Epilogue
ROMAN
Sometimes it’s good to be a Fritz. But most of the time, in this town, it’s good to never have fucked over Seamus O’Brien or have ever tried. That’s not to say I was cool with his plan. I wasn’t. Not necessarily, and mostly because I knew how it would affect Braelyn.
“I don’t trust yer wife’s twat of an ex,” Seamus said bluntly as we sat in the car in the back of the warehouse.
“I don’t either,” I agreed. “And that started before he ever tried to get me hurt and then arrested.”
“You’re gonna have to lose. Or at least make it look like ye are. And yer gonna have to look roughed up before that.”
I sat there, my gaze out the window, but I heard him. “So Adam bets and bets hard, thinking you’re in on his scheme,” I surmised.
“We’ll bet hard on ye while quietly spreading the word around the room that you’re not in peak form after yer public scandal with your wife. We’ll whisper around that you’re hurt.”
“Adam needs to hear it.”
“He will.”
I nodded. “I’m not losing. I won’t fucking go down, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of it.”
“We won’t profit if you lose, boy.”
“This is my last match regardless of anything else. I won’t be arrested. That’s nonnegotiable. And I want Adam taken care of. I don’t mean how you often do that. I mean, get something on him where he’s the one who gets fucking arrested.”
Seamus chuckled. “Ye think you get to dictate anything?”
I looked at him square in the eyes. “Yes. I do. Because I’m the one in the ring. I’m the one taking all the risk. And I’ll give you my winnings when I knock the guy out in the sixth.”
He studied me intently. “No charity this time?”
I smirked. “That’d be your call, but I’ll put the same amount he offered you on the line.
A hundred grand. Those are my walking terms. I’ll make it look like I’m losing.
We’ll feed the gossip mill that I’m in bad shape to start.
Then I’ll take him down, and you’ll get whatever the over-under on me is, plus the parlay since I’ll put it on the sixth round for knockout. ”
“I’ll take care of him,” he said slowly, with a measured tone. “I don’t have to tell ye not to double-cross me.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Have I ever?”
“No. Which is why I’m willing to make this deal.”
My taking Curtis down in the sixth the way I did earned me two hundred and fifty grand on my one-hundred-thousand-dollar bet. All of that went to Seamus. Incidentally, Adam lost two hundred grand on his bet.
“What does that mean?” Braelyn asks cautiously. “That Adam is taken care of.”
Forest comes over with his phone in his hand and plays a video of a wasted Adam, who apparently continued his drinking spree during the fight, getting arrested by the chief of police, who Adam hired to take me down.
He’s belligerent and barely understandable, but he’s threatening to sue everyone and their grandmother.
Including mine. Good luck with that one.
“He was part of a sting,” Forest tells us with a smirk he’s barely able to contain. “According to the police chief, they’d been tracking him and his egregious illegal betting for a while.” He looks at me. “Did you know he’d been placing bets on you for years, though he rarely came to your matches?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I made him a lot of money.”
Braelyn gasps. “I didn’t know!”
“Well, the cops might have had some help tonight, but they have a very lengthy trail of evidence that he was placing large bets and covering his earnings in multiple ways like calling them work bonuses, corporate expense-earnings, or most of the time, simply not declaring them at all. Except he put the funds into his regular accounts.”
I almost choke. If my ribs weren’t literal fire right now, I might. “You mean tax evasion and money laundering on illegal bets?”
Forest is almost gleeful. “Yep. He’ll go to prison for this.”
Braelyn is about to lose her mind. “Can someone please explain this to me?!”
“Not here,” the three of us say in unison.
“It’s all cleared out,” Hayes states. “You two can go without any issue.” He extends his fist to me. “Good fight, brother. Glad you’re finished.”
“Finished?!” Her hands shoot out. “Why does everyone here know everything that’s going on but me?”
Somehow, I get myself to stand. “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”
She waves a finger back and forth, again, like my grandmother would. “No way, Roman Fritz. You need a hospital.”
Fuck. I should have known she’d do that.
“Don’t test me on this,” she warns dangerously. “You need a chest and facial X-ray, and a renal CT or ultrasound. Plus, a med student to do your facial stitches.”
