Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
I survey him.
His being run out by who the fuck knows which gang is better than I could expect, not that dudes like this are always honest with the “help.” But he got what he came for in double with Davis’s truck, and he’s right, Memphis cut the second he had the chance, leaving no sign of him behind, other than a sad sister I’ll continue to comfort. That’s shit for another time, though.
“I know a lot of people, kid. Big people in big places. You’re good, son, one of the best I’ve come across and you can’t tell me you don’t love the rush.” He watches me closely. “Do this, help me walk away with what I want, and I’ll make a call.”
My eyes narrow, his words lost on me and probably complete fucking bullshit. Do I like to fight? Yeah, I do, but not at someone else’s command.
None of that matters right now, though, so I ask what does.
“How much?”
Willie stiffens.
“You win, I give you the three hundred grand you need to rebuild the damage someone caused on your little bar.” His lips tip higher. “And I skip into the sunset without batting a lash at the loss of fifteen percent.”
“Absolutely not!”
We whip around to find Julius battling Davis to keep the window closed.
“Ah, the princess is here.”
I dart forward, pushing into the man’s face, but two men with their hands under their shirts block my path. I pretend they aren’t there, guns ready at their hips. “Do not look at her.”
The man’s grin grows, and I want to carve it from his cheeks, Joker style.
“Davis,” I snap, not looking back. “Now.”
I don’t have to say more, the girl knows what I mean.
Get your ass back in the window and roll the shit up.
“Okay, okay, but if three hundred grand is only fifteen percent, which holy crap, that’s insane—”
“Davis!”
“Sorry, but that means he’s still getting one point seven million! Just so you know.”
Willie jerks away, and seconds later, a door slams shut and then he’s back.
Thank you, my little math nerd, but your ass is grass later.
Licking my lips, I lift my chin.
This guy isn’t in this for the money. He mentioned other plans and a price he can’t miss out on. What that could be, I don’t fucking care.
He’s looking for a win, and knows I can give it to him, which is why I say, “That’s not gonna work for me.”
His glare is sharp and instant.
I make him sweat a second before adding, “But I’ll tell you what will.”
The crew leader—Kaleb, according to Davis, when I’m pretty sure it’s nothing but the preppiest, prep-boy name they could think of as a cover for their “car service”—wasn’t joking when he said the fight was in days, the plural of that barely squeezing fucking by.
If she hadn’t hidden the cards from me, I’d have found them, and likely called him up just as he wanted, falling into his hands and securing his crews’ name on the fight card a few days sooner.
Fuck him. I’m glad he had to sweat a couple more days, if a man like him is capable of worry. If that would have happened, my girl wouldn’t have been there to drop math bombs on me, making this fight the biggest opportunity of my life—as twisted and fucked up as it might seem, since I don’t have a choice, even if the asshole pretended to give me one.
We both knew he could have threatened my friends and family, and I’d have agreed for nothing. But he also knew the fire it would light to know how going in and giving my all would benefit me as well, not just him.
I win tonight, I walk away with half a million dollars, untaxed… and my girl gets her truck back.
That’s three hundred K for the bar.
One to help get my best friend’s business off the ground—he doesn’t know this yet.
And one I’ll anonymously deposit into my parents’—the Francos—savings account, paying back all they put into their son’s failed recovery, and allowing them to settle into retirement without worry, just like they deserve.
I spoke to Garratt last night on FaceTime, and for the first time since I was nothing but a boy, when he asked how I was, I told him the truth.
I was tired, anxious.
In love with his daughter.
The way my muscles coiled at the confession was pointless.
The man actually choked up, and I felt the relief wash over him as if he projected it all on me. The creases along his eyes seemed to disappear, making him look younger in a single second. It was like he knew I would love her the way she deserves, and then some. That I would protect and care for her, the way he hoped a man one day would. By the end of the conversation, I almost wondered if he’d always quietly hoped that man would be me.