“Carly?” she asked in between them.
“She’s fine,” I said, though I hadn’t exactly taken time to call. I would soon.
The second round, Evie reacted differently. She hung back, deliberately waiting for Mia to lunge. She used the opportunity to sweep Mia’s leg out from underneath and forced her to the ground, managing to trap Mia’s arm between her legs.
Fucking armbar. Mia’s signature move was being used against her.
Someone had watched some goddamn tape.
Kizzy continued screaming for Mia beside me, and Slater went into a crouch to watch more closely. “Get your hips off the floor,” I said under my breath, walking her through the way out even though she couldn’t hear me over the shouts from the crowd. “Push with your feet.”
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t find enough air to take a deep breath. If she didn’t get out of this move fast, she’d end up with a broken arm—or worse.
Unless she tapped out. Her hand was right there. All she’d have to do was press down.
Somehow Mia got her knees underneath her and managed to get her free arm up to create the leverage to move. When she popped to her feet, her arms still swinging freely, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Kizzy whooped loudly enough to break my eardrum, but I didn’t care. I was smiling so broadly my jaws hurt.
At the end of the round, Mia returned to our corner again, more slowly than the first time but still on her feet. “Something happened,” she mumbled, mouth still bleeding. “My arm’s going numb.”
I nearly grabbed her before sense kicked in. “Which part?”
“Call the fight,” Slater said, gripping her wrist loosely to turn her toward him. “Go back in, let her pin you, tap out.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kizzy yelled, shoving Slater. “I don’t know how you pussies fight, but that’s not how we do. She’s on her feet. She’s okay.” She spun toward Mia and got right in her face. “You’re good, aren’t you? Tell these jackoffs you’re fine.”
“I’m fine.” She nodded so resolutely that even I would’ve believed her if I hadn’t seen the pain in her eyes. She was in more trouble than she’d let on. Maybe when Evie swept her leg, she’d come down wrong. It took so little to get hurt in the ring. And Evie was feeling it now. I could tell from the way she was marching around her corner, waving off the hands of her corner people. Timmins wasn’t bothering to offer instructions, but the woman kept trying to speak to her, probably to offer advice.
But Evie had been competing long enough to smell blood in the water. She didn’t need advice. She just needed that bell to ring one more time.
Over my goddamn dead body.
“You can’t let her get past your guard. Do you understand me?” I spoke close to Mia’s ear. “The minute that bell rings, you attack. Go right for her fucking jaw. Left side. Keep hammering it if you have to. Make her tap out. Get this over with.”
“Finally, he finds his dick,” Kizzy said, nodding vigorously. “Finish it out, Spyder.”
Mia nodded, her gaze sweeping the crowd. Then she reached back to grab my hand. It took her a second for her to get the words out. “They have her.” Panic was slurring her words. “Tray. Look.”
I didn’t know what the hell she meant. I scanned the crowd, gripping her hand to keep her from bolting. “Who? They have who?”
“Lorenzo’s men. Olivia.” She stumbled forward and leaned over the ropes. “That’s…that’s gotta be her. Blonde. His face. Oh my God, she has his face.”
I crowded against her back, trying to see what she did. Was this some kind of hallucination? Evie hadn’t hit her in the head too often, but it didn’t take much sometimes. “Baby, breathe.” I wrapped her long braid around my hand, as much to keep her in front of me as to offer comfort. She appeared ready to leap into the crowd. “Slow down and tell me what you see.”
“Olivia,” she yelled, snapping her elbow into my gut.
Slater swore at my side and called out “Li!”, then dove over the ropes.
I stared, stunned, as my best friend tore through the crowd, in pursuit of a pair of men in dark suits who were dragging a slim blonde woman between them. The way they were walking with their arms wrapped around her back almost made it seem like she was going with them willingly, but then she looked back over her shoulder at Slater’s shout, and fear flashed over her pretty face.
The same pretty face I’d seen in the bar.
Darren Winthrop’s daughter. In the flesh. And my buddy was chasing after her, as if he knew exactly who she was.
His goddamn Li, who hadn’t been ready to meet “the crew” and turned up conveniently sick whenever she might have to.
She’d lain with dogs, and the fleas were now biting her ass. Hard.
“Jesus Christ.” I slammed a fist against the ring support, barely absorbing the blast of pain through my hand. “Fucking hell.”