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What did you expect? You lied to her from day one. Yet she was supposed to pledge undying commitment to you?
No. She just wasn’t supposed to divert my focus, fracture my concentration when my very life depended on it. She wasn’t supposed to matter as much as the need for revenge that had ruled me for over two years.
More. Fucking more.
“Z took advantage of our trust, and siphoned resources that were not his. He’s taken money, and now, just last week, we heard that he’s trying to cultivate his own organization, using some of our people. You can imagine how painful it is when your belief in someone has been slaughtered.”
I said nothing. My beliefs hadn’t been slaughtered, mainly because I hadn’t had any for years. I’d been living on borrowed time. Merely existing. Just waiting for the day that was almost here.
The closer I got, the more hollow that goal became. Emilia was dead. Nothing I did could bring her or our child back. But I still pursued that end game, because there was nothing else.
“It’s unfortunate we need to take this step, but we feel you’re the right man to accomplish this for us. You can do this for us, Giovanni.” The smile Lorenzo flashed bordered on genuine, but never quite made the circuit.
I waited.
“Next Friday night, Z will be at your fight.”
Only then did the name Z sink in. Holy fuck, they were talking about snuffing out Z? Because that had to be where this was leading. There was no displeasure followed by a rap on the knuckles with these people. When they became displeased, people died.
“After it, once you’ve won, we want you
to take advantage of the crowd and the distraction to take care of the problem. We don’t care how you do it, only that it isn’t traced back to us. If you have fighter friends who’d like a handy target for their frustrations, that would work as well.” Marco glanced at his watch. Clearly, he wanted to move this along. “The messier the better. We don’t want this to look like a hit. He’s been involved in enough unsavory activities that it’s entirely plausible he’d get his face smashed in.” Marco smiled. “I trust that’s up your alley?”
I nodded. Sure, why not? Might as well take the trip to complete thug without any redeemable qualities whatsoever. And if Roberto came to the fight as had been rumored, then it would all be worth it.
That was what I’d been telling myself all this time. No matter what I went through, it would all be worth it.
“Buono.” Marco rose and held out a hand. “Always a pleasure, Giovanni.”
Rising, I shook with Marco and tipped my head at Lorenzo. I didn’t spare a glance at the other two assfucks who’d delighted in doing recon.
I didn’t speak to anyone on my way out. I drove straight to The Cage and headed right for the treadmill. I’d warm up with a several mile run, then I’d hit the machines. Hard. I wouldn’t stop until my muscles burned and my mind was empty.
If it took all night, so be it. Not like I had any other plans.
During mile three, someone hopped on the machine beside me. With my headphones blasting Jay-Z, I was barely aware of them.
Until Fox got off his machine, slapped a hand on my controls, and brought my treadmill to a standstill.
“What the fuck?” I growled.
“Hey there.” Fox gave me a wide smile that immediately put me on guard. “I kept trying to talk to you. Thought you were ignoring me.”
“No, I was in the zone. Operative word being was.” I tapped the buttons to start my run all over again. Fucker.
“You’ll get it back.” Shrugging, he climbed back on his treadmill and set off at an easy jog. I was about to pull my headphones back on when he spoke again. “So, what’s new with you lately? Haven’t seen you around much.”
I started running again, fast enough that I hoped he’d get the hint. Of course a two-by-four to the head wasn’t a hint to Fox. “I’ve been training. As you should be, you pale-bellied pussy.”
He just laughed. “Guess you must need a lot of it, if it requires that much concentration.”
“Yeah, well, when I crack your head open again, I don’t want to hear your girl crying.”
It was a low blow, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Especially not to him. He reminded me too much of Carly, and I just could not go there. Not again.
“I’ll take that risk,” he said cheerfully, picking up his pace without skipping a breath. He wasn’t showy about it, but he was in damn good shape. In fact, I’d say he was probably the best athlete out of those who trained at The Cage.
Excluding me.
