A Fighting Chance (40 page)

I nod. “I do love you. Always have. I’m glad the powers of my math seduction worked on you, Spark.” I link our fingers and we stroll past the vendors,
en route to our motel.

A
hand wraps around my wrist, jerking me toward a stall and knocking my empanada to the ground. “Hey, you buy this…” A man is standing behind a table full of liquids, and he pushes an unlabeled bottle of green stuff in my face. “It helps with the…” He thrusts his hips at me. Suddenly, a large group of running children barrels in between Drew and me, and her hand breaks away from mine. One of the girls jogs back to show Drew her bracelet and points to one of the stalls. A lot of the merchants are working alone, so they can’t walk away to coax people into buying things, so they often send children out.

The girl entwines her fingers with Drew’s and leads her off.
“I’m gonna check it out, Jess,” she says as she walks to where two women have silver chains dangling from metal posts on a table.

“Okay, babe…” I say. I wait until her back is turned before I yank my arm out of the man’s grasp.

“Dammit, dude. I really wanted that empanada.”

“Come… I buy you another.” He gestures at the vendor cart where I bought the one he made me drop.

“It’s okay, man…
no problema
.”

“Are you sure?” He grabs my upper arm.

What the hell?
“Yeah.” I push away from him to go find Drew, but she’s not at the jewelry stall anymore. I knife through the crowd and look in either direction, over all the heads, searching for her flailing arm. My breaths hitch and my heart rate ratchets up a few notches. I dial her cell but the call goes straight to voicemail.
Why would Drew turn off her phone?
I hurry back to the jewelry merchant, completely out of breath. The little girl who led Drew here is sitting on a barrel and eating crackers, and one of the female merchants is adding more necklaces to a display.

I’m about to signal the kid when
my eye catches a golden glint. A single bangle, just like the ones Drew had on, is right on the table. Right in the middle. No price tag. No one’s looking at it. Nothing. It was left there and meant for me to see.

“Dónde está la mujer?
Where’s the woman that kid brought over here? The one who was wearing this?” I hold the bangle up to the merchant’s nose.

She
folds her arms over her chest. “We see nobody.”

I bang my hand down on the table and she flinches. “You’re lying…
” The woman leans toward me and forces a note into my hand, fear swimming into her eyes.

“I see nobody. You go now.” She shoves me but I’m moving on my own already, tearing open the edges of the folded
paper. “
Alley
,” it says. It’s Drew’s handwriting, and it’s shaky, like she wrote it under duress.
Fuck.
All my thoughts scramble.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
I dash through the people, knocking some of them over and leaving a trail of angry shouts behind me, as I run for the alley that abuts the market. It’s empty, except for three black Escalades on my left. They accelerate simultaneously and come to a stop at the curb right in front of me. The back window of the middle one rolls down, and I cringe when I see Drew in the backseat. She’s at the far end, and there’s a big ass guy on my side.

“
You okay?” I ask her. She nods but looks shaken up.

“Don’t try anything stupid,
” the guy in the back warns. He lifts a handgun so that I can see the barrel at the edge of the window, then slides it back down. “It’s pointed right at you.”

“
Ulysses, there is no need for that. I said no gun. He’ll behave because he can see that she’s fine.” The front passenger window winds down, and I wait anxiously as a pair of dark sunglasses comes into view, aiming my own reflection back at me. “Hello, Jesse Chance.” Ramón Vega plucks them off his face and smiles enthusiastically at me. The back door swings open, and the man with the gun steps out. Ramón’s smile spreads wider. “Get in.”

Ramón is spouting off random facts about Mexico City as we zoom out of it, pointing to buildings and telling us historical things, like Drew and I are just two of his old friends who dropped by unexpectedly. I don’t know why he thinks we would actually be relaxed enough to care when he kidnapped us off the street. I’m also uncomfortable as fuck sitting between the bulky guy with a gun resting on his knee and Drew, but there was no fucking way I was going to let him sit next to her. As passive-aggressive punishment for doing this shit to us,
this
motherfucker is going to have to ride with me pressed up against him. 

I tune Ramón out. My focus is
on keeping Drew safe and what he could possibly want with us—common sense says it’s Henry-related. He plays tour guide until the hum of the city fades and we’re on the highway. I’m trying to keep track of the signs, but we’re taking an unfamiliar route. The only thing I know is that the car’s in-dash compass shows that we’re generally heading south.

Ramón twists in his seat and he’s maniacally gleeful. “It’s good to see you both again. Although, it does not look like the feeling is quite so mutual.”
No shit, Sherlock.
Drew shifts her anxious gaze to the window, and I keep my eyes straight ahead. When neither of us speaks, I see him studying us with a head tilt, paying particular attention to Drew. “What happened to your hand? Was it the night of the first fight?”

“
Is this about Henry’s debt?” I ask. His smile flattens just slightly when he turns to me, his eyes darkening with disappointment. Probably because he has to talk to
me
now. His fascination with Drew really would be funny as hell, if not for the kidnapping and all. “The money he owes you?”

Ramón cocks an eyebrow. “If your father owed me money, he’d be buried in my backyard already.”

Well then.
“Okay, so, what do you want from us?”

Ramón puts his sunglasses back on and reclines in the chair. “There’s no need to discuss business right now. There will be plenty of time for that. Everything will be explained. You two should rest. The drive is long.”

Maybe it’s the monotony of the ride or just the time of the day, but apparently unknown peril isn’t enough to keep Drew or me from falling asleep. When the car stops abruptly, it startles us both awake, and the sight outside almost makes me forget how we got here in the first place. Dusk is settling in, and we’re parked in front of a mansion on a lush mountainside, overlooking a massive, twinkling city that borders water. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Acapulco!” Ramón announces as he flings the back door open. We’re on the Pacific coast of Mexico, all the way on the other side of the country, in one of its most famous resort cities. After I climb out, he offers Drew his hand, which she conspicuously ignores.

