Anarchy (Hades Book 2) Read online

  "Hayden, are you okay?" Lucas whispered, barely even moving his lips as he leaned forward and pretended to be super interested in what the commentator was saying about the fight.

  I shifted slightly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. "Sorry, Lucas," I breathed in reply. "I should have told you he'd be here."

  It couldn't be easy for him to see the guy who’d branded him, who’d stabbed him, and not march straight over there to deck him. I was beyond impressed at his self-composure.

  He turned his face slightly, flashing me a brief but blinding smile. "I'm not worried. I just wanna be there when you cut his heart out and stomp on it in those killer heels of yours."

  I brought my glass back to my lips, hiding my laugh with another slow sip of Champagne. Chase watched me across the crowd, the intensity of his stare making my skin crawl, but I didn't pay him any more attention.

  Instead, I used the time before Cass's fight to speak briefly with the key players I'd known would be in attendance. Vega was significantly less ballsy in his approach with me this time, and Maurice had clearly heard about what'd happened because for the first time in a long time he treated me with the respect I deserved.

  When the commentator announced that the main event was about to commence, the crowd went wild.

  Johnny Rock came out first, jumping around and beating on his chest, playing up for the crowd and generally making me want to nut-punch the arrogant son of a bitch. How in the hell did Hannah have history with this complete clown?

  Chase was on his feet with his lackeys, clapping for Johnny, and I spotted the Locked Heart Enterprises logo printed on the fighter's shorts when he shrugged his hoodie off.

  This wasn't an official fight, not by a long shot, but we adhered to all the usual safety standards so we could avoid lawsuits, now that Anarchy was operating as a Copper Wolf venue. So it took a few minutes before the referee allowed Johnny into the octagon.

  He wasted no time playing up for the crowd, doing flips and shit that made me want to roll my eyes something awful. The cocky little shit even had the audacity to pause in front of our seats and leer at me like I was some Johnny Rock fangirl begging to suck his dick.

  I simply shifted in my seat to cross my legs, letting the deep split of my dress fall open and display the deadly sharp blades strapped to my thigh. Then I held his gaze without blinking and let a whole tsunami of violence and death roll through my mind.

  He saw it. There was no way he couldn't have. His tanned face paled slightly, and he was quick to move on.

  "Fucking idiot," Lucas muttered with a laugh. "Probably thought Zed was Hades."

  "Undoubtedly," Zed replied, reclining in his chair and letting one of his arms rest on the back of my seat. "It happens a lot."

  The commentator announced Cass next, and he came stomping out of his locker room without any fanfare. No jumping around or fist pumps for the crowd, and the music—I was willing to bet—had been chosen by someone else. I could practically hear Cass saying he didn't give a fuck what song they played.

  "Did he give you the Ducati?" Zed asked casually, his fingers trailing over my bare back where no one but Lucas would be able to see the touch. Sneaky shit.

  I looked at him from the side of my eye as Cass ran through the safety checks with our referee and climbed into the octagon.

  "Yeah, he did."

  Zed's light touch brushed down my arm on Lucas's side, and Lucas arched a curious look at the two of us.

  "Zed," I murmured, "what do you think you're doing?"

  He sat up straighter with a deep inhale, his hand moving to grip the back of my chair as he turned toward me. "Chase’s been playing with you, Dare. He's been deliberately sending you messages that remind you of the past, trying to scare you and throw you off your game." His eyes narrowed in determination. "Don't you think it's time we struck back?"

  My brows rose slightly, but I didn't offer any more of a reaction than that. Chase was still watching us; I could see him from the corner of my eye.

  "I'm with Zed on this," Lucas offered from my other side. "You guys have a shared history, so he's not the only one who can play that game."

  I shifted my attention back to Zed. "What did you have in mind, De Rosa?"

  His lips hitched in a sly grin. "This."

  I should have known. Or rather, I did know, but I was so distracted by keeping Chase in my peripheral and maintaining my stone-cold façade and desperately wishing I could lean into Lucas and show that I was there with him... that I let Zed catch me off guard.

