Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

“Know what?”

He opens his mouth, but promptly closes it and dips his head to whisper, “Come to the warehouses tonight. Don’t put it off.”

“What—”

An arm snakes around my middle and I’m jolted back.

I don’t have to look to know who it belongs to.

Maddoc’s body starts vibrating against me the longer we stand there, so I lift my hand and cup the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to mine.

His jaw clenches, his features tightening even more as he glares. I push up while pulling his face down and skim my lips over his. His hold though only grows tighter, more possessive.

“Move on, Bishop,” Maddoc tells Bass, his voice jarringly calm.

“Later, Raven.” Bass walks away without acknowledging Maddoc.

I snag a second box of Bottle Caps and make a move for the registers but Maddoc spins me around to face him.

“You really gonna stand there and make me ask, Raven?” He frowns. “Why is he always near you? Why do you always have to fucking stop and talk to him?”

I take a deep breath, eyeing him, agitation taking over impulsion. “Careful, big man. That sounds a lot like jealousy.”

“I don’t need to be jealous, you’re already mine.”

“Yet here you are, working yourself up over nothing.”

“You better hope so or I’ll make sure shit’s fucked for him. No more fight money, no more Bray house. I’ll even make sure no small-time bookies around here will take his sorry ass in if he so much as taps you on the shoulder.” He steps back.

I don’t say anything, but slide past him and head for the line, his shadow taking over mine.

If I address what he said it’ll lead to me telling him to fuck off and then I’ll really have no chance of getting to Bass to hear what he has to say.

Maddoc told me not to fight, but he never said anything about going to watch other people fight.I slip through the cut-out part of the metal fence at the farthest end of the rusted buildings and slowly make my way around, following the sound of music and shouting.

A few people recognize me from my couple fights out here and as I squeeze through the crowd, I get a few waves, couple head nods – respect, self-earned.

I find Bass toward the back, where the fighters drop their shit and collect payment at the end of their fights. He’s cashing someone out when his eyes lift and he spots me.

He motions for me to wait, so I hop up on the crate closest to me and turn to watch the next two on tonight’s card getting ready.

Looking from one to the next, the common eye leads you to believe the pick for winner is a no-brainer, but to anyone who knows a damn thing about fighting beyond a good swing would know, these two are more equal than they appear at first glance.

The ignorant choice would be the six-foot monster with roadmaps for arms, not the one warming up across from him with a lean torso and tight muscles, not to mention a good four inches shorter.

But the giant one, he’s bouncing his shoulders, ducking his head, and swinging at the air, showing me he’s betting on a solid hit to take the other guy down, while his opponent shifts on his feet, practicing bobbing and weaving around, working on combo punches.

He’s quicker, more likely has better cardio than his opponent. He’s focused, sees and hears nothing around him, while the guy he’s bound to beat the shit out of tonight is laughing and high fiving the people who are starting to form the large circle as it grows closer to go time.

Bass hops up beside me.

“Bets still open?” I keep my eyes on the fighters.

He looks at his watch. “Two minutes.”

“Put me down for five.” I glance his way and he tilts his head.

“I don’t—” He starts to deny me, but I cut him off.

“Is my money not good, here?”

He glares a minute, then asks, “On the big guy?”

I level him with a blank stare, and he laughs, bumping my shoulder, taking the money I hand over.

“Bunch of fools out tonight.” He shakes his head, looking around. “More than half these fuckers bet against your guy.”

I laugh lightly. “Figured so.”

The crowd is told to shut the fuck up by the new dude on the megaphone and the rules are laid out, but I tune him out and turn toward Bass.

“So, what’s up, what was with the secret shit earlier?”

He eyes me. “You with Maddoc?”

I rub my lips together at his question, considering what answer to give him, not that I owe him one at all. I go with the easiest answer.

“Yeah.”

He nods, having no choice but to accept my response. “All right, I can’t say for sure, because it hasn’t hit my boys’ hands yet, but word is there’s a video of you coming. And not just in the it’s almost here way, Rae.”