20. Frankie
Chapter 20
Frankie
I already knew Troy’s answer before I stepped into his office.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
The douchebag stood behind his desk looking as greasy as ever, with slicked-back hair, plaid suit, new Rolex. He eyed me curiously from his leather chair as I took the seat across from his desk.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There was no pleasure here. Not even business. We were nothing more than weird dolls for Troy to make dance to the beat of his expensive drum.
“Ari’s got a concussion.”
I pulled a folded paper out of my pocket and opened it. Troy eyed it when I set it on his desk. The previous night’s diagnosis stared right back at him.
At least Troy’s cash was good for another reason: bribing a doctor for a reason to get Ari the fuck out of the ring. It had taken a little haggling, but Dr. Stizer knew how bad injuries like mine could get, though he still hadn’t been willing to falsify any documents. Nothing to put his ass on the line. But the suggestion of a mild concussion and keeping her overnight for “observation” sure looked good on paper.
What Troy didn’t know didn’t hurt him.
He took the paper and read over it a few times before setting it down again. “This says possible concussion. Not actual.”
“We’re keeping an eye on her. She just got out of the hospital this morning.”
Troy looked like he was chewing on his words for a long time before he sighed and stood. “I already have plenty of investors in this fight.”
“So, gamblers.”
He cut me a glare. “Investors. Brand new ring, brand new sound systems. Upgrades to the club, which I know your little team enjoyed.”
I couldn’t suppress my shiver. I didn’t want that dick to know what my dick looked like. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it, keeping my eyes on Troy the entire time.
“And?”
“That advance I gave your team was a drop in the bucket to what others are paying for tickets.” Troy tapped the paper I gave him. “And we both know exactly why they’re paying big bucks to get invited.”
Two hot women all over each other and fighting to a possible death? All on top of the best underground fighters putting their bodies on the line? Clearly, this was the fight of the century. I was sure some prominent assholes from all across America had already jumped at the chance to spend 50K on a ticket for the show of a lifetime.
I would have felt the same if it wasn’t Ari who would pay the price.
“I’m not saying to cancel the event. Just to take Ari off the docket.”
“I don’t think so.”
I frowned. My phone buzzed again but I didn’t bother looking. It was either Bones, Lotto, or Ari. Lotto, probably, since that motherfucker was too smart for his own good.
But I needed to do this.
I wasn’t letting Ari ruin herself like I’d ruined myself.
“Maybe you should read your own contract, asshole,” I spat and settled back in the chair. The bodyguard at the corner of the room eyed me. “Especially the clause about possible contract cancellations due to injury.”
“And Ari isn’t injured. Not officially.” Troy threw the paper back at me. “Maybe you should read your own evidence, asshole.”
“And if she is?”
“Are you going to bribe a doctor to give you what you want? Clock her upside the head? Or maybe call Joanne and have her do it again?” Troy’s smile was straight poison. “Ari put on quite the show last night. Too bad I wasn’t able to make it myself.”
My jaw strained at the mention of last night. Fuck this guy. I had just gotten the image of Ari’s unconscious body out of my head. I didn’t need a reminder of that “show.”
“Imagine the money she’ll make me,” Troy continued when I didn’t give in to his taunting. “You think I’m going to let some possibility fuck that up? Come back when she loses a limb. That might be possible, since Misty Perk is threatening to rip her arms off.” He eyed me as he fiddled with a golden duck paperweight near the corner of his desk. “From a video posted just this morning. Do you know how many more investments I got after that? Enough to buy Ari about seven prosthetic arms.”
Troy’s laugh filled his office and drilled into my ears. This wasn’t going to be easy. He would say no. That was why I’d made some calls on the drive over to have an ace in the hole. It was a shitty gamble, but I didn’t need Troy to agree but to simply hear me out and give me a possibility.
“Vince Milani.”
At the name, Troy slipped back down into his leather chair, any joviality gone. “What about him?”
“He’s leading the polls for the governor of Washington. Probably the only politician that can’t be paid off in the entire state.” I shrugged and set my hands on the arms of my chair. “Big on crime, that guy. Looking for ways to prove himself and all that.”
“Get to your point.”
“I think he’d be happy to hear about an underground gambling and fighting ring. A little murder, maybe? It would be the perfect scapegoat to bolster his campaign promises.”
Troy stared at me like I had grown three heads. His answer was an incredulous laugh as he leaned back in his chair.
“You realize what you’re threatening?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And how you and your little lovers make money.”
“Yep.”
“You’re willing to throw yourself in jail to save Ari? Are you insane?” Troy laughed again, running a hand over his square jaw. “The evidence? Come on, Frankie. What makes you think I can’t stop you before you even start? You better make it good, too, because I’m running out of good will.”
I drew a few deep breaths. I needed to tread carefully here, or else I’d go “missing” like Nero.
“It would be a shame if our Heathens Hollow contract got sent in as an anonymous tip, wouldn’t it? It’s a legal binding contract. Or at least that’s what I assumed since you were keen to get Ari to sign so quickly.” I stared him down until my eyes burned. When Troy didn’t say anything, I shrugged. “You have plenty of men on your roster, Troy, but plenty of enemies, too. I’m sure a few people would be more than willing to flip on you and your little empire once the dominos start falling.”
“We both know you aren’t really going to do this.” Troy mimicked my stance and narrowed his eyes. “So I’ll humor you. What’s your end goal here?”
“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.