Chapter 26
Roman
Ididn’t see the cryptic message until after we got home and I took a shower. Who the fuck is this, and how do they know about my fight? Fucking asshole couldn’t even give his name.
My mind wars with replying, but the growling in my stomach wins out, and I head downstairs. Opening the refrigerator, I notice there’s no leftovers, and I grumble. “Fuck!”
“What did the refrigerator do to you?” Nash asks snarkily.
“Fuck off.” I growl. “There’s nothing to eat, and I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Just order something,” Nash replies.
“That’s your fucking answer to everything.”
“Damn, Roman, what crawled up your ass and died?” Nash asks as Holden steps into the room, freezing in his spot as his gaze moves back and forth between me and Nash.
“Nothing. Just hungry.” I don’t usually lie to my brothers, but I want to know more before I mention anything to them. I know if I tell them what the message said, they’d want me to withdraw from the match, and fucking hell if I’m doing that.
“Then let’s order some pizza,” Nash offers, already pulling out his phone to place the order.
“Get some garlic parmesan wings too. I’ve been craving them,” Holden adds, scooting past me to get something out of the refrigerator.
“On it. Then when I’m done, Roman can tell us what has him all pissy like he’s on his period.” Nash continues pressing buttons on his phone as he heads into the living room.
I follow behind debating how to get out of this or how little information I can give them to keep them off my back. Or I can do the right thing and just tell them the truth. Maybe they can help me figure out who this unknown person is.
“Food will be here in about thirty minutes. Now spill.” Nash uses his alpha bark on me and I can’t help but smirk. While he’s strong, he’s not stronger than me. Even though he sometimes likes to think he is.
“It’s nothing. Just some weird text I got from an unknown number.” I open the message and hand my phone over to them so they can see it.
“This is it?” Holden asks.
“Yeah. It came in on the drive home. I read it but held off on answering.”
“Weird,” Nash adds, gazing at my screen with a blank face as if he’s reading the message over and over. “Why? I’d want to know what this person knows.”
“It’s probably just some bullshit move on Hancock’s part to psych me out.”
“And if it isn’t?” Nash asks, handing me back my phone.
“Then I’ll deal with it. Since when are the two of you scared so easily by a message?”
“I guess it happened around the same time you didn’t take a warning in a message seriously,” Nash interjects.
“Just call me when the pizza gets here.” I snap, stand and head to the stairs, needing to get away from my brothers before this goes any further.
I head straight to my bedroom, letting the door shut behind me a little louder than I normally would’ve.
Crossing the room, I drop down on my bed, stretching my legs out, then crossing my legs over each other as I lean back on the headboard.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, as I reread the message again.
“Screw it.”
Me: I don’t know who this is but stop with the fucking games. If you have something to say then say it. And if this is you, Hancock, then this is a pitiful attempt to try to get in my head.
I grind my teeth as I wait for a reply. For some reason, I thought it would be instantaneous. As if the sender were on the other end eagerly awaiting my response.
The longer I sit there with no answer, the more agitated I get.
Me: Figured this was some mindfuckery. Fuck off.
I toss my phone down on the bed and head to the door, needing to be as far away from the electronic device as I can be. Then, just as I’m stepping out the door, my phone buzzes.
My feet move quicker than lightning as I dart across the room and snatch it up.
Unknown: My…my… aren’t we an inpatient cock. For the record, what I have to say isn’t BS, and I’m most definitely not Hancock. Now, do you want to be a good little boy and hear what I have to say? If not, you can suffer the consequences on your own. I guess you like to lose.
Who the hell is the arrogant prick? Lose? No way in hell do I lose. Never have. Never will.
Me: Then why not tell me what it is I need to know instead of playing games?
Unknown: Hmm, maybe I should rethink helping you now. You’re acting like an ass.
Me: How would you act when some unknown person sends you a cryptic message?
I sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning forward while my forearms rest on my knees. I need to pull myself together. This brash person isn’t me. Well, not typically.
Me: What do you think I need to know?
Unknown: See. Now that wasn’t so hard.
I choose not to answer that.
Unknown: Hancock has been doing a lot of research online and messaging people. One just so happens to be one of the bouncers at the club you fight at. Does Solomon ring a bell?
Solomon. Yes he does. He’s a slimy motherfucker. I’ve never figured out why they keep letting him work there.
Me: I’m listening.
Unknown: Seems Hancock’s been looking into chloroform, and he’s purchased some. He’s also been making his own bets on the fight, with him as the winner. I don’t know much about cage fights, but I’d be wary of any way he could use it to incapacitate you, allowing him to win.
The beady ass little dick. He wants to accuse me of being the one who cheats and look at what he’s doing.
Me: Thank you.
Unknown: Anytime. And Roman. Good luck.
Shit.
“Hey Roman, food’s here,” Holden shouts up the stairs, his voice echoing down the hallway to my room.
I stand up, gripping my phone tightly in my hand as I head down to the living room. Nash and Holden are sitting on the couch, food on the coffee table with drinks for each of us.
“Can you grab some paper plates?” Nash asks, and I make a quick detour to the kitchen to get them.
I sit down in the chair across from them, handing the plates over and keeping one for myself. I take two slices of pizza and place them on it. I bite my lip debating how to tell them what the mystery person told me. The only way to really do it is to just rip the band-aid off.
“I messaged that person back.”
Holden’s mouth drops as Nash clears his throat before speaking. “And?”
“Apparently Hancock has something planned with chloroform for that night. And guess who’s helping him?”
“Who?” They both ask in unison.
“Solomon.” I barely say the name before they erupt in rage.
“I’m going to kill him,” Nash growls.
“You won’t get the chance. I’m going to handle them. The thing I need to figure out is how he’s using the chloroform that night.”
I take a slice of pizza, the cheese trailing from the plate, and take a large bite. Holden leans back on the couch, and I can see the tick in his jaw as he bites the inside of his cheek. Nash taps his fingers on his leg as he takes a bite of his pizza.
“The wraps,” Holden announces. “He’s going to douse them in it. All he needs to do is get it around your face, covering your nose and mouth for it to take effect.”
“Simple and effective,” Nash whispers. “But please let me take out Solomon. I want a fight with him.”
I shake my head. While both my brothers can fight, they’ve never had a match in the cage, and I don’t want their first time to be that night.
“No, he’s mine. We just need to come up with a plan. Make Hancock’s underhandedness backfire on him. But I also want to know if anyone else is involved.”
“Did you ask Mr. Unknown?” Holden questions as Nash sits and pouts for being sidelined.
“No, but that is a good idea.”
We continue to eat, each of us throwing out different ways we can handle the two men. I know Hancock needs to go down in the ring. Everyone needs to see what a fucking liar he is. But first, we need to know whom to trust.
The guys clean up when we’re done, and I head back upstairs to my room.
Me: Who can I trust in the club? We’re planning to take them down, but I need to know who to watch for.
Unknown: I can find out for you. Give me til Thursday.
Thursday. That gives us until Saturday night to come up with a foolproof plan.
Me: Why are you helping me? Do we know each other?
I wait for a reply, but there’s silence. It only makes me curious. If this is someone I know, why wouldn’t they just tell me outright?
Unknown: I don’t know you personally, but I do know who you are. I’m helping you because Hancock is in the wrong, and I’m tired of bad guys coming out on top. The good guy needs to win.
Me: And I’m the good guy?
Unknown: Compared to him. Yes. There is a blurred line between good and evil. Just because you walk the line doesn't mean you're bad. I’ll have the information for you.
Me: Thanks.
Now it’s time to make Hancock and Solomon pay.