CHAPTER TWENTY
“There’s bad timing and then there’s Prince Charming timing.” - Tag
“We gonna hook up tonight?”
Not many people knew that in the heart of Armado Springs, just off main street beneath the office of the local optometrist, right next door to the florist and bakery in an underground building with all the walls save for the supporting beams all knocked through into one huge space and the only access being through the basement of the Italian restaurant was a custom-built ten-foot octagon cage the size of a tennis court. And inside that custom iron cage with its unshakable walls and lights dotting around the rim for effect for both fighters and the crowd, four nights a week, men of all sizes and backgrounds, mostly those in the criminally inclined lifestyle fought for money.
The place smelled of sweat, blood and greed. And it was one of Tag’s favorite places to be. Seeing as how he was the top billed fighter who raked in the most cash on whatever night of the week he happened to fight. He tended to save his bouts for those special occasions. When the big money was in town, usually the celebrities and the lawyers who wanted a bit of dirty excitement from the MMA world with an undercurrent of illegal activity.
After all, nothing that happened in the underground cage was lawful.
Save for death and use of weapons, anything went.
And it was all run by the Renegade Souls MC.
Tag, with his clip of shorn blond hair sticking up in an array of sweaty tufts and piercing turquoise eyes smiled temptingly at the woman asking the question. She’d hung around after the last fight was over and everyone went home happy.
Tag made a killing on his bets tonight and so had the club, so he was a happy boy. He’d be taking around a cool fifty G to Texas to wash it nice and clean in their other more public friendly businesses. And that was just from one fight. Tag’s fight which was coming the end of this month, invite only for the high rollers.
Tag might be one of the MC’s Sergeant in Arms, but down here with the sweat and the honest to goodness scrapping, he was most at home.
His boys called him Prince Charming because they said the chicks dug his long lashes and twinkling smile. Not to mention his massive dick and the way he rode in on his Harley V-Rod like a modern-day anti-hero coming to entice the panties off the princess in her condo tower.
Down here though, he was known only as the champion. Undefeated in his last twenty-three fights.
He grabbed up his holdall and slung it over one shoulder. Time was he would have taken the girl up on her not so subtle offer. He would have already had her down on the blood-soaked floor and up her tiny skirt licking her in indecent ways with her ring covered fingers locked in his hair pumping her hips for god and all to witness. Time was, he wouldn’t have minded an audience either. But not tonight.
“Sorry, babe,” he told the redhead. “I gotta head back to the club.”
She pouted and cozied up to his free arm. He grinned and kissed her forehead. She was a good girl. A fun girl. Hellishly fucking fun from his recollection of the last time he’d spent some hours with her. “Okay, your loss, champ.” It really was. “Maybe next time?”
He didn’t give her an answer when he walked her to her car and made sure she got away safely. Because he had other ideas of dating and he couldn’t be seen to be fucking anything in a tight mini dress, now could he?
Tag strolled over to his bike, but before he could climb on and head back to the compound to sink a few beers and consume an egg sandwich as big as Preacher’s head, he caught a movement from the corner of his vision.
If you walked main street, it looked like any other city. Bustling traders, clean streets the shady fucker mayor paid to keep them that way. But around back, it was a whole other story. It was where the impoverish came to bed down for the night in hopes the local delis would throw out some good garbage, so they could eat that night.
Tag had experience with the down and outs since he’d spent most of his youth looking for his dad, making sure he wasn’t passed out wasted in a doorway or worse, face down in his own vomit. So, if he saw some poor guy down on his luck he made sure to stop, to ask if he was okay and to slip them some cash for food. He wasn’t dumb, he knew nine times out of ten it would go on liquor or hard drugs. Can’t save ‘em all.
He jogged over to the dude sitting on cardboard. “Yo, Mike. You okay man?”
The old man lifted his drunk-soaked head and grinned with two teeth in his mouth. At his side a young mutt lay snoring out the zeds.
“Hey, kid. Yeah, yeah, all good. You fight tonight?”
“Nah. Soon though.” He leaned down and handed the old guy some money. “You need a ride to the shelter? Gonna rain tonight.”
“Me and Shep here are just fine. Thanks, kid.”
He shrugged and left the guy in his makeshift bed.
The ride back to the compound didn’t take long since it was early hours of the morning. It was a surprise to find Rider in the main room sitting at the bar alone. Usually the prez was at home tucked up with his queen.
Dumping the holdall at his feet he straddled a stool. “You’ll be pleased to know I come bearing glad tidings, Prez.” He announced with a smirk and Rider cocked a brow. Seeing how he didn’t laugh, Tag reckoned something was up.
“You have any trouble down there tonight?”
“Not a thing.” The Russians had been trying to get in on the action and so far, they’d managed to keep them out. “What’s going on here? You’re not usually around this time of night.”
“Still my club last time I checked, don’t need to clock in and out, brother.”
Tag laughed. “Man, did Z-girl kick your ass out of bed?” Rider oozed authority, he wasn’t the biggest guy nor the scariest but if crossed he’d break your back, didn’t matter the situation and every brother was loyal to him to a fault, but if his old lady was pissed then Tag was laying money on that tiny blondie winning the war.
“No, she was driving me crazy with this party she wants to throw for Gia. For fucks sake,” he took a gulp of amber liquid, “what do I know about napkins?”
Tag suppressed a laugh, only ‘cause that was a nice segue into what he’d been wanting to talk to Rider about for the past few weeks ever since he’d heard his sister was on her way back to town.
Only Rider’s phone rang then, and he answered it with a silky hey, Icy. So, he knew it was his old lady and Tag didn’t wanna be around if they were gonna phone sex. He slid off the stool, grabbed the bag and headed to the kitchen to fix some grub before he crashed out.
Plenty of time he reckoned to make sure it was good with Rider if he asked Gia out on a proper date.
Every time that pretty chick came to town for a visit he always wanted to, since he had feelings for her, but he never got around to it, for want of a better word he’d always been pussy-deep somewhere else. Bad timing.
Now she was home for good, there was no time like the present to stake a claim and take himself off the meat market.