In order to get near him, Fenton had to take a few hits. The two lunged together and dull thuds buffeted my shocked senses. They broke away bloody, sweat standing out on their skin. Fenton smiled as they circled. He taunted the man, opening his fists to beckon the bald man closer. He laughed when his opponent charged like a bull and they stumbled back, locked in another brutal exchange of punches.
Where Fenton normally would have raised a knee to the man's side, he stopped himself. This was a boxing match and though it looked like a free-for-all, there were rules. I could hardly watch as they slumped against the ropes, the larger man pummeling Fenton a few inches from the screaming crowd.
The basement room was foggy with sweat and cigar smoke. The crowd churned and exchanged money. In the center, Fenton grimaced then smiled. He finished the bald man with a quick one-two to the head. Another tooth slipped out as the man fell to the mat. The crowd erupted.
"Fight again! Fight again! Fight again!" the crowd chanted.
A large man with his blue shirtsleeves rolled up jumped into the ring to talk with Fenton. He pointed to another challenger, already stripping to just his shorts. Fenton raised both hands and strutted around the ring, a busted lip swelling underneath his still cocky smile. I felt sick, but stepped forward with the crowd, hoping he would see me.
Fenton turned the corner of the ring, coming towards me. Underneath his raised arms I saw a man with pure white hair. Darius Johnson was hard to miss, even in the wild crowd. The fight promoter was almost as notorious as Fenton, except he kept a strict handle on the fights he set up. If he recognized Fenton, the next fight and his next step towards the title would be canceled.
I shoved my way around the ring and looked up as I passed Fenton. His laser blue eyes widened as he saw me, and he stopped his victory lap. I blew him a kiss, but inclined my head in the direction of Darius Johnson. Fenton glanced over and turned away. I kept going until I bounced in front of the white haired man.
"You are just the man I need," I told him.
Darius Johnson gave me a slow smile and twisted one of his oversized rings around his pinky finger. "And, I could always use a pretty thing like you around."
"I work for James Cort. I think you know him. He sent me out here to sign some young boxer, but how about I sign you, instead?"
"Cort? You work for Cort? That can't be right. You look too fine to be working with that swine," Darius said.
I slipped my arm through the older man's and led him towards the bar. Behind us, I saw Fenton hesitate, his eyes on me. The crowd was still chanting for him to fight the next challenger. He was tucking a large stack of money into the waistband of his shorts and sizing up the next guy.
"Boxing is not really my sport," I told Darius, "but maybe you could teach me to like it."
"Sounds like a date. Here's my card. You call me. Now, excuse me, I need to see what kind of raw talent is cracking heads around here." The fight promoter handed me his card and turned back to the ring.
I held my breath, but Fenton was gone. He was no longer in the ring, I could not see him in the corner where the fighters got ready, and his black hair was nowhere in the crowd. I moved through the people as they placed bets on the next fight and slammed strong drinks from the bar. It was a rough room, and I was starting to think my cab driver was right – I needed to get out.
A hard hand grabbed my elbow and I could not wrench myself free. I was trapped at an underground, bare-knuckled fight, and absolutely no one would know where to look for me. This was exactly how people disappeared.
"Kya, calm down. It's just me," the man in black hat said. Fenton's blue eyes blazed from under the rim. "You shouldn't be here. Are you crazy?"
"Am I crazy? I'm not the one that almost compromised his whole career to make a few bucks. You could have broken your hand! If Darius Johnson had seen you the fight would have been off. You know the rules," I said.
"Rules? Give me a break. No one else plays by the rules, so I'm not going to waste my time."
"Is this about those men? The ones that are trying to fix your next fight?" I asked. We were deep in the shadows in the back of the basement. I should have been scared at the angry flash in Fenton's eyes, but I was not. My bright sparks of worry only igniting the fire between us. I lifted one hand to his bruised jaw. "It's not business, it's you. I want you to know you're not alone."
Fenton leaned his forehead against mine. "Stay away from my problems, Kya. I can't let you get hurt."
"I won't," I said. "In fact, I just met the man that will put an end to the fight-fixing. If you'll stop trying to kill yourself for a little cash, we might just make it."
"We?" he asked. He stumbled forward into my arms.
His head lolled. Fenton was hurt and I had to get him out of the Ling Pho Lounge before anyone else noticed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kya
I got up the stairs and onto the sidewalk before Fenton passed out. I held on as he slumped onto his knees on the sidewalk. There was no way I could hold him up.
"Bet the pit bosses are clocking you because you are one lucky gal," the cab driver said. He rushed over and helped me haul Fenton into the backseat. "I almost left, but decided to give you just a few minutes more."
"You've been waiting here this whole time?" I asked.
"Like I said, with your luck, you're going to win big one of these days and then you'll remember ol' Mike," he said.