Underground 4 (7 page)

They headed in Phoenix's direction. Pixie's eyes met hers and Phoenix couldn't stop the shit-eating grin that spread across her face. She'd known the tiny girl for over five years, and never within that time had she ever seen her riled up over anything. Pixie was the quiet, calm one out of all of them. Even calmer than Vi, who was often the reasonable one when they were all out causing shit.

The only loud thing Pixie did was her explosives, which Phoenix had always found funny. It was as though she needed to blow things up to express any real emotion. But emotion was all that she could see on her face now. And it was apparently over Mr. Black. Who would have thought? Something was clearly going on with those two, and now Phoenix was committed to finding out what. The implication that there were possible feelings between those two didn't bode well in her opinion, but that didn't stop her from finding the whole thing fascinating.

“Got a problem, Pix?” Phoenix said when they got within hearing distance.

“Not a word,” Pixie replied, looking pissed.

Phoenix chuckled as they continued by, the guard not breaking stride. She watched them leave and then turned to see what the other woman was doing. Ugh. She wiped at her eyes, clearly playing the distressed victim as she resumed her clinging to Bastian's arm. Suddenly Phoenix felt defensive of Pix, wanting to march over there herself and remind the woman she needed to back the fuck off.

When she looked to see Bastian's reaction she stilled. He wasn't paying the lady an ounce of attention, his gaze solely focused on Phoenix. He narrowed his eyes, looking between her and the door Pixie had disappeared through, clearly trying to connect the dots. Shit, she thought, wanting to smack herself. She'd spoken to Pixie as though they were friends, and that brief exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by the observant boss. Whatever suspicions he’d had, she'd just gone and added to them.

The bell rang loudly, jerking her attention away from his scrutiny to look back at the ring. Trent stood in the middle, the ref holding his arm up in victory. Poop, she thought with a pout, she missed the whole thing. He faced away from her, playing to the cheering crowd, but she could tell from the way he held himself that he hadn't suffered any serious injuries.

The other fighter however was another story. His unmoving form was already being carried away. Phoenix swallowed the bile in her throat, the reality of just where they were and what they were being forced to do hitting her full force.

Shame filled her at even laughing over Pixie's situation while their friend had been fighting for his life in a boxing ring. Whatever was going on with Pixie had better stop, she decided right then, because Sebastian- mother-fucking - Black was the devil himself and they needed to get the hell away from here. Now.

The yellow lace dress was old, having been her mother's when she was younger, but Stella had always loved it. The bust hung on her a bit, and she had to lift the hem to walk so it wouldn't hang on the ground, but she didn't care. Braiding the front of her hair, she pulled it all back, pinning the locks into a bun at the nape. She regarded herself in the mirror, turning from side to side. Pinching her cheeks for colour, she decided this was the best she was going to get.

Tonight was the big social that had been announced at the last community meeting. Stella loved things like this. It gave her a chance to talk to people and have fun, something rare during these times. After the most recent bombings in the eastern ghetto, everyone had been even more on edge than usual. They knew the NWO was only dealing with the rebels, but that didn't make anyone feel easier.

Stella often thought about the rebels, wondering just what it would be like to fight against the oppressive leader ruling them, rather than following orders like the sheep they were. Uppers didn't speak out against anything. It was well known and practiced by all in the Upper section that you should keep your head down and do as you were told. No one wanted to be arrested, or heaven forbid, be removed from their home and sent to the ghettos.

She'd seen it happen before with her own eyes. She could still remember the sounds of the woman's wails as her husband was accused of supporting rebel troops, and was dragged from their home by three soldiers. She was led away as well, and no one saw them after that. Their home still sat empty to this day.

Stella shuddered at the thought. Their home wasn't the most opulent or finely furnished like some, but it was decent and warm, and she knew it was better than anything in the other parts of town. She'd never been in the ghettos herself, it was strictly forbidden. Her father would freak if she ever did such a thing. She'd seen the ghettos through the fences that separated them though. Most of the buildings were nothing but rubble. She couldn't imagine rats living in such conditions, never mind humans.

Walking into the family room, her mother and sister already sat there waiting, wearing their finest dresses. Mara looked beautiful in a deep navy and silver gown. Stella's thoughts drifted to Mr. Samson’s nephew, who she hadn't seen now in a long time. Against her best intentions, she'd looked for him at the last meeting but never spotted him, not that she ever did during those things. She kept waiting since to see if he'd visit, but nothing.

Would he be there tonight? Looking at her sister? Part of her hoped not. If he saw them both, he’d most certainly go for her sister over her. Mara just had that confidence that men noticed, and she was by far the prettiest girl. With a sigh, Stella sat beside her mother and waited for their father to come down so they could leave. Her legs bounced and her hands fidgeted, her anticipation high.

There was something in the air tonight; that intangible feeling that sometimes permeated an event and told you tonight would be different, special. Stella didn't know why or what she thought would happen, but her gut told her that something big was going to happen.

Something that would change her life forever. Again, the image of the gorgeous, blonde boy came to mind, heating her cheeks.

Whatever happened this evening, she was ready.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next fight had begun, the crowd growing rowdier as the night wore on. It all felt like a distance hum in the background as Phoenix tried to organize her thoughts into some sort of plan. Missy and Garrett looked concerned as they spoke with their heads tilted close to one another, clearly worried about where Pixie had been taken.

