“What is this?” I demand. “Are they–are you threatening my stepsister?”
Stanley nods slowly. “It would appear they are, yes. You come up with the money–”
“I don’t have it,” I blurt out. “I don’t know where to start…”
He considers me for a long moment. He’s always been rather jovial, but now the ruddy tone to his cheeks and the serious set of his lips makes him seem intimidating. It’s easy to see why fighters listen to him without question.
But then he says, “You could fight more.”
“I–”
“There are some other circuits,” he says casually. He leans back and threads his fingers together, hands on his belly. “I didn’t involve you in them because they’re more violent. More potential to get hurt. And they’re outside of the city limits.”
“But they pay?”
“Yes.”
“Sign me up.”
He inclines his chin, and I get the distinct impression I’m being dismissed.
Fine by me.
Fifty fucking thousand dollars. How on earth am I going to come up with that?
And worse, how am I going to keep Scarlett safe if the Webber brothers grow too impatient to wait?
[ 16 ]
SCARLETT
Cross’s voicecarries down the hall as I step off the last stair and head toward the kitchen. The flash drive I’ve compiled some of his finished course work onto sits heavy in the palm of my hand as I walk quietly down the hall for no other reason than to eavesdrop.
“Did you just call me anescuincle? Again?” Cross’s tone is playful, and I can’t help but wonder who he’s talking to.
For once, he doesn’t sound arrogant and broody.
I also can’t help but find his Spanish attractive.
I scrunch my nose.Ugh.
“I am not being impossible,” he argues.
Who is he talking to?
A girlfriend?
I scoff quietly. Cross doesn’t do girlfriends—from what I’ve heard, at least.
“I’m going to have to repay Robert,Mamá. I don’t like handouts.”
The realization hits me like a freight train. Of course he’s talking to his mother. Who else would he be using that softer tone with?
“He isn’t mypapá.” Cross pauses. “I’ve turned out just fine with you raising me.”
He huffs, and I lean forward to get an eyeful. He pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other holding the phone up to his ear. Irritation etches onto his face, his jaw taking its usual hot–I mean, edgy—form.
All of a sudden, Cross untightens his fingers along his nose, and his eyes flick to mine. I jerk out of sight, my cheeks burning with humiliation from being caught.
