Cillian snorted from behind us. He and Rowen had been strangely quiet, and I thought maybe they were trying to keep from making Fallon look bad but wasn’t sure. I was slowly beginning to learn how these men worked together, and I liked that they were taking some consideration for Fallon when normally they were kind of... well, mean to him. I gave them both smiles. Cillian rolled his eyes, but Rowen nodded at me, as if maybe he understood why I was happy with him.
Janus shared a long look with Mr. Uhlig, and then Mr. Uhlig held out his hand. “Allow me to show you to your seats. You came at just the right time for a personal tour. Janus, direct Fallon to where he can change.”
“Come on, buddy. You ready?” he asked Fallon, and Janus nearly skipped as he started grilling Fallon about the training regimen he’d been using to get ready for tonight.
Nervously I watched Fallon go along through a doorway to another room and waved when he turned to give me one last look. He smiled and twiddled his fingers in my direction as he disappeared around a corner.
We followed Mr. Uhlig out of the locker room and into a freshly painted white hallway that still had a chemical tang lingering in the air, then up two flights of stairs. There were more twists and turns. On the other side of the wall to our left I could hear a rising and falling of groans, like the ocean; it had to be the cacophony of voices screaming at the fight in progress.
We emerged into a much nicer hallway with a royal blue carpet. Mr. Uhlig stood aside at a door and motioned us to go in ahead of him. The room wasn’t very big, but a wet bar took up one wall, and another held a counter full of snacks and drinks on ice. The front of the room had glass across it, which was thick enough that I stopped to wonder for a moment if it was perhaps bulletproof. The seven seats facing the front were comfortable armchairs, rather than the regular stadium seats on the other side of the glass for the rest of the spectators.
“If everyone here is rich and they’re in those seats, then how much money do the people who typically sit in the box seats pay?”
Mr. Uhlig laughed and came over to put his arm around me. I didn’t like it but didn’t want to be rude.
Cillian took a step toward us but stopped.
“Charming. Hm. This is my personal seating. Do you really want to know?” There was an amused tilt to his mouth.
“Yes, this is all very interesting.”
He hummed and glanced around. “Fully staffed? Which this is not. Typically between thirty-four and thirty-five.”
“Hundred?”
“Thousand.” He grinned at me, then at Aspen, who stood closest to us. When had he moved? Mr. Uhlig eyed him up. “Wherever did you boys find him?” Mr. Uhlig gave me a squeeze. “I heard some intriguing rumors.” He turned his attention on me. “Are you really their toy?”
There was a low growl from Cillian, and Aspen shook his head slowly at Mr. Uhlig. My face heated. “I don’t know about that, but I am with them. They’re my partners. I care about them.”
Mr. Uhlig had a gleam in his eyes as if he was doing an easy math problem and getting all the right answers as his smile spread wider. “Even Fallon out there in the ring? Would you say he cares about you, too, Doctor?”
“I... I think so,” I whispered, and he leaned forward to catch the words.
“Excellent.”
He glanced up and I noticed for the first time that six men in suits had filed into the room and spread out around the back and side walls. Something about their gray suits and clothes and stance reminded me of the men who followed around Mr. Killough. The comparison completed itself in my mind as they pulled out guns. The muzzles weren’t pointed at anyone, but that didn’t matter. My heart raced. Cillian and Rowen were busy glaring at Mr. Uhlig, but Aspen continued to shake his head, also staring at those men.
“Why are there so many guns?” I asked.
Mr. Uhlig squeezed his arm around me.
“What the fuck, Uhlig?” Cillian barked, waving a hand.
Mr. Uhlig grasped my elbow, and I tried to shake him off, but he didn’t let go. “No hard feelings, friends. You’ll simply be in here enjoying the fight in luxury. Drink. Eat. You’ll be required to stay put until after the fight ends. Occasionally people get cold feet when it comes to fighting my Knockout Boy, Hendrix. Nothing personal. The lateness of your arrival does not make me think Mr. Maher is any different from the rest of the cowards in New Gothenburg.”
Cillian pointed at Mr. Uhlig, and I tried to tug free again. Aspen shook his head atme, as if to tell me to stop, and I hissed when Mr. Uhlig’s grip tightened to the point it was painful.
“Ye will regret this. Ye do not threaten Company men.” Cillian rested his hand on his chest where I thought he had a gun in an inner pocket of his suit jacket, but he glared at the men around the room and didn’t try to draw it.
Mr. Uhlig nodded at his people, and I let out a squeak as he tugged me closer to his side. “Standard procedure, I assure you. When you step into my house, you play by my rules. Fallon agreed to fight, and thereby to the terms. I am simply ensuring my investment. You see the bloodthirsty mob out there?” He nodded at the glass and the crowd beyond. “They go for the throat when things don’t turn out the way they assume they should, and I will do anything to make sure any deaths aren’t mine or my crew. This is business, nothing more.”
“I’ve heard you say that, Cillian,” I whispered. “I’m starting to hate the word business.”
Rowen cleared his throat. “Then I’m taking Vail out of here. We never would’ve brought him had we known this wasn’t friendly.”
Rowen grabbed my hand, and without thinking, I pulled back. “But I want to see the fight!”
“Bug! Quiet!” Cillian hissed at me.
