Three Hot Wishes (Fantasy Come to Life - Magic in the Real World Novel) (31 page)

Angel

Afterwards, I put my arms around her. There was a strange moment where it didn't matter that she was naked, that her hot flesh against mine melted against me.

I loved her for more than just her body. She was becoming everything to me, and where the thought of relying on someone had terrified me up until now, suddenly I welcomed it.

Sloane snuggled up against me, and I felt her lips against my neck.

"I was worried about you, tonight," I said. "You even had the doorman wondering where you'd gone..."

She still hadn't fessed up with where she'd been, but I wasn't going to start ruining things already by doubting her or second guessing.

"Yeah," she said. "Sorry about that."

"Everything okay?" Even though I didn't want to push, the words came out on their own.

"Nitro found me when I was walking to the store tonight," she said.

I tried to sit up, but Sloane was a lot stronger than she looked. Those dancer muscles served her well as she leaned across my chest and pinned me to the bed.

"Listen, before you get angry. He was trying to help us!"

It took an enormous force of will, but I did my best to do as she'd asked. I sucked in a deep breath and unclenched my hands. I hadn't even been aware that I'd folded them up into fists, but once I put my palms flat on Sloane's back and held her to me, I was able to calm down. "Okay," I said at last. "Tell me what happened and I'll try not to interrupt."

I felt her nod in the darkness. "He was worried the Carellos, which meant he had to basically yank me up off the street and drag me off to some dog food warehouse. Whatever, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that he wanted to warn me. I was right about the fight being thrown. He got paid a lot of money to come back out of retirement and let you win, and now that he has he's worried that they're going to try the same thing with you."

Sloane fell silent and I didn't interject. I'd told her I wasn't going to interrupt and I was trying to honor my promise.

"Doesn't that worry you?" she asked.

"It does. I got a phone call from a man named Bruceman today-"

"That's the guy!" Sloane pretty much shouted in my ear. "Nitro told me to tell you that the same thing that happened to Bruceman could happen to you."

I reached and found her shoulders, putting my hands on them and holding her steady. "Bruceman used to be in the fighting business too. He crossed the Carellos and they put his friend into the ground for it." I paused, wondering how to start. "He actually called me today."

"Who? Bruceman?"

"Yeah. He's old, but he's still got a fire in him. He's been waiting for a chance to knock the Carellos over, and he seems to think I'm it."

"What does he want from us?"

Us. It was a beautiful word. A perfect word, and for the first time I enjoyed the fact that I could willingly hear it from someone and not cringe. Whatever happened in the end, I'd found Sloane and she'd found me. We could take the world on, even if it was just the two of us against it.

"He wants me to win. He's spent a long time planning this, biding his time. I imagine he's got a big network working on this. You know, people working for him who don't even know they're working for him. He's going to get the Carellos to bet against me and bet big. It shouldn't be too hard. I just have to sell the fact that I'm in on the fix to the Carellos and then knock out whoever they put into the ring against me."

She lay her head against my chest. I felt the gentle tickle of her eyelashes as she blinked, followed by the warmth of her tears. "It's so dangerous. Nitro said that they killed the guy you were supposed to fight last time because they didn't think he'd play their game."

"I heard the same thing."

"So what do we do?"

I sat her up and sat up beside her. "We do the only thing I know how to do. We fight. I move my feet. I get out of the way of whatever he throws at me and get into the guard of whoever they put into the ring with me. I knock them out."

She didn't ask the obvious question, the one that the annoying voice of doubt in my head and been asking over and over.

What if you can't?

Sloane

I didn't want to watch. The last thing I wanted to see, now that Angel and I had come so far, was him beaten to a pulp.

Of course, given all of the options, that was probably one of the best things that could happen, to be honest.

Even worse, what if he won? The Carellos would know what he'd done, that he'd agreed to throw the fight and then double-crossed them.

What then?

But I went to the fight. How could I not?

This time, whoever was promoting the fight was sparing no expense. The last one I'd witnessed may have been in some dingy parking garage after hours, but the cab dropped me off at a sporting arena in Brooklyn. Clearly, Angel was entering a whole new level of fight, and I imagined that the payoff would be even greater, if he listened to what the Carellos wanted him to do.

He wouldn't, of course. I hadn't been able to bring myself to try and talk him into it, either, even though it would have clearly been safer if he'd just give in and throw the fight the way they'd asked.

I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and got the ticket Angel had given me out of my purse. It was crowded already, even though the fight wasn't scheduled to start for another half hour or so, and this time the crowd that surrounded me as the guy at the door tore my ticket in half and handed me back the stub was far more upscale.

I'd dressed up again, even though I'd felt like a fish out of water before, and now I was glad I did. Everywhere I looked there were dapper gentleman in three piece suits and women in long, flowing dresses or tight, slinky ones that showed off their assets.

I looked around for Jessie. Maybe if I could find him before he got to Angel, I could get some hint as to whose side he was on. He was, after all, the one loose cannon in all of this. I knew I couldn't trust him, not after I'd seen him appear to be conspiring with the Carellos at the end of the last fight, but maybe I was wrong about that.

He had, after all, known that Nitro was going to go down. Was there a chance he'd arranged it that way so as to save Angel from further damage?

I doubted it. Jessie was more than likely the same as just about everyone else; in it for himself.

