Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“To be fair,” I laugh, can’t believe I’m defending him, “Jake’s commuting from Empire. Cain’s walking four blocks.”
Sully lifts one shoulder. “Still. I haven’t hired anyone in five years who hasn’t bitched about weekends, cleaning, hours, something. Cain’s a good kid.”
Guilt tangles around my throat, paralyzing my vocal cords. I bob my head up and down a few times before saying, “Thanks.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance. “You could thank me by telling Wrath to stop poaching my best walking advertisement for this place.”
I duck my head, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. “Bro, we both know I don’t control Wrath. Or his business. Or his mouth. He’s just trying to help Griff win that fight.”
“Uh-huh. And soak up some free publicity from that dumbass show.”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I shrug. “I’m going to Vegas to watch Griff’s back. That’s as deep as my involvement gets.” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance. “Jake and Wrath work together—have your brother talk to him.”
“Eh.” He waves it off. “I don’t want to put Griff in an awkward position. He’s still been doing some promo for us.”
Then why are you bustin’ my nuts about it?
He lifts his chin toward Cain. “He says he might be interested in learning to fight.”
Great, just what my brother needs—cauliflower ears and brain damage.
I curl my arm and thump my bicep. “What can I say? It’s in his blood.”
“You still taking fights at The Castle?”
“Not recently.” I shake my head. “Remy hasn’t been hosting any, far as I know.”
And I’ve been too busy wrapped around my little lady death to give a fuck about cage fights.
Has she managed to tame the violence right out of me?
“Griff’s a talented fighter,” Sully says. “Had a once-in-a-million shot with that show. Now every kid who walks in here thinks they’re gonna be the next Supreme Underground Fighter pick. No clue what a clusterfuck it actually was.”
“Ain’t that true of just about everything?”
“What I meant was, I don’t mind training Cain if he’s interested. But…” He hesitates, then lifts an eyebrow. “He says he’s planning to go to JCCC in the fall?”
“Far as I know, yeah.”
“Good. I told him I’ll work around his schedule.” He glances toward the weight room, lips twitching into something damn near fatherly. “Told him fighting’s fun, but he needs a stable fallback in case he doesn’t hit the big time—or, God forbid, gets hurt.”
This prick just keeps serving me emotional gut punches.
If only Cain and I had a decent father who gave half the shit Sully seems to give about a kid he barely knows.
The buzz of my phone saves me from spiraling too deep. I check the screen. “Ha. Look who it is—our favorite SUF star.”
Sully snorts. “Tell him to stop fuckin’ around at the garage and get his ass down here on the treadmill.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
He slaps my shoulder—firm and final—then disappears into his office.
I thumb the green button. “Royal, what’s so important you couldn’t put it in a text?”
Griff lets out a shaky breath that’s supposed to pass for a laugh. “Trust me, you don’t want this in writing. Can you and a few of the guys come to Jerry’s garage? There’s an urgent...situation I could use your club’s help with.”
Fuck.
Griff doesn’t rattle easily. And he sure as hell doesn’t ask for help unless he’s out of options.
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jigsaw
I turn into the parking lot of Jerry’s Garage, unsure of what we’re walking into. I roll my bike into a spot on the side of the old brick building, not visible from the road. Wrath stops his bike next to me.
We stare at each other for a minute, then shut off our bikes.
“Murphy’s on his way with the van,” Wrath says.
“You know what’s going on?”
“Guy tried to rob him?” He shrugs and nods toward my saddlebag. “You got your bolt cutters in there?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” I pull out a slightly smaller pair than the ones I keep in my truck. Still sharp enough to lop off a finger or two.
Remy meets us at the corner of the building. I’ve never seen him anything but cocky around the ladies or ruthless in the cage.
Today, he’s…rattled.
Wrath stops and frowns. “What’s going on, Ruthless?”
At Wrath’s grave tone, Remy seems to compose himself. He takes a breath and pulls his shoulders back, slipping into his confident don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. “This guy…some tweaker, I don’t know. He came after Griff and my sister.”
“They all right?” I ask.
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah. They’re in the garage. They got the guy tied up but…”
“Let’s go meet him.” Wrath sweeps his hand through the air in a move-it-along gesture.
The sharp stink of motor oil and burnt rubber hits me as soon as we step into the garage.