Off Limits: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 2) by Ruby Dixon Page B
Authors: Ruby Dixon
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bro—”
Grass snarls and lunges for Solo, and I gasp.
Gem steps in between them, and a few other Butchers join in the ring to keep control. Gem takes control of the mic again. “First fight of the night is between Grass and Solo. Eighty-Eight Henchmen versus the Bedlam Butchers. What’ll it be, boys? Blood, breaks, or buried?”
He’s asking them the rules. I suck in a breath, wondering what they’ll choose. First blood? First broken bone? Or to the death? I don’t want anyone dying over me—I just want to be left alone by the Eighty-Eight.
I hold my breath for even longer as Solo shrugs and gestures that it’s Grass’s choice. Please. Please. Please.
Grass’s lip curls. “I ain’t dying for any cunt.” He spits at Solo’s feet. “Breaks.”
“Breaks it is,” Gem drawls.
“But if you want to sweeten the pot,” Grass continues, his gaze locked on Solo. “You’ll toss in the woman. Winner takes her home with him.”
I hear Kitty gasp nearby, and my entire body goes cold. He’s basically cornered Eric. If Eric says no, it’s as if he doesn’t trust that he’ll win the fight. But if he says yes….there’s a possibility I’ll end up with Grass. My stomach recoils at the thought.
Solo looks out to me and waits.
He’s going to let it be my decision. I press my hand to my lips. I don’t want to decide. I don’t want to be up for bids. But if I say no, Eric loses face. Do I trust him enough to put my body on the line for him? Do I trust him to pound the shit out of Grass? I’m usually not present for the fights. I don’t know how good Eric is. I know he’s toned, but I also know he’s got a limp from A-stan that occasionally shows up when he’s tired or hurting.
But…if I can’t trust him to have my back, who can I trust?
Hoping I haven’t sealed my fate, I nod.
A slow, delicious smile spreads across Solo’s face, and I feel like I’ve made the right choice despite the terrifying wager. From the look on his face, he’s utterly confident he can win; he just wanted me to be confident in him, too. “Lucky’s up for grabs too, then,” he tells my brother.
For a moment, Gemini looks like he wants to murder both of them. But he restrains himself. “Fine. That’ll be our first match. Next up. Any other beef?”
Solo jumps out of the ring and heads back to my side as more men enter the ring, more bouts are scheduled. But I can only see Eric’s smiling face in front of mine. And as he pulls me in for a hard kiss, I hope he pounds the shit out of Grass.
• • •
The next hour is the longest one of my life. We wait, and Solo keeps his arms wrapped around me as bids are placed and people bet on whether I’ll walk out the door with Solo or with Grass. I want to find out what everyone’s bidding on—if it’s Solo or the enemy, but I’m afraid to find out the answer. What if I don’t like it?
But then the lights go down, the bell clangs, and Solo hands me his cut. “Keep this safe for me, babe. I’ll be back to pick it up in a bit.”
“Okay,” I tell him breathlessly, and clutch it to my chest.
He winks at me and then enters the ring, stripping his shirt off. He’s utterly gorgeous. The spotlight makes hollows of his defined muscles, and his Butchers ink across his shoulders makes me proud. He looks like a rough boxer of old, especially with those maddening sideburns. Grass, on the other hand, looks puny in comparison. I’m sure I’m biased, and I’m sure I don’t care.
Gem steps in the middle as the two men begin to circle. “First to a break wins the match. Ready?” He looks at Grass.
Grass nods, a sneer on his face.
Solo nods, too.
“Fight,” Gem yells, and then backs out of the way.
Grass immediately comes in swinging. Solo ducks him and moves out of the way, his stance easy, his shoulders and body moving like a boxer. He’s dancing circles around Grass, waiting for the other man to swing. And when he does, Solo makes it look like a joke. Grass
Grass snarls and lunges for Solo, and I gasp.
Gem steps in between them, and a few other Butchers join in the ring to keep control. Gem takes control of the mic again. “First fight of the night is between Grass and Solo. Eighty-Eight Henchmen versus the Bedlam Butchers. What’ll it be, boys? Blood, breaks, or buried?”
He’s asking them the rules. I suck in a breath, wondering what they’ll choose. First blood? First broken bone? Or to the death? I don’t want anyone dying over me—I just want to be left alone by the Eighty-Eight.
I hold my breath for even longer as Solo shrugs and gestures that it’s Grass’s choice. Please. Please. Please.
Grass’s lip curls. “I ain’t dying for any cunt.” He spits at Solo’s feet. “Breaks.”
“Breaks it is,” Gem drawls.
“But if you want to sweeten the pot,” Grass continues, his gaze locked on Solo. “You’ll toss in the woman. Winner takes her home with him.”
I hear Kitty gasp nearby, and my entire body goes cold. He’s basically cornered Eric. If Eric says no, it’s as if he doesn’t trust that he’ll win the fight. But if he says yes….there’s a possibility I’ll end up with Grass. My stomach recoils at the thought.
Solo looks out to me and waits.
He’s going to let it be my decision. I press my hand to my lips. I don’t want to decide. I don’t want to be up for bids. But if I say no, Eric loses face. Do I trust him enough to put my body on the line for him? Do I trust him to pound the shit out of Grass? I’m usually not present for the fights. I don’t know how good Eric is. I know he’s toned, but I also know he’s got a limp from A-stan that occasionally shows up when he’s tired or hurting.
But…if I can’t trust him to have my back, who can I trust?
Hoping I haven’t sealed my fate, I nod.
A slow, delicious smile spreads across Solo’s face, and I feel like I’ve made the right choice despite the terrifying wager. From the look on his face, he’s utterly confident he can win; he just wanted me to be confident in him, too. “Lucky’s up for grabs too, then,” he tells my brother.
For a moment, Gemini looks like he wants to murder both of them. But he restrains himself. “Fine. That’ll be our first match. Next up. Any other beef?”
Solo jumps out of the ring and heads back to my side as more men enter the ring, more bouts are scheduled. But I can only see Eric’s smiling face in front of mine. And as he pulls me in for a hard kiss, I hope he pounds the shit out of Grass.
• • •
The next hour is the longest one of my life. We wait, and Solo keeps his arms wrapped around me as bids are placed and people bet on whether I’ll walk out the door with Solo or with Grass. I want to find out what everyone’s bidding on—if it’s Solo or the enemy, but I’m afraid to find out the answer. What if I don’t like it?
But then the lights go down, the bell clangs, and Solo hands me his cut. “Keep this safe for me, babe. I’ll be back to pick it up in a bit.”
“Okay,” I tell him breathlessly, and clutch it to my chest.
He winks at me and then enters the ring, stripping his shirt off. He’s utterly gorgeous. The spotlight makes hollows of his defined muscles, and his Butchers ink across his shoulders makes me proud. He looks like a rough boxer of old, especially with those maddening sideburns. Grass, on the other hand, looks puny in comparison. I’m sure I’m biased, and I’m sure I don’t care.
Gem steps in the middle as the two men begin to circle. “First to a break wins the match. Ready?” He looks at Grass.
Grass nods, a sneer on his face.
Solo nods, too.
“Fight,” Gem yells, and then backs out of the way.
Grass immediately comes in swinging. Solo ducks him and moves out of the way, his stance easy, his shoulders and body moving like a boxer. He’s dancing circles around Grass, waiting for the other man to swing. And when he does, Solo makes it look like a joke. Grass
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