I allow her a moment to digest this. “I don’t see my parents often, but I have access to the LaFontaine millions.” For Jase, I’d do anything, including reaching out to my parents. “Do what I want, and the debt collectors will stop knocking on your door.”
“But I’ll be publicly humiliated,” she protests.
“Honey.” I say the word in my most sugary, condescending tone. “That will happen either way.”
“Fuck,” she swears, eyeballing me with a combination of defeat and respect. “I underestimated you.”
“You did. So, what’s it going to be?”
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and nods. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Gathering the papers, I prepare to leave, but hesitate. “Word to the wise, Erin. Ditch Karson. He’s a bad guy.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes meet mine. “I know.” She shakes her head. “I sure can pick them.”
“Maybe go for a baseball player,” I suggest. “They’re easier to handle.”
“You know what?” She perks up. “I think I will.” Reluctantly, she offers me a manicured hand. “Nice doing business with you.”
I shake, giving it an extra squeeze so she knows not to mess with me again, and then I walk away from her without a backward glance.
You’re welcome, Jase Rawlins.
18
Jase
It’s been three days since Lena bailed me out and I sent her away with nothing to remember me by except a bank transfer with a simple note: “thank you for everything”. It’s been three grueling days of training, and three lonely nights where I barely slept a wink despite having worked myself to exhaustion. Dwelling on Lena is painful, so I’ve focused all of my energy into avenging her the only way I can—by pulverizing Karson Hayes on international television. I’m going to make the fucker regret being born.
Although I haven’t spoken to Lena, I’ve seen her twice. She dropped by to speak with Gabe, Devon, and Seth, but didn’t try to approach me—perhaps I hurt her too much, a possibility I hate with a passion. None of them mentioned it to me, and I didn’t ask. Frankly, hearing what’s going on with her would mess with my head, and I can’t afford that right now. Not when I’m determined to crush her ex.
It’s Thursday afternoon, the day before the big fight, and everyone else has finished training. I should have, too. To be honest, I probably shouldn’t be training at all today, but I need something to occupy my mind and everyone seems to sense it. Even hard-ass Seth hasn’t tried to send me home. He just glowers disapprovingly and keeps reminding me not to overdo it.
I’m practicing my setups for a right overhand punch when Devon and Gabe come out of the changing room and cross over to me. Devon lays a hand on my shoulder while Gabe steps between me and the bag, narrowly avoiding a shot to the temple. He catches my fist and pushes it down to my side.
“This is an intervention,” Devon says. “We’re taking you back to your place, and we’re going to watch some TV and chill.”
I try to shake him off. “Not interested.”
“We. Don’t. Care,” Gabe enunciates clearly.
“You’ve done enough, bro.” Devon claps me on the back and steps out of reach, reading my mood. Gabe, on the other hand, stands steady. He doesn’t care if he cops a punch. He’s got something to prove to the world. Always has, always will. I guess being shouldered with a Golden Gloves champion for a father gives him a lot of expectation to live up to.
“We need to ice your hands and shins and go over your mental game,” Devon continues. “Seth is coming too.”
“He is?” This stuns me. Things must be serious for Seth to leave the gym. He practically lives here. None of us have even seen the guy’s home, and sometimes I wonder if he just crashes on the gym floor. He’s a great trainer, but he has even less of a personal life than we do. “Okay, I’ll come.”
I remove my gloves, grab my stuff, and follow them to the cars. We drive to my place, with Seth promising to be close behind. Inside, I leave Gabe and Devon in the living room while I shower. When I return, they’re on the sofa, watching the sports news, and two buckets of icy water are waiting for me. Dunking a fist into each of them, I wince at the bitter chill.
“Why are we watching this?” I ask. Usually we watch re-runs of the opponent’s last few fights and talk strategy at this point in the training camp, staying far away from the news in case they mention the upcoming event and psych us out.
Devon checks the time. “You’ll see in a moment.”
The door opens, and Seth strides in. “Your security is shit.”
“Good to know,” I mutter, having previously been under the impression it was top of the line.
“Shh,” Devon hisses, and then the setting on the TV changes and Erin appears.
