“Tryst, really?” Mal asks.
“It’s a good word.”
“I haven’t wanted anything more.” Until now. I want Rory, but I still don’t understand it myself. I think I need more time to wrap my head around this and decide how I want Rory in my life.
“Until a certain someone?—”
“Drop it,” I growl, and they both know I’ve had enough.
“Alright.” Numbers sets a folder on my desk and says good night before leaving. I’m staring into the distance thinking about pouty pink lips, but suddenly, he’s got them wrapped around my nipple and his pretty green eyes flutter closed. What would his mouth feel like? Do I really want to know? That would mean revealing my biggest secret. Mal and old doc know, but that’s it.
“What’s really bothering you?” Mal asks.
“I said drop it.”
“Fine.” Mal holds his hands up, trying to calm me. “But if it’s anything other than your obsession, you better tell me. Secrets get people killed.”
“It’s my new obsession,” I admit and then growl. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Alright. Alright. Tag’s got a fight tonight. You want to get drunk and watch?” Mal asks, and I nod. Tag’s the biggest draw I’ve had since I retired.
“Why not?” I down my drink and hold it out for more. “I need to change before we go.” Pump is more like it. Thankfully my production has slowed down with this new medication that the Lactin Brotherhood recommended, but I still need to pump at least twice a day, and I can tell it’s almost time.
“Hiya, boss.” Peter holds the rope open for Mal and me.
“Peter.” I pat his shoulder as I walk through. “How’s it been?”
“It’s a good crowd tonight.”
We walk down the quiet cement hallway that leads to the basement of this distillery.
Having an underground fighting ring in an abandoned building would just be asking for the cops to come in and bust us, but put it in a thriving business just outside the city limits and no one really looks twice.
When the doors open to the main floor, we’re hit with the sound of cheering and cursing. The smell of blood and sweat permeate the air.
Even though the smell is awful, my pulse spikes, and my dick chubs at the thought of violence and debauchery.
This was my first business. Not in this location, but underground fighting. I was the fighter while Mal and Numbers were the business.
I remained undefeated for almost ten years, and everyone wanted to challenge me. One night, someone managed to get a knife into the ring with me and he gave me a wicked cut along my abdomen. After I stabbed him in the eye with his own knife, I retired.
I couldn’t leave my daughter without any parents.
Plus, I was getting tired, and I’d already made a shit ton of money. So I focused on my other business, but I was never able to let go of this.
The adrenaline, the excitement, the noise?—
“Don’t even think about it,” Mal yells in my ear.
I gently shove him back. “I wasn’t.”
“You have that look.”
“I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Please. You’re still bigger and more badass than any man in here.”
He’s not wrong.
