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“Eh, I don’t think he can help that.” I shrug.
Woolly reaches over and rubs his hand over the top of my head. “Such a softie.”
I smack his hand away. “Won’t feel soft when I knock you out.”
Venom nods at the two fighters, then at me. “Go on, get in there,” he jokes. At least I hope he’s joking. I’m not embarrassing myself by getting in the middle of their petty complaints.
Bull jumps and catches Naptime in a sloppy chokehold. The whole scene—two bigmouths tussling in the grass behind an ice cream stand, with video cameras pointing at them—is so ridiculous, I burst out laughing.
Unfortunately, that draws the attention of one of the camera guys. “What’s so funny, Stonewall?”
Aw, fuck. I don’t want any part of this. “Just enjoying the show.”
“You gotta start mixing it up, bro,” Venom says under his breath. “Stand out.”
I flick a fuck-off glare at him. “I’ll choose a better moment.”
Bull ends up submitting Naptime with the chokehold, leaving the taller fighter panting hard in the grass.
“That was unexpected.” I nod.
“No one knocks out The Bull!” Bull roars, raising his fists above his head.
Naptime glares at him but he’s still struggling to breathe. Jordan crouches next to him, concern etched on his face. I can’t hear their conversation, and honestly, don’t care.
“All right. Let’s wrap it up,” Jordan orders.
I toss my trash.
Walking to the parking lot, a sense of suffocating frustration grabs me. I tip my head back to stare at the deep blue sky. It’s such a perfect day.
An intolerable level of rage bubbles up inside me at the thought of returning to the mansion. To be trapped with these guys for who knows how many more days before they let us out again feels like being buried alive.
I pull the keys out of my pocket. The Ninja shines in the afternoon sunlight. Enticing me to take it on the road for a quick straight-line frenzy. I glance behind me. The camera crew guys are at the corner of the building packing away their equipment. Jordan and the other fighters haven’t reached the parking lot yet.
Now or never.
I slip the helmet on and straddle the bike.
“Stonewall?” one of the crew members calls out. “Where ya goin’?”
Venom said I need to mix it up, right?
CHAPTER TEN
Griff
Speed kills. Or so I’ve heard.
The Ninja has a large engine that easily goes zero to sixty in less than three seconds. I push it there in two-point-five.
First, I did a lazy circle in the parking lot, giving the camera guys a chance to get their equipment ready but not enough time for anyone to stop me.
Not that anyone could catch up to me if they wanted to.
The road’s straight. No clue where I’m going. I’m not even sure where I am. Jordan handed me my license before we left the house. But I don’t have a cell phone or any damn money on me.
Would getting lost be the worst thing in the world?
