“Texas?” I asked. “What the fuck is in Texas?”
“The Hangmen mother chapter,” Royal said, shaking his head. “Arsehole went over there to do a bare-knuckle circuit and never came back. The bloody brown-nose is so far up the mother chapter’s president’s arse he’s practically cleaning his motherfucking teeth.”
“He’s going to leave us a fighter down,” I said.
“No, he ain’t.” Royal nudged his chin toward his vice president, Jag.
Jag came over and shook my hand. A bloke about my age, maybe younger, came out from behind him. Lithe, tattooed head to toe, with dark eyes that promised fucking death. “Rudge’s cousin, Chrome.”
“Chrome?” Charlie asked from beside me, shaking hands with the Hangmen and sizing up the new fighter.
“As in Chromium, one of the hardest fucking metals in the world,” Jag said. “You thought Rudge was the best bare-knuckle fighter you’ve ever seen? Wait until you see this little fucker. Makes me glad his cousin has pissed off to Austin. Now we’ve got an upgrade.”
A ref called the next fight, and Royal tapped me on the arm. “That’s us.” The Hangmen went back to their seats, and Chrome jumped down into the pit. I sat down and watched with vested interest as Chrome killed his opponent in thirty seconds flat, and twenty of those fuckers were just him toying with his prey.
“All I see are pound signs when I look at that fella,” Freddie said. “No idea why the fuck anyone would choose Texas over London, but I’m glad Rudge did. I was one stupid joke away from knocking out his teeth myself.”
The ref signalled the next fight. Eric got up from his seat and stripped down to his trousers. Cheska’s eyes widened and she whispered something to Betsy. Before Betsy could reply, Eric walked up to my cousin.
“Kiss for good luck?” Eric said to Betsy.
Betsy leaned in, and Eric’s eyes widened. She stopped before his lips. “Eat shit and die, Mason.” She slapped his cheek, the sound loud enough for the spectators to hear.
“Cold-hearted bitch,” Eric said, smiling. He pointed at her. “I’m fucking you after I win this.” Betsy rolled her eyes, and Eric climbed down to the pit. His sadistically smiling clown tattoos covered every inch of his skin. He was against the Chechen’s new fighter. Ten minutes later, Eric was fucking supercharged, with blood on his hands and in his mouth, a dead Chechen eating the sand at his feet.
Vinnie jumped up next. He smiled and leaned down to the hallucination of my sister, the nearby Italians watching him like he was fucking insane. He was. And that’s why he’d beat anyone we put in front of him. I never bet against him.
The minute he was in the pit, Vinnie became the animal we knew him to be. The fucker who lived for blood and guts embraced the urge to kill. The only leash he had these days was the ghost of my sister. If she ever left him, there’d be more than me to fucking worry about in London Town.
Vinnie ripped his Manchurian opponent apart, his knives hacking his opponent to smithereens long after he was dead. By the time Vinnie was done, the Manc fighter was just a mangled heap of shredded flesh and bones. Vinnie threw his head back and screamed when the ref finally called the fight.
Vinnie jumped out of the pit, eyes black from adrenaline. “Where now?” he said to me. I tipped my chin at the ref in the next pit. He called Vinnie over, and Vinnie went off to fight again.
I checked on Cheska, who was still as a fucking statue in her seat. My chest pulled. Chelsea Girl wasn’t handling the lair well. She caught my eye. Then, with her gaze still locked on mine, she pulled a wad of cash from her bra and handed it to the dealer stood beside us.
“All of it,” she said, making sure I heard her fancy fucking voice give the command. “On the Irish.” The dealer gave her a betting slip, and Betsy smirked my way. Cheska looked at me again, a fucking challenge in her eyes. I didn’t know where this bird had been hiding all these years, but the princess was shaking off her pink dress and owning those fucking leather trousers she’d squeezed her perfect arse into.
Seamus, the head of the Irish mob, came over. Vano, the head of the Romani joined us. These fuckers and the Hangmen were as close I let anyone get to me and my family.
The fights drew on until the middle of the night. When the final ones had been won, my soldiers escorted the last of the fighters and the gamblers out of the warehouse. The only people remaining were us, the Hangmen, the Irish, and Vano’s family.
“What’s happening?” I heard Cheska ask someone.
Getting up from my seat, I looked over at Chelsea Girl. I shed my jacket and shirt, leaving my torso bare. Her eyes fixed on my chest, then slipped up to my eyes. “We caught some beasts trying to get into my kingdom,” I said, knowing only she would get the reference. “And now the king has to rip them apart.” Cheska’s eyes widened, and I jumped down into the pit.