased functioning too.

“She’s hurt, she’s hurt.”

I couldn’t make sense of what I was hearing.

The gears started turning again, slowly, painfully.

Hurt. Alive then. Not dead.

Not dead.

“How bad?” I managed.

“I don’t know. They won’t tell me. Make them tell us.” She turned her tear-tracked face up to mine. “Please.”

Together we shambled toward the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance like drunks, arms locked. Carly was crying. I still wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, only that my renewed breaths burned on the way out of my mouth.

“She’s mine,” I said to the nearest EMT when he tried to shoo me away. I bent over the stretcher, relief swelling inside me when I saw Mia’s face. It was almost perfect. Just that solitary cut bisecting the corner of mouth, the bleeding stanched now. Somehow I’d thought I would see her eye swollen and puffy like mine had been after the fight with Giovanni, as if the universe had wanted us to have matching wounds. I didn’t want her to deal with the headaches I still had.

“Mia, baby. Wake up.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Then I saw her arm, bandaged against her stomach. From the angle and temporary bandages they’d given her, my guess was it was broken.

I looked up, enraged, my gaze going to the open mouth of the warehouse where people still spilled out in every direction. Talking, laughing. Inside, Evie was probably whooping it up too. She was the victor.

Goddamn her. I didn’t care if it wasn’t politically correct to want to harm a woman. She’d harmed mine, and I wanted to kick her ass.

“Ame,” Carly whispered, crying, brushing her hand over Mia’s unblemished forehead. She just looked like she was sleeping. Calm. Peaceful. “Wake up.”

“Sir, ma’am, you need to move back. We need to load her into the ambulance and get her to the hospital.”

“How bad is it? Please tell me,” Carly begged, glancing up at the EMTs. Giovanni was behind her, his hand on her shoulder, but I doubt she even noticed.

Ignoring them, I ran my fingers over the base of Mia’s throat. Her pulse was strong and steady. She was just sleeping again, like she’d checked out last week. I’d make myself believe that before I allowed myself to think for even one second that she would wake in pain, or afraid. I couldn’t bear it.

“Damn you, you better wake up. Now. I need you here with me.”

Lowering my head, I pressed my mouth to hers. Hard. This was no sweet gentle kiss or delicate stroking like Slater had done. We’d fought too long and hard to get to this point. She was coming back to me, this instant.

There could be no other alternative.

When it didn’t work, I did it again, knotting my fingers in the end of her braid. She smelled like my Mia, tasted like her too. Still in that position I looked up and saw Kizzy—and oddly, Sutton, from behind her—watching us, just like Carly and Giovanni, who were flanked by a tall, dark woman who resembled Gio. Carly leaned back against him, pressing her fist to her mouth as she cried, and his hand moved rhythmically up and down her arm.

Someone tugged on mine. “Sir, you need to move back. She needs help.”

Ignoring him, I bent over Mia and kissed her again, even harder than the last time. “Goddammit, Mia Knox, you wake up. This fucking second.”

I watched her eyes for any change. Even a flicker of her lashes. Nothing.

Disappointed, heartsick, I stumbled back as the EMTs rushed in to do their job. Blocking her from my view as they prepared to put her in the ambulance and take her away from me. But not for long.

Then I heard her voice. Thready and weak, but it was Mia. “Fox.”

Carly rushed forward, a smile breaking through her tears. “Ame?”

I elbowed aside the ambulance guys and leaned over the gurney, my hope vanishing when I saw her eyes were still closed. I’d heard her. I knew I had.

“Fox,” she said again, her pale lips barely moving. Then her lashes lifted for barely a second. “You called me Knox.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Less than no idea. Blankly, I stared at Carly, whose gaze was riveted on her sister’s face.

Not caring if Mia was babbling in Swahili, I bent down and pressed my cheek to hers. “No sleeping on the job. Up and at ‘em, tiger.”

“You…called me…Knox,” she said again, and then I understood.

Well, huh. “I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled.

“I know.” Her lips twitched and weakly, she lifted her good hand to me. I took it and clasped it between both of mine. She was burning up. “Carly?”

“Right here,” her sister whispered, kissing her forehead. “You’re not allowed to give us a scare like that again.”

“Sorry. Stupid…guillotine.” Her throat worked. “Need. More. Jiu-Jitsu. Gotta. Practice.”

“Think you can hold off on the practices for a while, fighter girl.”

Her eyelashes flickered again as she angled her head toward me. “She…won anyway.”

Then her hand went limp in mine.

Would that mean Lorenzo and his guys would leave her and Carly alone? She’d lost, which was what they wanted. I never would’ve wanted her to take a drop—or worse, get hurt—but maybe this would buy her some room. Especially if Olivia was out of the picture. I couldn’t imagine Olivia would wake up and want more of what she’d gotten tonight. Even a crazy person had to have the occasional moment of lucidity. And she had Slater to help her find them.

Slater, the last person I wanted to think about right now.

She might have the police on her case too, if Mia and I could gather enough evidence to start a case against her. There wasn’t much proof, and what there was would lead us right back to Lorenzo’s door. But none of that was for tonight.