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Reggie’s face fell into a pout, a strange sight on his powerful frame. Charley shut her eyes against the horror that was unfolding. At least it was put on hold until after the fight. She still had a chance.
Nate palmed Charley’s cheek, and she jerked her head away, sliding as far away as the couch would allow. “Aww, don’t be like that. I promise you—we’ll have fun later.”
He glanced back at his phone and when he looked up, a sadistic grin shaped his face. “I texted Dog. I’ll read you what I wrote. ‘Charley and I are having such fun. Her whimpers from my cock buried deep keep me so hard I expect I’ll be able to go all night.”
He touched the phone one more time. “If I’m right about you and him, I won’t have to fight him at all. He’ll forfeit the fight to save you from me, and the purse will be all mine. If I have to fight him, I’ll kill him. It’s a win for me either way.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The night’s fight location was buried in an industrial park east of Asheville. The truck depot was closed on weekends, and its large parking lot and warehouse space made it a perfect place for a big-name fight. Score one for the fight organizers for locking down this site.
Dog and twenty of his brothers roared into the parking lot around nine o’clock, the engines deafening. It was an asphalt landscape filled with expensive cars. Beemers and Porsches, the occasional Lexus, along with the usual SUVs, sedans, and motorcycles. Some had out-of-state plates, Georgia, Maryland, and hell, even one from New York. Just what Dog had expected. Heavy bettors, local and from out of town. The purse would be huge, though that was no longer Dog’s chief motivation for the fight.
The motorcycle club rode in close formation, their Prez leading the way. They had an assigned order when all together—office holders first, the rest after. Dog was eighth in line. Prospects pulled in last.
But not Poke. He was still watching Nate. He would join them when Nate showed. Dog couldn’t wait for that moment. He could almost feel the satisfaction he would get in the ring from mangling Nate’s smug face.
Prez backed into a space, and the rest followed his lead, like a perfectly oiled machine. Without needing words, the brothers killed their engines, dismounted, and followed Prez to the depot’s door.
Cutter caught up to Dog. “You good?”
Dog didn’t spare him a glance. Focus was what mattered now. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’m going to touch base with the ref and check on betting. Got a feeling we’re gonna bank huge tonight.”
Anger vibrated in Dog’s chest. He wouldn’t admit it to Luke and the others, but a large payout wasn’t the reason he was fighting anymore. Nate, the miserable fuck, needed to go down. It was about payback now.
Prez pulled open the door, and the spectators’cries rolled out of the building. The place was shoulder to shoulder people. Dog always brought in a crowd, but this one was extra-large.
Once the brothers were inside, a glance at the current fighters let Dog know it was the first fight of three ahead of him on the schedule.
Cutter handed Dog his training duffle bag, peeled away from the main group, andheaded toward the organizers. Dog’s other brothers muscled their way to the front of the crowd for a good view of the action. Spectators knew to get out of their way.
Headsturned in Dog’s direction, and people screamed his name. He ignored them and scanned the room for his spot.
Fight organizers made sure there was room left for headliners to warm up by reserving areas for them—two locations with extra haybales. One had some of Nate’s ass lickers, but no Nate. He still had an hour to show.
The crowd parted to let Dog pass, and he headed toward one of the reserved corners. Luke followed him. “I can’t tell you what this means to me. To Sophie and Jessie. We’re so grateful, man. Anything you need—”
Not this again. Dog stopped and faced him. “We’ve been over this. Don’t need to do it again. You’re my brother. Enough said. But if you want to do something, help me warm up.”
Luke nodded, and they continued to Dog’s designated area. Dog dropped the training bag on a haybale, shed his leather cut and T-shirt, and was left in lightweight sweatpants and Nike’s. He slid the cut and shirt into the bag and pulled out punch mitts for Luke.
After ten to fifteen minutes of Dog hitting Luke’s raised hands, Cutter joined them, a huge grin on his face. Dog dropped his fists.
Cutter rubbed his hands together. “I thought the bank would be huge for this fight but nothing like this. You defeat Nate, and we’re walking away with seventy-five large.”
Luke pulled in a loud breath, and a smile split his face. He looked about sixteen with that expression.
Grunting, Dog removed a towel and bottle of water from the bag. The purse was good, even better than he had expected. It was still second to beating the shit out of Nate.
Dog wiped the sweat off his face and slugged back the water. He tossed the empty bottle on the ground. “You hear from Poke?”
A ringtone sounded from Cutter’s vest. “That’s him now with an update.”
He slipped the phone from his cut, and his expression turned cold, like when he had a victim in the clubhouse dungeon. “Fuck. Nate and the other dude just pulled up to Charley’s cottage. She opened the door for them, and they pushed inside.”
A chill shuddered down Dog’s back. “What the fuck?” His voice came out ragged. “She’s supposed to be long gone.”
