Undercover Fighter Page 2

  Kat shook herself. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking such things, regardless of whatever spark of attraction they’d shared—or, at least, that she’d experienced—in the office McCready kept for show on the ground floor. She was too close to her goal to get distracted, particularly by a man who was clearly trouble. She had no plans to get caught up in the crossfire of whatever he was planning.

  Wyatt rested his back against the wall and settled in, looking like he was planning to stay a while. His eyes kept darting back to McCready, narrowed and watchful.

  What was this man’s game? If his snooping was anything to go by, he was after dirt on McCready. But why? And for who?

  He could be a cop, she supposed. Or an independent contractor. McCready had his fingers in a lot of illegal pies, and she had no doubt there were many people who would love to take him down.

  She’d seen Wyatt fight the last few months, and he didn’t fight like a cop. He fought like he’d had proper training, in some kind of martial arts. Though Kat wouldn’t admit she’d been watching him closely, she’d become aware of his muscular body, tattoos decorating his chest. She wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d noticed he was an attractive man. He was a joy to watch in the ring, too, quick and smooth with his movements. Not that she knew much about fighting, but she’d been with McCready long enough to see dozens of fighters come and go. Few lasted more than a month.

  The ones that did were well-trained and ruthless in the ring. Like Wyatt.

  The smart ones got out before they were caught in McCready’s web. The man’s lifestyle was a powerful lure. He offered money, women, and rewards in exchange for loyalty. A loyalty that had to be proven constantly and, often, violently. Kat knew most of McCready’s men had killed for him, though she’d never personally witnessed it. The men McCready selected obviously thought it was a worthy trade.

  Wyatt seemed too smart to fall for McCready’s traps. Yet here he was, ingratiating himself into the man’s favour. He definitely had an ulterior motive.

  One Kat had no intention of interfering with.

  Just because she worked for McCready, didn’t mean it was by choice. And it certainly didn’t mean she was loyal to him. If someone else wanted to risk his neck to destroy McCready, without risking hers, then she wouldn’t get in his way.

  Not unless it benefitted her, of course.

  And her reluctance to expose Wyatt’s secrets—including his trip into McCready’s office—had nothing to do with the way he looked at her; like she was an actual human being, not a moving sex doll. He’d barely even looked at her breasts. It was refreshing, and strangely sexy. Though she hated to admit that such a low bar of human decency was enough for her to like a man. She’d been in McCready’s world for too long, it had skewed her perspective, particularly on men.

  But the way Wyatt had looked at her made her feel…normal. Desired, but not in an aggressive, unpleasant way. And it made her think about something she hadn’t allowed herself to consider for a long time: what she’d do when she was free.

  A presence shifted beside her. Kat glanced over to see McCready at her elbow.

  “What do you think of the new guy?” he asked her, watching her carefully for a reaction.

  Kat kept her face blank. “I haven’t decided yet.” She didn’t think he’s hot and respectful would be the right answer.

  McCready eyed her for a long moment, and Kat’s heart pounded in fear. Could he know she was protecting Wyatt, if only a little? If he found out, she’d be six feet under in a heartbeat. McCready valued loyalty above all else.

  “What gives you pause?” he asked.

  She tried to think of something to placate McCready, something that wouldn’t reveal Wyatt’s…whatever he was doing. “I need to know more about him. He may end up being too difficult to control if we can’t find leverage.”

  McCready gave her an approving look that made Kat’s skin crawl. She locked down the feeling so it wouldn’t show.

  “In that case, keep watching him. Find out his weaknesses.”

  “Of course.”

  His hand slid around and squeezed her ass, and Kat swallowed bile.

  “I might make something of you, yet, Kat.”

  Not fucking likely.

  She smiled. “You’ve only got a few months left.” It was a genuinely happy thought—a beacon in her darkest times.

  His eyes narrowed with displeasure at the reminder. “We’ll see about that.”

