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  To save her life, I had to win the fight. To keep her alive, I’ll have to get her pregnant.

  This is all just a…

  GAME is the author of the bestselling rockstar romance series

  Karolyn is the author of the bestselling rockstar romance series BROTHERS OF ROCK. Under the pen name London Casey, she has written the chart topping motorcycle romance series BACK DOWN DEVIL MC.

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  Ana is the author of the bestselling motorcycle romance serial series, DEVIL CALL MC. Other projects have included BY HIS COMMAND, FULL MOON MERCY, & RAW RIVER WILD.

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  GAME

  To save her life, I had to win the fight. To keep her alive, I’ll have to get her pregnant.

  The second I see Shayna, I know she doesn’t deserve to be mixed up in this world. Innocent, beautiful… being used as a prize.

  She’s looking for answers in all the wrong places and I have to get her out of there.

  So I do what I do best: I fight and I win.

  When I take my prize home, my boss is waiting for me and gives me an ultimatum: get Shayna pregnant. If I don’t, we both die. If I do it, he’s going to snatch the baby away to replace his own lost grandchild.

  We aren’t supposed to fall for each other…but our time together becomes something more powerful than I could ever imagine. And when Shayna tells me she’s pregnant, I know one thing for sure… no one’s taking our child away.

  1.

  (Finn)

  I was drunk when I first saw her, and I joked with myself that if I talked to her, she’d probably be the death of me. An hour later, with three guns pointed at me - as I held her hostage - it turned out maybe I was right.

  2.

  (Shayna)

  I hated the smell of concrete. Especially wet concrete. They were nice enough to spray a hose on the floor and wash the blood down a drain in the middle of the floor. The place used to be some kind of industrial repair shop or something. The drain had been used for oil and chemicals, and to wash the floor, but probably never intended for blood, teeth, chips of bones, even brains. No lie. Human brains.

  Zander was like a king in his high court, standing above the people, waving with his fat wrists and fatter fingers; gold rings so tight around his fingers they turned purple. I swore that one day his fingers were all going to just fall off.

  They never did though.

  He sweat so much he had someone stand behind him with a rag to dab his neck and forehead when needed.

  I stood to his left, in nothing but a skimpy top and too tight black pants. The shirt was low cut, and lucky for me I was at least allowed to wear a bra. Some of the women weren’t. Those who had smaller chests were told to go braless because it looked better. For me, the one time I tried, Zander told me my breasts hung too low. Like I needed to hear that. I wasn’t even thirty and my boobs were sagging?

  Then again, what did it matter? I was two feet deep in organized crime and had no promise of tomorrow. Hell, I had no promise of an hour. Not with what I was looking for. From day one, my mother always pointed at me and told me I was looking for trouble.

  It was just in my nature, I guess.

  But sometimes, trouble just came to me.

  Standing there, trying to be as invisible as possible, I looked down and met eyes with him. He stood well over six feet tall, a leather jacket pulled tight against wide shoulders, with a dirty looking t-shirt under that. He froze and looked up at me. Our eyes met and I felt my lip curl. His lips puckered just a little, mister oh-so-cool, and then he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

  And he just stood there, staring at me. Like he owned me. Like he could possess me at a distance.

  Good luck.

  “You want to fuck him?” a voice growled next to me.

  I blinked and looked at Zander. “What? Who?”

  “Fuck boy down there,” he said, his accent rumbling like a mean thunder. “You want to fuck him. That’s what you look for.”

  “No.”

  “Then fine,” Zander said. “Then I fuck him. He’s going to fight.”

  My heart jumped.

  I think I just got that guy killed…

  3.

  (Finn)

  I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. Before that, I saw the reflection of the big guy coming at me. See, if I turned too quick, there was a chance he could pull a gun or take a cheap shot. I was built tough but not out of metal. A punch could kill me as easily as a punch could kill an eight foot man. What made me good was my ability to sense and react. Even if I was a few drinks deep. Even if I was at some warehouse-garage thing with a bunch of foreigners all looking to make money on fights. For once, I was supposed to be the spectator, not the fighter.

  Until that goddamn hand clamped down on my goddamn shoulder.

  My buddy Cormac was next to me, rambling about some debt he had to settle and some guy he wanted to punch for messing around with a woman he wanted to fuck. I kept my focus steady and the second the hand clamped on my shoulder, I spun, ready to attack.

  I swung my beer glass and slammed it against the son of a bitch’s head. It exploded, spraying dark beer everywhere. My hand started to bleed instantly from the glass, but the guy who touched me had it worse. He stumbled back and looked shocked as shit. He touched his head and there was a large shard of glass sticking out of it.

  “You cut me,” he said.

  “You fucking touched me,” I replied.

  By then Cormac entered the frame.

  He loved to fight as much as me. He didn’t do it like I did though. I was underground. I was illegal. I flirted with death as wildly as I did with a woman with a nice pair of tits.

  Speaking of which… how about that dark haired beauty up on the ledge…?

