Everyone in Brimstone knew what happened and I was last to find out. Rich little princess beats another girl bloody in the bathroom over jealousy?
Yeah. That shit spread fast.
Part of me was proud of her.
The other part wanted to kill whoever upset her enough to make her snap like that.
Which is probably toxic.
What’s even worse is I jerked off to the video Ryker sent me of the fight.
Sick right.
Oh well.
If that’s the only way I get to see the real her, then so be it.
I lean against the Dungeon bar counting stacks of cash while workers prep the cage for tomorrow night’s main event.
Big fight. Big money. Bigger idiots willing to lose fortunes gambling on violence.
My kind of environment honestly.
“Yo, Ghost,” Ryker shouts, walking over to me.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, and he hands me an envelope and a piece of paper. “What’s this?” And he grins.
“Envelope for the fight and the paper… well, open it,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
A phone number. That’s it.
I look up at him with a raised brow, and he’s just grinning at me like an asshole. “A number. That’s it? What the fuck? I don’t have time for this,” I say, and he huffs.
“It’s O’s number,” he states, and I narrow my eyes.
“And why the fuck do you have it?” I question, and he raises his hands in surrender.
“Love is in the air. You smell that.” He chuckles as I take the paper and shove it into my back pocket.
“Atta boy. Did Braxton confirm?” he asks while scanning the fight card beside me.
“Yeah,” I say, scribbling another note onto the clipboard. “His opponent flies in tonight.”
Ryker whistles. “This one’s gonna make us rich.”
Hopefully.
Because between the apartment, the bike, and the truck I’ve been eyeing lately, I’m bleeding cash faster than I’m making it.
Still… busy is good. Busy keeps me from thinking about Ophelia.
Spoiler alert… It’s not working.
Around seven, I leave the Dungeon through the back entrance where a black G-Wagon already waits beside the alley.
Flynn O’Patrick doesn’t do things subtle. He goes all out with a bang.
Two massive Irishmen stand outside the SUV smoking while Flynn himself sits in the backseat looking like organized crime wrapped in expensive wool and bad intentions.
