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“I dipped out early.”
The door swings open and one of the guys Hart uses for security on fight nights greets us. I tap my knuckles against his.
“How’s it going, Bruce?”
Oliver and I step inside before he closes and locks the door behind us.
“Busy. Got a full house tonight.”
I nod, having seen the long line of cars lining the street. More people means more money will be exchanging hands tonight, and if I have it my way, more money lining my pockets later.
We leave Bruce and walk down the dim hallway that leads to the stairs to the basement. It’s quiet for now, but as soon as I open the door, the loud ruckus from below will beat against the walls.
“Tiffany was looking for you last night after you left,” he remarks, the box of candy rattling as he dumps more of the shit into his mouth.
Irritation has my scalp prickling. “Tiff
any needs to back the hell off. I told her last night I wasn’t interested.”
“She looked pretty bummed when she couldn’t find you.”
“She’ll get over it.”
We come to a stop at the basement door. Instead of opening it, I turn to my best friend. But before I can say anything, he continues, “Did you see Rylee’s fucking face after my little stunt?” Unadulterated delight illuminates Oliver’s face. “It was pure fucking genius on my part, if I do say so myself.” He smirks.
A mental image of hoisting him up by his neck and bashing him against the wall filters through my mind. I could blame it on the adrenaline flowing through my veins from the impending fight, but something tells me it’s more than that. I just don’t know if I want to know what that more is.
“That last part was uncalled for,” I state, shoving my hands into the pockets of my gym shorts.
“What?” His eyebrows raise. “The part about her in the shower? That was the best part.”
“No, asshole, it wasn’t,” I growl, anger making my words harsher than I intended. “That shit is fucking wrong on all levels.”
His eyes narrow in suspicion. “What the hell is up with you, Z?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, taking a deep breath to calm my rising temper.
I don’t blame him for his suspicion. I’ve got no right to be angry over something like this. Especially since it’s Rylee. But I can’t get the image of Oliver watching her during such a private moment from my mind.
“Why were you in the bathroom while she was showering anyway?” I keep my tone as level as possible.
He shrugs and his features smooth out. “It was by accident. She was in there a long time, so I stepped in to grab my razor so I could shave in one of the other bathrooms. She made a small noise, and I unconsciously glanced in the mirror. The shower is frosted, so I couldn’t see her, but there was no mistaking from her silhouette what she was doing.” His grin is cocky. “Obviously, the part about her “o” face was a little something I added.”
His answer doesn’t appease me. He may not have seen her body, but he still witnessed her getting off. Maybe not intentionally, but he shouldn’t have gone into the bathroom in the first place. He could have fucking waited like a normal person.
I ignore my body’s reaction to finding out that Rylee actually did get herself off in the shower, and Oliver had witnessed it. I was hoping it was just a lie he’d formulated—I could have forgotten about it. But knowing that it’s true, that she touches herself, has probably delved her fingers between her pussy lips until she was soaking wet and gasping, will play fucking havoc on my body.
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. The door bangs against the wall when I thrust it open. Laughter and jeers assault my ears as I stomp down the stairs and across the short hallway leading to the big, open room. It’s fucking jam-packed.
I push past the hands grabbing at me and ignore the screams trying to get my attention. I spot Hart talking to a guy in the corner, and that’s where I head, Oliver following my lead. A couple of his security guys stand off to the side, their attention focused on the crowd.
Hart steps away from the guy he’s talking to and leans in close to my ear. “It’s fucking hopping tonight and the pot is high. The guy you’re against is a crazy motherfucker, so watch your back, but make it quick.”
I jerk my chin up in acknowledgement.
Hart’s eyes move to Oliver. “When he’s done, get his ass out of here. Brett warned they’ve got a bust tonight nearby. I don’t want to take any chances of them coming this way.”
Brett Willock is one of the cops Hart pays to keep the police department’s prying eyes off this place. As long as the fighters don’t kill each other, he turns a blind eye and intercepts any suspicions when necessary. Hart’s had this place going for close to ten years, and so far it’s worked out for him. There have been a few close calls, but it’s usually kept under wraps.
