Worth Fighting For (Fighting to Be Free 2)

of copper at the back of the group farthest away from me, over near the podium, caught my attention. Even in the darkened club, the color was like a beacon, calling to me, grabbing my attention and holding it.

Oh, shit. It can’t be. There’s no way it is. She can’t be here...can she?

My glass stopped halfway to my lips as I squinted through the crowd, willing the red-haired girl to turn toward me, even just a fraction so I could get a glimpse of her face. Was it her?

Turn around. Please turn...

“Well, we have built up a fairly large following,” Alberto said, dragging me back to reality.

Dodger snorted. “A following? You make yourself sound like some sort of freaking cult.”

I swallowed and blinked a couple of times, forcefully dragging my eyes away from the redhead girl’s back even though it took everything in me to do it. “I don’t care how big your client list is. We have our own clients, high-end ones. We don’t need to occupy ourselves with people who deal on the street. I’ve told you that before.”

“Ah, but our overheads are far less than yours, I bet. We make twice as much profit per ounce as you,” Alberto protested. “If you were to purchase our product and pass it on to your clients, we would both profit from it.”

“That’s because your product is cheap-ass shit. My clients wouldn’t be my clients very long if I tried to give them levamisole-cut coke,” I replied calmly. We’d had this discussion before; my answer had been the same then.

Without my permission, my eyes drifted back in the girl’s direction. I watched the way her hair swished as she danced, the way her black jeans hugged her hips and the curve of her ass. I fidgeted in my seat, willing her to turn. And suddenly, as if she could tell I was staring at her, waiting with bated breath to see if this was the girl I’d fallen so deeply in love with, she and the tall blonde bombshell she was dancing with linked arms and did a little drunken twirl, giggling to themselves.

Air rushed out of my lungs as my eyes landed on the girl who had stolen my heart with one innocent blush and beautiful smile. Ellie had always captivated me, even the first time I laid eyes on her, and three years later it was no different. She was stunning, so beautiful that it made my heart sing. To me, she was perfect. Everything about her was mesmerizing, from her bright red hair to her freckled nose, right down to her Converse-loving feet. The girl was still everything right in my world.

I couldn’t take my eyes from her. I watched as she clinked glasses with her friend, who I now realized was, in fact, Stacey, and they both then downed the contents. I was unable to fight the smile as Ellie instantly winced and brought her hand to her mouth, pressing the back of it to her lips for a couple of seconds and wrinkling her nose like she always did after a shot. I’d missed that. Such a small thing, but even that made my heart ache and my balls clench.

“Kid?” Alberto’s voice was almost a distant memory as I watched Ellie, entranced.

Stacey glanced behind her and then turned back to Ellie, grinning and grabbing her hand, tugging her toward one of the podiums. They were just small raised stages that we sometimes had dancers in on Saturday nights, but on regular weekday nights, they were empty and girls liked to go up there for a bit of extra space to dance. Ellie was reluctant at first, shaking her head as a furious blush colored her cheeks, which I could easily make out even from the other side of the club in the dim light. I smiled. She never had liked being the center of attention. But Stacey was adamant and boosted herself up onto the four-foot podium, beckoning Ellie with a pleading expression until Ellie finally gave in and climbed up, too.

“Kid!” The voice was louder this time, so I turned, scowling at Alberto.

“What?” I snapped. Couldn’t he see I was fucking busy?

He raised one bushy black eyebrow. “Is everything okay? You seem kind of distracted.” His tone was clipped; clearly he was angered that I wasn’t giving him my full attention.

Mateo sat forward, his eyes locked on Ellie, who was now dancing on the podium, her movements shy because people were watching. “You know that girl?”

“No,” I answered immediately, my reply coming out harsher than I’d intended. “Nice ass, that’s all,” I lied, shrugging, willing them to believe me.

Mateo sat back in his chair, and a slow smile spread across his face, drawing attention to the white scar that ran through his bottom lip. “She has got a sweet ass,” he agreed, reaching for his drink and taking a slow sip. His sharp, keen eyes locked onto mine, twinkling with what appeared to be excitement.

