CHAPTER 49
Griffin
“Gimme our money, Frankie,” I say with a big, toothy smile.
Frankie’s the one in charge of this fighting ring. I don’t know how to put it, but he just seems like the kinda guy who would run a joint like this. Thick brows, thicker skull, and an even thicker midsection.
Talking to him and owners of the different fight clubs is just par for the course. Normally my dad would do this, when I used to fight for him, but I never want to see my dad for the rest of my life, if I can help it.
I do have to say, I’d much rather be in the car with Mirabelle, where she’s waiting with Rowan and Rage right now.
“You expect me to pay up full price when your guy went rogue and didn’t even put on a show?” Frankie huffs, eyeing the two of us warily.
His bodyguard stands behind his desk. The yellow light from the old lamp in the corner shines off the guy’s bald head.
I hold my hands out to my side.
“I’m sure I gave you a plenty good enough show,” I say, my toothy grin shifting ever so slightly into a menacing snarl. Thechange in my expression has Frankie paling as he turns to me. “I can give you another one. Maybe a private one, special just for you.”
Frankie narrows his eyes on me. He opens his mouth like he’s going to yell at me more, his blubbery cheeks moving with the motion.
Ash stands abruptly from where he’s leaning against the wall, cracking his neck with a single turn of his head. The motion seems to scare Frankie straight because he sighs and rolls his eyes.
“I expect a better fucking show next time, okay kid?”
“Don’t call me kid,” Ash spits.
“Fine, whatever,” Frankie says with a wave of his hand as he moves to open his safe beside his desk. “Just make sure you put on a better show. You’re new, Griffin’s not, so he’s got that going for him. You’ve gotta play it up and make the crowd bet, that’s how you get higher cuts, got that?”
“I don’t need you to tell me shit,” Ash snarls, taking a menacing step forward.
“Hey,” I say, holding my hand out and pressing it against his chest. His silver eyes are sparking with something that’s really close to anxiety. “I got this man, we’re good.”
Ash isn’t used to this kind of thing. The only people who ever managed his fights were those fuckers at the farm. Frankie’s a grubby, money-hungry dick, but he’s a lot better than anyone in charge of the feral alpha fighting rings.
At least Frankie’s predictable. He cares about his bottom line.
“I’ll explain things to him later,” I say to Frankie, ignoring Ash’s following growl at my words. “You can tell he’s a good fighter, though. We’re gonna continue making our rounds at all the other clubs, so you’ll be hearing about us a lot. Sweeten the prize money up and we’ll make sure we keep coming back to your establishment.”
Frankie narrows his eyes on us as he pushes over a stack of cash. A massive stack of fucking cash.
Just what we need.
“Sweeten it up? You askin’ for access to some of the girls?” Frankie asks slowly. “I know you’ve been gone a while, but that part of the family business’s paused after my cousin went and got himself killed.”
“What? No, I’m talking cash,” I shake my head. “What the hell’re you talking about?”
He opens his mouth to talk again but I just grab the cash and sweep it into my duffel bag.
“Actually, scratch that, I don’t wanna know. Night, Frankie,” I say with a wave over my shoulder.
“What the hell was he talking about?” Ash hisses, shoving past me into the hall.
“Cool it when we’re around people like that,” I sigh. “Frankie’s a beta so we can get away with pushing him around more, but other owners of different clubs have egos that wouldn’t let them get disrespected.”
“Then I’ll just punch their faces in,” Ash mutters.
“You can’t fucking punch everyone’s face in when you don’t like them.”
