“You miss fighting professionally,” I said simply, watching his reaction.
He winced and his mouth pressed into a thin line. The woebegone expression turned to longing and he sighed, falling back into the seat and running a hand over his face. “I gave it up to make my parents happy. They wanted me to focus onwhat’s important. To them it was the Killough Company.” The tension bled from his body and his shoulders slumped. “I like working for Mr. Killough, but I gave up something I love to do it.”
“Why?” I crossed my arms and leaned back on my chair when he frowned at me.
“What do you mean, why? Because I’m in the Company.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have done the fighting, too. You know most of these fighters belong to the mobs, right?” I waved my hand toward the ring. “Two of the guys fighting tonight are Jack Murphy and Oleksander Zmey. Murphy belongs to Gallagher up in Boston, and Zmey is part of the Ukrainian bratva near Pittsburgh. The one Mr. Killough is allies with. Soletsky.”
“Gallagher. Isn’t that the mob your dad pissed off?”
I snorted. “He didn’t piss them off, he betrayed them and gave information to Mr. Killough’s dad about them. But yeah, that’s them. They built themselves back up, but nowhere near what they used to be.”
“Aren’t you worried about one of their guys being here?”
“No. Killough holds all the cards now, especially on the East Coast. They don’t have the balls to touch me, if they even know who I am. The guy my dad betrayed, Harry Gallagher, got lung cancer and died more than a few years back. His son’s running it now. I don’t think he’d know who I am.” I shrugged. “There’s always new battles to fight in the mob, Fallon. You’ll learn that.”
“Yeah, but Mr. Killough’s not in the fighting business, is he?”
“He could be, he’s always looking for new profit avenues. Owning a fight gym could give him another way to sort through his money.” I didn’t say what I meant—laundering—because there were too many people around who could accidently hear us, and while there wasn’t anyone sitting directly behind us yet, I didn’t trust that things couldn’t be overheard. “And these fights aren’t only about cash.”
“Yeah? What are they about?”
“Who has the bigger dick.” I smirked. “The bosses like to show off to the other guys, and what’s a better measuring contest than a good ol’ brawl, even if it’s governed by rules and a referee.”
A thoughtful expression passed over his face and a renewed excitement had him straightening. “You think Mr. Killough would go for it?”
“I don’t see why not.” I curled my arm around his shoulders and dragged him against me. While fighting venues like this were full of homophobes, we were in the VIP seats, protected by security guards. No one would dare touch us. Not that I’d allow anyone to get near Fallon or Vail. The only way they’d get past me was over my dead body. “Cillian could train you. He loves a good fight, and you know he likes to hit the gym hard.”
Fallon laughed. “I don’t think he’d want to train me. I know what I need to do.”
“I do, and every fighter needs someone to kick his ass.” I buried my face against his neck and laid a kiss there, and he shuddered against me. Blowing a breath against his ear, I whispered, “He wants you as much as I do, boy. He wants to fuck you and fill your tight hole with his cum. Own you.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, trust me. Cillian wants you.” I licked the shell of his ear, tracing the arch until I dipped my tongue in, and he chuckled, wriggling away from me.
“Well then, I’ll make sure to put on a show for him.”
“It wouldn’t take much to convince him.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair, keeping my arm around his shoulders as I focused back on the MMA cage. A few people were in there getting it ready, setting a stool in each corner.
“I might need to take it easy at first and see how these ribs are going to handle things, but maybe you’ve got a good idea.” Fallon rested his head on my shoulder for a second.
I recognized people sitting ringside, including a few of the Gallagher brood and some of Soletsky’s guys. A young blond with an array of tattoos sat beside Soletsky himself, dressed in tight jeans and a crisp white mesh shirt that left nothing to the imagination. He was grinning at an older man I knew as Roman, Soletsky’s second-in-command.
When Vail finally came back, Fallon shifted over to his original seat so Vail could plop down on his with the tray of food and drinks clutched in his hands. His cheeks flushed and he grinned at me as he balanced the tray on his knees. “Okay, I don’t like fighting, but the atmosphere is great. Two guys got into a brawl out in the food area.”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I asked seriously as he passed me my drink.
“Nope, I’m fine.” His grin went even wider and I suspected we were a bad influence on him. “It was fun.”
Laughing, I shook my head and took a sip of my Coke. I wasn’t a huge fan of pop, but when it came to events like this it was what I chose to drink. Better than water.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Vail offered Fallon popcorn, and he took a big handful, shoving all of it into his mouth. Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “If you want to fight professionally again you can’t eat carbs like that, Cillian won’t let you.”
Fallon stared at me, cheeks stuffed full of popcorn like a chipmunk, and tried to say something, but food came flying from his mouth, some smacking Vail. He laughed and even more came out, and Vail slapped him on the thigh.
“Eat what’s in your mouth, boy,” I grunted out, but then flashed a smile at him so he wouldn’t take me too seriously.
