Like the man who’d been in to see her earlier. “What were you supposed to testify about, exactly?”
At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. But then, he bent down and whispered, “The night I accidentally killed that kid, there was another girl, dropped off to the ER. She’d fought, was beaten up pretty badly. I figured they’d agreed to fight. But they were both just like you.”
“Why? If they have enough people willing to take the risk, why use unwilling kids?”
Benji shrugged. “I have no clue. I’m just a fighter.”
“But you must know something, or else, why would they have you testify?”
He sighed, his nostrils flaring. Cracked his knuckles and she forced herself not to wince. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“I need to know.”
“I heard some rumors after the fight . . . they were paying some of the other fighters to bring in fresh meat. Make it more interesting.” He paused. “If I could get you out, I would.”
“I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. It’s supposed to work the other way around. And you’re taking a big chance being here.”
He shrugged. Too young to know that risks actually had consequences. Or maybe he just didn’t care. But he surprised her when he said, “I know of at least two people—an underage guy and girl—forced to fight against their will. One of them was the kid who died.”
“Where’s the girl?” she whispered.
“She was dropped at the ER, dumped by a car with no plates. She was DOA.”
She knew the boy’s body was found floating and the video of Benji fighting the boy had been pulled off YouTube. The police had hunted down the man who’d taken the video. With his testimony and Benji’s, they could at least put a scare into this ring.
And putting a scare was exactly what they were doing to her. “You’re fighting tonight?”
“Yeah. There’s a million-dollar bet riding on my head.”
“Benji, please—”
He took an energy bar out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Look, the chick you’re fighting is good. Can you fight?”
“Yes?”
“She’s got a weak left knee. A surprise left hook, considering she’s right handed.” He went on to list more of the fighter’s strengths and weaknesses and Grier realized with a sinking heart that she would have to go through with this fight.
She wasn’t scared of the fight, but of what would happen to her afterward. “Thanks, Benji. Please take care of yourself tonight.”
He looked amazed that she was worried about him, but he didn’t answer, just slid back out the door, locking it with a definitive click.
She pocketed the energy bar to eat right before the fight. They’d left tape in here for her hands, a pair of shorts and a shirt with the league’s logo on it. Her hair had already been cut and dyed auburn, and when she caught a glimpse of it in the reflection from the door, she barely recognized herself.
She stood shakily. Started running in place. Sweating would be the fastest way to push the drugs from her system, and she was going to give herself the fairest shake possible.
* * *
Reid used one of Jack’s phones, and because of that, Keegan answered with, “Who the fuck are you and what the hell do you want?”
“I guess that’s enough to make the normal people who dial wrong hang up. And don’t say my goddamned name out loud,” Reid told him. He’d been about to move onto Jack’s private balcony when he caught sight of an unmarked fed car outside the building.
That was no coincidence. They thought Jack was involved in this somehow. Either that, or they thought Jack was the next target. Reid had to get as far away from Jack as possible if he was going to be effective at all in finding Grier.
Keegan took a long time to answer. He was behind the bar, judging by the music and the rustling around Keegan was doing. “Yeah, all right. But they’re livid, man.”
“I know. I’ll deal with it. But right now I need to know if you’ve got an in to this illegal cage fighting shit that’s happening in Texas.”
“Why do you always associate me with illegal?” Keegan asked, but the question was rhetorical, since he laughed as he spoke. “Hang on.”
There was a long pause, and the next time Keegan spoke, it was silent in the background. “It’s not just Texas. Why?”
“I think they just kidnapped a U.S. Marshal.”
“Anyone you know?” Keegan asked.
“Yeah.” He guessed he should be grateful that Teddie hadn’t given away any details of why he’d left. “I need to know if that’s true. And I need to get in.”
“In on betting?”
“In on a fight,” Reid said, and was met with total silence.
“It’s street fighting. Scrapping. No fancy shit allowed,” Keegan told him finally.
“Hey, I live for a good old-fashioned bar fight.”
Keegan snorted and told him to hang on. Ten excruciating minutes of pretending to wait patiently later, he got back on the line, told Reid, “Go to Prospect—building 403. Benny will get you one fight. After that, you’re on your own.”
“And the other thing we talked about?”
“No confirmation but the rumors are rampant. They’ll fight her tonight.”
“You’re sure this isn’t OA funded?”
“Nah. They wish they’d thought of this. We’ve been kept out, except for a fight here and there.”
“I owe you.”
“Again,” Keegan emphasized. “One of these days, I’m going to take you up on it.”
“I hope so,” Reid said quietly, even though Keegan had already hung up. Keegan had gotten involved in a motorcycle gang called the Outlaw Angels when he was just fifteen. He’d passed the initiation, and from that point on, there was no getting out. Not unscathed, anyway. These days, he was still semitrapped by the
