Uncaged (An MMA Stepbrother Romance) (78 page)

Mercedes… BMW… Jaguar… Maserati… it’s a tough choice.

“Come on!” Penny screams. “Who fucking cares which car we take?”

In the distance, red lights flash. No doubt they are fire engines.

“The Jag!” I say, and run to the door. I look inside. “Fuck, no keys.”

“Here!” Penny yells. “This one has keys.” She’s standing by the BMW, and I run to her, climb in. She gets in with me. I start the car, tear out onto the road.

We pass fire trucks that wail past us. They are followed by ambulances and… police cars.

“Why are the police going?” she asks.

“That was an old fight site. They must have been watching it. Fire alarms go off, they think a fight is going down and someone started a fire by accident.”

“We’re lucky they didn’t stop us.”

“Penny, are you hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Check! Those bullets you fired ricocheted.”

She pats down her body, then shakes her head. “No.”

Thank fuck.

Blood is streaming into both of my eyes.

I try to blink it out, but it’s no use. “Pen,” I say. “I have to stop. Hold on.” I pull the car over, and then lift my foot up and tear a small piece of tape from my ankle. It’s still sticky as fuck; the heat from my body has melted the glue.

“Here,” I say, handing her the piece of tape. I lean forward, wishing I could see her more clearly. But she’s just a blurred, red outline.

“You want me to tape your cut?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Wipe the blood away with your sleeve, and then put the tape over the cut.”

“My sleeve is not clean. You might get an infection.”

“I need to stop the bleeding,” I say. “Hurry up.”

She nods, and moments later my forehead is burning as she wipes across the split skin.

“Oh my God,” she says, swallowing. “I think I can see your
bone
.”

“Tape it!’

She places the tape over the cut, and I whip my head back, lean it on the car seat. I press the tape into the cut as hard as I can with my palm, wincing.

I turn to her, and grin. “Good, because the last mile I drove I couldn’t see shit.”

“You’re pretty messed up.”

I grunt. “Figured out where we are?”

“What?” she cries, putting up her hands. “How would I know, I barely just got to Australia!”

“Alright, alright,” I say, looking around. To the right there’s cliff faces, and no doubt beyond is the sea. It’s flat blackness is unmistakable.

“So?”

“I think we’re a little past Geelong.”

“Where’s that?”

“City nearby Melbourne.”

“Is it far?”

“No,” I say. I turn to her, take her hand. There are deep scratches on her palms. “What happened?”

“I had to cut my hands to cut the zip tie.”

That’s when it happens, that’s when there’s a crack, a breach. It’s not loud, it’s not dramatic, but for a fleeting moment her face is bunched up in a perfect split, simultaneously laughing and crying.

And then it’s over, seconds later, and she’s sobbing into her hands. I grip her, pull her toward me, hold her against me, and smell her hair and kiss her head.

“Fuck you, Pierce,” she cries. “I hate you.”

“I know,” I say.

“I really do!” she says, leaning up and smacking me on my chest. “God damn it. You need a doctor. Where’s the nearest hospital, I’ll drive us there.”

“You don’t have a license here. If we get pulled over in a stolen car, then—”

“Do you have a fucking license on you?” she cries, and gestures at me. I realize I’m just wearing my shorts.

We swap sides, and as she’s about to put the car into gear I say, “No, wait. We can’t go to a hospital. They’ll report us. They have to report these kinds of things.”

“Then where?”

“Hold on.” I look around, spot the car phone, and pick it up. “Yes! We have signal.” I punch in a number, and moments later a familiar voice floods the receiver.

“Ricky,” I say. “It’s Pierce. Don’t talk, just listen. Remember that doc, the one with the big nose? Didn’t he help patch you up? Yeah? What’s his number? Don’t ask me why, just tell me. You sure? Alright, thanks. No, can’t talk about it.”

I hang up, and dial the number.

“Doc, it’s Pierce. I need your help, where can I go? Where’s that, Caroline Springs? Okay. No, it’s close. When I get there, don’t fucking call me ‘son’.”

I throw the phone down, and tell Penny to take the next exit. “And stick to the left,” I say. “We drive on the left here.”

“Who is Ricky?” she asks a moment later.

I sigh, and pinch the bridge of my nose. Blood is beginning to pool beneath my foot. My whole body hurts to hell.

“He was eighteen, needed money. Good body, strong, athletic, but no fighter. You’re right, he went crying to his mother. He was raising money for her. She’s disabled.”

“What?” Penny asks.

I grimace at the memory. “Four fractures in his face. Edema in his ear canal that was pushing into his brain. He almost died.”

“Jesus.”

“He stepped into the cage.”

“You do care, don’t you?”

I lick my lips. “He stepped into the cage.”

“But you keep in touch with him?”

“Yeah,” I say. I look at Pen. She’s looking at me different, like she’s surprised.

“So all your bullshit
what goes on in the cage stays in the cage
crap was a lie. The consequences
do
matter.”

“I don’t want to get into this, Pen.”

“Fine,” she says. “But is that
all
you do? Keep in touch?”

“No,” I tell her. “I help out financially, pay for his mother’s rehab. She’s learning to walk again.”

I see just the tiniest glimmer of a smile on her lips. She almost looks… relieved.

Who the hell did she think I was? The devil?