There’s a reason I’mnot much of a drinker. I don’t do well the following morning.
Last night is hazy. The girls and I ended up at a club. VIP status. I feel like that’s the only way Emilee and Jasmine roll. We partied hard for about three hours, then called it a night. Jasmine had a visitor coming over early the next morning, so she didn’t want to stay out all night, and Emilee said she had to get home to her fiancé. Alexa spent most of the night on her cell because her ex kept blowing up her phone. We’d had so much to drink that we called an Uber to get us all home.
I’ve been up for four hours now, and I’m feeling more like myself. I just needed a shower and three cups of coffee to achieve it.
As I stand behind the desk at Roses, the bell above the door rings, and one of my most loyal customers enters the shop.
“Hello, Luca.” I smile up at him.
“Good morning, April.” He walks up to the desk, impeccably dressed in a black three-piece suit. He always looks like he just walked out of a courtroom. I don’t know anything personal about him except that he’s married. And he didn’t give the information out willingly. I just put two and two together from the wedding band on his finger, along with the flower arrangements he buys at least twice a week.
“What can I do for you today?” I ask.
His dark eyes meet mine, and he gives me a kind smile, placing his hands on the countertop. “How about some violets? Do you have a solid black vase, by any chance?”
I nod. “I have the perfect one.”
He removes his wallet from his back pocket and counts out some cash that he places on the counter. I head into the cooler and put together his arrangement. When I return, he’s on his cell.
“Yeah, I can do that.” He nods to himself. “I’ll meet you at Kingdom in twenty. I’m going to run by the house first.”
Kingdom?
“Okay. Sounds good.” He hangs up.
“What do you know about Kingdom?” I ask.
His brown eyes look down into mine, and he tilts his head to the side.
I lower my eyes, instantly embarrassed by my question. I don’t know this man personally. Maybe he likes to gamble. It is Las Vegas, after all. “I mean, uh… do you like to play the machines or the tables?” Then I add, “I prefer the machines.”Lie.I don’t even like to gamble.
“I don’t gamble,” he answers.
“Oh.” Then why in the fuck would he be meeting someone at Kingdom? Maybe for an early lunch? I bite my tongue to keep from asking.
“Thank you for the flowers.” He nods, lifting them off the counter.
“You’re welcome,” I call out as he exits the flower shop.
Once he’s gone, I sigh and call my brother. He never came home last night, and he’s three hours late to work. The phone rings three times before going to his voicemail. I hang up and immediately call him again. Straight to voicemail this time. The fucker turned his cell off.
I let out a growl. What is he up to?
EIGHT
GRAVE
ISIT IN my private locker room at Kingdom, waiting to go out into the ring. I can’t say that I’ve always been a fighter, but I have always needed that adrenaline rush. The need to go faster, harder. I feel alive when I’m closest to death. It’s another thing on my long list of addictions. And bouncing around in a ring getting hit while I knock the shit out of someone else feels good.
Cross stands before me, wrapping my right hand with tape. He throws the roll to the floor and sighs, letting me know what’s coming next. “How was your trip to Rio?”
My brother and I returned this afternoon. It was either get wasted tonight or throw a few punches.
“Fine.” I hop off the table and head out of the room.
As I walk down the long hallway, I can hear the crowd already wound up. Their shouts and hollers fill the large space. “Bloody Nose” by Hollywood Undead plays through the speakers, announcing my arrival. I stop at the entrance to the event center and hop from foot to foot.
Hands slap me on the shoulders before massaging them. “Go out there and kick some ass,” Cross tells me. “Then we’ll go out and celebrate.”
