to use anything he
saw here for work purposes.
Do
you really believe that? I asked myself. My
stomach clenched. I sure as hell wanted to.
“I caught him
snoopin’ around last time he was here,” Vic said. “Talkin’ to the fighters. I
think he was tryin’ to get a beat on this place, on our operation. I think he’s
tryin’ to shut us down.”
“Parker wouldn’t
let that happen,” I said quickly, but damn if it didn’t sound like I was trying
to convince myself. The truth was, I didn’t know her well enough to say. I was
taking this all at face value, taking Parker at her word. And I had no way of
knowing if that was even a good decision.
“She wouldn’t,
huh?” Vic asked, narrowing his beady eyes at me. He shook his head. “Guess that
means you don’t know that she’s a reporter, too.”
I snorted. “What?
You’re crazy. She’s not…”
Oh, fuck. It all
made sense now. She’d said she was a writer. She’d even joked about getting to
know me better so she could put me in one of her stories. This whole time, I’d
just assumed she was a novelist. But Parker Jones was a fucking journalist, and
I was her inside scoop.
“Holy shit,” I
muttered. “She is, isn’t she?”
Vic nodded,
looking a little more sympathetic now. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,
Killer. It should’ve been her. But I thought you needed to know, especially
‘cause if they keep diggin’, you’ll be out of a job.”
“Are you fucking
threatening me, Vic?” I hissed, balling my taped-up hands into fists. “Really?
Now?”
“Hey, hey, hey!”
Vic said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. “That’s no threat,
Killer. Them’s just the facts. If we get shut down, I’m probably goin’ to jail,
or at least crossin’ state lines to avoid that mess. I won’t be able to help
you anymore. And hell, you could get arrested, too.”
I pinched the
bridge of my nose. It was all coming together now. They were going to ruin me.
Parker and her fucking douche-faced friend were going to goddamn ruin me. And I’d opened the door and let them waltz right in, let them plant the ticking
time bomb that would soon explode and take me, and everything I’d worked for,
down in flames with it.
You’re
such a fucking moron. You knew this was too good to be true.
Parker was just
using me. Using me like the Marines had. Like my druggie friends before them. Good
old Kellan, the guy we can depend on to shoulder the burden. The guy we call to
get things done. The guy we leave behind once he’s no longer of any use to us.
To her, I was just
a story. A paycheck. A rung on the ladder of her career aspirations. She was
willing to step on me to get what she wanted, and she didn’t even have any
qualms about sleeping with me to soften the blow. I didn’t need any pity-fucks
from some chick who’d sold her soul, and I sure as hell didn’t need her hanging
around so she could ruin my life.
“Fuck this,” I
growled, flinging open the door and storming the ring.
I didn’t even wait
for Vic to come get my robe. I tossed it at Jasmine, letting her make herself
useful for a fucking change. She beamed at me as I stalked by, but I didn’t
return her hopeful smile. When her face fell, I almost felt good about it. She
needed a reality check. Parker or no, I was off the menu.
Vlad was on the
other side of the mat, some big Russian dude who looked like he could’ve been a
Bond villain. He had a deep scar over his left eye, extending all the way from
above his blond brow to below his cheekbone. Just like The Herminator before
him, I could tell Vlad wasn’t in my weight class. I had no idea what the hell
Vic was trying to pull with this shit—maybe he was trying to drum up some
interest from the crowd?—but in my experience, the bigger they were, the harder
they’d fall.
I didn’t give a
rat’s ass how big or mean he was. He was going down.
I didn’t have
fucking time for this.
We went through
the pre-fight ritual all
saw here for work purposes.
Do
you really believe that? I asked myself. My
stomach clenched. I sure as hell wanted to.
“I caught him
snoopin’ around last time he was here,” Vic said. “Talkin’ to the fighters. I
think he was tryin’ to get a beat on this place, on our operation. I think he’s
tryin’ to shut us down.”
“Parker wouldn’t
let that happen,” I said quickly, but damn if it didn’t sound like I was trying
to convince myself. The truth was, I didn’t know her well enough to say. I was
taking this all at face value, taking Parker at her word. And I had no way of
knowing if that was even a good decision.
“She wouldn’t,
huh?” Vic asked, narrowing his beady eyes at me. He shook his head. “Guess that
means you don’t know that she’s a reporter, too.”
I snorted. “What?
You’re crazy. She’s not…”
Oh, fuck. It all
made sense now. She’d said she was a writer. She’d even joked about getting to
know me better so she could put me in one of her stories. This whole time, I’d
just assumed she was a novelist. But Parker Jones was a fucking journalist, and
I was her inside scoop.
“Holy shit,” I
muttered. “She is, isn’t she?”
Vic nodded,
looking a little more sympathetic now. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,
Killer. It should’ve been her. But I thought you needed to know, especially
‘cause if they keep diggin’, you’ll be out of a job.”
“Are you fucking
threatening me, Vic?” I hissed, balling my taped-up hands into fists. “Really?
Now?”
“Hey, hey, hey!”
Vic said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. “That’s no threat,
Killer. Them’s just the facts. If we get shut down, I’m probably goin’ to jail,
or at least crossin’ state lines to avoid that mess. I won’t be able to help
you anymore. And hell, you could get arrested, too.”
I pinched the
bridge of my nose. It was all coming together now. They were going to ruin me.
Parker and her fucking douche-faced friend were going to goddamn ruin me. And I’d opened the door and let them waltz right in, let them plant the ticking
time bomb that would soon explode and take me, and everything I’d worked for,
down in flames with it.
You’re
such a fucking moron. You knew this was too good to be true.
Parker was just
using me. Using me like the Marines had. Like my druggie friends before them. Good
old Kellan, the guy we can depend on to shoulder the burden. The guy we call to
get things done. The guy we leave behind once he’s no longer of any use to us.
To her, I was just
a story. A paycheck. A rung on the ladder of her career aspirations. She was
willing to step on me to get what she wanted, and she didn’t even have any
qualms about sleeping with me to soften the blow. I didn’t need any pity-fucks
from some chick who’d sold her soul, and I sure as hell didn’t need her hanging
around so she could ruin my life.
“Fuck this,” I
growled, flinging open the door and storming the ring.
I didn’t even wait
for Vic to come get my robe. I tossed it at Jasmine, letting her make herself
useful for a fucking change. She beamed at me as I stalked by, but I didn’t
return her hopeful smile. When her face fell, I almost felt good about it. She
needed a reality check. Parker or no, I was off the menu.
Vlad was on the
other side of the mat, some big Russian dude who looked like he could’ve been a
Bond villain. He had a deep scar over his left eye, extending all the way from
above his blond brow to below his cheekbone. Just like The Herminator before
him, I could tell Vlad wasn’t in my weight class. I had no idea what the hell
Vic was trying to pull with this shit—maybe he was trying to drum up some
interest from the crowd?—but in my experience, the bigger they were, the harder
they’d fall.
I didn’t give a
rat’s ass how big or mean he was. He was going down.
I didn’t have
fucking time for this.
We went through
the pre-fight ritual all
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