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And life had taught him to make sure everybody knew he wasn’t easy prey before anything else. Made things a hell of a lot simpler for him, honestly.

His main job at the bar was keeping a drink in every hand that could buy one. It was his side hustle when the fights came up that kept him motivated enough to run six miles every morning and to use the gym across from the bar where a lot of the underground fighters in Hell’s Kitchen liked to train. Usually, after his work was done in the early mornings because it was the only point he had the time to do so.

Everyone in the hallway separated like the sea had parted to let Lev through when he moved down the hallway toward his boss’s office. Except for the guy at the end who didn’t look old enough to even stand inside the back of the damn bar. Right in the middle of the hallway, he crossed his arms at Lev’s approach. He never understood his boss’s need to have open fight nights where anyone could put their name in for a bid to fight when all it did was invite the stupidest fucks off the streets who only needed cash and nothing more.

Then again ... wasn’t that what all of them needed?

He sure did.

“Move your ass,” Lev told the guy as he approached. “Before I move you.”

Stupid didn’t move.

In fact, he folded his arms and held his ground.

Because he was stupid.

“Hey, asshole, I was here—”

“Shut that hole in your fucking face before I fill it with my fist, yeah? You’re going to move, and if you’re really smart—but I doubt you are—you’ll head out of here entirely. You’re about forty pounds underweight, and they’ll use you as filler tonight between the main fights. You know what happens to the filler in the ring, kid?”

At least this time, the guy had the decency to give Lev a second look. Which meant he had to tip his head all the way back to stare up at the man towering over him wearing dark-wash, ripped jeans and a black leather jacket that had seen better days but a hell of a lot of nights just like these. Stupid also had the nerve to swallow—a good sign of the fear he really didn’t want to be showing in a place like Nickie’s.

Fed by the underground, corrupted by a variance of organized crime figures that regularly made their way through the door for meetings, entertainment, or whatever else Lev’s boss could offer, and controlled by a code this young man couldn’t possibly understand ... shit, he was doing this boy a favor.

Bending down, Lev came eye to eye with the kid and uttered, “They’ll put you in there with a guy like me just to teach your stupid ass a lesson. Need money? Here’s not the place you want to find it. Move.”

Who knew what did it?

Maybe Lev’s words.

Maybe the gleam in his eye.

Either way, the kid’s gaze darted between Lev and the line of waiting men that had backed up all the way out to the floor where the ring was being set up for the fights that should have already started. Stupid didn’t need to be told again before he grabbed the backpack from the ground and scooted around Lev without a look over his shoulder.

Letting out an annoyed breath, he straightened up, fixing his jacket as he did so and headed for the opened office door where he knew Nickie was probably playing the little king behind his desk. As he did on every fight night. He enjoyed this chaos.

This shitshow.

Not even bothering to enter the office, Lev remained in the doorway where his large presence was more than enough to catch the attention of the man chatting on the phone behind the desk. Nickie didn’t bother to pull his legs down where he had them hooked at the ankles on the corner of the desk, nor did he hang up the phone when he looked Lev’s way.

“You’re late,” the guy barked.

Lev lifted one shoulder. “Shit came up.”

Like a teenager with a cutting problem.

He didn’t mention that.

“Told you tonight was a big one, didn’t I?”

“Looks to me like the place isn’t even open yet. Technically still on time.”

Nickie sighed, muttering something to whoever was on the other end of the phone before he slammed down the receiver hard enough to make the lamp next to it jump. He pointed a finger at Lev as he pulled his feet down from the desk to straighten up in his chair. “I shouldn’t let you fight tonight—lately, you’ve been fucking off.”

No, just ... distracted.

Nickie didn’t care, though.