  Sudden panic gripped Kat at his words. She’d been relying on that deadline. It had been the light at the end of the tunnel for the last five years, the only thing keeping her sane. The knowledge she would be free. He couldn’t take that away from her. She wouldn’t let him.

  “A deal’s a deal,” she gritted out. The party still pulsed around them, the dim lights casting intimate shadows across the room. But Kat barely noticed any of it as she stared at McCready, waiting for his answer with a breath trapped in her throat.

  “And yet I hold all the cards,” he reminded her, his hand tightening on her ass as he dragged her closer to him, showing he was in control. “What could you do if I simply said, ‘no’?” He said this idly. Not like he’d made up his mind, but more like he was considering the option of keeping her under his thumb, just for the fun of it.

  Kat let out a long breath, struggling to keep her emotions off her face. Her hand clenched into a fist and she had a desperate urge to punch the smug smile from his face. But she knew that would end in her death, quicker than she could blink, so she slowly forced her fist to unclench.

  “I’d disappear,” she said simply.

  “And your sister?”

  “Her, too.” They’d planned for that exact eventuality, just in case.

  He pressed his lips into a thin line. He wasn’t pleased by her answer, but this was a game they’d long played. Kat always toed the line of the letter of his rules, not the spirit. She made herself useful enough that he wouldn’t kill her, or otherwise punish her horribly. But she made herself troublesome enough that he wouldn’t attempt to keep her, or make her his own personal slave.

  It was a fine line she’d walked, but it had kept her alive for this long. She stepped forward until only a thin sliver of air remained between them, and ran a finger down his silk Hermes tie. “Besides, you wouldn’t go back on your word, would you? I know you’re a man of honour.”

  McCready followed her gaze as she traced her finger along his tie, then shifted his gaze to her breasts, barely contained in the tight gold bikini he made her wear. Eventually, his gaze made it back to her face.

  “Maybe if you make it worth my while.”

  Kat’s stomach turned unpleasantly. “Perhaps,” she said lightly. “But if I let it be known you require additional payments to honour your agreements, how many of these women would stick around to the end of their contracts, do you think? And how many new girls do you think you could lure into your trap if they know the servitude they sign on for is indefinite?” She held his gaze, her eyes hard to show she meant it. “And I know more than enough secrets you wouldn’t want public.”

  McCready smiled. “What other choice do they have?” he asked.

  “Death,” Kat replied savagely. “Most would rather die than have that outcome. And you need us to keep your friends happy.” She indicated to the room at large, where the women entertained the men he’d invited into his home. She wasn’t lying when she said he needed the women. The only problem was there were more desperate women out there, and always would be. It didn’t matter if one woman left, or was killed, or refused his offer. There’d always be another to take her place.

  “You’re feisty tonight,” McCready commented. “Getting brave in your final months.”

  Kat smiled, her first genuine one of the evening. “As long as they are still my last months.”

  Before he could contradict her, Kat turned and walked away, heading directly to where Wyatt was stationed near the opposite wall.

  She’d get out of here, no m
atter what it took. Whether she had to help Wyatt, or betray him, she would escape McCready’s clutches.

  No matter what.

  Chapter 3

  Wyatt stepped into the cage, eyeing Spider in the opposing corner. Spider cracked his knuckles and grinned, clearly eager for this fight.

  Wyatt gave him a once-over and then dismissed him, searching for McCready in the crowd. He stretched, even though he’d done so already while watching the previous fight, so he wouldn’t look like he was scoping the place out.

  He needed to know what was expected of him in this fight. What would make McCready more likely to invite him into his inner circle? If he beat McCready’s champion, Spider, thereby proving himself strongest? Or if he lost, and kept the pecking order the way it was?

  McCready’s expression offered no clues. He was guarded, watching the cage with his arms folded across his chest, risking the seams on his deep red suit where they strained against his muscled arms.

  Well, then Wyatt would have to guess what would most please his new boss. Surely a display of superior strength would show he was more valuable? If there were only limited spaces in the inner circle, someone would have to be thrown out, and Spider was as good as any. Better, even, since he was McCready’s current favourite.

