I have two choices. I can give him the “I’m going to win; your investment is safe” speech, or I can tell him the truth.
Fuck it. I might as well go all in with my new friend.
“I’m going to win the fight, but I’m also betting big on myself. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll make enough to pay off all of you investors, and the club will be mine free and clear.”
This time, Karas’s brows go up. “Interesting. That’s how you made enough to open Urban Legend too, isn’t it?”
This guy really does know everything, which is also fucking creepy.
“Yeah.”
“How much are you betting on yourself?” he asks.
“As much cash as I can put my hands on.”
“Where are you going to get it?”
I lean back in the leather chair and cross an ankle over my knee. “I don’t know yet. I was thinking about putting up the club as collateral with a loan shark.”
Karas squints and strokes his clean-shaven chin and jaw. “Considering we’ve invested in your club, you’re a ballsy son of a bitch to even consider it. You really think that’s smart?”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to win, and win big. I’m taking a massive risk just by winning.”
“What do you mean?”
Karas picks up on the abnormality of what I said, and I shouldn’t be surprised. I mentioned it for a reason. This shit with Moses is weighing heavy on me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do, because Eduardo flat-out refused to look into Moses after Q explained who he was.
“Someone from my past showed up Saturday night. He’s betting against me. Wants me to get the odds right, and then—”
“He wants you to lose,” Karas says, finishing for me.
My head falls forward, and I blow out a large puff of air. Even hearing it from his mouth sounds like shit. “Yeah, and I can’t do that either.”
“Jesus Christ, Legend. You’ve got yourself into a hell of a mess, haven’t you?”
My shoulders feel like they’re weighed down with bags of concrete, but I meet his gaze anyway. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. That is, unless I can find Moses first and get rid of his threat.”
“Moses?”
“Moses Buford Gaspard. A gangster out of Biloxi.”
With his face dead serious, no bullshit in sight, Karas asks point-blank, “What’d you do to him?”
“Fifteen years ago, I jacked one of his trucks of electronics and fenced it for fifty grand. He wants his money back, with interest. One point five million.”
“Well, hell.” Karas laughs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s really turning the screws on you.”
“That’s nothing. His crew killed my girlfriend and shot her little brother in the head. Bump will never be more than a kid, no matter how old he gets. I won’t let Moses take another thing from me. Especially not another person I love or my fucking club. Not happening.”
Karas leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Let me get this straight. Your plan is to find a loan shark who’ll front you a shit ton of cash, kill your arch nemesis, bet on yourself, win the fight, and walk away to live happily ever after with your new socialite girlfriend? Because that sounds like a hell of a lot for one man to carry.”
“I don’t have a choice. I gotta do what I gotta do.”
“You always have a choice, Legend. But, even more, you need to learn how to ask for help. It doesn’t make you less of a man. And right now, you need all the fucking help you can get. Today’s your lucky day, because for some reason, I like you. I think you’re a smart guy. You work your ass off. Your people are loyal as hell to you, and that tells me they respect you. But you can’t do this alone.” His fancy leather shoe kicks my sneaker to get my attention and so I’ll meet him eye to eye. “You need me in your corner to pull this off.”
“What do you get out of it?”
Creighton leans back in his chair, opens the box, and lifts the cigar once more to sniff the tobacco. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone try to tell me what to do, other than my wife and the tiny terrorist we made together. I don’t run into many problems anymore. And you know what? Sometimes, a man needs a little excitement to keep life interesting.”
I blink at him, trying not to gape. “You want to help me because you’re bored?” Fucking rich people sure have ass-backward problems.
“And because you’re an interesting man who is going to give me a great return on my investment—years sooner than planned. Now, let’s discuss this Gaspard character, because Cannon’s connections are going to find your gangster and deal with him so you don’t have to.”
Holy shit, he’s going to put the mob on Moses? I lock my shock inside, fighting to keep my expression placid. “I’d appreciate that.”
“I know. And then we’re going to run the numbers and figure out exactly how much money I’m going to front you to bet on yourself and get out of this hole. No loan shark, just me.”
“What if I don’t win?” I don’t even want to voice the thought, but I have to. What will Karas do to me if I can’t pull this off?
That predatory smile comes back over his face. “Simple. I’ll own you.”
Twenty-Two
Scarlett
Oh my God. All I want to do is rip his clothes off and ride him. Holy hell, I had no idea this would be so freaking hot.
It’s Friday night, and instead of going to the club, I volunteered to go with Gabriel to watch him train at his new super-fancy fighting gym. Having watched his fights on YouTube and been shockingly turned on by them, I’ve been curious about what goes on in the gym while he’s training.
The first part of the evening was a little less exciting, mostly warming up and some drills. But once Gabriel started sparring with the other guys, it was like watching my fantasy come to life right in front of my eyes.
The leggings I have on are going to have a wet spot if I don’t get my thoughts under control.
Gabriel shoots for a takedown, grabbing his opponent by both legs and yanking him off his feet. It’s vicious, yet graceful. Violent, but elegant. When the guy slaps his palm on the canvas, Gabriel pops to his feet and offers him a hand up.
I’m salivating because I want to be the one to take Gabriel down and pin him there while I do all the naughty things running through my mind. Visions of that thick, hard cock sliding between my lips and then thrusting inside me are enough to have me turning away to look out the windows on the far wall.
Jesus Christ. No one told me I’d need a fire extinguisher to keep myself under control while watching this stuff.
Gabriel is setting up to continue sparring with a fresh partner, when Jeb stops next to me.
“If you’re bored, you can always hit the bag. Gabe told me you want to pick back up on your self-defense training.”
I have no idea how to tell the older man that I’m not the least bit bored. But in the interest of not making a fool out of myself by launching myself at Gabriel and mauling him, I take Jeb up on his offer.