I gripped the edge of the table so tightly my fingers ached, trying not to react. I needed to remain in control, not show any emotions or how important Ellie was to me. I ran the city because people knew not to challenge me—they always had more to lose than I did. I didn’t have anything I cared about, so there was never any leverage for people to use against me. It didn’t matter to me if I lived or died, because I had nothing worth living for anyway. That loneliness made me hard, confident, overly cocky, and practically invincible. I was less afraid than people who had more to lose than I did. That couldn’t change.

“Let’s just get on with this, shall we? I called you here to tell you to keep your drugs far away from my clubs. I think I’ve made my point clear, so this meeting is over,” I growled.

Alberto sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Look, Kid, I apologize if one of our pushers came into your club. I don’t know who it was, but I’ll find out and they’ll be punished. We didn’t order it, so it was probably just a rogue seller wanting to make a few bucks extra by selling in a club. Can we not let this sour the relationship we already have?”

Mateo was totally uninterested now and was tapping away on his cell phone, a wry smile on his face that I wanted to smack off for him.

“We don’t have a relationship. I allow you to conduct your business. You’re grateful,” I answered drily. I was fighting a losing battle to keep my eyes from Ellie. My whole body was jumpy, twitching in my seat, desperate to get up and go over to her. I gripped the table tighter to keep myself in place.

“But it can be so much more. We can help you. We have the numbers and can bring so much to your organization,” Alberto urged.

“So much fucking butt hurt you mean,” Dodger chimed in.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Alberto implored.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, well-built man making his way through the crowd, heading toward Ellie. He stopped at the side of her podium. My lip curled and my hands unconsciously clenched into fists. The guy was tall, well over six foot five, so his face was level with the girls’ chests as he leaned in and said something to them. Stacey laughed and shook her head; Ellie looked blatantly uncomfortable.

Around me I could hear Dodger and Alberto talking, but I couldn’t focus, couldn’t drag my attention from the steroid-filled brick shithouse who was still leaning in and trying to get Ellie’s attention.

My body jerked when his meaty hand reached toward her, brushing against Ellie’s hip. She twisted to the side, shaking her head, saying something to rebuff his advance as she shot him a nervous, please-go-away smile.

The crowd around them had parted now, giving him space, looking at him a little warily, as if he was intoxicated and needed a wide berth. He said something else to Ellie and she frowned, shaking her head again. I could almost read her lips saying “no, thank you” before she turned her back on him and continued to dance with Stacey, her shoulders stiff now, her movements awkward and uncomfortable.

The guy wasn’t giving up, though; he clearly didn’t like to take no for an answer. He laughed and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollar bills. I frowned, grinding my teeth, assuming he was going to offer to buy her a drink. Instead, he reached up and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, her tight smile polite but exasperated, he quickly reached forward and shoved the notes into the waistband of her jeans like she was some kind of stripper as he clapped exaggeratedly along to

the music and jeered in encouragement.

That was when I saw red.

All rational thought flew from my head. All I could see was his hands on her, her being disrespected, him degrading her. I sprang from my chair, sending it flying in the process, and bounded over there. Ellie was busy yanking the money from her waistband, her scowl seething, so she didn’t see me approach.

Neither did he as he jeered encouragingly, laughing. “Oh, come on, sugar tits, show us how you dance real nice.”

He barely finished his sentence before my fist collided with the back of his head, sending him sprawling forward onto his knees, his chest hitting the podium with a loud thunk. My hand burned from the impact, but I barely felt it as I strode forward another step, throwing my knee into his side twice, hearing the satisfying grunt of pain that left his lips. All around me was red fog; there was just me and him and my blazing anger. I wanted him to bleed, I wanted to pull my knife from my pocket and slit his throat, watching as he gurgled for breath, but some small part of me was conscious of the spectating crowd. So instead, I fisted my left hand in his hair, yanked his head back, and brought my right fist down square into his face.