He goes quiet for a minute. “I got bills to pay, and he offered me a piece of the purse.”
I tighten my hold on Scarlett. “Good to know your loyalty has a price tag. Tell Bodhi to heal up quick. I’m not winning because he’s injured. I’m winning because I’m a better fucking fighter than him.”
“We’ll see about that,” Johnson says before ending the call and leaving the four of us standing in the kitchen, staring at one another.
“Do we need to call a lawyer?” Joanie asks, lines bracketing her mouth.
“No.” I meet Q’s nearly black eyes. “But we gotta go find Rolo and figure out what the fuck is going on here.”
Thirty-Five
Legend
I left Scarlett in Jersey with a kiss and a promise to be careful. Then Q, Hal, and I headed out to track down Rolo.
The first two gyms we hit were a bust. No one had a fucking clue where he was. The third, the gym near my club in the city, turned up a little information, but not much.
“He moved out of his apartment a few weeks ago. Crashed on my couch for a couple nights,” one of the fighters Rolo was promoting tells us. “I don’t know where he’s living now, though. He says he’s setting up a big fight for me, and I’ve been training hard.”
“He give you the name of who you’re fighting?” I ask the kid who looks half-terrified after we cornered him.
“Nah, man. No names. You know how Rolo is. He keeps everything close to the vest. Doesn’t want to put the word out until something is solid.”
Fucking kid doesn’t have a clue that Rolo is probably hustling him. Word at the first two gyms was that he hasn’t put together a fight in over six months, and most of the guys there don’t take him seriously anymore.
“Thanks, man. We appreciate the info. You see or hear anything from Rolo, tell him Gabriel Legend’s looking for him. He knows where to find me.”
His head bobs eagerly. “Of course. You want me to call you too?”
“Sure. Give me your phone.” He hands it over, and I type my number in and call myself. “You got my number. You see anything or hear anything, call me.”
“It’s a real honor to meet you, Legend. If you’re really putting fights together at your club, I’d love a shot at getting on a card. I put on a real good show. Knockout power, but I can grapple too. Been wrestling since I was eight.”
I give the kid another look, but with a different eye. He’s shredded. Looks like he could step into the ring at any moment and be ready. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Jeremiah Knowles. I can fight lightweight, welterweight, or middleweight. Whatever you need, man. I always make weight.”
I pull out my phone and tap the missed call on the screen. “I’m saving your number, kid. Keep training. Come to Legend in a few weeks, and we’ll talk.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It was an honor, sir.”
Q snickers as we walk out of the gym. “I’m surprised he didn’t hit his knees and ask if he could suck your dick too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It was an honor, sir. I’ll swallow, sir,” Q says in a singsong voice, and I punch him in the shoulder. It doesn’t stop his ribbing, though. “Pretty soon you’ll have a whole stable of hopefuls who’ll be begging to call you Daddy.”
“Again, shut the fuck up,” I tell him as we approach the SUV, where Hal is standing by the passenger door at the curb, watching the sidewalk and the gym.
“Actually,” Q says in a normal tone, “what if you did have a bunch of kids like that who wanted to fight under your banner at the club? We could actually make a go of this, for real.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as Hal opens the door to the back seat for me. “You really think that’s a good idea? Sounds like a fuck ton of work to me.”
“I bet there’d be good money in it. They’re all hungry. I bet there are twenty of them dying to ask you the same question that kid did, and we haven’t even hosted a fight yet.”
I hop inside and think about what Q said as he climbs in beside me. Having a roster of young guys who think I can give them their big break wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“Maybe. But, first, we gotta find Rolo and get through this fight. Then we’ll worry about the future.”
“Where to next, Gabe?” Hal asks from the driver’s seat as he shuts the door.
“Rolo’s old girlfriend’s place in Harlem. She’s gotta know something.”
A half hour later, we roll up in front of a barely half-decent apartment building.
“How about I go up with you this time?” Hal asks, looking at the entrance dubiously. “I don’t want to let you guys get too far out of my sight. Not if Rolo’s running around with pipes and taking out fighters.”
“We can handle ourselves,” Q says, but I’m with Hal on this one. I made a promise to my ladybug that I’d be safe, and I aim to keep it.
“Come on up, Hal.”
Q looks at me with his dark eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
“What? I promised Scarlett I’d be safe.” He knows I don’t take it lightly.
My best friend shakes his head. “Can’t believe you just said that.”
“Being careful with two weeks left to go before a fight this big? Yeah, I’m a real fucking pussy. Besides, I thought you two buried the hatchet this afternoon.”
“I’m not calling you a pussy. I’m surprised you’re finally taking your personal safety seriously. It’s gotta be a first.”
I meet his dark gaze. “I got a hell of a lot to look forward to now, and I’m not letting some fight promoter with a grudge take it away from me.”
He slaps me on the back. “Fair enough, man. Fair enough. Let’s go.”
Thirty-Six
Scarlett
An unknown number flashes on the screen of my phone, and I don’t really want to answer it, but for some reason I do.
“Hello?” I say hesitantly, fearing that I’m going to be talking to the troll who’s been terrorizing me on social media. But I’m wrong. Totally and completely wrong.
“This is a collect call from the Manhattan Detention Complex. Do you accept the charges?”
What the hell? Did they arrest Chadwick?
My mouth drops open, and somehow I manage to get out the word yes.
As soon as I do, there’s a click and a familiar voice comes on the line. “Oh, thank God you answered the phone. Shit, Scarlett, I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Flynn? What the hell are you doing in jail? Jesus Christ. Did you get arrested for—”
“It was all a misunderstanding,” she says, interrupting me before I can finish my thought. “And no, it’s not what you think. I went out with the wrong guy, and we ended up at a party . . . anyway, that’s not important. Can you come bail me out? Please? I really don’t want to call my mom because she’ll never let me live this down.”