Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

He lasted longer than the last. But eventually the kicks to his head got him. His eyes went out of focus more and more. I grabbed him by the back of his head, brought up my knee at the same time as I thrust down his face. His nose and cheekbone broke against my knee. He yowled hoarsely and toppled backwards. I went after him. I jump-kicked him into the cage, and when he hit the ground with a resounding bang, I crouched over him and rammed my elbow into his stomach. Once. Twice. He weakly patted the floor, face swollen, breathing labored. Giving up.

“Surrender!” cried the ref.

I never understood men like him. I’d die before I surrendered. There was honor in death but not in begging for mercy. I rose to my feet. The crowd cheered.

Remo gave me thumbs up from his spot at the table with the high rollers. I could tell from the excited gleam in his eyes that he wanted to get into the cage again soon. Schmoozing the high rollers, that was high up on his hate list. But someone had to do it. Nino was eloquent and sophisticated, but after a while he forgot to plaster emotions on his face, and once people realized he didn’t have any, they ran as fast they could. Savio was a teen and capricious, and Adamo. Adamo was a kid.

I turned around. Leona was still sitting on the stool in front of the bar, watching me horrified. That was a look that came closer to the ones I was used to from people. Seeing me like this, covered in blood and sweat, perhaps she understood why she should be terrified of me.

She untangled her legs from her dress, hopped down from the stool and disappeared through the swing door.

I climbed out of the cage, dripping blood and sweat on the floor. I’d need to stitch myself up.

“Good fight.” I heard occasionally.

I shook a few congratulating hands, then retreated into the changing room. It was empty seeing that mine had been the last fight and my opponent was on his way to the hospital. I opened my locker when a knock sounded. I grabbed one of my guns and held it behind my back as I turned. “Come in.”

The door opened a crack before Leona poked her head in, eyes closed. “Are you decent?”

I put my gun back into my gym bag. “I’m the least decent guy in this city.” Except for Remo and his brothers perhaps.

She opened her eyes cautiously, searching the room until they settled on me. Relief flooded her face and she slipped into the room before closing the door behind her.

My eyebrows shot up. “Are you here to give me a victory present?” I asked, leaning against the lockers. My cock had all kind of presents in mind. All of them involved her perfect mouth, and her undoubtedly perfect pussy.

“Oh, I only have a bottle of water and clean towels.” She showed me what she held in her hands, smiling apologetically.

I shook my head, chuckling. God, this girl.

Realization flooded her face. “Oh, you meant…” She gestured in the general direction of her body. “Oh, no. No. Sorry.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to laugh. It had been a while since a woman had made me laugh. Mostly they just made me want to fuck them senseless.

“I hope you can live with a bottle of cold water,” she said in a teasing voice. When I opened my eyes, she was in front of me, holding out the bottle. She was more than a head smaller than me and less than an arm-length away. Stupid girl. She needed to learn self-preservation. I took the bottle and emptied it in a few gulps.

She scanned my body. “There’s so much blood.”

I chanced a look down. There was a small cut over my ribs where a sharp edge of the cage had grazed me, and bruises were forming over my left kidney and on my right thigh. The majority of blood wasn’t mine. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”

Her eyes lingered on my forehead. “You’ve got a cut that needs to be treated. Is there a doctor around I should get?”

“No. I don’t need a doctor.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue but then she seemed to think better of it. She paused.

“You looked so…” She shook her head, her nose puckering in the most fucking adorable way possible. Fuck, those damn freckles. “…I don’t know how to describe it. Fierce.”

I straightened, surprised. She sounded almost fascinated. “You weren’t disgusted? I thought it’s too brutal.”

She shrugged, one delicate motion. “I was disgusted. It’s such a martial sport. I don’t even know if you can call it that. It’s all about beating each other up.”

“It’s also about reading your opponent, about seeing his weaknesses and using them against him. It’s about speed and control.” I scanned her again, reading her like I did with my opponents. It wasn’t difficult to guess why Stefano would have chosen her if I’d allowed it. It was obvious that she’d had a difficult life, that she had little, that there was nobody to take care of her, had never been. It was obvious that she wanted more, that she wanted someone to take care of her, someone who was kind to her, someone to love. Stefano was good at pretending he was someone like that. She’d eventually learn that it was best to rely only on yourself. Love and kindness were rare, not only in the mob world.