Fighting for Flight (39 page)

Oh God, no. Vince.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Vince’s low chuckle
vibrates against my back.

“No. Dominick, please don’t do this.” I search
desperately around the room for a face to plead with, but the dark
is too thick. “I won’t run. Just please, leave Guy alone.”

Vince tightens his hold. Air is pushed from my lungs
on a whimper.

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
Dominick laughs and brushes his hand against my cheek. “Don’t you
worry, Raven. I will take what is rightfully mine. What I created.
You can’t run far enough or hide deep enough to escape me.”

I jerk my head aside, away from his touch. Vince
shakes me roughly then loosens his grip.

Responding to his words with pure instinct, I suck
in air to yell. A soft cloth is pressed to my face. Stinging vapors
pull deep into my lungs, my eyes roll back in my head. I kick and
jerk. I’m going to die. My muffled screams echo in my ears.
Darkness creeps in. Jonah, help me. Then, everything goes
black.

~*~

Jonah

A tornado of applause whips and swirls around my
body. Static roars in my ears along with my hammering
heartbeat.

Del Toro is down. The ref yells, “Knockout.”

Failure rocks me, weakening my knees. I drop to the
mat. Only a minute and a half left in the round, and I would have
had it. I watch in slow motion as my team climbs the chain link.
They rush toward me, faces alight with victory.

I search out the one member of my team still
standing on the outside. Blake. His glare meets mine. Whatever he
sees brings life to his body, spurring him into action. He hops the
fence, pushing his way through people. I’m detached, a bystander in
my own skin. My conscious mind struggles with reality. It ended so
fast. I just . . . snapped. I won the title, but lost the
prize.

Desperation brings me back. Voices go from static to
clear as I regain my senses. I need to find her. I sit back on my
heels. My eyes magnify the faces around me, like binoculars,
bringing into focus my surroundings. I search the crowd. A mob of
people block my view, jarring me from all angles. They yell,
patting my shoulder. My back. My head.

“Find her.” The mumbled words are a weak command to
my body.

Blake drops to his knees in front of me, his hands
on my shoulders, forcing my attention.

“Do not lose your shit, man. Lock it down, you hear
me.” His voice is commanding, his words a touchstone to my
sanity.

I hold his eyes and fight against the tide of
crippling emotions that pull at my soul.

“There ya go. Hold your shit, man. Stay focused on
me.”

I look at him, but don’t see him. Instead visions of
my future flicker through my mind. Raven in white. A little girl
with aquamarine eyes and my dimples, pigtails and pink ballet
shoes. My girl in my bed, every night, forever. Everything I just
lost.

Blinking away the burn, I swallow hard. I lurch
forward, on all fours, fighting the rising bile. A stabbing pain
rocks my midsection, and I spit my mouth guard to the mat.

“Don’t do this now, man. Not here.”

“I lost her.” My voice grates against my throat as I
force out the words. I can’t believe it. I couldn’t save her.

“No.
You
don’t lose. ‘The Assassin’ does not
lose.” He grips my shoulders, pulling me to my feet.

Breathing deep, I force a nod. My skin feels tight
surrounded by people in my space. I need to get out of here. I
can’t think straight.

I need Raven. To touch her and remind myself that
she’s real and . . . still here. Her birthday isn’t until tomorrow.
We have a few hours to get out of town. Disappear. At least until
we can come up with a better plan.

On a visceral quest, I push through the crowd. No
faces, no familiarity, just bodies. Obstacles that stand between me
and Raven.

At the octagon’s perimeter, I search the arena,
scanning the crowd. Where is she?

A microphone is shoved in my face. “‘Assassin,’ how
does it feel to be the new UFL Heavyweight Champion?”

“No questions.” Blake’s voice draws my attention. He
tilts his head towards the octagon’s exit.

I scan the seats where Raven was sitting. People
crowd around the octagon. Security pushes them back. My eyes pick
apart each person, and, still, no Raven.

“Where is she?”

Blake grips the chain link, focused and scanning.
“They’re gone. They were right there.” He points to the row of
seats they were in just seconds before the fight ended.

