Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Ari’s out.”
“If she’s not fighting, someone just as big will need to take her place. Or else I’ll lose my investors, and you’ll lose much more than that.”
His threat raised the hair on my arms. His words were the ocean, and I was paddling along the current in a sinking ship. If I misspoke, I’d be shark bait.
“I have someone in mind,” I answered slowly.
“Who?”
“Me.”
The room went silent. The bodyguard in the corner’s eyes widened in surprise; I could feel the man guarding the door staring at the back of my head. Obviously, they knew who I was. What I could do.
What I could bring to the ring at Heathens Hollow.
“You’re retired,” Troy reminded me, “and from what I know, one step away from kissing your life goodbye. And you’re saying you’ll step into the ring?”
“If it keeps Ari out.”
Troy’s guffaw was more bite than bark. “No wonder your nickname was Freakshow. You’re a fucking weirdo.” Troy reached into one of his drawers for a pack of smokes, opened it, and took one out. He offered one to me, but I declined. The bodyguard stepped out to light the cigarette for him before moving back to his position like a statue. “Putting your life on the line for a piece of ass?”
I growled. “Watch your fucking mouth, Troy. I don’t care who you think you are. Say one more thing, and your office will be the next Heathens Hollow.”
Troy whistled and took another drag of his cigarette. “You might be in luck. ‘The return of the ring’s most hated’ could be a huge draw. Give me a second.”
Troy fiddled around on his phone for a bit, giving me time to check mine. Seven missed calls during the past hour, from a mix of the Smiley’s crew. Way more annoyed text messages.
Bones
We’re supposed to be training, where the hell are you?
Lotto
Whatever you’re doing, it’s a bad idea.
Teo
Don’t leave me with Bones, please. He nearly punched my dick off for hitting Ari when we sparred. I kinda need that!
Ari
Where are you? Are you avoiding me?
Fathers running out for “milk” are better at communication than you, dickhead.
Answer me!
I chuckled at the last two but didn’t have time to answer.
Troy set down his phone and hummed. “I can spin it. Say it’s your glorious return. Or your horrendous downfall.” He took another drag of his cigarette and flicked out his ash on the doctor’s note I’d brought. It burned the paper, and the words “possible concussion” faded to nothing but black. “Are you sure you’re ready to die, Frankie?”
I sat up in my chair. Of course I didn’t want to fucking die. There was plenty of shit still left to live for. But I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t get Ari’s unconscious body out of my head. Or the way Bones had dragged her from the ring. Or the way people had jeered and hissed because that one mistake cost them a fuck ton of money. Ari had a target on her back—from “investors,” from Misty, from other women curious about the underground and wanting an easy target.
The hard solution? Training her to be ready for a champion.
The easiest? Taking away that choice all together.
I knew what I had to do.
“Make it happen.”
“Your funeral.” Troy shrugged and put out his cigarette on the paper. “I won’t make any promises. You’re lucky I’m even considering this so close to the event.” His smile was pure grease and slime. “Now get out of my office. I have better things to do than listen to you shovel horseshit on my desk.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I bounded out without a word. Each step back to my car rang in my ears. I’d got what I wanted: a chance to keep Ari safe and out of harm’s way. So why did I feel like absolute shit?
Probably because my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I hopped into my car and threw my phone on the dash as I sped out of the lot and back to Smiley’s. It vibrated almost once a minute, but I didn’t check. I couldn’t bring myself to.
Betrayal was a dish best served cold.
Or, in this case, served by a cold clock to the mouth.
Chapter 21
Bones
Ari slammed her phone down on the front desk and screamed, “That asshole!”
Lotto hummed his agreement; I snorted but didn’t say anything.
I had already said plenty when Frankie didn’t show up to Smiley’s that morning.
After he’d texted us to pick her up at the hospital and had gone silent, we worried. The longer calls went unanswered, we grew pissed. Now we were so angry, we’d willingly piss on his grave when he returned.
If he returned.
I didn’t want to state that worry out loud—Ari already had enough on her mind. But Frankie’s glare last night had been full of much more than anger. It had been absolute vitriol. He wasn’t happy we were giving Ari a second chance. Like hell I even wanted to. She’d been so light in my arms when I’d dragged her out, and it had taken three hand washes to get her bloodstains off my fingers. I’d barely slept because I saw that roundhouse kick and her going down to the mat.