“What the hell is going on?” I hear angry voices shouting.
“Kill him! What are you waiting for?”
“I paid good money for this!”
Declan lets his smile grow as the crowd screams out its ire. No one can touch him now, that much is clear. But what is it that’s giving him such peace of mind? How can he be sure that everything is resolved, finished for good?
My questions are answered for me as every light overhead pops on, exploding over us like a canopy of exploding stars. The once-shrouded crowd is exposed in the harsh, fluorescent glare, as a new color of shouting rings out through the space. The exuberant cries of audience members are drowned out by a calm, collected voice, droning through the deafening speakers:
“Everybody stay where you are,” the voice commands, “This is the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This match is over. Don’t panic—”
But thousands of suddenly skittish fat cats have already risen in a frenzy. Looks like no one wants to be caught with blood on their hands. I stare in wonder as hundreds of policemen, decked out in full riot gear, charge into the space. Chaos erupts all around the ring as patrons make their mad dashes for the exits. But no one is getting out of here just yet.
“Get your hands off of me!” I hear Lorenzo scream across the ring, “What is the meaning of this?!”
I look up to see Teddy and Frank dragging the boss into the ring, shouting for the police to come and arrest the man in charge.
“Here’s the one you want!” Frank yells.
“Come and get him!” Teddy cackles.
The men of Dante’s Nine jeer and laugh as Lorenzo is forced down onto his knees beside Declan’s badly beaten opponent. Police officers swarm the ring, charging through the panicked patrons left and right. Declan looks around with satisfied wonder at the scene before swinging his eyes my way. He draws a deep, pained breath, as if about to speak. But before he can utter a word, his knees give out beneath him. He hits the canvas, crumpling under the strain of the fight at last.
“No!” I scream, scrambling up onto the ring.
I crawl across the canvas, throwing myself on top of Declan’s fallen form. The rest of the noise and frantic motion filling the arena fades away as I lay my hands on his battered body. Nothing is important in this moment but this man that I’ve come to love more than anything. I take as much of him into my arms as I can, cradling his head.
“Oh my god...” I murmur, “It’s going to be OK. I promise. Just stay with me.”
“You’re here,” he wheezes, looking up at me through swollen eyes.
“Of course I am,” I whisper, kissing his sweat-slicked brow, “Where else would I be but here, Declan?”
“Lorenzo...?” Declan gasps.
I watch as the short man is dragged out of the ring in cuffs, his carefully coiffed hair a tangled mess. He catches my eye as he’s taken off, and the violent stare he shoots me could tear right through Kevlar.
“They’ve got him,” I tell Declan, “It’s over.”
“That’s good,” he says, smiling softly, “But it's not over...I’m pretty beat up, Kassie.”
“I know Dec,” I murmur, looking over his bruised body, “But you’ll be OK.”
“Maybe,” he says, every word a struggle, “I hope you’re right. But just in case, Kassie, you should probably know...I love you, too.”
Hot tears blind me, as I clutch his shivering form to mine. I can’t will myself to speak as Declan’s brothers crowd around us. Overhead, from far off, the wailing of sirens joins in the din. I’m finally overwhelmed by the insanity of this moment, and time slips away. The only thing I can focus on is staying by Declan’s side as the paramedics arrive. We’ve come this far together now, I’m not about to leave him when he needs me most.
Especially if I’m not going to get another chance to say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY
For the next three days, it’s touch and go.
An ambulance arrived at the scene of the broken-up match just as the FBI agents were dragging Lorenzo and his key associates away. Declan was rushed to the hospital, suffering from a closed head injury, internal bleeding, and various sprains and fractures. He stayed conscious all the way there—I know, because I was right there beside him, holding his hand as if my constancy could save him. We rode through Vegas with an escort of eight very intimidating men on Harley’s. The men of Dante’s Nine were not about to abandon their brother in his hour of need.
It’s hard to keep the events of the days following Declan’s hospitalization straight. I basically moved into the hospital as soon as he was admitted, though Kelly, Sam, and the others managed to convince me to retire to my suite for some shuteye after 48 hours straight of holding vigil. But our twin apartments were just too lonely to bear, with Declan gone.
The eight other men of Dante’s Nine keep me company at the hospital in shifts. Declan’s been heavily sedated since arriving, and isn’t able to speak with any visitors. That hasn’t kept the FBI from arriving to try to interview him.
For the few days after the ill-fated match, every headline and news program is all about the fight getting broken up. Lorenzo’s face is splashed across the evening news and trashy tabloids alike. It seems that someone tipped off the police about Lorenzo’s underground death matches, allowing the FBI to find a whole lot of other dirt on the man as well. I can’t even keep track of all the schemes and illegal activity the feds uncovered after the raid that were tied to Lorenzo.
I spend long hours alone with my thoughts, waiting for Declan to heal. Little by little, I try to come to terms with everything that’s happened these past couple of weeks. From the attack on me and Kelly, to the arrest of Lorenzo, to Declan’s plan to let himself be killed...everything’s still a blur in my mind. I don’t know how to start making sense of it all. I need Declan to help me understand exactly what’s happened, and where we go from here.
My sturdiest pillars of support are Sam and Kelly, who never leave my side. John has to keep the club in order in the wake of this mess, and the others do their best to help, but it’s my best friend and Declan’s that really come through for me. I’m vaguely aware of them growing closer as the days go by, but I can’t even start thinking about what that might mean. I can’t do anything, can’t move on, until I know that Declan’s OK. Until I figure out what’s next for us, how we can recover and keep going even with everything that’s happened.