My hands rake through my hair. No. This cannot be
fucking happening. My aching muscles contract as my fists tighten.
She couldn’t have gone far. I continue to scan the area, hoping her
face will appear in the crowd. Still nothing. I’ll pick this entire
place apart, one motherfucker at a time, until I find my girl.

“‘Assassin!’ Great fight! Can you tell us what it
feels like to have won—”

Blake shoves the commentator in the chest, sending
him back and landing ass to mat. “No fucking questions.” Blake
towers over the downed reporter before turning back to me. “Shit.”
He sounds annoyed as if the guy was nothing more than an obnoxious
mosquito.

He looks over my shoulder.

“There’s your mom.” Blake’s voice rises above the
roar of the crowd. I follow his stare.

She’s standing at the floor of the arena, on
tiptoes, eyes searching. In a few long, purposeful strides I’m in
her space.

“Mom, where’s Ra—”

“Oh, Joey, you were great! Congratu—” She moves to
embrace me, but I catch her wrists, forcing her eyes to mine.

“Mom. Where’s Raven?”

Her smile falls and her eyebrows pinch together.
“Raven? Honey, Candy took her back to your dressing room, just like
you asked her to.”

Dread drops in my stomach, threatening to bring me
to my knees.

“Fuck me. I knew that skanky-ass ho was up to no
good,” Blake says from behind me.

Mom’s face pales and her eyes implore mine. “Jonah,
what’s going on?”

I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. But I’m sure
as shit going to find out.

My feet burn with unspent energy. I race up the
stairs two at a time. Weaving my way through the crowd, I shove
people aside when they don’t move fast enough. I burst through the
double doors and run down the corridor to my dressing room. My foot
hits the door with the force of a battering ram, splintering the
wood frame.

“Raven. You in here?” I rush through the room in
search of my girl. But even as my hopeful eyes continue their
search, I know she’s gone. This was Dominick’s plan all along. Send
Candy in for distraction and extraction. Like placing the last
piece into a puzzle, everything now makes sense.

I flip the coffee table upside down. “Fuck!”

Raven is in the hands of a madman. My hands rip
through my hair. I should have known Dominick would pull some
backhanded shit. Now my girl is with a psycho who uses his own
daughter as a pawn in his sick games.

Resolve burns deep in my chest. My heart pounds with
intent. The buzz between my ears throbs and floods my body. My
veins surge with revenge in lethal potency. A plan forms in my
head. My lips curl as my teeth clench.

I’m going to get Raven back tonight. I don’t care
who I have to kill to do it.

~*~

Raven

I float in a void, a black hole, tossed on waves of
dark smoke. No feeling. Just . . . nothingness. A faint sound
taunts me. Calling me to its comfort. I want to move towards it,
but can’t grip consciousness enough to move.

An urgency to fight the dark fuels my blood. I push
against the fade. The sound gets louder. The soothing vibrations
tickle my ear as I try to place it. The sound is as familiar as my
own name. I concentrate harder.

An engine. A small one, sedan maybe.

I push harder and hear a moan deep in the
distance.

Is that me?

The engine is joined with the rhythmic beat of
music. I strain to hear it and surface from the murky depths.
Feeling returns to my body in sections of warmth like a hot towel
lying on bare skin. I orient myself. I’m on my side. My eyelids are
heavy as I push to get them open.

I wiggle my fingers and roll my wrists. They’re tied
together. My mind struggles to place myself. I remember Katherine.
My heart cramps. The fight. Jonah. The text. Candy.

Fucking Candy!

Adrenaline fuels my muscles and I force open my
eyes. I’m in the backseat of a car. The driver is a man; that much
I can tell from the back of his head. No other passengers. I
swallow what feels like razor blades. How long have I been out? I
clear my throat to speak, getting the attention of my driver. His
head whips around and I muffle a scream.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Have a good nap?” His
wicked laugh crawls over my skin, making me curl into myself.

Facing forward, he tilts the rearview mirror, his
eyes on me. They glow in the light of the dashboard. He looks
demonic.

“Where—” I clear my throat. “Where are you taking
me?”

His reflection glares at me. “We’re going on a
little road trip.”

