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“She’s got the jiggle clients would like,” Tiny added.

Locke turned to us, his cold gaze dismissing the girl below as he took a seat behind his desk.

“Hellfire MC and the Unwanted Bastards MC. This must be a serious visit,” he said, arranging his suit before settling.

“Not exactly here to party,” I replied.

A flash of anger passed through Locke’s eyes. “No, you’d head to one of Washington’s clubs, I’m sure. How may I be of assistance, gentlemen? Time is money after all.”

“What you got on an underground fight club?” Tiny asked.

“Are you accusing?” Locke responded, eyes studying us.

I tensed. He was aware of something. Although Locke gave nothing away, it was there.

“Asking,” Tiny clarified.

“Someone in your circle was affected.” Locke leaned forward and sent a glance to a guard. He nodded and left.

“Several,” Tiny admitted.

“It’s not us. We are aware and have been tracking it down, but we keep hitting dead ends. One of my men had a brother, a college student, who was taken and beaten to death. And I stress taken. This kid was heading for MIT. He wasn’t a fighter. We’ve been looking for leads and coming up blank,” Locke said in a rare show of openness.

“I’ve lost five fighters,” Tiny admitted.

“It is bad for business when we can’t protect our own. Especially as we’re the rulers of the underground. And you, the heroes of the war—protected Rapid City but are losing people to an illegal fighting ring,” Locke stated. There was no inflexion behind his words; Locke was merely making a statement.

“Do you have anything?” I demanded. If Locke was wasting time, then fuck him.

“Wait,” he said and held a finger up.

“Don’t take orders from you, Locke,” I retorted.

Locke’s cold eyes turned on me, and he snorted in amusement. “Please wait,” he mocked.

Tiny and I exchanged a glance as a man was brought in. He was dishevelled and had clearly been beaten. He wore a wifebeater and shorts, completely out of whack with the weather we were having.

“Tiny, Chill, this is Tony. Our leads led to him. But he claims he knows nothing, yet he was found with a mark on his hand—one my dead kid had.”

I turned my head. “Has he said anything?”

“No. He can take a beating, it seems,” Locke remarked, sounding unimpressed. He rose and waved a finger in a circle. Tony held his gaze defiantly. Plastic sheeting was put down on the floor, and Tony paled as Locke removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up. Then he donned a protective suit. Tony swallowed hard.

“I don’t know nothing!” Tony stammered.

“But you do. You at least attended the fight as a guest,” Locke said, walking around the desk and stepping onto the sheeting. “Gentlemen, take a seat,” he threw over his shoulder at me and Tiny.

I’d guessed what Locke was about to do and played into it. “A drink would be nice.”

“Whiskey, neat?” Locke asked, studying Tony like an insect.

Tony dropped his gaze.

“That’s fine,” I replied. I didn’t ask how Locke knew my poison of choice.

“Tiny?” Locke checked.

“Yeah, on the rocks would be good.” Tiny tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “You know, I’ve got a gym. If this asshole enjoys putting innocent people in a ring, I can provide one,” Tiny suggested.