My lips bounce. “A med student?”
“You don’t even deserve an intern after the night I’ve had at your expense.”
Damn. “Hopefully, you’re into Frankenstein then.” But I can’t argue with her. The woman handed me pictures of me kissing someone and was being stalked by a woman who clearly meant harm. Speaking of that. “Hey, I need a call with you tomorrow,” I say to Forest.
“Sure.”
I’m going to have him do his research into her and see what she’s up to. At the very least track her to make sure Brae is safe. I don’t trust that Adam and his blackmail are enough. We’ll make sure she never goes near my girl again.
“All right, Nurse Fritz, take me to the hospital.”
Sometimes it sucks being a Fritz. Brae takes me to her hospital, which I expected. Except I have about ten thousand cousins who work here, and for those who aren’t related to me by blood or marriage or whatever else, everyone knows me.
“Can you believe it?!” Brae is incensed. “It was an attempted mugging in the back alley behind his restaurant. They really got him.”
Jack seems to already be in on the ruse, but the nurse helping him isn’t. “Oh my gosh. You poor thing. Did you file a police report?”
“He didn’t see anything, but yes, we will right after we make sure he’s okay.”
“Absolutely. I’ll get the portable X-ray going, an IV because he looks like he’s in shock from the episode, he’s been sweating so much, and some labs.” She looks at Jack, who gives her a firm nod.
“Yes. Let’s get all of those going. I want a CBC, CMP, and let’s type and cross him in case he needs blood.”
“I don’t need a transfusion.” I try to hold in my annoyance, but part of me feels like they’re fucking with me. It was a boxing match. Not an actual mugging.
“You don’t know that,” Jack chastises, and yeah, this is going to be a long night with him and Braelyn. Good thing Wren isn’t here. That woman is the ultimate ball buster. “I’ll be right back. I need to see who’s on to do your face.”
Jack leaves the room, and Brae turns to the nurse. “I think he needs a rectal for guaiac testing to see if there’s any intestinal bleeding.”
I tilt my head at my wife. “Nice try.”
She gives me the most innocent yet professional look I’ve ever seen on her. “I’m completely serious. You could have internal bleeding.”
“No. That’s a hard no.”
“Yes, but there are better ways for us to determine that, don’t you think?” the nurse questions even as she seriously considers this.
Braelyn sighs in dismay. “I suppose.”
Score one for me. For a change. I give her my best attempt at a cocky smile, but she’s not having it. Probably because nothing looks cocky on me at the moment. I change tactics.
“Can I go up and see Katy and Bennett if they’re awake?”
Braelyn is about to chop off my balls. “Katy gave birth tonight by an emergency C-section, and Baby Callan is in the NICU. They need their sleep.”
I hold up a placating hand, realizing I’m already on very thin ice with her. “Fine. I’ll visit them another day.”
“Good news,” Jack announces just as the nurse jabs a needle into my arm to draw my blood and then starts my IV. “We have our best fourth-year medical student to do the sutures on your face.”
I cock an eyebrow, which is no easy feat. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s arching up with all my facial swelling, but I don’t care because what the fuck? I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. He looks serious, but Jack is that kind of guy anyway.
Typically, I’m not vain. I’m not. I box. Let’s start with that. I’ve had multiple fractures on my face before, and my nose is far from perfect. But the gash under my eye is long and jagged, and there is no fucking way I’m letting some pre-doctor hack get at my face.
“No.”
Jack laughs. Brae does too. The nurse looks uneasy, but she quickly figures out that they’re joking. I hope.
“It’s not really your choice.” Brae puts her hand on my arm. “We can’t let the wound stay open until morning or you’ll get a terrible infection. You have to deal with the fourth year.”
“Why can’t he do it?” I point at Jack.
“He’s the attending. Attendings don’t suture.”
“Braelyn, I swear to god—”
“Actually, I have one of our plastic surgery PAs who will do it.”
I keep that finger pointed at him. “Good man. My cousin chose wisely.”
“You might not be saying that after we get the films and labs back, but let’s get this started.”
The ultrasound of my kidneys shows that I’m bleeding from a nasty contusion on my right side, but that it should heal on its own without surgery if I take it easy.
