Page 56 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

If he gets his own way, I have a lifetime of this shit, and it will only get messier: bigger fights, bigger competitors, blood.So much blood. As if I didn’t search the Kincaids on the internet. They win; they were unbeatable, but the belts they were awarded and held for the promo pictures couldn’t hide the blood they werealwayscovered in.

Minutes pass as the crowd celebrates my son, and I can’t find it in my jelly legs to stand and go to him. Bobby hugs his student, then Benny slams their chests together in celebration and knocks Mac back a step. The entourage is let out of the ring where Mac meets the Roller daughters and is engulfed in a loud hug from the curly-haired Evie Kincaid. She’s older than him, but younger than Ben. She’s ferocious in the ring and loud outside of it. She’s a whole lot of muscle for someone her age; she’s trim and fit and has absolutely no clue that Benny watches her practically climb and slobber all over his best friend.

Ben watches on with jealous eyes, but relief sets in when her daddy pulls her off my son and sets her on her feet with a lifted brow and a silentdon’t! Mac is passed to Ben’s little sister, Livi. Then he accepts an unenthusiastic knuckle bump from Bean, Evie’s cousin.

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Daddy shuffles between the seats and makes his way to the aisle. Waiting for his turn, then snatching Mac up in a bone-crushing hug, they laugh together and chatter between themselves as Bobby meets up with his brothers and watches with a proud grin.

Finally, Daddy lets Mac go and steps up to the unenthusiastic teen. He holds his hand out, not for a knuckle bump, but cash, which she slaps into his palm with a disgusted grunt.

“Oh my God! Daddy? You bet a little girl!”

* * *

The best partabout Checkmate Security being a listed company is the fact their cell numbers are publicly available. Something tells me they have “public” numbers, in addition to something a hell of a lot more private, but still, I scan the business card I found with Eric’s bill months ago, left on the saucer along with the cash for his meal and a hefty tip. He just left it out for anyone to find, and if I Google the company, the numbers come right up there too. So it’s okay, right? I bounce my knee and bite my little finger to help fight the nerves that wrack my body.

Do it!

Don’t do it.

I’m as wired now at two in the morning while I sit all alone on the corner of my bed as Mac was for hours after his victory. It’s just an amateur fight, a silly competition between kids, but the pride and confidence that comes with a “silly” competition has kept our family floating for hours.

Do it!

Don’t do it.

I’m so proud of my baby, but so unbelievably vulnerable as I think of him as a man who’ll leave me for greatness. And at the same time, I’m so scared he might get hurt in his pursuit of victory. And if he finds it, what of the people who will try to take advantage of it? Women looking for a little cash and spotlight. People who will call themselves friends when all they want is to party on someone else’s dollar. Even Zeke. His own father will be the first in line. All of these people will be looking for a hand up, and not one of them will care about my son’s wellbeing, his career, or his happiness. A shame-filled part of me hopes he never achieves his goals because I’m scared of the leeches that’ll suck him dry for everything he has, then they’ll move on with fat bellies and leave him to die.

As his mother, it’s my job to help him succeed. But what if his success is also his downfall?

For right now, the people in Mac’s life are solid. The guys at the gym are the perfect role models for him. The guys at the diner are like family. And then there’s me, and I’ll fight to the death to keep Mac’s life safe and in order.

But soon, after our thousand days are up and he’s a legal adult, I won’t get a say anymore. It’ll be out of my hands, which is why counting down until his eighteenth birthday breaks my heart. I can rush them away and celebrate when we’re free of Zeke. Or I can hoard each day and be happy that until he’s eighteen, none of the people who wish to suck him dry will be able to get their teeth in.

It’s my biggest challenge, not knowing how to feel about the time we’re in right now. I know I should cherish every minute with my son, but worry ruins every happy moment. Anxiety leeches into fight celebrations, when I should be cheering on my son, but all I can think about is how others could ruin this for him.

Emotions batter my heart as the clock ticks away and morning hurtles forward at the speed of light. I have to be at work in just five hours. I have a double shift to make up for the tips I missed out on during Mac’s fight, so though I know I’m going to regret this when I’m schlepping coffee from table to table, I can’t wind down.

Do it!

Don’t do it.

I repeat the chant in my head, but in reality, I can’t do anything except bounce my frickin’ knee and study the ridged card with Eric’s name emblazoned across the front. The text is lifted from the card, so my thumb runs over his phone number as though stroking it would be a good replacement for what I really want to do.

But at the same time… I’m way too proud to call the guy at two in the damn morning. He’ll worry that there’s an emergency, and when he finds out there’s not, he’ll tease me for calling. He’ll be smug, and he’ll probably ask me to touch myself, because that’s what calls at two in the morning mean, right?

But even the threat of teasing isn’t enough to stop me from typing his number into my cell.

Slowly. One digit at a time with the screen going black between each entered number.

Do it!

Don’t do it.

I hit the green icon and hold my breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times–

“Are you okay?” His voice is rough and hints at a deep sleep. “Katrina? Are you okay?”

“Yes. Hey.” I scoot back on my bed, sit against the headboard, and tuck my bare feet beneath the covers. “I’m safe and okay, I promise.”

---