I chuckle. “Since when did you become all badass?”
“Since you got me into this shit.”
We barely reach the door when it opens. The short stocky thug comes out. No doubt he saw us on the camera tacked to the garage above the door.
Stocky thug doesn’t say a word. Just flicks his head, gesturing for us to come inside.
Sam tucks his hands in his pockets, and anxiety rolls off him in waves.
I strut in like I own the joint. No sense in showing I’m shaking inside. If I’m being honest, I’m worried for Sam, not me. Ray’s the type of guy to use Sam to hurt me if I get out of line.
Ray is sitting at the table next to his shiny red toolbox. The black Aston Martin sits on display like he hasn’t moved the expensive ride since I first met him.
“About time you showed up,” Ray says, eyeballing me with intent. He’s sporting his New York Yankees ball cap tonight, and his bling is shinier than ever as though he polished it for me. Ray studies my face. “What happened to you? Your opponent bash your face in on the field?” He grins like a bastard. “Pathetic playing. You went from great to bad in a matter of seconds.” He moves his head back and forth as if he’s a fucking expert all of a sudden.
“Fuck you, Ray,” I say. “I’m done. There’s your phone.” I set the burner cell down on the table. Then I pull out my wallet. “Here’s five hundred bucks. This should make us even.” I throw the bills on the table.
He gives me a half-grin. “You got balls, quarterback. Five bills won’t cover what you owe me. I told you I’d have a word with Coach, and you still owe me time.”
“Tell Coach. I don’t give a fuck.”
Ray gnaws on the inside of his cheek, appraising me with dark eyes as he stands. Then he circles the table. “I had high hopes for you, Miller. I see your boyfriend knows what you do now.” He smirks, and I grind my teeth to my molars.
Sam sticks out his chin. “Adam made a mistake, and he’s dealing with it.”
“Is that so,” Ray says, grinning as though he’s got a secret of his own. He steps closer to me. “How’s that beautiful strawberry blonde of yours? Doesn’t Emily love Molly?” He nods a few times, his grin expanding. “Yeah, she does.” He glances past me. “José, what’s that dude’s name she fucks.”
“Some prissy name like Zeek or Zach,” Jose says with a chuckle.
I’m opening and closing my fists. “Bring her up again, and I’ll—”
Ray gets in my face. “You’ll what?”
I don’t even take a breath when I ram my elbow into his jaw. His head bounces back then forward, and before my reflexes kick in, Ray’s fist comes out of nowhere and connects with my nose. The damn thing bleeds for the second time today, and it’s a miracle if it isn’t broken. But at the moment, I don’t feel a thing as the adrenaline rushes through me.
Lunging, I tackle him to the pristine painted floor and pin him down. Ray might come off as one scary motherfucker, but he doesn’t have the weight I have or the strength. Plus, I wrestled one year in high school, and I’ve got a few moves.
“As of tonight.” I dig my knee into his gut while holding his hands together in front of him. “I no longer work for you. Come near me, my friends, my family, or my girl and I won’t hesitate to rat you out to the cops. Are we clear?” I doubt I scare him, but I seriously will call the cops even if doing so implicates me.
He laughs, glancing at something.
I toss a look over my shoulder and freeze.
Motherfucker.
José has a gun to Sam’s head.
Standing, I lift my hands. “José, put the gun down.”
Sam looks like a deer in the headlights.
“He will,” Ray says, pulling himself to his feet. “When I tell him. Now just so we’re clear.” He sidles up to me. “Run to the cops and see what happens.” Without warning, he punches me in the gut, winding me. “Touch me again, and you won’t live to see how I fuck up all your loved ones.”
I know it’s not an idle threat. I know he’s capable of just about anything, including murder as Sam pointed out.
I wipe the blood off my nose. “I no longer work for you. Accept that, and we have a deal.”
He peers at me through hooded eyes for a few beats. “Agreed, but you still owe me, and I will call in a favor.” Slowly, he nods to José, and he lowers his gun. Then Sam pivots on his heal and drives his fist into José’s gut. “I might not carry a gun. But I’m not afraid to use my fists. Fucker.”
