Free Fight by Kelly Wyre

it, man. No worries.” Dennis laughed. “We’re all doin’ what we gotta do here. I’m working, you’re fighting, and he’s drinking. Right?”
    The last was addressed to Nathan, who finished off his last whiskey in a hurry.
    Fury tilted his head and eased closer to Dennis. “Heard a rumor.”
    “Yeah?” Dennis’s nostrils flared and chest hitched, but his eyes went flat. His bodyguard tensed, and Nathan wanted to slap a hand over Fury’s mouth and drag the man out of there. It was not a good day when Nathan’s better sense outran somebody else’s.
    Fury nodded. “Heard they’re runnin’ H and whores.”
    Nathan replayed Duke’s strung-out voice whispering in his ear, and Nathan’s shirt stuck to his sweat-soaked skin beneath his jacket.
    “The fuck you hear that?” Dennis asked, dully.
    “One of their street lackeys was harassin’ some people tonight after the fight over at Bass.”
    “Huh.”
    “That part of what you gotta do, now, Dennis?”
    Dennis didn’t answer, choosing instead to stay locked in a Don’t Blink contest with Fury. Finally, he broke the silence and glared at Nathan. “Where’d you two meet?”
    Fury didn’t answer, and Nathan couldn’t take the pressure. “We go to the same gym.”
    “Uh-huh.” Dennis made a derisive sound and sighed, stepping away from Fury with feigned, sad concern. “Fury, your friend smells like a cop.”
    Nathan spluttered. “I’m not a—”
    Dennis overrode Nathan. “And if his pretty face wasn’t plastered all over the goddamned town, I’d think if it smelled like roast duck, it probably was. But my new friends around here might not pay so much attention to billboards.” The illusion of a smile vanished at last. “You’ve got what I owe you for now. Get the fuck out.”
    Nathan got up immediately, but Fury stayed still for ten more seconds. Nathan counted, wondering how many times it was possible to get shot in that span of time.
    Fury sighed, bending closer to Dennis. “Get your shit together,” Fury said. The way he said it was almost loving, which was damned weird and set off warning bells in Nathan’s liquor-soaked brain.
    “It is.” Dennis squared off with Fury long enough to make a point and then turned to go.
    Fury’s shoulders slumped, but he tipped his head toward the door. Nathan didn’t look at anybody on the way out of the building, and he didn’t answer Ed’s, “Have a good one.”
    By the time he got to the truck, Nathan’s buzz was wearing thin. “What the fuck was all that about?” he asked as calmly as he could when Fury had climbed inside.
    “That was my thing,” Fury replied with a level look. “Told you. Don’t do drugs but got other stuff. That was it.”
    “So you said,” Nathan replied, a little pissed off beneath the whiskey’s surface and not so sure why. Something about near death experiences and the object of his lust being too good at bludgeoning people.
    “Then you heard me.” Fury started the truck and cranked the heater.
    Nathan made a frustrated sound. “I get that the fights are your outlet. Fine, cool, whatever, but why bring me?”
    “’Cause you agreed.”
    “That all?” Nathan asked.
    “Thought you’d like it.” Fury sounded tired.
    “Yeah. Nothing quite like getting felt up in a crowd of men to do me right on a Thursday,” Nathan snarled, confused as to why he’d chosen that tidbit to share.
    Fury hit the brakes at the edge of the lot. “That’s Dander.” The street was clear, but Fury didn’t go. “I’ve warned that fucker.” Fury sighed. “I need to go kick his ass?”
    “No,” Nathan said too loudly. The idea of Fury defending honor that Nathan didn’t have was preposterous. “And there was more to it than that.”
    Fury smirked. “To Dander feelin’ you up?”
    “No, asshole,” Nathan said. His volume knob was broken at the eight. “To you taking me to that shithole.”
    “Think so?”
    “ Yes .”
    Fury grunted and hit the gas. He was no more