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Lifting his wrist to his mouth, he tore the tape with his teeth and started to unravel the black hand wrap he’d used to protect his knuckles. The cotton material was soaked with blood and sweat. He’d have to burn it later. He wanted to burn it all. The illegal fights made him sick to his stomach. And it wasn’t the brutality that could be found in both the amateur and professional circuits. No, this was an utter disregard for human life. There were no doctors tending wounds or refs to make sure that the fights didn’t go too far. In these illegal fights, there were no submissions. The fight wasn’t over until at least one man was unconscious on the ground.
He was ready to be done with his undercover work and return to his life working security for Rowe. His job might not always be entirely legal, but he at least felt like Rowe gave a shit about whether he was safe and healthy. The ex-Ranger was constantly training him, improving his skills, making sure that Andrei had the very best equipment. Of course, it was a little hard not to feel utterly disposable as he wandered through hell, but Lucas needed him here even if the man wouldn’t admit it.
But to get home, Andrei had to keep his eye on the prize. For now, that was Paul Roethke. He was the man who set up the fights, set the odds, and handled the payout. He was typically the most powerful man on the fight floor on any given night.
Tonight, he was talking to a newcomer in a suit and both men were closely watching Andrei as he approached them.
“There’s my champ!” Paul crowed when Andrei was only a few feet away. “Another win for the gladiator!”
“What’s my payout?” Andrei bit out, having no problem playing up the disgruntled asshole. Being back in the underground fights, his body aching while the bitterness of broken dreams threaten to swallow him whole — it all put him in a bad place.
Paul handed over a stack of bills. “Fifteen hundred.”
Andrei quickly counted it, struggling a little with his right hand still wrapped. “Fuck, Paul. Why are you holding out on me? These have got to get bigger. I’m busting my balls out there for you.”
“And you’ve won every fight since coming back,” Paul said with a shake of his head. “It’s getting hard to find another idiot to face you.”
“If I lose to make you money, I get nothing but broken bones.” Andrei shoved the money in the front pocket of his dirty, blood-stained jeans. “Fucking Vallois,” he muttered under his breath before pulling at the tape on his right wrist.
“You work for that security company, correct?” the stranger inquired, his eyes narrowed on Andrei as if he were inspecting him like a prize horse up for auction.
“Worked,” Andrei corrected. With an angry jerk, he pulled the wrap off his hand and balled it in his fist. “Fucking snotty ass-bag client pulled some stupid shit and I got canned. No warning. No severance. Just shoved out the damned door.”
“Bastard,” the man muttered but Andrei didn’t miss the glitter to his pale blue eyes or the hint of a smile on his thin lips. “But this could work out for you.”
Andrei glared at the man in the expensive gray suit. His thinning hair was slicked back, making his narrow face look even more pinched. He was smooth and tried to give off the aura of money but after spending days with Lucas, this guy was nothing but a cheap knock off.
“How?”
The man jerked his chin, motioning toward an empty section of the old warehouse. “Walk with me.”
Andrei fought to keep his features schooled into a scowl as his heart took off. His aching ribs and throbbing knees were forgotten. He was close. They were close to having this done. Of course, now it got dangerous.
“I’ve been watching your fights, kid,” the stranger began. “You’ve got a lot of skill. Too much to be wasting your time here with Paul’s sideshow freaks.”
Andrei snorted. “I’ve spent most of my life in training. I know how to handle myself.”
“That would explain why Ward recruited you two years ago to join his little company.”
The man’s words sent a chill straight to Andrei’s bones. This fucker knew a lot more than Andrei would have expected. Had Rowe loosened the security, allowing them to rummage around in the company’s files so they could research Andrei? He prayed that was the case.
“Ward knows talent,” the man continued.
“He also threw away his best man because his friend is a fucking idiot,” Andrei snarled, letting his growing discomfort come out as irritation.
“We heard you were protecting Lucas Vallois,” the man murmured when they were alone in the shadows.
“We?”
“Me and my employer.”
“And who the hell are you?”