“What happened? Where’s Jonah?”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you go back to sleep or
pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to hear your voice? Or better
yet, you shut your fuckin’ mouth, or I’ll climb back there and
shove something in it.”

Tears burn my eyes and my throat clogs with emotion.
I nod and vow to keep quiet for the rest of the trip.

An orange glow draws my attention. I peer through
the gap in the front seats. A clock. The numbers ground me—give me
something to hold on to. Just like before the fight, I watch the
minutes tick away, along with my future. As the minutes stretch by,
I make myself sick. Every imaginable horror comes to mind. Jonah
doesn’t know where I am. I’m alone with someone who hates me enough
that killing me would be kind.

As many times as Jonah has swooped in like an
angelic warrior to rescue me, my predicament is impossible. No one
will help me now. If I’m going to get out of this, I’m going to
have to do it myself.

The car turns. I tilt my head to look out the window
from my back seat bed. My view is a wall of pine trees. We’re in
the mountains, and from the sound of the creaking suspension and
gravel assaulting the wheel wells, on a dirt road. After another
twenty minutes, the car slows to a stop.

Vince exits the car, giving me seconds of relief
before the back door swings open and he grabs me by my bound
ankles. He throws me over his shoulder like a dead animal. It’s
completely black outside. Darkness like I’ve never seen having
lived in the city my whole life. There’s a source of light ahead
that penetrates the night. Vince heads toward it. He walks up a few
wooden steps before we go through a door and into the living room
of a cabin.

He turns left and I’m airborne. My wrists bound, I’m
unable to break my fall and my head slams into something solid.
Stabbing pain pierces my skull and I swallow an agony-riddled cry.
Warm liquid oozes down my face, pooling in my ear. My vision
swirls.

Vince’s footsteps against the wood floor disappear
behind me.

I squint against my throbbing head. I’m on a couch
with wooden armrests. The smell of an old fire and wet wood
permeate the air. I worm my body around and face the direction we
came in. Plain wood flooring and log walls are all I see. This
place isn’t set up for a long-term guest. More like a place for a
weekend hunter. And here I am tied up like prized kill.

A door slams shut, making me jump. My muscles coil
tight, every sound amplified. Heavy footfalls sound down the
hallway getting louder. Closer.

Please, God. Help me.

Dominick and Vince appear from the mouth of the
hallway. Their fine suits and coiffed hair are a morbid contrast to
the natural wood of the cabin.

“Raven, darling, I’m sorry about your head. Vince is
great muscle, but tends to be a bit brutal.”

Vince smiles and licks his lips.

“As I’m sure you’ve figured out, your boyfriend won,
or lost as it was, so now you belong to me.” He kneels and places
his lips just inches from my ear. “Between you and me, win or lose,
I had no intention of releasing you.”

My eyes burn. I stare at the man before me whose
eyes are identical to mine. The man whose blood runs through my
veins, and I feel nothing but pure, concentrated hate.

He reaches into his pocket, and with a flick of his
wrist, he’s holding a knife. I kick and pull at my restraints.
No!

“Calm down.” He sounds bored and not at all
impressed by my fight. He points the knife, gently pressing the tip
into the soft skin beneath my ear. “You be a good girl now or I
will cut you. Do you understand?”

I nod frantically, forcing the tip of the knife
farther into my skin. A whimper leaks from my lips. He watches as a
trickle of blood makes a trail down my neck.

“So beautiful.” He swipes at the blood with his
fingertip and puts it in his mouth. “You are going to make your
Daddy a very rich man.”

Every inch of my body shakes in violent bursts. He
slides down the couch to my feet and cuts my binds. Then follows
with my wrists.

I flex and roll my aching joints. Sitting up, my
head swims. I steady myself, blinking away my nausea. Something
tickles my cheek. I swipe at it and see blood on my hand.
I’m
going to be sick.

“Dominick, may I use the bathroom?” My voice quakes
with fear.

He tilts his head and studies my face. I focus on
his neck to avoid him reading the intentions in my eyes. He must be
satisfied with what he sees and nods.

I push up, ignoring my sore wrists and throbbing
head, and search for a bathroom. The first door in the hallway is
open. I rush in, shut the door behind me, and try to find the lock.
Dammit! No lock.