“I fucking hope not.” Charlie grinned at him. “No offence.”
“None taken.” One of Charlie’s front teeth was missing, and Aaron wondered if that was his doing. Probably.
With a nod, he turned away to find the ref waiting for him with his winnings. Aaron pocketed the money without bothering to count it. It felt the same thickness as always, and he doubted anyone would try to short-change him. Not after the display he’d just put on.
As Aaron bent to pick up his towel and water, he sensed someone close behind him. They smelt of stale smoke and beer—like pubs used to before the smoking ban—and also a scent he recognised.
Fuck.
Two black boots appeared in his line of vision. “Mr Smith wants to see you,” Blake said.
Aaron sighed.
I guess it was only a matter of time.
A lot of the guys who fought there were regulars, and Aaron had heard enough talk to know some of the fights were thrown. He wasn’t naïve enough to think every fight was a fair one. He was a prime example of that, for fuck’s sake, although he tried to keep things as fair as possible. Up until that moment, he’d managed to avoid interaction with the boss, whether by luck or something else, but either way, it seemed as though his luck had run out.
Straightening, Aaron slung his towel around his neck. “Give me a chance to clean up?”
“Five minutes. We’ll wait outside for you.”
Aaron nodded and set off towards the toilets where the rest of his stuff was locked away, ignoring the two hulking guys behind him.
They did as promised and didn’t follow him inside, for which he was grateful. His hands had taken a battering, and by rights should be in a pretty bad state, though Aaron never knew quite what to expect until he peeled off the tape. After so much practice, he’d got better at forcing his body not to heal, but a sliver of doubt remained and he’d prefer not to have an audience.
He’d also prefer to have a shower before walking out of there—sweat clung to his bare skin along with dust from the shitty environment—but he was lucky the sink had running water, cold as it was.
Aaron carefully peeled off the tape from his hands and shoved it in the side pocket of his bag. His knuckles were a little red, but nothing like he imagined Charlie’s were. After rinsing off as best he could, Aaron patted himself dry and grabbed his T-shirt and jacket out of the locker. For occasions like this, where his body refused to play ball, he kept a set of thin, wool gloves in his pocket.
But first, he searched for his phone and sent a quick text to Harry.
Got to see the bossman. Hopefully won’t be too long.
Bossman? Everything ok?
Aaron hoped so.As far as he knew, he hadn’t broken any of the rules. Except for the no-shifter one, of course, but if they’d found out about that, they wouldn’t be asking so nicely.
Yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing. Meet you at the bar in Lycanis?
Harry had a thing for the barman who usually worked one of the upstairs bars, so Harry’s response came as no great surprise.
Upstairs?
Aaron smiled at his screen and shook his head.Yeah, that’s fine. See you in a bit.
He slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket, tugged on the black gloves, and grabbed his bag, prepared to face whatever waited for him outside of the bathroom.
“BASTARD WANKER,”Aaron muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a grimace. The cool night air did nothing to soothe his temper, and Aaron seethed more with each step. Office buildings rose up on either side of him. Even the usually impressive sight of The Gherkin did nothing to improve his mood.
“That fight cost my friends a lot of money, Aaron. Charlie was supposed to go down in the second round.”
What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?
Smith had sat in his makeshift office, surrounded by his army of bodyguards like a fucking TV mob boss, tapping his fingers on the old desk in front of him and eyeing Aaron like a prime rump steak. Aaron had said nothing in reply, which seemed to be the right move because Smith just kept on talking.
“He won’t fight here again.” He paused to glance down at Aaron’s gloved hands. “But you will.”
Aaron had wanted to deny it, say he was done too. But these were dangerous people, shifter strength or no, and until he got Harry to stop going there, he knew he wouldn’t stop either.
