Fight Dirty (Black Rose Kisses 1)

Rory laughs. “Don’t let us twist your arm, Hurricane. If you’d rather go up to your room and sulk, you can do that instead.”

“Fuck off,” I reply, but it’s lacking a bit of heat.

Levi cracks a smile finally, and he seems interested in the idea of taking me out. Sloan, surprising no one, seems reluctant and displeased.

“Are you sure?” he asks Rory, pinning him with a look.

Rory just shrugs. “Sure, why not? She’ll be fine, and we all do deserve a night out.”

Sloan sighs and then nods once. “Fine.”

With his agreement, we all get back in the car to head out again.

This time, we head to a part of town that I’m familiar with but haven’t been around much before. It’s less nice than the part with the university campus, and there aren’t droves of college students hanging out drinking and smoking. It reminds me more of the area surrounding the warehouse where my dad trains and fights, and there are groups of people gathered on corners and near buildings, talking and laughing but clearly on their guard.

It’s not the kind of place you’d want to end up in alone, definitely.

I live in a bad neighborhood, and Scarlett grew up in one that’s pretty much the same. I’ve got enough street smarts to know that this isn’t somewhere I’d want to be at night if I didn’t have these three men with me.

Speaking of the assholes, all three of them seem as comfortable in this atmosphere as they do at their house, so I figure it can’t be that bad if they brought me here. The Black Rose gang can clearly blend in anywhere in the city, from the fancy places where they need to have their expensive car valet parked, to run-down buildings that look like they’re exclusively used for sketchy drug deals.

Must be nice to have that kind of confidence.

That kind of power.

We pull up to a building that looks like some abandoned warehouse but smaller from the outside, with no identifying markers other than the cars parked outside and the lights in the windows. I wonder if the Black Roses do anything important in places that aren’t run down and creepy, but I keep that thought to myself. My thoughts drift back to the gas station they brought me to at the beginning of all of this, and I guess it makes sense for them to spend time and do their business in places where they don’t have to worry about being bothered.

We go inside, and I glance around the space as we enter. There are a bunch of guys hanging out, sitting in chairs talking and playing cards. From the inside, it’s clear that this is some kind of run-down training gym, and it’s apparently where the Black Rose guys come to hang out and chill on the weekend or whenever.

There’s nothing fancy or overstated about it either. Everything is old but serviceable, with a low counter off to the side where drinks are being made. It’s mostly beer and dark liquor from what I can tell, and I grab a cup of something and follow the three of them farther in.

As soon as we walk in, people stop and greet the guys. It makes sense, considering Sloan is the leader’s son and all, and the other two seem just as well-known, either from their own reputations or because they come as some kind of package deal with Sloan.

A burly guy with a buzz cut and tattoos spreading from his neck down over his shoulders comes over and gives Rory a fist bump. He eyes me curiously and then flicks his gaze over to Sloan. I wonder when the last time was that some random girl got brought to this place, and I don’t blame him for seeming slightly confused about my presence.

“This is Mercy,” Rory tells him when Sloan doesn’t seem inclined to say anything. “She’s a friend of ours.”

I snort but don’t contradict him. It’s probably better to keep my mouth shut about what’s really going on if the rest of these guys don’t already know.

“Hey,” the man says, nodding. “Jesse.”

I nod back, and a few others make their way over to satisfy their curiosity. Rory handles the introductions as the most open and sociable one of my three keepers, introducing me as their “friend” Mercy to everyone who comes forward. I pay close attention to every name, trying to associate them with faces and iden

tifying marks, just in case I ever need that information.

There’s a guy with dreads wound up into a bun at the top of his head. Another one with a blooming rose tattoo on his hand. Another with a scar through his eyebrow. I would have expected them to be more on their guard about a stranger in their midst, but it seems like they’re all in chill mode, drinking and laughing and relaxed. And I guess since I came with the son of Gavin Kennedy and his two friends, I get a pass.

It makes me relax a little, even though I definitely plan to stay on my guard and keep my eyes open. I’d planned to spend tonight not thinking about the Black Rose gang or anything going on with them, but in the middle of their den, I have to change my plan.

After a few minutes, the three men lead me to a little circle where a couch and some chairs have been set up, and I sit down on the couch, sipping what tastes like rum and coke from my cup while glancing around at everything.

There’s a pool table in one corner where a group is gathered around, laughing and joking while one of them steps up with the cue. The card game is still going on, a new hand being dealt while the dealer gives the players shit about losing all their money.

In the center of the room is a large ring, clearly for fighting, and I perk up even more when I see it. There’s nothing like a good fight to really blow off some steam, and I’d even settle for just watching, since I’m not exactly dressed to get in the ring in my short dress from clubbing.

Rory and Levi plop down on either side of me, leaving Sloan to take one of the arm chairs, holding a drink in his hand. I’m sort of sandwiched in between the two of them, and I can feel the heat from their bodies and smell their cologne. Each time one of them shifts, they brush against me, and it’s like those places are hyper sensitive, radiating the light touch through the rest of my body.

But that is so not what I want to be focusing on right now, so I shove it down, taking a large gulp from my cup to try to think about anything else.