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eyes.
    “I think he’s gonna get his ass kicked,” Baller admitted. “And I don’t think it’ll have happened nearly soon enough.”
    Red’s eyes opened wide.
    “That’s cold , son. That’s your own flesh and blood you’re talkin’ about there.”
    “Yeah, well, sometimes my own flesh and blood needs to learn a lesson,” Hannibal growled. “Which is why I’m tolerating this.”
    Red snorted. A wicked smile curled across his face.
    “Why you’re ‘tolerating’ this?” He chuckled. “Like, you got some kind of say in the matter?” He jerked his thumb towards the octagon. “Your brother’s full grown, son. He’s old enough and dumb enough to make decisions for himself.”
    “Yeah,” Hannibal growled. “That’s the problem.”
    “Well, let’s see how he does tonight. Your boy might surprise you yet, son.”
    Hannibal narrowed his eyes. He doubted that. He just wanted to be sure Julius didn’t get hurt learning this expensive lesson.
    Before they could continue talking, there was a commotion in the crowd. Making his way up the steps into the redneck ‘VIP section’ was a beast of a man, practically bursting out of a skin-tight cotton tank top.
    “Aww, shit,” Red grinned. “My other guest of honor is here. Can’t wait for you two to become acquainted.”
    Red pushed back his chair and stood up to welcome his guest. Turning in their seats, Hannibal and Kristen looked up as he arrived; watching Red embrace this looming, muscular black man enthusiastically.
    “Guys,” Red grinned, turning to his two guests. “I’d like to introduce you to my star fighter – Rashaan Jackson.”
    Hannibal didn’t stand up or shake the new arrival’s hand. He just looked up at him, and narrowed his eyes.
    There’d been a lot of showboating and loud noises that evening, but Hannibal had yet to see anything remotely resembling a real fighter. The fact that his skinny brother was getting into the octagon reinforced his suspicions about the whole event.
    But this guy Red was introducing them too?
    He was tall, and muscular – a figurative brick shithouse. And with his mean-looking face and big, calloused hands, there was no doubt that Rasheen Jackson was the real deal.
    Right up until that moment, Hannibal had been worried that this whole underground fight league was some kind of scam. But the moment he laid eyes on this towering stranger, he started to wonder if there was an even more terrifying possibility.
    That this fighting circuit was the real thing .

Chapter Eleven
     
    Kristen
     
    Up until then, Kristen had kept her mouth shut, and her fingers tightly wrapped around Hannibal’s.
    This whole setup was incredibly intimidating. The loud music, the angry crowd and the looming promise of organized violence. The fact that she was with Hannibal was the only thing that let her keep her nerve.
    But the moment this stranger – Rasheen Jackson – appeared, the atmosphere in that redneck trailer subtly changed.
    Up until then, Hannibal had been wary, but confident – and not without good reason. Red was a loudmouthed asshole, and his guards looked like thugs. But if shit went down, it was clear that Hannibal was the toughest guy in that warehouse, and he’d look after her.
    But Hannibal’s reaction to Rasheen’s arrival had been unmistakable. It was like two pit bulls being introduced – they both got their heckles up immediately.
    And, the truth be told, Kristen didn’t blame Hannibal for being wary. This Rasheen kid looked like a mean son of a bitch. He was all burly bulk where Hannibal was lean muscle. He had a flat, rugged face and was bristling with tattoos. The Mohawk haircut and big, black beard just added to his intimidating appearance.
    From the way Hannibal squeezed her hand, and his shoulders hunched up, it was clear he saw Rasheen as somebody dangerous. Perhaps the only man in that warehouse who was a match for him.
    Red clearly spotted the tension between the two fighters, and his eyes