Page 62 of The Monster and the Last Blood Match

“Fine, but if you make any trouble, we have authority to stop you at any cost,” he said menacingly.

“Noted.”

When they walked inside, Reyna had to keep her mouth from dropping open. Everett had said this place was going to be a little different than what she had been shooting, but this was beyond anything she could have imagined. Much of the warehouse was open space, but at its center, there was a giant fighting ring. Two people faced off in the ring, wearing nothing but tight-fit shorts. All the while, an enormous crowd cheered for their champion. A makeshift scoreboard hung from one wall, and there was a box for betting on the matches.

“What is this?” she asked. She was already itching to take her camera out.

“Five Points. It’s owned by the Irish mob,” he said.

“Stick nearby,” her guard growled. “I don’t want things to get out of hand with no exit strategy.”

“Okay,” she agreed, rolling her eyes. As if it wasn’t bad enough having a bodyguard in this kind of place, he wanted her to stay as close as possible. He could keep up with her.

“Come on,” Everett said. He grabbed her arm and drew her through the thick crowd.

The people they passed were a mixed bag. Some looked like the destitute she had been photographing on the streets. Others were dressed up in suits—not quite as nice as Beckham’s but not horrible, either—and they were cheering on the people in the pen as hard as the others. There was another group of people who reminded her so much of her brothers. Not hopeless but not prospering. She could see in their eyes that this was the way to escape the captivity of their daily lives. She had seen it countless times in her brothers’ eyes, but with her waiting for them at home, they had never participated in anything like this. She hoped they stayed on the straight and narrow with her gone.

An ache crept into her heart, and she had to force it down. It was good to think of them. She never wanted to forget them, but it was difficult. The money had to be helping, but she was terrified that their faces were fading from her mind.

She couldn’t think about that right now. It wasn’t any help.

Everett reached a spot in the middle of a group of people, and a man approached him, asking for a bet.

Everett handed over a five. “Put my money on Gabe.”

The man chuckled. “Guy’s losing, but I’ll take your money.” He nodded at Reyna. “For the lady?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

When he was gone, she leaned over to Everett. “Why did you bet on the guy that’s losing?”

“Gabe O’Connor is a legend in these parts. He might not look like much, but watch.”

So, she did. She knew nothing about fighting, but the movements of the two men were like a choreographed dance. The bigger of the two had the upper hand in height, weight, and strength. He was all bulk and threw it around with a prowess that clearly had been established over many matches. The smaller guy—Gabe—was quick on his feet, though. He dodged and blocked, striking out at the bigger guy when he least expected it. Despite this, it was pretty clear that the bigger guy was going to win.

Reyna slowly extracted her camera from her bag and stared at the pair through the zoomed-in lens of her camera. She snapped picture after continuous picture of the fight, trying to see what Everett saw.

Then it happened in a flash.

Gabe smirked. That was all Reyna needed. She took that picture and knew it was going to be a brilliant one for her collection. Gabe was toying with his opponent. He wanted to make it look like he was going to lose, keep the odds against him, so when he was victorious it was even more exceptional.

“He’s playing cat and mouse,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Everett agreed. “You can tell in his footwork.”

“No. In his eyes and in his smile.”

She zoomed back out and took pictures of the crowd, the venue, the sense of desperation in the room. She was focused in on one woman’s angry cries when everyone roared their disapproval. Her eyes flew to the stage, where the bigger guy was laid out flat on his stomach, blood pouring from his face. Gabe hadn’t stopped. He kept pummeling until they hauled him off.

The crowd surged forward, and Reyna almost lost grip of her camera. She stuffed it back into her bag as Everett clamped his hand down on her elbow.

“What’s going on?” she cried.

“People lost a lot of money. We have to get you out of here.”

Her eyes searched for her bodyguard, but he was too far away. She made up her mind to get to safety with Everett and let him drag her through the mob. She lost sight of the guard, lost sight of everything, just held on to Everett for dear life. Fights broke out all around them. People were angry that they had lost more of their precious little income to a gambling debt. The noise grew unbearable, and suddenly guards rushed down with batons, Tasers, and guns to keep the crowd in line.

She and Everett burst through an unguarded door that she had assumed went outside, but it led to a flight of stairs. Everett didn’t hesitate as he took the stairs two at a time. She had no choice but to follow him. She was breathing hard when they finally got to a landing with a long hallway.

---