  Decision made, Wyatt now searched the crowd for a different face. One he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind since the party a week before. Kat. Surely she was here, keeping the audience plied with liquor and an attractive woman to ogle.

  He recognised a number of faces from the party. It seemed McCready had a core group of patrons, like he had an inner circle of fighters. If last weekend had been anything to go by, the two were inextricably entwined.

  Wyatt finally spotted Kat on the other side of the cage to McCready. She was as beautiful as ever, in her gold hotpants and bikini top and girl-next-door face. He shouldn’t be noticing that, shouldn’t be noticing her. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  She was smiling at a white-haired man in his sixties, bending to offer him champagne. This gave the object of her attention a perfect view of her cleavage, as she was no doubt aware, and also gave the men behind her a solid view of her ass. All were taking advantage of her position.

  One man even reached out to touch her ass, and a powerful surge of jealousy rose within Wyatt. He nearly growled at the sight of the man groping her, though she barely reacted, just froze slightly, then turned back to the man to say something before returning her gaze to the man with the champagne.

  Her lack of reaction made the anger boil stronger. She had to put up with that—and likely much worse—and it made his blood heat in fury. She didn’t deserve this, no woman did. So why was she here? Why couldn’t she walk away?

  A whistle blew, distracting him before he could go charging off into the crowd to rescue Kat. He turned to face Spider, his hands up and ready while his mind was still on the woman fifteen feet away. He shouldn’t feel this way about her. They’d barely met. He knew nothing about her. And even if he did, she was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  He’d seen how close she’d been to McCready the night of the party, too, whispering together, barely any space between them. He couldn’t trust her, no matter what she said about being forced to be there. She’d basically admitted she was a plant for McCready, meant to watch his every move. He had to stay as far away from her as possible, both to keep his plans under wraps, and for his own sanity.

  Spider swung a punch in Wyatt’s direction and he ducked just in time. In retaliation, he aimed a strike at Spider’s solar plexus, more out of instinct than any real thought. He needed to focus, get his head in the game, or Spider would wipe the floor with him.

  Even though the fight had started, the crowd beyond the cage was silent as they watched, making the sound of every brutal blow echo through the room.

  When Wyatt had competed in martial arts tournaments as a teen, he’d become used to having an excited crowd on the sidelines, cheering the fighters on. It had been far easier to keep his energy for the bout when he’d sparred for an invested crowd. Now, though, he had to battle against the unease that the rich people who watched him created with their silence and watchful gaze.

  Spider took barely a second to recover from Wyatt’s blow before he kneed Wyatt in the stomach. Wyatt doubled over, sucking in the air that had expelled from his lungs.

  While Wyatt was distracted, Spider got three strong blows on Wyatt’s face, making his head swim. A sharp pain on his forehead told Wyatt at least one cut had opened, and the slick slide of blood at his temple told him it was bad.

  Wyatt slipped away from Spider’s grasping hands as the man grabbed for a fistful of Wyatt’s hair. He tried to land a return blow, but Spider dodged it easily. Since he was already lower to the ground, and rapidly gaining back his breath, Wyatt crouched and swung his leg around, sweeping Spider’s ankles out from under him.

  Spider landed with a thud, coughing as dust rose from the floor.

  Wyatt was on him in an instant, ignoring his spinning head, pounding his fists into the man’s most vulnerable areas.

  Spider twisted, trying to escape the blows, but Wyatt kept at him. Spider swiftly changed tactics, gripping first Wyatt’s left wrist, then his right, using his superior arm strength against him.

  Wyatt struggled, but Spider threw Wyatt to the side, so he landed hard on the blood-stained concrete beneath him. Spider tried to pin Wyatt with his legs, but Wyatt had had enough. He brought his knees against his chest, then struck out with his feet, landing them solidly on Spider’s stomach.

  Spider tumbled back on his ass and Wyatt pressed his advantage. He lashed out with a kick, striking Spider across the cheek with a brutal blow.

