Fighting Lady Jayne Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Fighting Lady Jayne

  ISBN 9781419921575

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Fighting Lady Jayne Copyright © 2009 Michelle M. Pillow

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication May 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Fighting Lady Jayne

  Michelle M. Pillow

  Dedication

  To Dan, my knight in colorful armor. I <3 U.

  Prologue

  Getting her teeth knocked around in her head hurt like hell, but being able to spit blood into the face of her opponent more than made up for the discomfort. Jayne “The Sweet” Hart laughed as Big Bobby Bishop sputtered in anger. She knew he expected her to cry at the landed blow. Truth was, part of Jayne did want to cry. She wasn’t a glutton for a beating and that last hit had left blood running out of her mouth at a steady flow. They’d been going at it for nearly a half hour, bare-knuckle boxing—no protective gear beyond any sanctioned bioengineering, no referees, not like some of the other dimensions had. No, here on dimensional plane 241 almost anything was legal. That’s why the gladiator ring paid such big money and drew the notice of rich, inter-dimensional travelers who could afford a private plane jump through Divinity Corporation. It’s also why Jayne agreed to travel from her own world to this alternate reality where laws were more of a suggestion and killing someone in a fight was considered a good thing.

  In many ways, each alternate reality was like drifting through time on her own home plane, had a singular event on the timeline been changed. Each dimension seemed to be a different outcome to a similar historical start. Some were so technologically advanced everything was done for them and they’d found a worldwide peace and understanding. Jayne generally stayed away from those levels of existence. There wasn’t much employment for fighters in such realities.

  Other planes hadn’t even developed a means of fast communication beyond throwing a bird into the air with a tiny letter tied to its leg. Still others had just installed their first aqueducts or invented their first vehicles to run without horses or oxen. Or, like 241, they had every technological comfort and yet somehow managed to maintain their barbarian sensibilities.

  Any way you looked at it, Earth was Earth, just different versions of itself—same languages, matching natural events, some people looked the same but weren’t. Humans, for the most part, still resembled humans. And those with power were still greedy bastards trying to tell her how to do her job.

  Big Bobby watched her expectantly, his mouth opened as if to scream in victory at any second. Jayne knew he expected her to fall with that punch. She watched as the excitement slowly died from his eyes, replaced by shock, then confusion, until finally a boiling rage. His eyes scanned the crowd, toward the large balcony to where his daddy sat watching. Big Bobby’s father and known gangster boss had undoubtedly assured his halfwit-of-a-lug-nut son that he was a sure winner. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Big Bobby had been an admirable opponent, but after a half hour, she could still see out of one of her eyes and he only managed to knock her off her feet twice.

  And Bossman Bishop wanted her to take a dive to this chump?

  Jayne snorted. Not bloody likely. She’d never work as a boxer again—not that she had to. In her home dimension, she had plenty of money to bide her twelve lifetimes.

  Divinity Corp paid her big for this fight. They were her ticket home and had the only known source of inter-dimensional travel technology on this plane. Natural slips were extremely rare and the timing of them completely predictable by the company, even if they didn’t know where the slip would go. If they didn’t take her home, she’d be stuck until the end of time. Besides, there was no way she was taking a dive just because the local gangsters had promised to…

  What had Bossman said again? Oh, yeah. They were going to gang rape her grandma while she watched. It had hardly been a threat. Jayne was an orphan. Still, a part of her was up in arms for the hypothetical grandmother they’d threatened.

  There was no way Bossman could know about her lack of family. The publicity put out by Divinity Corp’s entertainment division fostered the wholesome image of their Sweetheart Jayne. Of course, it was all al lie. They hired a family to take pictures with her at a rented country home—the devoted mother, the fake twin sister with a poor health condition, the baby brother and suit ‘n’ cravat dad.

  The loud, almost fanatical cheering of the crowd grew. They surrounded on all sides, lining the rows upon rows of rotating theater seats. Every few minutes, the seats would shift, changing the angle from which a person watched. Lights flashed all around her. Floating cameras zipped by her head, but she ignored them. Most of the bets were on her and she never lost a fight. Never. And she would be damned if she gave this guy the reputation of being the one person who could take her down. He didn’t deserve the title, or her respect. Rage grew within her that he even dared to presume he was worthy of taking her down.

  Do it for your family, Jayne, she thought sardonically.

  Jayne decided to teach him and Bossman a lesson. She drew her body around, preparing to kick him upside the head in a move she knew he wouldn’t see coming. Big Bobby swung again. She dodged the blow and this time his hand merely grazed her cheek, stinging the cut she had there. She didn’t hesitate. Whipping her leg around, she swung it for his head. Suddenly, every nerve in her body exploded with pain. There was no stopping her body’s momentum as it lifted off the hard mat. The noise of the crowd faded and grew until stopping altogether. Big Bobby caught her suddenly slowed foot and pushed her backward. Nothing was as it should be. Lights streaked in her vision before her body was abruptly stopped by a metal pole slamming into her back. Then, darkness clouded her mind and she could only think one thing.