  “What the fuck are ya doing?” Cormac spat.

  The man I hit touched the glass in his head. “It’s got me. It’s stuck me.”

  His accent cracked as he talked.

  “Ah, you baby,” another man said.

  He came up behind the first guy and grabbed him by the hair. He then grabbed the piece of glass and pulled it from the guy’s head.

  “There, now you’re unstuck.”

  The wounded guy dropped to his knees and groaned.

  “He’ll be fine,” the other guy said. He smiled and then quickly pulled a gun. He pointed it right at me. “You, motherfucker, you get to come with me. And leave your friend behind.”

  I looked at Cormac and shrugged my shoulders.

  I looked back at the guy. “Can I at least get a fresh beer?”

  Christ, if a man was going to die, he should have either thick beer or the sweet taste between a woman’s legs on his lips. Right?

  ~

  I sat down and a chair slowly turned. The man in the chair was large. Not muscular large but too many chicken fingers large. That kind of guy. He stunk of enemy, something I never understood when my boss, Fiore, would tell me I stunk of Irish filth. He always did it with a smile though.

  This big guy stunk bad and was not smiling.

  Neither was
I.

  “You look familiar,” he said, his accent almost as heavy as him.

  “You don’t,” I said.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Enjoying the action. Isn’t that what we’re all here for?”

  “You smashed a glass on one of my associate’s heads.”

  “He touched me.”

  “You don’t like to be touched?”

  “Not by that guy,” I said with a grin.

  “What about someone else?” the man said and snapped his fingers.

  The door opened behind me and she walked in. She being eyes and tits that had been staring down at me. Christ, she was even more stunning in person. That shirt tugged tight to her tick-tock body. Her dark hair down, her eyes looked at me for a second and then away.

  “You want her to touch you?” the man asked.

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Perv,” the woman whispered from the corner of her mouth.

  I grinned and watched her strut by me.

  “Eyes forward,” the man said.

  A hand then touched my head and hair. I started to move my left hand and I was stopped. The man behind the desk took out a gun and waved a finger.

  “Don’t move. You’ll be killed.”

  I gritted my teeth. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “You’re a fighter. You fight with another crew.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You come here to fight?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I came for a few drinks,” I said. “To watch some fights. To fuck someone in the bathroom. Maybe take a piss.”

  The man growled and the room shook. “Who do you fight for?”

  “Myself.”

  “You’re someone’s toy,” the man said. “Tell me your name.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The hand on my head squeezed. Pain surged through my skull. My eyes shook for a second.

  “Finn,” I said. “My name is Finn. Okay?”

  “Who do you fight for?”

  “I’m not…”

  The hand squeezed again. The hot pain shot down to my neck. But I held it off.

  “Tough guy,” the big, smelly guy behind the desk said. He then stood up. He pointed the gun at the woman next to him. Pressing the gun right to her neck. “I’ll kill her.”

  The pain grew and grew. I was used to pain though. I knew how to navigate the waters of pain. The only thing that would take me down is my body’s natural reaction to it. A human could only take so much before his body breaks down. My mind could take anything.

  I sucked in a breath and stayed with the throbbing waves.

  I looked at the big guy. I looked at the woman. Her eyes were wide. She stared at me, wanting me to be her savior.

  “Do it,” I said. “Kill her.”

  4.

  (Shayna)

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  The gun jammed against my neck. I wanted to swing at Zander. But if I did, he would shoot me, his guys would shoot me, and I’d be dead.

  Then I’d never find my sister…

  If things couldn’t get any worse, the guy - Finn - sat there and said, “Do it. Kill her.”

  Oh, not to mention Vale had his bear paw hand on Finn’s head, squeezing it tight. That’s what Vale loved to do. He would squeeze people’s heads until they died. There were times when their eyes would bleed. Their face would turn blood red. Sometimes their skulls would literally crack.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.

  Finn shrugged his shoulders.

  Then Finn made his move. He ducked his head down and slid from the chair. He turned and grabbed the chair, lifting it, smacking Vale in the chest. Vale stumbled back and Finn rammed the chair into him, taking him right out of the office.

  But Finn was easily outnumbered. Vale may have been out of the picture, but there were two more guys. One grabbed each arm and Finn was back to where he started.

  “Not bad,” Zander said. “Now tell me who you fight for.”

  “I already said to go fuck yourself,” Finn said.

  Zander took the gun from my neck. I thought he was going to kill him. I saw it happening in my mind. Zander filling Finn with bullets. Not that the guy meant anything to me. He was cocky, arrogant, acting like he didn’t give a damn… did he not realize the power in front of him? Zander’s ties went deep. Deeper than I ever imagined which was why I was completely trapped. That’s why I wore the shirt I wore, the jeans I wore, looked the way I did, knowing guys were eye humping me. Because it kept me alive, for now.

  As Zander lifted the gun, I saw a quick flash of hesitation on Finn’s face.