  Zed's lips met mine as his hand found the back of my neck, pulling me into him as he coaxed my mouth open and teased at my tongue. He didn't kiss me with all the domineering, possessive desire that I could feel pent up in his tense grip, because he knew, like I did, that there were more people watching us than just Chase. And I still had a reputation to maintain.

  So I took control, winding his tie around my fist and jerking him to me as I kissed him back, ravaging his mouth and not even remotely faking it.

  When I released him a few moments later, our breathing was rough and my usually smudge-proof lipstick was smeared across his lips.

  "Last time Chase saw you kissing me," Zed said in a rough voice, "it triggered the beginning of the end for him and his revolting family. I hope this reminds him of that and of everything you're capable of when pushed."

  He brushed my cheek with his thumb like he didn't want to stop kissing me despite our point having been made. Then the crowd roared, and a spray of blood from the octagon splattered the side of Zed's face.

  I released his tie, jerking my attention up to the fighters in the ring. Cass had Johnny Rock shoved into the cage, blood pouring from the younger fighter's face as Cass landed blow after blow with his eyes locked on mine.

  "Shit, Zed," I hissed, "that maybe wasn't the best timing."

  Zed snickered, wiping the blood off his face with a fabric handkerchief and cleaning up his lips while he was at it. "Or was it perfect timing? Look how determined he is to murder that little prick now."

  Stifling an eye roll, I snatched the handkerchief from him, and did my best to clean up my own lipstick smears using one of my knives as a mirror.

  Zed leaned in again as I was doing it, brushing his lips over my ear. "Besides, you forgot the new security system in the garage. What did I tell you about riding dick in my house, Dare?"

  I froze. Fuck. I had forgotten the new security system that I'd personally fucking overseen. I hadn't turned it off after I parked my bike—I’d been in a hurry—and it would have sent camera footage straight to Zed's phone.

  Whoops.

  Johnny Rock struggled, and Cass released him. The crowd roared and booed, clearly wanting him to end it then and there. But it was only the first round, and I'd politely requested he put on a good show. So now he was playing with his victim, and it was amusing the hell out of me.

  Cass had been holding back in his practice sessions with Zed and Alexi. Big time. Johnny Rock wasn't even close to a serious contender against the lethal machine that was Cassiel Saint. I found myself drawn in, totally unable to tear my eyes from the swift, powerful, and damaging strikes Cass delivered to his opponent, and I jittered with excitement through the one-minute breaks between rounds.

  After the third round—of five—the referee came over and crouched down in front of us, his fingers holding the cage as he grimaced. "You want me to call an end to this mess, boss? It's a clear win for the Reaper."

  I shook my head, a cruel smile playing across my lips. "No. Let it play out. They're giving a good show." If by good show I really meant violent bloodbath, then that was the truth.

  The referee inclined his head in understanding, then stood back up to call the start of the fourth round. Johnny Rock could barely stand, weaving on his feet as he tried to keep Cass in his sight despite puffy swelling already closing one eye and blood dripping in the other. He was so used to winning that all his arrogance must be taking a worse beating
than his face.

  "Sending a message?" Lucas asked quietly, and I gave him a small smile.

  "You know it," I murmured back. "Chase made it so clear he was sponsoring Johnny, well... he brought this on himself."

  "Can I ask a question?" Lucas whispered, his eyes on the fight like he wasn't even paying attention to me.

  I bit back a smile. "You just did." He flicked a sideways glance at me, and I sipped my fresh drink. "Sorry, go ahead." My spine was still straight, my legs crossed and my posture perfect, but I was violently aware of the men on either side of me. It was a whole new form of torture.

  "How come it's okay to kiss Zed in public but not me?" He asked the question quietly, not letting anyone overhear, and I didn't sense any real hurt behind his words. He was just genuinely curious about the intricacies of my power dynamic.

  I caught Zed's look but didn't acknowledge him as I drew a breath to answer Lucas honestly. "Because you soften me, Lucas. You make me human, and I can't afford to be soft or human right now. Not here, not with Chase watching."