My ribs are a different matter, and they want to admit me overnight for observation as one of the fractures has nicked a lung and is causing some bleeding, both internally and into the lung space.
They’re worried it’ll turn into pneumonia or a hemopneumothorax.
Whatever that means. They’re also worried about my blood count with all of this bleeding.
I decline.
I’m not having much trouble breathing, and I don’t feel sick or shaky from blood loss.
Plus, I have the best nurse in the world.
If I get short of breath or have increased pain or really start to feel like shit, we’ll be back.
The PA comes in and meticulously sutures my face and refers me to a maxillofacial specialist for my fractures.
They’re non-displaced, but not great-looking either, and will take at least four weeks to heal.
By the time we leave the hospital, it’s the wee hours of the morning. I’m sore as fuck. My face hurts. My side hurts. My back hurts. I need a shower. And I need my girl to completely forgive me because she’s still pissed, and I get that.
I’m lucky she’s still here with me after those pictures and what I put her through at the match.
She could have not come tonight at all and moved out by the time I got home.
It wouldn’t have been shocking and it would have been justified after what she experienced with Adam.
The fact that she trusted me enough to come and to ask me about it and to believe me speaks volumes.
“I can’t give you orgasms tonight,” I mumble begrudgingly as we get in the elevator and head up to our place. “Or be inside of you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have nearly gotten yourself killed.”
Then something occurs to me. “What if you use your vibrator in front of me?”
“You mean like as a form of torture and payback because you can’t touch me or come tonight?”
“Yep.”
She grins evilly. “I like it.”
“Excellent. But first let’s shower.”
Showering sucks. Everything sucks. I break down and take one of the painkillers Jack prescribed for me because I can’t take ibuprofen due to the bleeding.
Brae, my lovely nurse and wife, helps me get cleaned up, changed, and into bed.
I feel like a baby, and I don’t like it.
I’m also positive I’ll feel worse tomorrow because that’s how these things go.
But I’ll manage it. Exactly how I’ll manage the Adam and Anne Sharpe situation though Forest is already on it. Either way, it’s done. Adam is sitting behind bars and Anne can’t get to Braelyn here.
Braelyn climbs into bed beside me, a yawn overpowering her.
“Do you want to just go to bed?” I ask, wishing I could touch her, but I truly can’t move all that much. My right side is pretty fucked between my ribs and my kidney.
“There’s no fun in that.”
“Sadist,” I quip.
“Be thankful I’m not tying you to the headboard with rope.”
I wince. Just the thought of that sucks.
“I love you. I’m sorry about the day you had. I’m sorry I contributed so much to that.”
She rolls over to face me, her brown eyes heavy with exhaustion and her brown curls all over the place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Well, okay enough. We’re done with this, right? With all of it.”
“Yes. I’ll make sure of it. Now take out your vibrator and make yourself come. You’ve got two minutes because I won’t be able to stay awake longer than that.”
“Yes, sir.” I get a wink, and then my girl gets going with her vibrator, running the long white silicone piece over her clit before slipping it inside.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and my cock is insanely jealous.
So are my fingers and my mouth. It’s torture as she said.
The best kind, and I alternate watching her face and her cunt until she comes. Then my eyes are glued to hers.
“Will you marry me?” I ask as she’s all flushed and sated with a cute little smile on her lips.
“We are married.”
“Yeah, but I want you to be my wife. Not fake. Not accidental. Not on a dare. But for real.”
She twists and cracks an eye open, peering at me. “You waited until after I came to ask me this?”
“I figured you’d be more docile and less stubborn this way.”
Her lips bounce. “Roman, I’m your wife. You’re my husband. I don’t need another ceremony to prove that. This is us. We’re forever, just as we said.”
She rolls over and arches up to kiss my lips. I try to deepen the exchange, but she pulls back with a headshake.
“You know that, though, right?” I press. “That there will never be anyone else but you. You’re always the one I love, the one I fight with, but most importantly, the one I’m forever fighting for.”
“I do and I know we can make it through anything.”
“No matter what.”
Thank you for reading Forever Fighting.