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“Finn’s the one who said the Diazes are coming for us. You’ve had no luck so far. Do you think Finn did that to distract us?”
“Yes.”
“What’s he want?”
“Chellie.”
“Enzo, he wouldn’t hurt her. That was Donovan’s and Declan’s thing. Dillan got stuck cleaning up their shit, but none of them are down with hurting women. We know that now.”
“He doesn’t plan to hurt he. Hewantsher. If this shit escalates, and I die at some meeting gone wrong, then he’ll have the shoulder she can cry on. A blast from the past who comes out to save the day.”
“Are you sure you don’t have an overactive imagination?”
“I saw the way he looked at her at Uncle Sal’s. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t give it much thought because there was more important shit going on. If his family’s been watching hers for years, then who knows how much time he’s spent getting to know her?”
“But she never got to know him. She wants you.”
“And I don’t doubt that. But who says that’ll stop Finn?”
“Well, you’re in luck. He’s at McMillan’s.”
A boxing gym. Perfect. I head over there and grab the spare workout clothes I keep in my car. I wait for my chance and slip past the chick at the front desk, who’s flirting with some guy who probably has a micro-penis after all the roids he’s taking.
I head to the locker room and get changed. I walk onto the floor and look around. Finn’s easy to spot. There are other big guys, but none with the deep russet hair most of the O’Rourkes have. I recognize his motorcycle helmet on a nearby bench, so I drop my stuff next to it.
I wait for when he takes a break from the speed bag he’s using. I tap him on the shoulder. When he turns toward me, I drive my fist straight into his nose. Blood shoots everywhere. I hear people yell, but Finn waves them away.
“You want my fiancée? You’ll have to kill me first. You. Not the Diazes. Not the Kutsenkos. Not Simms. You, motherfucker.”
“The last time we fought, you lost and wound up with a broken jaw. Does your mommy have enough straws?”
That might be true, but I have a lot more riding on this fight than five grand.
“Bare knuckles, Finn.”
“Fine. Step into the ring with me.”
I’m good with that. It’ll make it look like a fair fight. Neither of us is going to fight clean, but when people look back on it, they’ll think it was all kosher while I beat his ass. We walk to separate sides, and both of us bound onto the raised platform with a smooth jump. We slip between the ropes, and there’s no waiting for a bell. I’m confident I can do this after swinging a bat and tire iron at the guy we had in the garage. I’m sore, but I’m good.
We both go on the offensive. I let him land one to my left ribs—thank God not the side that has bandages he can’t see — then one to my jaw. Let him think he’s getting the better of me from the start. Arrogant prick. I’m watching him. I’m learning and remembering. After a fifth shot that lands against my kidney and almost drops me to my knees, I’m done observing and swinging punches not meant to do much.
My true offensive begins. I slam my fist into his face over and over. My hands fly fast, alternating sides and alternating landing my bare fist against his face and his ribs. I give him an uppercut that snaps his head back and drives him into the ropes. I plow my right fist into his gut as hard as I can.
“Ready to give up?”
“Nope.”
“You’re going to lose here, and you’re going to lose any chance with her.”
“If you’re dead, there’re all the chances in the world.”
I motherfucking knew it.
“When she moves on, it won’t be to you. There’s no way she’d be with another guy like us.”
Part of me wants to think she’d never get over me. But the other part wants her to be happy with whomever she’s with. I just won’t accept it being Finn Fucking O’Rourke. That oughta be his full name.
I grab his shirt and yank him back toward me before slamming my left fist into his cheek bone as hard as I can. I hear the bone break, and I watch his eyes roll back in his head. I let go and let him drop. I leave him where he slumps as people run forward. I jump down from the ring.
