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I nod respectfully. “Cal. Good to see you again.”
He chuckles. “You’re a lot of things Knox, but you’re no liar. Don’t start now.” His attention turns to the moron next to me. “And you must be Grayson Hayworth. Quite a conundrum you got yourself in, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is murder a hobby of yours? Should I expect to have more messes to clean up?”
“No, sir. He was going to kill my girlfriend. I did what was necessary to protect her.”
Cal processes his words for a moment before answering. “Very well, though I’m not sure a judge would have agreed with you based on what we cleared from the recording that night.”
Of course he fucking watched before getting rid of it. The piece of shit probably got off on it. He seems like the kind who would get hard watching someone die. Sick bastard.
“I agree with you, and I appreciate everything you did to make it go away.”
“Yes, well, nothing comes for free, son. It’ll do you some good to remember that.” He leans back against the hood of his expensive car and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure if Knox told you, but I own an underground fight ring over on the east side of town.”
Grayson seems intrigued by the information, but he shouldn’t be. “He didn’t mention that.”
“Good,” Cal says, pleased with his answer. “The only reason it stays a secret is because people don’t speak about it. First rule of fight club and all that.”
He was trying to trick him. Give him a reason to take my ass out. My stress level reaches new heights, and this meeting can’t end soon enough. Thankfully, he seems to get bored of fucking with us rather quickly and gets to the point.
“Recently, one of my best fighters met an unfortunate fate, and I need to replace him.”
My brows furrow. “Who was it?”
“Ashton.”
The instant the name leaves his mouth, my body goes ice cold—and it has nothing to do with the weather. There are two different levels in The Underground. The first is the kind I fight in. They’re standard, with three rounds, and, while people get hurt, everyone makes it out alive. The second, however, is the higher, more intense level. I’ve always stayed away from them because while the bets are more than twenty times what the lower level pays, they’re vicious. Kill-or-be-killed kind of fights. The amount of lives that have been lost in that ring are immeasurable.
Ashton fought in the latter.
“With all due respect, Cal, regardless of what you may have seen in that video, Grayson is nowhere near ready for those fights.”
He lets out a deep laugh, making the guys around him follow suit. “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. I wouldn’t risk my money like that.” He smirks, and I dread the next words that come from his mouth. “You will be replacing Ashton. Grayson will replace you in the regulated brawls. This way, I cash in on both levels. It’s a win-win. Well, for me, anyway.”
I feel like I’m going to throw up. If I wasn’t afraid of being seen as weak, I would—all over his leather shoes that probably cost more than my fucking house.
Every inch of me wants to protest.
To refuse.
To punch Grayson in the face for getting me into this shit.
But I can’t.
Anything other than agreeing will get me killed, though I may end up that way anyway, with the shit he’s making me do. I have no choice but to obey and hope to hell I make it out alive.
Cal nods to one of his henchmen, and I’m handed a packet. “Inside is the name of a gym. You are to be there tomorrow night at eight so Jackson can train you. He’s the best around, and I need you two in impeccable shape.” He fixates his eyes on me. “I’ve also given you some information on your first opponent, though that’s not a luxury you should get used to.”
“Understood,” I say briefly. The only thing I want right now is to get the hell out of here.
As if he can sense my discomfort, he smiles victoriously and nods once. “Very well, boys. Your first fight is three weeks from today. Be ready.”
Grayson and I don’t need to be told twice. We get back into his car, and he backs out of the alley as I try to keep myself from vomiting in his precious car. Once we’re out of sight, I punch the ceiling with full force.
“Motherfucker!”
