Page 11 of The Assassin
The rock music suddenly cut out, leaving loud talking the only sound in the room. After a short moment, the chatting died too, and then Odin was behind the bar, slamming his hand on it to catch everyone’s attention. At some point he’d lost his shirt and he stood there in only a pair of jeans and boots. Ardan took a moment to appreciate his attractiveness. Even in his forties, he was spry and fit, with bulging muscles and tight abs.
“Listen up, motherfuckers, it’s fight night,” he yelled out across the room.
The crowd jeered, some of the men hooting louder than the others.
“So get your asses out to the backyard, get shirtless, and get ready to use those fucking fists of yours.” He slammed his hand down on the bar again and then waved toward a glass sliding door on the other side the room.
The crowd began moving in that direction, and Ardan frowned. “Know what this is about, Mancini?”
“Mm-hm.” Mancini took another large gulp of his Corona and stood, brushing off his pants as though the stool had dirt on it. “Once a month they have a fight night, sort of like a fight club. They fight their brothers, or anyone they want to put aside differences with, or get frustrations out at.” He quirked a grin at Ardan. “Shall we?”
Ardan raised his eyebrows. He left his Guinness on the bar and followed Mancini out into a large backyard. The men, and a few women, had gathered in a circle. To the right was a bonfire, already blazing with tall, angry flames, and the music started up again inside.
Two Lords were in the center of the circle, shirtless and stretching for the fistfight they were about to have. Santiago was at the front of the crowd and he waved Ardan over when he saw him.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Mancini,” Ardan said easily.
Mancini’s laughter followed Ardan as he walked over to join Santiago.
“Welcome to the fight circle.” Santiago curled his arm around Ardan’s shoulders, gesturing to the two men who now stood with their fists raised and smirks on their faces. Odin got in between them and he held his arm high.
“Ready, gentlemen?” The men grunted, and Odin slashed his arm down through the air before jumping out of their way. “Fight!”
The men had finesse and while they jabbed at each other with force, there wasn’t anything controlled or coordinated about their attacks. It was clear they had no training, not like Ardan, and he noted every mistake they made. He calculated their next hit like it was from a movie he’d seen numerous times. He’d seen men like this before, and they used their strength instead of their brains.
One of them, a short ginger haired man, managed to get the other across the jaw, and his opponent stumbled into the crowd. They grabbed him and pushed him back toward the redhead, who sucker punched him right across the forehead. The opponent went down like a ton of bricks. He groaned and raised his hand in defeat, and the cheers of the surrounding men and women grew louder.
Odin applauded when he stepped back into the ring. “Frey is the winner!”
Some of the men in the surrounding circle raised their beers, shouting out their excitement, and Odin grinned.
“Who’s next?” he yelled, arms wide and gaze searching the crowd.
Another man stepped into the ring, a huge guy with wide shoulders and a face littered with scars. He pointed at someone in the crowd and growled out, “You.”
Clearly they had disagreement to work out because the other biker grunted and glared, but passed his beer off to the woman next to him. He ambled into the center of the circle and slipped off his leather jacket with the Norse Lords MC patch—a skull with a Viking helmet and two axes crisscrossed behind it—on the back.
Ardan lost interest quickly and peered around the group of people gathered. Mancini stood on the opposite side, the beer still clutched in his hand and a smirk on his face as he stared at them.
“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Santiago said.
Ardan nudged him with his elbow. “Thought about it, but I have too much respect for you and Sloan to disobey Odin’s rules.”
“Thanks for that. I put a lot on the line bringing you here. Like I said, Odin would’ve killed you to set an example.”
“I don’t understand your loyalty to him.” Ardan crossed his arms. “You could have joined the Society by now, or found a club that’d set you up with more money than you could dream of.”
“Odin pays me well enough.” Santiago chugged his own drink, some of it sloshing out of his mouth and down his chin.
“Ah. That’s your way of saying it’s none of my business.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s none of your fucking business.”
Ardan had asked him before and received the same response. He still didn’t know why Santiago owed Odin his loyalty, but it must’ve been something big for Santi to be so indebted to him.
Mancini turned to another Lord beside him, a man with blond hair who Ardan swore he’d seen the last time he was here. He wore black sunglasses and frowned when Mancini spoke before nodding and grinning.
“Who’s that?” Ardan pointed.