  Boxers’ Poison.

  Chapter One

  Jayne perceived the exact moment her mind became aware that something wasn’t right. Her body didn’t ache and her body always ached—if not from a fight, then from her workouts. The second hint that all was not well came in the form of her mattress. The thing was much too soft. She didn’t sleep on soft things, couldn’t sleep on soft things. Jayne had grown up in an orphanage. Where she came from that meant hard floor beds and a high pain tolerance from the daily obedience beatings.

  Where in the bloody fucking misery was she?

  She listened first, not moving, not changing her breathing. The soft whispers of others filled the space around her. People slept. The even tempo gave it away. Opening a
n eye, she glanced around and took quick inventory—dim light, stone wall, barred door, five sleeping women not counting herself, on mattresses placed in various positions around the room.

  Prison.

  Jayne frowned. Her tank top and exercise pants must have been confiscated, replaced by a shapeless white, very one-size-fits-all, dress. She’d been arrested before, usually for disorderly conduct. Surely she’d remember celebrating her victory. Nothing to worry about. Divinity Corp always sent someone to get her out of jail. Ah, the perks of being a champ.

  Wait, victory? Jayne shot up on her mattress. Boxers’ Poison.

  “Bloody fucking misery, son of a whoring cat…” Jayne cursed under her breath. A blonde head moved nearby, followed by a light whimper.

  Jayne didn’t care if she interrupted her neighbor’s beauty sleep. How could that father of a monkey do this to her? Big Bobby had drugged her. His last hit had been tainted with Boxers’ Poison. One punch to an open wound and down went your opponent. All fighters were supposed to have been tested for such tricks, as was protocol. Even on 241 it was illegal. What fun was a drugged fight to the crowds? Well, except for the drugged fights on plane 23.

  “That flying piece of monkey dung,” Jayne swore again, feeling the familiar urge to hit something ball up inside her. She wasn’t sure what was worse—being cheated or having nearly four hundred dimensions that participated in the underground entertainment division of Divinity Corp think she lost to such a whoreson.

  “Keep it down,” someone mumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “You keep it down,” Jayne muttered under her breath, unafraid of the warning in the woman’s tone. Where was George, the Divinity Corp entertainment lawyer? He should be getting her out of there already.

  A sinking feeling came over Jayne. What if George wasn’t coming? Technically, she’d lost the fight. If Divinity believed her to have lost a fortune in assets, they’d…

  “Oh, misery.” Jayne reached for her face, not feeling a single swollen eyelid or bruised cheekbone. She’d been healed. That meant she’d been out for at least a couple weeks. Boxers’ Poison didn’t last that long, so someone had deliberately kept her under while they transported her to this cell. Management always joked that they’d make her disappear if she ever lost a match. She’d thought they were teasing. Someone always had to lose. Sure, it was never her, but someone had to. “Oh, bloody misery. They shipped me off. They made me disappear.”

  “I said to keep it down!” A dark-haired woman sat up, blinking hard. “What the…? Where?” Her gaze darted around the room in surprise and she let loose a loud, long, hairsplitting scream. The prison cell instantly became a blur of jolting movements as the other women awoke. Jayne covered her ears, glaring at the woman who refused to stop her incessant yelling.

  “Eh, what’s all this noise?” A gruff voice yelled. A man who could only be their prison guard appeared in front of the bars. A burly man dressed in a hard leather jerkin and dark breeches stood between the bars and the stone wall on the other side of the narrow hall. Metal diamonds plated the leather of his clothes. He clanked a heavy metal weapon against the bars to make them ring. “Stop that. You woke me from a dead sleep. No talking. No waking. Lie down until it’s time to break our fast. The next one to make a sound, I swear to the fire goddess I will run you through with my sword.”

  The woman stopped screaming, but her wide eyes still yelled in silent terror. Jayne looked around at the rest of her companions. None were as silly as the screamer, but nearly all looked just as confused. All except a redhead who hugged her arms around her legs and rolled back down onto her mattress bed.

  One of the two blondes whimpered and did as she was told, sniffling noisily. Jayne realized it was the same woman who’d been sniveling as the others slept. The second blonde appeared much calmer as her eyes met Jayne’s. She didn’t say a word as she took in their surroundings. The last prisoner, the brunette, scratched thoughtfully at the back of her head as she eyed the retreating guard.

  “We’d better do as he says,” the brunette said, only to add to herself, “for now.”

  Jayne silently, though reluctantly, agreed. There was no point in causing trouble until she knew what was happening. Pressing her hand against the hard stone of the floor, she slid the mattress aside. Though bumpy, the stiff bed was a cool relief to the softness. Threading her hands under head, she closed her eyes. The only thing left to do was wait, for all would unfold itself in time.

