Page 77 of StoryTeller's Tale

“You don’t need to see him,” I tell her. “Just know you’ll never be bothered by him again.”

“ST?”

Turning, I see Strider pausing and waiting for me. “I’ll be back,” I reassure Sheri. “Just hang out with Jasmine for a while, yeah?”

Her eyes widen, then a resolved expression comes over her face. “You go deal with business.”

I steal another kiss, then depart.

I follow the brothers through the clubhouse, out the back and along a pathway. It leads to a concrete building. I walk in, expecting some sort of torture chamber, but instead, I find the club’s gym. Around the edge are mats and different types of equipment, and in the middle is a boxing ring.

Strider appears at my side, putting his arm around me. “Think you might enjoy this, ST. Reckon we’ll let you get up close and personal with the man who kidnapped your ol’ lady.”

I don’t mind beating the hell out of Knuckles, I’d planned on it anyway. I was more afraid he’d be killed outright, and I’d lose my opportunity. But as Data sets up a tripod with a phone set up on it, and Knuckles is brought forward with his hands and feet now free and uncuffed, I start to get an uneasy feeling.

Strider pulls me forward. “I’ve spoken to Scorpion,” he starts, mentioning the leader of the Dominators, akin to our Slugger. His name gets Knuckles’ interest. “He asks we don’t kill Knuckles without giving him a sporting chance. If he dies in a fair fight, there’ll be no retaliation.”

Knuckles looks dubious, and glances around at Strider’s men. Then his eyes land on me, and he points in my direction. “I’ll fight him,” he says. “I’ve no beef with the rest of you. Ain’t none of you been wronged except for him.”

I hide my grin. It’s far from the first time my fighting skills have been underestimated. To suggest I’m nervous, I even shift uneasily, and cast a wary glance toward Strider.

“Agreed,” the Texas prez states. “You and ST in a fight to the death.” He gives a twisted grin, and his gaze encompasses all the assembled men. “Scorpion reckons Knuckles here can handle himself.”

“Fifty on StoryTeller.”

I swing around to see Data nodding my way. At least someone’s got confidence in me.

Tequila is giving a measured eye to Knuckles, measuring him up. “I’ll match that on the Dominator.”

Strider’s grin widens as others get into the bidding. He approaches me and again slaps my back. “You going to put on a show for us, ST?”

I’m confident in my skills, and if he knew me, he would be as well. But I can’t help but feel put out that I’m not certain he’s sure which way this is going to go. Surely, he isn’t intending for Knuckles to just walk out of here should he get the better of me?

Shotgun steps up and offers to wrap my hands, but I give a look at Knuckles and shake my head no. My opponent has a glint in his eye as he leers at me. He shakes out his hands, letting the light catch the rings that he’s wearing.

I shrug. I wanted a bare-knuckle fight—in more ways than one—so I can’t complain. Reaching into my cut, I extract a few little surprises of my own and start adorning my fingers. This is going to be no polite affair. This is going to be bloody, and one of us is going to die. It won’t be the first time I’ve stepped into a ring, knowing it might be my last.

Strider steps up into the middle of the ring. “No bouts, no scores, no breaks. Once they get together, the fight continues until there’s only one man breathing. Everyone got that?” He turns to stare into the camera and then casts his eye toward Data. “You better make damn sure that thing’s recording as there won’t be any second takes. Or, not with the same participants.” He breaks off and everyone laughs.

Knuckles joins in, clearly thinking the joke’s on me, particularly as I don’t crack a smile. But far from being worried, I’m already sizing him up, judging his level of confidence and trying to guess his style.

He’s got no fear, that’s for sure, which means he’s no stranger to a fight. Like most of my ex-opponents, he’ll misjudge me to his cost. I’m pretty sure I can take him on with one hand tied behind my back. Not that I’m going to offer, of course, I’m not looking to commit suicide.

I assess how I want this to play out. Will I take my time and humiliate him, causing maximum pain, and consequently entertainment for the men who are still busy with money changing hands? Or do I go in straight for the kill?

The benefit of the latter approach is that I’ll be back with my woman faster and fucking her with the leftover adrenaline from the fight.

Someone rings a bell. This is it. Time for deliberation is over.

Knuckles jumps into the ring and stands, bouncing on his toes, gesturing cockily to me,bring it on.

Gladly,I respond, letting my confident swagger do the talking for me. I slide between the ropes and stand still, not wasting any energy except to shrug my shoulders to loosen myself up.

Strider steps into the middle and holds his hands out to his sides. “No holds barred, boys,” he says, as if we were in any doubt. “Now show us what you’ve got.”

I expect Knuckles to rush straight for me. It’s what a man does when he wants to show off, taking his opponent down with the first blow, showing what he’s made off. It’s slightly concerning that he holds himself back, suggesting he’s perhaps a more experienced fighter than I thought.

We start to circle each other, to an increasing impatient chorus from our audience. I feint, he blocks, and then again, we move apart. I’m assessing every movement he makes.Is he favouring his right? Is he slightly less balanced on that leg?One thing’s for sure, he’s as focused as me, and I wish I’d been able to find out more about him.Was he in the services like me? What experience has he got? Has he just got street skills, or has he been trained like myself?

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