Page 125 of Guitars and Cages

I ran a hand through my hair and hissed as my fingers slid over the spot where my head had scraped along the side of the cage. “I fought last night.”

“With who?”

“Some guy in a cage. Dante, I think his name was.”

“Did you win?”

“Yeah. Barely. He was a big bastard with a ton of power.”

“So why did you fight him? Haven’t things been going well at the livery?”

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face or the excitement from making me sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah, it’s been going really well—I love it there. The horses are beautiful, and seeing them jump…they’re amazing. Sometimes it’s hard not to stand there and stare.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s good to hear. I can see the change in you when you talk about those horses. Your eyes get more life to them than I usually see, and you get more animated. That job is good for you, Asher. I think it was exactly what you needed, but that doesn’t explain why you decided to fight.”

“I didn’t want to,” I admitted with a sigh. “I just, I wanted to help Morgan get the money for the property taxes due for the bar, and I’d promised Conner he could come take pictures at my next fight. I’ve been trying hard not to tell too many lies, and Conner had been so nice to me, after everything he did for me, I figured I could at least do that for him.”

“I see. So does that mean you’re done fighting now?”

“Yeah, I’m done, especially after last night.”

“Did something happen besides the fight?”

I scrubbed a hand down over my face, rubbing at my eyes. “Remember when you asked me who Catfish was?”

“Yes.”

I saw him sit up more, his eyes becoming even more attentive, his fingers brushing over his pen like he couldn’t wait to write.

“Catfish is the guy you go to when you want a fight. Or went to, anyway. He died last night when River’s End burned.”

“Yes, I saw something about that blaze on the news. Thirteen people died in the rooms upstairs, and quite a few more were injured trying to get out. Were you in that fire, Asher?”

“No, but I would have been, if Conner hadn’t been with me.” I took a deep breath and struggled to look him in the eyes. “Catfish was—well, when he got you fights, you gave him a cut of the winnings. That was the deal. Even if you didn’t win, you paid. The first time I lost a fight, he offered to let me work off the cash another way. I’m sure you can guess how. He took a liking to me after the first time, and started asking me to work for him. I could have worked for him easy; all I had to do was stand behind or beside him while he worked and be muscle...well, and let him fuck me whenever he wanted to. That was the part I didn’t want, and that’s why I didn’t want to work for him. I never wanted to be owned. It was okay to sell myself on my own terms, but working for him meant he owned me. I could have had all the mescaline I wanted, I would never have had to fight unless it was to defend him, and I wouldn’t have had to worry about paying rent or any of that crap ’cause I’d have been living with him at River’s End.”

I took another slow breath. I was glad he wasn’t trying to push me or ask me questions, ’cause I wanted to tell him and be done with it.

“I was tempted, every single time I went there I was tempted to say yes. Hell, it’s where I belonged. I let him do things to me that I never let other people pay me to do—and I wanted it, even when it hurt, ’cause he’d talk to me like, hell, it was like he understood. I loved when he touched me; I always wanted more. I guess that was what scared me. I went to him for drugs and fights and money, but I craved the command in his voice when he told me to kneel, the feel of his hands fisted in my hair, even the anger that would bleed through when I was being stubborn. If I’d have said yes to him, I never, ever would have left him, and I guess that scared me, too.”

“Why?”

“I guess ’cause a part of me always wanted to go back home. I never wanted to stay here forever, and the only way out with Catfish would have been his death or mine. He made that clear the first time he asked me, told me once I said yes there would be no going back. He shouldn’t have told me that. Maybe then I’d have said yes; it’s not like I didn’t run there every time something went wrong. These last few months I’ve been there a lot, and he’s been different, nicer. He always praised me before, but he’s been doing it more now, and even though he still hurt me sometimes, he’d been gentler too, talkin’ to me more. I needed that.”

I shook my head, thinking about the feel of his hand on the back of my neck and the way he talked me down from that hellish trip gone wrong.

“After the last fight, the one before this one, he’d made me promise to come to him and ask for any money I needed. I couldn’t say no, but I didn’t intend to fight again, either, so it didn’t matter. But when I found out Morgan needed the money I went and asked for a fight, and Catfish got mad, ’cause he thought I was going back on my word. I wasn’t trying to; I just, I wanted to keep the promise to Conner, too. So Catfish gave me the money as a loan, and the information on the fight, since I insisted, but I could tell he was upset about it. He arranged for Dante to be my opponent in the fight. I don’t think he expected me to win. I think he was hoping I’d end up owing more and finally say fuck it and work for him.” I chuckled ruefully. “I would have, too. I hate owing anyone that much. Guess he did understand me.”

He scrubbed a hand over his chin, looking deep in thought as he studied me. “What about Morgan, doesn’t he understand you?”

I shook my head. “No. Morgan couldn’t understand. He tried, but I kept so much from him. There were so many secrets I felt like I could never tell. Not like it matters now; he found out anyway.”

I felt myself gripping the arms of the chair tighter then, gritting my teeth to keep from snarling. “Goddamn him; I never should have trusted him.”

Dr. Hozman leaned forward a bit more in his chair. “Who?”

“Conner.” I felt the tightness in my chest come back again. “He told Morgan about me sleeping with Catfish. Now Morgan knows I’m a fuckin’ whore. I trusted him. I guess I deserved it, though, for being such an ass to him. I don’t get why he did it right after telling me he wanted us to maybe be more than friends. Now I wonder if he was fucking with my head, like I’ve fucked with other people. I guess I deserve that, too.”

“Did you ask him?”

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