  He gave a small nod of understanding and seemed content with that response as he sat back in his seat.

  Zed brushed my hair over my shoulder and stroked his fingertip down the back of my neck, teasing. I was going to have to junk punch him when we were alone.

  "I don't soften you too?" he murmured.

  I snorted a laugh before I could catch myself, then covered it up with a sip of my drink. "You fucking know you don't, asshole." I gave him a long look from the side of my eye. "You strengthen me."

  The last round started in the fight ring, and I gave Cass a nod of thanks for dragging it out. The longer a fight lasted, the more money changed hands. It was just smart business.

  Cass pounded on the poor fool a while longer, then took him down in a flawless arm bar. Johnny Rock tried to tap out, but the ref hesitated, looking over at me for approval before calling the fight.

  I gave a nod, but not before Cass broke Johnny's arm. As the younger fighter howled in pain, I watched Cass lean down, and it wasn't hard to read his lips when he delivered the punchline to the whole painful show.

  "That was for Hannah, you piece of shit."

  I didn't think it was possible, but somehow I fell even harder for Cass in that moment.

  41

  After the fight commentator did his thing announcing the winner—which was entirely unnecessary but protocol, nonetheless—I stood up with the guys to clap politely, joining in on the crowd’s deafening screams and cheers. Cass hadn't lied about his popularity in the cage-fight scene; he had a whole lot of fans in attendance. Or hell, maybe he'd just won them over with that brutal, bloody display of violence.

  "Hayden," Lucas muttered, touching a hand lightly to the small of my back to get my attention. "Something's going down at Club 22 right now."

  I turned to face him with a confused frown. "What do you mean?"

  He gave a tiny, subtle nod toward Chase and the Johnny Rock supporters’ area. "They're talking about Club 22 right now. I think Chase has something planned while everyone is distracted here."

  I didn't question him, just spun to look at Zed, but he was already one step ahead of me with his phone pressed to his ear. Leaving him to contact the manager of Club 22, I searched the crowd for Alexi and jerked my head at him when he caught my eye.

  He hurried over with Rixby at his side, and I deliberately turned my back on Chase as I barked my orders. "Take a team and get over to Club 22 right now."

  The two of them nodded, and Alexi frowned. "What are we looking for, boss?"

  "We're not sure yet," I admitted. "We'll call when we know more, but for now just get over there and be ready for anything."

  Alexi didn't need to hear any more than that and took off with Rixby in tow as they rounded up a crew.

  I turned to Zed with a raised brow, and he gave me a shrug as he spoke to Rodney, the bar manager.

  "Let's get over there," I said to Lucas.

  He gave a curt nod, then waved over one of the Anarchy waiters. "Hey man, we need you to go tell Cassiel Saint that the after-party is at Club 22. Can you do that for us?"

  The waiter’s eyes flicked to me, then he bobbed his head and headed off in the direction of the lockers.

  "Smart thinking," I murmured, and Lucas flashed me a wide smile.

  The three of us made our way toward the exit but didn't rush. Whatever Chase was planning, we didn't want to give him any indication that we were onto him. Complacency was key.

  "Leaving already, Darling?" he called out as we passed near the Johnny Rock seating area.

  I flashed him a dazzling smile. "You know how much a good bloodbath turns me on, sweetheart. I simply can't wait to get Zed home."

  Zed played it up right on cue, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my cheek—and totally ignoring Chase—as we continued oh-so-casually departing the fight arena.

  The second we made it outside, though, we were all business once more and increased our pace to get out to the parking lot as quickly as possible without actually running.

  I'd driven Zed's Audi over, so the three of us slid into that to drive over to Club 22. We were about five minutes away when Zed's phone rang again.

  He flicked it onto speaker, and Rodney's voice filled the car.

  "Boss, you were right. One of the VIP girls just killed herself in front of a customer." His tone was gruff and haunted. "He reported she was acting real weird beforehand, too, screaming and talking to herself and shit."

  "Hallucinating?" Zed asked, his voice tight with anger.

  "Sounds like it," Rodney replied. "Then she grabbed a knife from somewhere and stabbed herself in the throat while she was riding her customer. It's a hell of a mess."

