Damn right.
The back hallway bangs open. Saber fills the doorframe.
His eyes sweep the room. “I need everyone in Church.”
Saber stands at the head of the table. Every patched member and every officer is in the room.
“Nitro wants blood.” Saber puts both hands flat on the table. “I gave him an offer. Rather than handing over Jinx, we can settle this in the ring.”
The fighting ring is our territory. Our rules. Our ground.
“He took the offer.” Saber’s eyes move to Jinx. “You killed his man. Nitro’s picking a fighter. You’re ours.”
Jinx is propped in a chair with his left eye swollen to a slit and cracked ribs.
Is Saber serious?Jinx doesn’t have a fucking chance with his injuries, but I don’t say this out loud.
Joker says it for me. “Jinx can barely stand, Prez.”
Jinx keeps his eyes on the floor. “I killed that Warrior. This mess is mine to settle.”
Saber looks at Joker. “You think I didn’t try to talk him out of it already? Jinx told me to go fuck myself.”
“I can take him,” Jinx says. He believes it more than anyone else in this room does.
Saber shakes his head. “We vote.”
We vote, and it’s unanimous. Jinx is going to fight a Crimson Warrior in the ring.
Saber negotiated the terms. Win or lose, the debt clears, and both sides stand down.
Nitro agreed.
And the lockdown lifts after the fight.
Some of the guys are bringing their Old Ladies to the warehouse.
My Old Lady and my son aren’t going anywhere near that ring. Violet stays at the clubhouse with Leo. End of discussion.
The warehouse sits ten miles outside Ash Valley on a dead-end road. We’ve held fights here for years. Good money, good entertainment. Tonight isn’t either of those things.
The building has a concrete floor, metal walls, and no windows. Floodlights hang from the rafters on extension cords. Two dozen Hellborn Kings line the near wall. Fifteen Crimson Warriors in red and black crowd the far side.
Nitro is in the center of his brothers. He’s in his mid-fifties, with flat, dead eyes.
His fighter steps forward. He’s tall, over six feet, and probably weighs around two hundred and twenty pounds.
Jinx steps into the circle. Six inches shorter. Forty pounds lighter.
He’s a fucking idiot. He shouldn’t even be here. I would have stepped into the ring for him. Any of my brothers would have.
The fight is ugly from the first punch.
Nitro’s guy hits like a truck. Jinx takes the first shot to the jaw. Takes the second to the broken ribs. He drops. Hits the ground.
Jinx gets up.
He goes down twice more. Each time, he drags himself off the ground and puts his fists up. Blood in his eye. Blood on his chin. Breathing so shallow his ribs must be on fire.