The crowd roared and feet thundered on the bleachers behind me as the first fighter strode into the cage.

He was all muscly and mean looking, his face hard, his eyes dark with pent-up energy. As he did a lap around the cage for added effect, I realized he had old bruises peppered all over his torso. Yellow splotches that must only be a few days old. How often did these guys fight?

“And now…” My attention was pulled back to the announcer. “Please welcome the man the ladies throw themselves at, the king of the cage, and the animal himself…Rebel!”

Sound erupted around me, cheers, whistles, and the thundering of feet against the bleachers increased ten-fold compared to what they gave Crowbar. Whoever this Rebel was, he seemed to be the crowd favorite around here. Obviously, I’d picked a good night to come crack this joint open.

Then he stepped into the light, and I understood what all the fuss was about.

Rebel stood tall and proud, a cocky grin on his face gave away that he was soaking up the attention like a sponge. He wore nothing but a pair of black shorts with a white Everlast logo stitched at the front. His feet were bare, his legs, and from the waist up. I’d never seen a man as beautiful and powerful as the specimen that stood in front of me. The crowd dropped away, and all I could see was him. Bloody hell, I was having a visual orgasm.

Crowbar was something to look at but Rebel…my gaze was drawn to him like a magnet. There was something about the guy that commanded attention and respect. His body was spectacular, all hard muscle and sinew, his jaw was hard and sharp, his dark hair short and messy…and his eyes… Well, no doubt he’d be able to pin a woman down in more ways than one.

I glanced around at the crowd and saw how he commanded them. He was adored by all. The women were falling over themselves, shouting obscene come-ons. Do me Rebel! Fuck me hard! Let me suck your cock! The men were hero-worshipping the guy and the ones who weren’t were openly envious. I could see it in their eyes. The lot of them. Rebel was king in this place. The man of the moment.

The two men toed their lines, and before I had time to collect myself, the fight began.

It was all twisting bodies glistening with sweat, grunting, and blood. A total doodle-fest. A battle of who had the most testosterone.

Fists collided against flesh, knees and feet smacked into torsos, and when Rebel heaved Crowbar over his shoulder and flung him like he weighed nothing, I almost had to cover my eyes. Then he simply got up and kept going. There were no rules, huh? I could see that. Both men wanted to win, but the difference was Crowbar was desperate and Rebel wasn’t. Rebel made beating a man half to death look easy.

Holy fucking hell.

Rebel clocked Crowbar in the jaw, the smack of his fist audible over the din, and I found myself flinching as the guy’s head snapped to the side. He fell to the ground, his temple smashing against the concrete. Blood dribbled from his mouth, his expression dazed, but he placed his palms against the floor and pushed.

My eyes were opened, alright.

I glanced up at the fighter known as Rebel and froze. He was staring right at me. So much for a low profile.

He began to move, not even glancing at Crowbar, who was trying to struggle to his feet. The bout wasn’t over until he tapped, but he didn’t seem to care. Rebel was…I was enthralled. I’d never seen a man fight like that, not even in all my years as a beat cop. He fought like his life was on the line. He fought like a predator.

And he was coming right for me.

Chapter 2

Rebel

My fist slammed into flesh and the crowd roared.

This. This is what I was born to do. I was a fighter through and through. Had to be. I hadn’t had one of those fancy, normal upbringings with home-cooked meals and a safe bed to sleep in at night. I learned how to fight the moment my parents died, and I had been fighting ever since. Junkies, fucked up foster parents, bullies, thugs, and petty thieves. I’d fought them all.

They called me Rebel for a reason. It’s not just the name I take when I step into the cage at The Underground. It’s the name that life gave me when I rebelled against it.

So fuckin’ what? I got dealt a shit card and I just had to deal with it.

The Underground housed some of the meanest fighters out there. If they couldn’t or didn’t want to go pro, or just wanted something a little more violent without the rules and regulations, they came here. Motherfucking illegal, but it was better I fought in the cage than out there on the street. In here, I could earn real money for using my fists instead of using them to keep my life. Either way, I could die doing this shit, but in this cage, I had less of a chance of kicking the bucket. In the cage, it was only fists, not guns and knives.

With it being the first bout of the night, I was full of energy, adrenaline running hot and hard through my veins. My opponent was Crowbar, and the few times I’d fought him he’d made it good. There was a great deal of grappling and blood when we were pitted against each other.

Swinging with my right, I clipped past his guard, and my knuckles collided with his temple. I felt the shock of the blow shoot up my arm, but I was so amped up and high, I hardly felt it. Crowbar fell, his head cracking on the concrete. The fucker would be down for more than a minute. I could end the fight right now, or I could have a little more fun and wind up the crowd. Management liked it when I milked the audience. They wanted a good fucking show and I was more than capable of delivering.

So, I prowled, giving the fucker time to get his shit together and get back on his feet for another go.

That’s when I saw something shiny. Something pretty fucking beautiful. Something I’d like on my cock.

She was standing at the edge of the cage, her pretty, blonde hair shining like fucking gold in a sea of shit. Her expression was full of lots of things, but all I saw was awe. If that was a good thing or not, I didn’t really care. All I saw was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in this cesspool, and I wanted her.

Her gaze rose from Crowbar and met mine. I narrowed my eyes as her baby blues looked straight through me. She peeled me away layer by layer, and fuck me if I didn’t want to haul her out back and go at it right now.

The crowd roared as I pulled my attention away, circling to the opposite side of the cage as Crowbar forced himself to his knees, spitting blood on the concrete. One more lap and then I’d make sure that fucking angel, and every man and woman in this shithole, knew what I wanted. She was mine tonight. It was hands off or get the shit kicked outta you.

Prowling around the cage, I kept my eyes wide, looking for the blonde woman. When I saw her standing by the fence, her expression still as stunned as before, I curled my fingers in the chain-link and stood before her, my chest heaving.

Yeah, that’s right sugar, I thought, smirking at her. I pick you.

I held her gaze, her blue eyes piercing mine, and lifted a finger. I pointed right at her, the crowd still going crazy. Her brow furrowed as she frowned, but I backed away, flashing her another cocky smile and turned back to my opponent who was getting back up for round two.

Women only came here for two things. One was to support their man, and since she didn’t seem to have one of those, it must be for reason number two. She wanted to get with a cashed up fighter. Luckily for her, I wanted to get in her.

My fist slammed into Crowbar’s face, splitting his eyebrow open, and he slipped. He fell onto his shoulder—hard. I heard a loud pop, and a split second later, he was howling in pain. His shoulder was dislocated, the bone pressing unnaturally against his flesh. He grimaced, practically foaming at the mouth, and slammed his good hand on the ground.