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When Blanca ends his call I ask him, “So will you have another fighter available for Barbaric Night?” My tone and facial expression suggests I have zero fucks to give as I roll up my towel and stuff it into my gym bag but my heart is pumping faster at the prospect of entering the event myself.
“Well, I was until you broke Martin’s elbow and left multiple skin lacerations like you took a whip to his face. Now though, I don’t have a good enough fighter to enter unless you’ll take sixty percent and a year contract with me?” He ends that sentence on an upturn like it's a question but his eyes say he knows I won’t take it. He’d be correct.
“Seventy, one year contract and you ship my car to New York.” I hold out my hand and wait for him to shake.
His booming laugh reverberates around the empty room but then he says, “The cojones on you are big, huh? I’ll ship the car free of charge but you drag out a fight to the end. I can make much more money that way with the side bets. Deal?”
He doesn’t even wait for me to agree before his rough hand is gripping mine. He pulls me forward and though the man is slightly shorter than my six feet three inches, he exudes lethal power but it’s his words that are deadly.
“But do not fuck me over Twitch because I know every spot on the human body that can give you a painful death and I’ll draw it out for weeks.”
I give him a tight nod and bite down the words I want to tell him. Even though he pissed me off with his threat, I know how to respect and bide my time. If he thinks he can intimidate me he’s severely wrong and if he continues with the threats I’ll have to show him how unintimidated I am by him.