  "Alexi should be arriving any second," I snapped. "Get his guys on cleanup."

  "Understood, sir," Rodney replied.

  I gave a frustrated grimace. "Tell him to be fast. This is a setup. I'm guessing you've already shut the club down and are clearing out patrons?"

  "Yes, sir," he replied. "Want me to send the staff home too?"

  "No," Zed replied for me, "keep them. Start running a thorough search for drugs on the venue too. Dispose of anything you find, no matter how small."

  "Got it," Rodney acknowledged.

  Zed ended the call, then shifted in his seat to frown at Lucas. "How'd you know?"

  Lucas just shrugged, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror when I glanced up. "I can lip-read."

  I arched a brow. Somehow I got the feeling he didn't just mean occasionally make out short phrases someone was saying when you already had a good idea of the subject, like I'd just done with Cass at the end of his fight. Lucas meant he could actually lip-read, and I was willing to bet his uncle had been the one to teach him.

  "Of course you can," Zed muttered, shaking his head. He turned back to his phone and dialed Alexi.

  "Just arrived," Alexi said on answering.

  "Body cleanup," Zed replied. "Rodney's waiting for you."

  "Understood," Alexi replied, ending the call.

  I glanced at Lucas in the mirror again, briefly though, given how fast I was driving. "Did you pick up anything else?"

  Lucas shook his head. "Not really. I hadn't been paying attention, but then I caught ‘Club 22.’ The guy who sat beside Chase said that the job was underway, then Chase replied, saying to wait for confirmation before calling in a tip."

  Zed ran a hand over his face. "Alright, we might have time."

  Just in case, though, I pressed my foot closer to the floor and got us to Club 22 just a few minutes later.

  To my relief, there were no flashing lights of cop cars in the parking lot, and the three of us hurried inside to figure out what was what. I was pleased to find all the patrons already cleared out, leaving just staff, who sat in a group on the side of the stage while Alexi's team and the Club 22 security guards swept the venue for hidden drugs.

  "All okay here?" I asked Maxine when I spotted her sittin
g with the other staff.

  She gave me a sharp nod, but her face was pale and drawn. "Yes, boss. Rodney is upstairs with Alexi and..." Her voice cracked and broke, but she swallowed and composed herself quickly. "And Jessie."

  Jessie must have been the girl who'd killed herself.

  "Thanks Maxine. This is Lucas," I told her, indicating for him to step forward. "He's recently joined upper management." And by that, I meant Zed and me. We were “upper management” when gang terminology wasn't appropriate. Which was often.

  "Nice to meet you, Maxine," Lucas said, offering his hand for her to shake.

  "Maxine, I want you to tell Lucas everything that happened just now, okay? Legitimately everything you can think of, including if anyone saw Jessie acting strange tonight. Can you do that for me?" I gave her a tight smile, trying to be reassuring, and she jerked a nod back.

  "Yes, boss," she replied in a small voice. "I can do that."

  I touched my hand to Lucas's arm, and he gave me a confident look in return. His people skills were off the charts good, so if anyone could get the shaken strippers to open up about what they'd seen, it'd be him. With a small sigh, I left Lucas there and headed upstairs to where Zed had already disappeared.

  A couple guys from Alexi's team passed me on the stairs, giving polite greetings but not slowing down as they carried large plastic tubs out—no doubt the remains of Jessie. Fucking hell.

  Zed and Rodney were at the far end of the VIP corridor, where the brothel operated, and a bound and gagged man in boxer shorts crouched on the floor at their feet. Inside the room nearest to them, Alexi's team was hard at work ripping out blood-stained carpets and scrubbing splatter from the wall with peroxide. The bedsheets had already been stripped, and thanks to the waterproof mattress protectors we used in our VIP rooms, the bed itself was pristine.

  "Good work, Alexi," I commented, running my eyes over the surfaces, then checking the time on my phone. "Get the evidence well away from here."

  "On it, boss," he replied, hefting a roll of ruined carpet over his shoulder and leaving the room.