Who the hell is the arrogant prick? Lose? No way in hell do I lose. Never have. Never will.
Me: Then why not tell me what it is I need to know instead of playing games?
Unknown: Hmm, maybe I should rethink helping you now. You’re acting like an ass.
Me: How would you act when some unknown person sends you a cryptic message?
I sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning forward while my forearms rest on my knees. I need to pull myself together. This brash person isn’t me. Well, not typically.
Me: What do you think I need to know?
Unknown: See. Now that wasn’t so hard.
I choose not to answer that.
Unknown: Hancock has been doing a lot of research online and messaging people. One just so happens to be one of the bouncers at the club you fight at. Does Solomon ring a bell?
Solomon. Yes he does. He’s a slimy motherfucker. I’ve never figured out why they keep letting him work there.
Me: I’m listening.
Unknown: Seems Hancock’s been looking into chloroform, and he’s purchased some. He’s also been making his own bets on the fight, with him as the winner. I don’t know much about cage fights, but I’d be wary of any way he could use it to incapacitate you, allowing him to win.
The beady ass little dick. He wants to accuse me of being the one who cheats and look at what he’s doing.
Me: Thank you.
Unknown: Anytime. And Roman. Good luck.
Shit.
“Hey Roman, food’s here,” Holden shouts up the stairs, his voice echoing down the hallway to my room.
I stand up, gripping my phone tightly in my hand as I head down to the living room. Nash and Holden are sitting on the couch, food on the coffee table with drinks for each of us.
“Can you grab some paper plates?” Nash asks, and I make a quick detour to the kitchen to get them.
I sit down in the chair across from them, handing the plates over and keeping one for myself. I take two slices of pizza and place them on it. I bite my lip debating how to tell them what the mystery person told me. The only way to really do it is to just rip the band-aid off.
“I messaged that person back.”
Holden’s mouth drops as Nash clears his throat before speaking. “And?”
“Apparently Hancock has something planned with chloroform for that night. And guess who’s helping him?”
“Who?” They both ask in unison.
“Solomon.” I barely say the name before they erupt in rage.
“I’m going to kill him,” Nash growls.
“You won’t get the chance. I’m going to handle them. The thing I need to figure out is how he’s using the chloroform that night.”
I take a slice of pizza, the cheese trailing from the plate, and take a large bite. Holden leans back on the couch, and I can see the tick in his jaw as he bites the inside of his cheek. Nash taps his fingers on his leg as he takes a bite of his pizza.
“The wraps,” Holden announces. “He’s going to douse them in it. All he needs to do is get it around your face, covering your nose and mouth for it to take effect.”
“Simple and effective,” Nash whispers. “But please let me take out Solomon. I want a fight with him.”