  For some reason, it connected with me. Next thing I knew, my hand shot out and grabbed Zander’s fat wrist.

  “The fuck?” he asked, looking at me.

  “Make him fight,” I said, trying to be cold.

  “Fight,” Zander said. He grinned. His eyes widened. “Fight. Yes.”

  “I’ll fucking fight anyone,” Finn said. “Come on. Anyone.”

  “Even me?” I asked.

  “Ah, sweetie, I have other ways I could destroy you. And I’d still use my hands.”

  A fire was sent through my body that I hated myself for. Finn was bold and sexy.

  “You fight,” Zander said. “You fight and you lose. Then you tell me everything. Or I just kill you.”

  “Yeah?” Finn asked. “That’s what you want?”

  “No, it’s what you want. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll send a clear message.”

  “What’s my prize?” Finn asked with that cocky grin. “Her?”

  Finn eyed me.

  “Done,” Zander said, without hesitation.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Mind your place, woman,” Zander said to me. “He has no chance.” Zander pointed at the door. “Vale! Set this up. The next fight. The stranger who doesn’t belong here. Finn. Let’s have him take on… the Fist.”

  I looked at Finn and felt my heart race.

  I almost felt for him. Such a sexy face and killer attitude.

  But against the Fist?

  Good luck.

  “I’ll fight for you, sweetie,” Finn said to me.

  I shook my head. I tried to think of something snappy to throw back, but I had nothing. I’d never seen anything like this. Zander was crazy. Finn looked just as crazy. And now Finn was going to fight. For no reason.

  “You fight,” Zander said. “You lose and you tell me everything I want to know. And then I send your body back to your boss. A warning to stay away from my fights. You win and you get the beautiful Shayna on your arm. You walk away with the prize of a lifetime.”

  Zander was a degenerate gambler. And I was the prize.

  “Shayna,” Finn whispered.

  He looked at me.

  I had to look away.

  He was fucked.

  5.

  (Finn)

  I was fucked.

  I knew that from the second I felt the guy grab my head. Hell, even before that, from the second I looked up and saw Shayna standing there.

  What a name, huh?

  Not that it mattered right then. I had to goddamn fight. I wasn’t allowed to be there. If Fiore found out, he’d put a bullet in my head. No matter what, it seemed like I was on the losing end of this thing. So the plan started to form in my mind.

  Win this fight. Get the fuck out of there with Cormac. And then face the music with Fiore later. If I was fucked up, I could tell him I got jumped or something. He’d never believe that though. So I’d have to make it good, tell him I had been piss drunk and got jumped by five guys.

  Even then… Fiore knew I could fight when I was drunk. Hell, I was crazier when I was drunk. Hence the reason two men dragged me out of the office to get ready for a fight.

  But if I won the fight, I’d get Shayna.

  Damn. Talk about a prize.

  Definitely not a take home
prize though, I don’t do that. My time is best spent in segments. Fighting, drinking, fucking. That was the only way I could survive and get through the days. Anything else that resembled realness was better off left behind. Because reality hurt.

  The two guys pushed me away.

  I turned and put my fists up, ready to take them on. “Where’s Cormac? My boy.”

  “Zander wanted you,” one of the men said. “Nobody else. Your friend is still drinking. Now go down those stairs and fight.”

  I walked down the stairs and two big men guarded the bottom. They were as thick as Zander, except they had muscle. I paused and looked at them. I could fight them. I could beat them too. How? Easy. They’re big with big arms and big shoulders. Their technique would be in muscle. I’d hit one square in the nose to start. That would bring tears to his eyes. Then I’d go after the knees of the other and bring him down. See, big guys aren’t used to going down and when they do, they panic.

  “Finn?” one of the guys asked.

  “The one and only,” I said.

  He moved out of the way and I walked by. There was a group of people standing there. Five guys stood wearing medical gloves, two wearing glasses, the other three tending to fighters who were on their ass, bleeding everywhere.

  “I need a needle!” someone yelled.

  “Do you have novocain?” the guy asked as a gash above his eye throbbed.

  “Fuck no,” the first person said. “This isn’t some fucking hospital. Suck it up, pussy.”

  Sadly, it was a sense of home for me. It’s what I knew. To fight and try not to get too hurt. We couldn’t go to the hospital when we got hurt. We didn’t have health insurance and copays and deductibles. We had people waiting in the back to stitch us up. We had whiskey. We had tough souls.

  The guy started to cry and wince as he was being stitched up.

  Well, some of us had tough souls.

  “You ready, Irish boy?” a voice growled at me.

  A tall, skinny man stood holding a piece of paper.

  “Ready as ever,” I said.

  “Take your jacket off,” he said.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  He turned and walked toward the open floor. I followed behind and paused when I saw the crowd. There were people on the floor and the overflow above. It wasn’t the biggest fight but it was maybe the most important. This wasn’t sanctioned by Fiore though. There wasn’t money behind it. I wasn’t getting shit for this.