For a second, as I walked through the doors and into the main room, I worried that there may be some sort of security checkpoint. I didn't see any metal detectors, though, and those ahead of me simply walked into the arena and took their seats.

Angel had been right. The venue may be bigger, the ring may be better lit, but we were still on the verge of being part of an underground boxing match. Even though people were dressed better than the last lot I'd witnessed, they still consisted of primarily criminals.

Maybe everyone around me had a gun.

I know I did...

One of the first things I'd bought when I got to New York had been a handgun. I'd been put in too many positions of fear in my life to go into this new stage without some sort of protection, and the guy behind the counter had assured me that I was hardly alone in my desire to protect myself and my home with a little extra firepower.

I'd bought it then and there. Since the purchase, I'd shot it a handful of times at a shooting range. Even though I wanted to keep some level of familiarity with the weapon, the fact of the matter was that the damn thing scared the Hell out of me.

Now, I could feel the weight of it in my purse like an anchor, weighing me down with the responsibility of possibly having to use it.

And I would.

If I needed to...

My seat was ringside, right behind Angel's corner. I made my way there, dodging a few 'accidental' hands and more than one questioning glance. I may have been here on my own, but that didn't make me fair game. As I sat down the spotlights above the ring got brighter, and I put my hand up to shield my eyes from their glare to see if Angel was making his way down the aisle.

He wasn't.

But I did see Jessie waddle away from one of the back corners and head in the direction of the dressing rooms. I bit my lip, and hoped that Angel would be okay.

I slipped my hand into my purse as casually as I could and let my fingertips brush the cold metal of the gun barrel.

Angel

"You make it sound so simple, you know," I told Jessie. I had no intention of doing what he was asking me to do, but I figured the more I could get him talking, the more ammunition I might have against him for later.

Jessie shrugged, his fat shoulders coming up around his ears for a second, making him look rounder than ever. He snatched the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at me. "It is simple, dummy. Listen, Mickey Davis isn't supposed to be able to go the distance. Smart money's on you, of course, and the bookies are telling me that anyone who's anyone is on your side. You're making five grand from this fight just for stepping in the ring. I'm telling you the Carellos are offering you ten times that to take a dive in the fourth. Look at me during that round, and I'll give you the sign." He rubbed the tip of his nose with his thumb to demonstrate. "Got it?"

I nodded. "I hear you. And I'm telling you it isn't that easy." I had to play it careful. If I didn't put up enough of a fight and make Jessie feel like he'd convinced me, I knew he'd be suspicious. If he or the Carellos thought I was going to go against their plan and try and knock Davis out, they wouldn't bet their formidable wealth against me.

And if they didn't do that, they'd have more than enough resources to come after me with everything they had, once they saw that they'd been double-crossed.

"Angel," Jessie said, pulling up a stool and sitting down on it before leaning in and putting his beefy hand on my shoulder, playing the role of aging mentor far too well for my liking. "Just keep your head down, your mouth shut, and do what you're told, huh?"

"What about after?" I asked him. Even though I wasn't going to let him sway me, I was still honestly curious as to how he'd answer the question. "What am I supposed to make of my career, once people start talking about how it looks like I took a dive? Hell, if I can't win a fight when all the smart money's on me, like you said, when am I going to get a chance to step back into the ring?"

Jessie made a pained face and put a fist to his chest, letting out a loud burp that sounded like it burned on the way up. "That's not your concern, man. That's where I come in. We get a rematch, you see? That's where the real money is. Maybe you knock this David bum out then and maybe you don't, but the point is after that fight you'll be seen as a contender for sure."

I nodded slowly. It was bullshit, of course, but I'd probably agreed to similar levels of idiocy spewing from his mouth before and just not know it. "If you say so..." I said, keeping my gaze down at my gloved hands.

"I do, I do," he said, his mood cheery now that he thought he'd sold me. "Now get your shit together, will ya? They're going to play your entry music soon, and I don't want you looking like an amateur, trying to get yourself together when it does. Game face, Angel. Put your game face on. I want you looking like you've got bad ideas and the means to make them happen, son."

That wasn't hard at all. I stood up, hit my gloves together a couple of times and let him lead me to the hallway. Once the music started, they'd kick open the door and I'd stalk down the aisle to the ring, cheers and boos raining down around me like confetti.

I closed my eyes, thinking of Sloane. I knew she'd be here. She'd insisted, even though I thought it was far safer for her to stay away.

She'd argued, probably rightly, that Nitro had snatched her straight off the street. Even though he'd only been trying to warn her, anyone who wanted to harm us obviously knew where I lived and could find her apartment with a little work and a little more money slipped into the hands of the proper authorities.

So I'd gotten her a ticket. She'd be in my corner, just like I was hoping she always would be.

I hadn't told her yet, but if this worked, I was going to retire. Maybe take up coaching instead. I'd always felt like I had a knack for getting through to the up and comers, the young kids who saw boxing as a way off the rough streets.

Bruceman's money would get us out of here. Maybe to Paris, maybe to Milan. Somewhere where a ballerina of her talents could thrive, and a meager boxing coach could make a difference, far away from the reach of the penniless, humiliated Carellos...

That was the dream at least, and I clung to it as the music started and they threw the door open in front of me.