“No way, Royal. Remember the rules.”

Val snorts. “What rules?”

“Har-Har over here—”

“‘Har-Har’?” Hartley growls.

“New nickname,” I say, waving a dismissive hand before turning to Val. “Anyway, Har-Har gave me a list of friendship rules. It’s the only way she’ll grace me with her presence.”

“And one of those rules is that he’s not allowed to hit on me,” Hartley explains.

“How do I sign up for that?” Val asks eagerly.

“Hey, I wasn’t hitting on anyone,” I protest. “You asked how I like to unwind, and that’s the answer.” Well, there’s another answer, too, but I’m not going to say it out loud, not with Ella still watching me like a hawk. She knows exactly what I’m hoping to do tonight, and she doesn’t like it.

“Why don’t we all go to Dom’s place in your truck?” Ella’s tone sounds overly cheerful. “I’ll leave my car here and get it later.”

Yup, she’s in babysitter mode. “Sorry, sis. That’s a dumb idea,” I say just as cheerfully. “You’re not leaving a convertible in the Astor parking lot where those asswipes from Gatwick can get to it. We crushed them tonight, and they’re petty.”

“He’s got a point,” Val says, backing me up. “When we beat them last year, they spray painted the south lawn neon yellow. Let’s take your car to be safe.”

Ella knows when she’s beaten. “All right. Val and I will meet you there.” She stares at me. “Right?”

“Of course,” I assure her.

I’m lying through my teeth.

The second the four of us part ways and Hartley and I are alone in my pickup, I turn to my passenger and say, “Mind if we take a little detour?”

Chapter 11

I can tell Hartley is confused and a little nervous, but she’s being a good sport about this. She hops the fence at the edge of the shipyard without a single complaint, and she doesn’t say a word as we dart through the dark maze of shipping containers. It’s not until we reach our destination that she turns to me with concern in her eyes.

“What is this?”

“Fight night,” I explain happily. Adrenaline is burning in my veins, and my fists haven’t even struck flesh yet.

Except then I look around and am a bit disappointed. There’s not much of a crowd tonight, which is weird, because it’s Friday and the weekend fights are usually packed. I guess people are still scared to show their faces after that bust that happened a while back.

But oh well. I’ll just have to live with the smaller turnout. I don’t need to beat the crap out of thirty dudes. Just one’ll do.

“You’re planning to fight?” Hartley asks anxiously.

I take her arm and lead her toward a stack of crates away from the action. In the middle of the circle, two big dudes are already at it, fists swinging and insults flying. I don’t want Hartley to accidentally get jostled by any of the cheering onlookers.

“Why don’t you sit down,” I suggest. “I’ve got to take care of something.”

Hartley sits, although she looks reluctant.

I strip off my shirt and toss it on the crate next to her. I don’t miss the way her eyes widen slightly. Is she checking out my chest? Guess she didn’t get enough of my abs earlier. I reach above my head and make a show of stretching. Hartley twists her head to avoid looking at me. I grin. Girl is smitten.

“Yo, Royal! Buy in!”

I reach into my back pocket. “Here,” I tell Wilson, the shaved-head dude who oversees the exchange of cash.

I slap a stack of bills in his meaty hand. It costs a lot to fight, but I’m a Royal. I can afford it. There’s potential to win a lot, too, but now that Reed’s not fighting, I’ve got nobody to bet on. I can’t bet on myself—that’s no fun, especially since I already know the outcome.

“Blondie over there called dibs on you the moment you got here,” Wilson tells me, flashing a toothy grin.

I peer past his huge shoulder toward the tall, blond gym rat standing with a group of three or four other guys. Ah yeah. I recognize them as the douchey frat brothers from that party I went to last weekend. I think I might’ve banged one of their girlfriends.

“Royal!” one of them snaps. His face is red, eyes narrowed. “You ever come near my girl again and I’ll end you!”

Guess it was his girlfriend. I give Tomato Face a little wave. “How about you try to end me right now?” I gesture to the center of the circle that’s blocked out for the fights.

“Gonna let Mike do it for me,” he sneers, patting his buddy on the back.

Pussy. He’s relying on his muscle man friend to punish me for hooking up with his girl? Whatever happened to fighting for your girl’s honor?

Hartley watches this exchange with increasing concern. “You hit on that guy’s girlfriend?”

I wink at her. “Who, me?”

“Easton.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I don’t like this.”

“What, that I flirted with his girlfriend or that I’m going to fight him?”

“The fighting.”

It’s hard to tell in the shadows, but I think her face is getting paler. I guess she’s afraid for me? That’s okay. She’ll realize soon enough that there’s nothing to be scared of. I can handle myself.

“Can you please be careful?” she pleads.

Nope. Careful isn’t fun. Careful is boring.

“Of course,” I lie, and she looks relieved by that.

But the moment I step into the ring, I charge recklessly at Muscle Man Mike, because I’m craving his uppercut. I want the pain that jolts through my jaw and rattles my teeth. I want the blood that I spit onto the pavement. Another thing my brother and I have in common, other than our taste in chicks, is our thirst for violence.

I let Mike pound me until I get bored. Then I take him out with two swift blows that send him onto his ass, and lazily wander over to Hartley, who’s staring at me in horror.

“You’re covered in blood!”

She’s right. It’s dripping down my chin and chest, and I can taste its metallic flavor in my mouth. I don’t care, though. I feel so fucking good right now. I feel wired. Alive.

“Wilson,” I call out, ignoring Hartley. “I want some more.”

“Easton,” she says miserably. “Can we leave now? Please?”

“Anybody else want a go at Royal?” Wilson asks the group, grinning from ear to ear.

There are about fourteen dudes littering the pavement. Nearly all of them volunteer to fight with me.

Guess I’ve got beefs with more people than I thought.

“Sit tight,” I tell Hartley. “Lemme just take on a few more.”

“No.” The one word snaps out fast and sharp.

She hops off the crate and gets right in my face, and now that she’s standing closer to the lights, I can see that her skin is pale.

“What’s your deal?” I demand. “It’s just harmless fun.”

“How is this fun! A bunch of guys trying to kill each other? That’s not fun!”

Her vehemence has me rolling my eyes. “Okay, chillax. Nobody’s trying to kill anyone. We’re letting out some aggression, that’s all.”

“Well, I don’t want to watch it!” She crosses her arms tightly. “Take me home.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I honestly never expected you to be this uptight.”

“I don’t like seeing people get hurt, so that makes me uptight?” Her voice is high and shaky, but her gray eyes are blazing. “Why did you bring me here? Why would you ever think I’d enjoy this?”

A frown forms between my brows. I haven’t brought a chick to these fights before. Ella, yeah, but that’s because she followed Reed and me here without our knowledge. Other than that, these late-night visits to the shipyard are just for me. Mine alone. Easton’s world.

So why’d I invite Hartley into my inner world?

“I thought you’d like it,” I finally respond, but the words don’t sound right. That’s not why I brought her along. I…don’t know why I did.