“Why are we here, Ramón?” I ask as he ushers us past the armed guards and into his tropical fortress. It sits atop here alone, hidden away under greenery and a bright garden. Inside, it’s the kind of house that several other houses can fit into. It’s an architectural monstrosity that only someone with more money than he can possibly ever spend appreciates. Gabe, in board shorts with slicked-back hair, greets us with excitement as he walks toward the kitchen. There are hallways and staircases leading off in every direction, the sun shimmers over the surface of a pool on the deck in front of us, and I hear the soft ping of an elevator. He takes us on a brief tour of the place—I count six levels—and the way he’s showing us the house I can tell he’s expecting us to stay. For a while. This place is standard rich criminal guy property, too: heavy on the gold detail and eyesore foreign sculptures, lots of stone-faced armed men everywhere, and it’s just too fucking big to be practical.

We finally end up in a windowless room, a mix between a bar and a meeting room, and it’s a lot different than the airy, breezy rooms in the rest of the house. I can just tell that no good things happen in here, and Ramón’s goons shuffle in after us
, as if to confirm my theory.

Ramón unbuttons his tailored black suit jacket and hands it off to one of the guards. “Would either of you like a drink?” he asks as he pours rum into a glass.

“We just want to know why we’re here, Mr. Vega,” Drew says. Her voice is smooth, but she’s digging her nails into my forearm.

“Jesse
is here to replace Carlos in an upcoming fight,” he says before he chugs.

“What?” we both
respond in unison. My stomach bottoms out.

“Carlos has a fight in two weeks that he
unfortunately
”—he casts a pointed look at me—“can no longer attend. It’s been scheduled for months, and I need a replacement.”

“I thought fighters couldn’t be replaced?”

“This isn’t a Cull fight. It’s a little exhibition for all my friends who can’t attend Cull fights, and just imagine the thrill of having the man who beat Cocodrilo stepping in. It will go down in history.”

“
Why should he have to do this, Mr. Vega?” Drew asks. “Jesse won. Fair and square, and without having to beat him up first like
your
fighter did.”

“
Mr. Vega
was my piece of shit father.” He looks over to me, beaming with amusement. “She’s never going to call me Ramón, is she?”

“No.” I’m far less in the mood for humor. “But she’s right. I won the fight. I won’t do it.”

“You won a
rescheduled
fight,” he corrects with a wag of his finger. “Everyone knows he was going to beat you the first time…before that unfortunate incident took place.”

“You can’t punish us for that,” Drew says.

Ramón gasps, taking offense. “Punish? This is not
to punish
. This is to pay a debt owed.”

“What about the debt he owes us?
” I add. “Our friend is dead. He stabbed him to death for no other reason than the fact that he’s a fuckin’ psychopath.”

“If he did that—”

“No, it’s what he did,” Drew says. “There’s no
if.
” Even though she interrupts him, her tone is polite but determined and adamant. It is still an interruption, though, so all the eyes in the room are wide, including mine. Drew’s not stupid; she recognizes that Ramón gives her a pass because he’s taken with her.

He
paces with a pensive look on his face. “If he did that, he will be dealt with accordingly. He was only supposed to fight you.”

“The
answer is still no,” Drew says with a glare.

“She’s right, Ramón. I’ve done what I came here to do, and I just don’t want to fight anymore,” I say
, but Drew and Ramón are engaged in a staring contest, so neither acknowledges me. Ramón is the first to break, when he moves to pour another drink.

“An incentive is needed. I see…” he say
s. An eerie feeling chills me. I know Ramón isn’t here to negotiate. He’s testing us or playing a game just for his own entertainment. He presses out a mischievous smile then nods to his left and then his right. Two of his men lunge for me, yanking Drew and me apart, and restrain me while two more grab Drew.

She’s moved to one of the chairs, and I realize that they aren’t ordinary chairs. There are straps on the arms and legs. She’s buckled in except for
her hands. One is shoved into a loop on the table and a strap is tightened over her wrist. One of the men puts a hammer in her other hand and forcibly makes her clasp it. Fucking shit. They’re going to make her crush her own fingers.

Full
-blown fucking panic attack.

“Oh my
God,” I whisper. “Wait! Wait!” I scream, but he’s already swinging it back and over her head. I yell as he brings it forward, claw down. My adrenaline is pumping so hard it boosts my strength and I manage to break free. I reach the table, and my fingers smear across its smooth lacquered top. Someone grabs me, and I take a swing to my left and barely feel the impact of my fist connecting with his jaw. I pivot and kick someone else in the chest. Ulysses punches me in the face several times, and two of them finally tackle me to the floor.

“Be careful with him!” Ramón shouts. “Do not hit him again, Ulysses.”
It takes three men to keep me under control, and then I am helpless to do anything more than cry out in horror when they force me to look back to Drew.

“So what do you want
, my friends? To vacation in Puerto Vallarta for a week?” Ramón says. The metal tool slams into the wood with a pop, denting it, to the left of her hand, before flying up into the air again.

“Please! Please! Jesus...please!” I call out, closing my eyes as it takes another fall. The anticipation of her pain is shredding my insides, and I want more than anything to take her place. “Use my hand! Hurt me instead! Please
! Hurt me, Ramón!”

“Or
maybe you’d like a ride in my Lambor...” Ramón ignores me, and Drew screams in agony as the claw lands. “Ghini.” I open my eyes and see that she was able to shift her hand in time. The hammer comes up again so fast my relief doesn’t even get a chance to settle in until the momentum is already changing directions, coming down again.