She wasn't sure if Tyler had witnessed the whole thing too or not, but he seemed as stoic as usual standing over with the other male fighters. Trent had been returned to that area as well, further down the line from where Tyler stood. Their eyes met across the room. She couldn't read the emotion in his eyes from here, and doubted he could see the fear in hers.

Or maybe he could, she thought, the way his body stood tense as though he fought the urge to cross the room once more. Unfortunately they'd shackled him again, otherwise she was sure he would have. Like a chicken, she'd been avoiding looking in Bastian's direction, too afraid that he was still watching her with that hawk-like gaze, seeing every thought and emotion running through her mind. She felt naked and open beneath his stare.

Bastian was what she considered an old soul. There was something in his blue gaze that gave the impression he knew things before they even happened. Funny enough, Pixie had that same sort of look. Maybe that was something that drew them to each other? Maybe they just enjoyed mentally sparring with someone on the same level as them?

Whatever it was, Phoenix needed to talk to Pixie and get the whole story. Gathering her courage, she chanced a look at him and saw that he'd left the man and woman he'd been speaking with when Pixie had gone AWOL, and was now in what appeared to be an intense conversation with some of his men.

Damn, she wished she could hear what they were saying. Or maybe not, she thought as they broke apart at that moment. Two came toward her, while one guy went over to Missy and Garrett, and three walked toward Trent.

Holy shit.

They were in so much trouble.

“Boys,” she said with a smile, covering her unease with her usual bravado. She didn't feel it though. Not at all.

“Don't give us any trouble, Red,” one said. “Boss wants you to come with us.”

She gulped, hoping they wouldn't notice. “Where are we off to?”

“No questions,” the other barked. He reached down to release her from the shackles before grabbing her arm in a firm hold.

“Easy there, tiger,” she said, trying to loosen his hold slightly. “You're not afraid of a wee girl like me, are you?” She batted her lashes at him.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he said, clearly unaffected.

“Just walk, Red,” the other one urged, grabbing her other arm. “No shenanigans.”

She pouted. “You guys suck all the fun out of everything. Shenanigans are what I do best.”

The goons hustled her into a small room with only a desk and two chairs on either side. A single light hung above, casting shadows along the outside walls. It stank like stale sweat, and if she wasn't mistaken, dried blood. A few stains on the concrete floors had her swallowing nervously. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened in this room.

Why they needed such a place in a fighting ring, she didn't know. But she did know it didn't bode well for her. Neither man spoke as they turned and left, shutting the door behind them. Phoenix looked around, hating the small confines of the room. It was even worse than her cell in some ways, though it was cleaner and not as dark and damp. Her palms were sweating, giving away just how nervous she was.

“This blows,” she said with a sigh, plopping down on one of the chairs. She couldn't even comprehend how much trouble she was in at this point. Here she’d thought having to go into the ring was going to be bad. Little did she know she'd face a bigger problem before she’d even had to fight. If only there was a window.

Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered if it was possible to dig her way out. She chuckled at the impossibility of it all, and yet she still tried to think of a way to make it work. The door opened again, startling her. Trent was roughly pushed in before it was slammed again, leaving the two of them alone.

“Geez, hot shot,” she said lazily, smiling to cover up her fear. “If you wanted some alone-time, you could have just told me.”

He gave her a hard stare, not playing along. Phoenix dropped her eyes, knowing he could probably read her emotions there. She hated seeming weak in front of anyone. She couldn't help but be afraid though, especially with Missy being here. It wasn't just about her anymore. Phoenix had spent her life keeping her sister safe, and now she wasn't sure there was anything she could really do to help any of them.

“Come here, Phoenix,” Trent said in a hoarse voice. Her name on his lips had tears springing into her eyes and she didn't know why.

Without hesitating, Phoenix got up and walked into his open arms. Smothering her face in his wide chest, she breathed in his scent, letting his strength comfort her as his arms wrapped around to hold her tight. One of his hands reached up to hold the back of her head gently. She heard him sigh as he rested his cheek on her.

“Everything is going to be fine, you'll see,” he said.

She laughed humorlessly. “We both know that's bullshit,” she replied.

“Maybe, but you're not one to just give up and neither am I, so don't start now.”

She took a deep breath. He was right. She was the leader of the fucking badass Archers. No one brought her down. Standing up straighter, she looked up into those ocean-blue eyes, taking whatever extra strength she could from knowing he was right here beside her for this. A cut on his lip was still bleeding, looking painful. She reached up to wipe at it.

“We'll get out of here, and then the two of us are going to get in your bed and have some fun for once,” he said.

A surprised laugh escaped her as she arched her eyebrows at him. “Is that so?” she asked.

He grinned, nodding his head. “Damn right.”

She knew he was just trying to distract her - and it was working. Her body heated at just the thought of the kind of fun they could have with each other. His eyes darkened as he watched her, his hands flexing on her hips.

“Keep looking at me like that and we won't even make it to your bed,” he said darkly. “That desk would work just as well.”

Phoenix smiled. She hated Trent - she did - he was bossy, too serious, and stubborn as a mule. But sexy, needy Trent was still fun. She could only imagine how it would feel to have all the intensity of Trent McKay focused on her. She shivered despite herself.

“How long are you planning on staying in my bed?” she asked playfully.

“However long it takes,” he answered.

“Takes for what?”

He smiled a wolfish grin. “However long it takes for us to get each other out of our systems.”

She laughed again. “We don't like each other, remember?”

Trent shrugged. “We're adults who can have fun without liking each other, aren't we? Plus, I like you well enough when your lips are on mine.”