  Spider flopped to the floor, out cold.

  Wyatt lay back for a moment until his head stopped spinning, staring at the fluorescent overhead lights until his eyes blurred. Then, he slowly got to his feet while the crowd clapped politely. He raised an arm in triumph, waved, and then stepped out of the cage. Spider groaned on the ground behind him, but Wyatt didn’t spare him a look. Instead, he focused on walking straight as he headed to Doc’s office at the back of the warehouse where they staged their fights.

  “Heya, Doc,” Wyatt greeted the man inside the makeshift doctor’s surgery. Doc was probably in his sixties, but looked older, the lines on his face deepening more each time Wyatt saw him.

  No one knew Doc’s story, but if it was anything like all the other people who McCready surrounded himself with, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

  Doc gave him a small smile. “You win?” he asked, as he always did.

  Wyatt nodded. “Feeling a little woozy, though,” he admitted.

  Doc frowned. “I’ll have a look at that. You get some hits to the head?”

  Wyatt was about to ask how Doc knew when he remembered the cut on his face. He reached a hand up to touch it and his fingers came away sticky.

  “Yeah,” he replied, moving farther into the room to sink onto the white plastic chair Doc had waiting for his patients. “Crowd liked it, though,” he commented. At least they’d clapped at the end.

  Doc gave him a look. “They always do.” He swabbed at the cut and Wyatt winced in pain.

  “Bloodthirsty lot,” Wyatt said, trying for humour, but Doc didn’t disagree.

  Doc’s hand shook slightly as he reached for his small flashlight. Wyatt didn’t comment, waiting patiently while Doc clicked it on and shone it into his eyes. He moved it back and forth a few times before nodding slightly in satisfaction.

  “All good?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yes, let me just finish cleaning you up and get a patch on that cut.”

  He was about to do that when Spider stumbled into the room. Seeing the only chair was occupied, he grunted and then slid to the floor right next to the door. Wyatt was sure the only thing keeping him sitting upright was the wall at his back.

  Doc hesitated.

  “Him first,” Wyatt said, taking pity on his opponent
as he eased out of the room’s only chair. “He clearly needs it more than me.”

  Doc didn’t argue, just turned to Spider. He tried to help Spider to his feet, but Doc was frail even for his age, and Spider was a big man. Wyatt sighed, then bent to sling Spider’s arm over his shoulder and mostly-carried Spider to the chair.

  He plunked him down unceremoniously and then stood back.

  Doc glanced at him in apology. “I might be here a while.”

  “I’ll wait outside,” he replied as he slipped out the door and into a short hallway that only opened to three rooms. One was Doc’s. One, he knew, was McCready’s, but he’d never been in there, thankfully. And the other was empty, used by the fighters to warm up before their fights, away from the crowds.

  Past that was the door to the outside, and Wyatt’s means of escape. He was so close, and yet he couldn’t step through.

  Disappointment filled Wyatt. He’d been hoping to leave as soon as he could to avoid being invited to another of McCready’s parties, but it didn’t look like that would happen. He should go if he got invited, he knew. He’d have a better chance of enacting his plan if he was closer to McCready. But the last party had been awful, and even a shower when he’d gotten home hadn’t cleansed his skin of the filth and sleaze he’d felt was coating it. If Wyatt managed to escape McCready before the man asked, he knew he wouldn’t offend his new boss and risk his wrath. Hopefully Doc would be quick with Spider.

  Wyatt idly wondered if Doc would give him a doctor’s note to excuse him from the party, then smiled to himself at the joke.

  “What’s that smile for?” asked a woman’s voice from his left.

  Wyatt’s gut clenched in anticipation even before he raised his head, knowing who stood beside him.

  Kat was still wearing her gold outfit, but she’d pulled her hair back into a casual ponytail, and the style made her look younger, like a college cheerleader or something. He wondered how old she really was. He suspected she was in her mid-to-late-twenties, but her eyes made her look older. She’d seen some things. Or, worse, experienced them.