I didn’t think Charlotte was one of them, not entirely. The way her body reacted to mine…we’d been like magnets. I’d pressed into her and she’d mewled like a fucking kitten in heat. It was little shit like that that got my blood running. I was all about the physical.

Being the kinda guy I was, which was bad news, and being in a place like this, meant I was the man of the moment. I fought and won, I made people very rich, and I didn’t want for much. I had cash and women lining up to please me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the life I wanted. The Underground was a means to an end.

My entire life was about keeping my head from being dragged under. Keeping myself on the straight and narrow, keeping myself from prison, and keeping myself from getting deader than dead. I’d come from poor roots, had always been poor, resorting to stealing to keep myself from ending up on the streets. Unfortunately, that had led to a lot of arrests and community service…and a couple of short stints in juvenile detention as a teenager. Long story short, I was a dreg of society. A bottom dweller.

The only way out of this life, the only way that I saw, was to do what I was good at. Fighting with my fists. At The Underground, I got paid for winning. I’m talking about thousands of dollars. More money than I’d ever seen in my entire life. Winning a Championship in this place was worth millions. The last guy had taken one point five million, opened his own gym, and he’d been just like me. He’d done a four year stint in prison, gotten out, fought, and had taken his life back.

I wanted that. I wanted it so much I could hardly breathe thinking about it.

Up until tonight, it was the only thing that entered my mind when I walked into The Underground. Now another piece had added itself to the puzzle.

Charlotte.

First place to ask was the security guards that minded the entrance to the fighter’s only area. My guess was she’d snuck past them, because they wouldn’t let just any crazy bitch back there. She might’ve slipped them a fifty—she was dressed nice so she obviously wasn’t hard up for the cash—but from her reaction, I wasn’t so sure.

“Hey,” I barked at the guards who I knew had been there last night.

“Hey, Rebel,” he said, giving me shifty eyes. He knew I wanted something because I never bothered talking to them unless there was something in it for me.

“Do you know a bird by the name of Charlotte?” I asked. “Tall, blonde, lips that look like they can suck for days?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Blondie,” I said. “Snuck back here last night.”

The dude frowned. I guess that meant he’d been distracted, and she’d gotten by without anyone seeing her.

“You’re real fuckin’ good at your job, mate,” I snarled. “Letting random chicks sneak where they’re not allowed.”

He began to pale. The dude knew he was in trouble. “D-don’t tell Max,” he stammered.

Max was one of the head honchos of The Underground and the head referee. What he said carried a lot of weight around here, but so did the shit the king of the cage rattled off. And who was the king? Motherfuckin’ me.

I jabbed a finger at him, poking him hard in the chest. “You owe me,” I said. “When I want something, you deliver.” I stared him down, and the guy had sense enough to look like he was about to piss himself.

He swallowed hard. “Anytime.”

Turning, I slammed my shoulder against his, making him stumble. Striding through the arena, the crowd parted as I made straight for the bar. If anyone knew the gossip in this place, it was the bartenders. Next on the information superhighway were the bookies.

People instantly moved to the side when they saw me, and I leaned against the bar. I always got a kick outta it, considering that outside of these walls, I was looked at like I was scum. In here, I could pretend that I mattered more than the cash cow I was for these people.

A woman stopped in front of me, tapping her hand against the top of the bar. “What can I get ya, fighter?” she asked. She didn’t try to flirt, she didn’t even shove her tits in my face. She had this punk rock look about her, black hair, fingernails painted black…she even wore a tight little Ramones T-shirt. She was straight up, no bullshit, and I liked her instantly.

“No drink. I’m lookin’ for information,” I replied.

She smiled. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She turned and yelled at the guy serving next to her. “I’m going out for five.”

The guy looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

“Get fucked, Tony,” she said. “He’s got no chance in hell.” Rolling her eyes, she gestured for me to follow her and slipped out from behind the bar.

She led me through a service entry behind the bar, and we emerged outside by one of those big wheelie bins and a stack of used kegs. The air was cool, almost too cold to be standing there in nothing but a pair of shorts and a hoodie. I had thirty until it was time to fight.

“Rebel, right?” she asked, leaning against the wall, and I nodded. She pointed to herself and declared, “Lori. I like to be referred to as my actual name, not babe, chick, or bitch. Got it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Manners will get me everywhere?”

She snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

I grinned. “Then you’ll get your pleases and thank yous, Lori.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked, returning my smile. I reckon she’d decided that she liked me, too. I was good with that.

“There was a woman here last night. Yea tall,” I held my hand up to chin height, “almost white blonde hair, slight curl to it, pale skin, pink lips.”

Lori held up a hand, tossing her black hair back over her shoulder. “You pretty much just described a woman’s vagina,” she said with a laugh.

I groaned. “I’m lookin’ for her. Name’s Charlotte.”

“You know there’s a fuck load of women that come in here thinking they want a walk on the wild side,” Lori said, rolling her eyes. “Very few can handle it.”

“I know,” I replied with a grunt.

She laughed at my reaction, shaking her head. “You fighters and your women. You like to try them all, but when you find one that you want to keep…”

“What about you?” I asked. She seemed so anti-fighter, it made me wonder why that was.

She smirked, pushing off the wall. “I haven’t seen your Charlotte,” she said and pointed back to the door we came through. “Now scram. I’m sure you’ve got a fight lined up.”

Letting out a laugh, I began to walk backward. “Keep an eye out, will ya?”

“What’s in it for me?”

I smirked. “Satisfaction when you see this asshole fighter find the woman who sticks.”

She cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes flashing. “Trying to restore my faith in your kind?”

“Thanks for your help, Lori.”

Melting back into the fray that was The Underground, I didn’t have a fucking clue how life worked anymore. How was it that I wasn't attracted to a rad chick like Lori and was instantly hard for a woman I’d only spoken a handful of words to? How did that work? On the surface, it didn’t, but below…below, it was fucking hot.

One thing was for fucking sure. I couldn’t get the mysterious Charlotte outta my head.

I just had to hope she’d have the guts to come back.

Chapter 5

Charlotte

I was coming at this from the wrong angle.

I needed hard evidence to bring to a judge, not hearsay. Not something I snuck into an office and stole. Anything I would’ve found, had I actually got into that office, would be thrown out of court immediately. Truthfully? Rebel had gotten into my head. Rebel and that whole place.

My mind drifted to him in the cage, his fists pounding against his opponent, the ease with which he knocked the guy down. Crowbar wasn’t a small guy, not by a long shot. Rebel had clobbered him as easily as a human swatted a fly. It was almost like he’d let Crowbar hit him for added effect. Theatrics.