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“Just because we landed two crime bosses doesn’t mean the rest of them will follow.” Cameron tried to smooth shit over. “I mean, who are we to talk?”
“Cameron,” I hissed, “I am not your son.” I drew the words out slowly then turned to my father. “Dad, I know I said I’d back off, but you did say that if I came home, I’d have a say in everything that happens at Indulge. I thought signing one of them was a terrible idea, but both of them? It’s simply insane. We’ve got twenty-four hours to revoke the contract, and I insist we do it.”
“Well, I disagree.” My father set his glass down. “But tell you what. I did agree you’d have a say, so if you still feel this way in the morning, we’ll discuss it further.” My father was always fair and generally had good reasons for what he did, but this went too far.
“My mind won’t change.”
“This is huge, Grim. Take the win,” Cameron chimed in. “These are just stupid folks with a lot of money.”
“Well,” I checked the time with the knowledge I needed to be elsewhere, “I can promise you one thing, Cameron. Victor and Sonny will not step a foot inside Secrets Hotel. So, be sure to let your clients know that.” I eyed my father hard and threw the door open. I wanted to be as far away from them both as I could. I needed to think.
Grim: I could break some bones.
Trigger: Good timing. You know where to go.
Grim: See you in ten.
* * *
The moment the doors opened, the pandemonium of noise and excited people found its way to my wild head. It felt like an electric charge. It was the thing that Trigger, my friend Elio Capri, and I could all relate to. It was what originally brought us together and carried over to handling business together.
“You’re up after this round.” Trigger tossed me some knuckle tape as he walked by.
“Thanks.” I closed the door to the changing room and opened my locker. I stripped down, pulled on my shorts, and taped my hands.
The law might forbid underground fighting, but I never understood why they’d ban something so basic. It dated back to Roman times. It’s innate in humans to fight. The need to strike, to break bones, to bring a man to his knees. That need to conquer. Trigger, Elio, me. All of this was part of us, what we needed to ground us. It cemented our friendship.
“Time.” Brick knocked on the door.
I took a deep breath and stepped out into the chaotic room. The crowd went nuts, which brought the volume to a deafening roar. Men screamed with the thrill of the idea of one winner left standing, and women screamed all kinds of promises. This was one of the many things that fueled my tainted soul, breaking bones.
“Make a show of it.” Brick shouted from beside me. He knew I was a performer in the ring.
I ducked under the rope and slipped my mouth guard in. My opponent was in the opposite corner.
The bell rang, and I was in the zone.
Whack! His fist drilled into the side of my face, and I smiled as I shook off the delicious pain. He stepped back with a grunt and paced the side of the ring as he tried to figure me out.
This fight was all about speed and was a favorite of the spectators. The fastest time won. The first man to hit the floor lost. The winner would fight nine competitors and hold the title of “Rapid Winner.”
My plan was not to win. I just wanted to force my opponent to slow down, make a show that he couldn’t take me down under the necessary seven minutes. The fight ended at that point, and if I wasn’t down, the club won. I intended to savor every single one of those minutes from each opponent who stepped in the ring with me.
I took their hits, no matter how hard they swung. I only blocked the ones that came at my face. I had a lot of business to handle every day, and I couldn’t afford to look beat up while I did it. I was a professional businessman and needed to look the part, and what I did in the ring was far from businesslike. Seven men came, each thinking they had the upper hand, and lost. I played my part, dragged it out, gave them hope, then showed them the mat.
By the eighth, I lost control of my mind and let it slip.
Jab! Jab! He hit my stomach twice. Jab! Jab! Jab! Three to the shoulder. I landed a punch on his jaw and knocked him backward as Kenna’s face suddenly popped in my head. I shook her off, but she came right back. My own words echoed in my head. “Remember what I said, Kenna. Orders are orders.” Jab! I felt my back muscles contract.
Did I need to prove to her that I had the final say? Did I need to pin her down again and—the sounds she made when my fingers were inside of her took over, and I struggled to clear my head.
I felt a punch to the stomach again, but I barely registered it. How could she make a deal when she knew I had forbidden it?
I was so pent up that the normal release I got with these fights wasn’t happening. Instead of the usual burst of endorphins, it felt like tiny pinpricks designed to irritate, not relieve. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force myself to feel the pain. Suddenly, I was shot backward and bounced off the ropes.
“I’m all for the show, Grim, but shit, are you with us?” Morgan yelled from somewhere, and I jolted back to the present just in time to duck when my opponent swung at my jaw.
He grunted as I swung around and kicked him in the back. I punched his calf and he fell to his knees, then I nailed him in the ribs. He fell hard with a yelp, and I knew he was down.