  * * * * *

  “The faster you make them come, the less time you must spend in their presence.”

  Was this whore serious?

  Jayne eyed the servant who’d introduced herself as Sera. At least, the woman said she was a servant. What kind of servant, Jayne wasn’t sure. The woman had a white corset top, laced so tight it made her generous bosom nearly pop over the top of her shirt. Long blue skirts, a favorite accessory of most of the whores Jayne had met in her travels, billowed around her legs. They made for easy access to the professional tools.

  “I’ll make them do something, all right, but it won’t be making them come,” Jayne muttered under her breath, as she accepted a loaf of bread from the woman. The other women in the cell did nothing to acknowledge they’d heard what she said. Of course, none of them were really talking, not since the guard had come in the middle of the night to threaten them. Maybe if she yelled the guard would open the door to give her the fight she was brewing for.

  Calm down, Jayne. It’s like Coach Wagner used to tell you. Not everything is settled with fists.

  To which she always replied, Yeah, there’s kicking, too.

  “That is all they want—a vessel to find release in,” Sera continued softly, her rounded eyes trying to convey her sincerity. Jayne didn’t trust her. In fact, she didn’t trust anyone, not completely. “Do not expect tenderness, but if you don’t deny them, if you don’t resist, you’ll be treated fairly enough. And if you give them sons, you’ll be greatly rewarded. Life here is not so bad.”

  “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” a dark-haired woman repeated, over and over. She only became more hysterical with each passing moment. “Wake up, Edith, wake up.”

  Jayne blocked the sniveling woman out of her mind and bit into her bread. There had to be a way out of the prison. If only she had something besides a white, shapeless gown to bribe the guards with.

  “I’m telling you how to best survive this place. Please, listen,” Sera insisted. “Spreading your thighs is easy enough a task for a decent life. Don’t bring trouble upon yourself. Let them find release. They are not such boars when they get what they want.”

  Jayne hummed softly as the servant woman left them. Perhaps bribing with coin wasn’t the way. Escape might be much easier. Edith became louder still and Jayne thought about knocking her out to put them all out of their misery. One of the blondes tried to soothe the hysterical one’s fears while the other blonde whimpered. The redhead picked imaginary dust particles off her long sleeve, ignoring everyone.

  Jayne turned her attention to the brunette, watching as she pulled a hairpin out of her hair. The woman didn’t hesitate as she knelt down by the bars. Reaching through, she closed her eyes and slipped the tip of the hairpin into the lock and began to work it in small circles. Jayne bit her lip, leaning in to stand watch without having to be asked.

  “Put it up,” Jayne whispered, seeing a wooden door open at the end of the long corridor. Two burly men dressed in dark breeches and hard leather jerkins with the metal diamond-shaped plates strode toward them. Jayne slowly backed away from the bars as they came to stand in front of her. A warrior studied them one by one, not appearing pleased with what he saw. Jayne knew the feeling. She wasn’t too pleased with him either. To the other guard, he said, “The flaxen one and the crying one. They do not carry themselves well. Take them and give them the philter.”

  “What?” Edith screamed. “No, wait! I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be good. Please, don’t hurt me. Pl
ease, I’ll do anything you want. Do you want me to make you come? I will. I swear I will. I’ll do you all!”

  Both guards snorted in disgust. Jayne resisted the urge to thank them. With the two crybabies out of the cell, she might be able to come up with a plan. One motioned to the door and soon four men were crowding into the small place. Two grabbed the now-sobbing Edith and dragged her out. The blonde screamed, kicking and fighting as tears streamed down her face. The four remaining women held perfectly still.

  After the men passed through the door, the brunette set back to work, her face set as she tried to feel around the lock.

  “You won’t be able to open it,” the redhead said, staring at the lock picker. “Even if you did, there would be no escape. You’d have to fight through the warriors’ hall, out of the guarded castle gates and run three strikes over open prairie until you reach the forest. Should you survive the wild beasts that live there, you’d soon find yourself prisoner to an even more vicious race of creatures—monsters so fierce and depraved they’ll make you beg for death. Trust me, with the war going on in this forsaken place, we’re in the better of the two sides.”

  “Who are you that we should trust what you say?” the brunette asked.

  “Name’s Paige,” the redhead answered.

  “Lilith,” the remaining blonde put forth.

  “What do they want with us?” Jayne inquired. All eyes turned to her. “Oh, I’m called Jayne.”

  “They want us to be their whores,” Paige said bitterly. “They don’t call it that, but that’s what they want—a subservient woman to rub their feet and spread her legs. If you don’t, they get pissed and the whole lot of them stares at you like you are demon spawn incarnate and blames you for your chosen warrior’s bad mood. It’s either fuck them or suck them or you’re treated like the bottom rung of Starian society.”