“This is the fucking shit that happens when I leave you alone for a few freaking hours!”
Kara almost groaned. “You sound like my mom—”
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, young lady.” Megan bristled, folding her hands across her chest.
Kara just hoped that Adam was sound asleep and couldn’t hear Megan screaming her lungs out.
“How many times—” She stood before her and slapped the back of one palm against the front of the other.
“That son of a bitch is so filled with shit he’d never be rid of the stench for his whole damn life!”
“Will you stop now? Adam can probably hear you,” Kara hissed impatiently.
Megan’s eyes narrowed. “What else did he say to you?”
Kara hugged her knees to her chest.
“I told you everything that he said, that was all that happened. Then I gave him back some and left the place.”
Megan stomped around the room, her chest heaving with anger.
“Only if I’d been there. That fucker would have been begging for mercy—”
“Megan, I love you.”
“Well, not enough obviously—you went to meet him without waiting for me to deliver the fucking verdict,” she snapped.
Kara rolled her eyes.
She held her arms out, knowing it’d be only seconds before she caved.
Megan glared at her for a moment and Kara could imagine the hell she would have brought down on Max had she been there.
Finally, she took a deep breath and came to her, hugging her back and sending Kara backward on the bed.
They hugged fiercely.
“You’re too soft for your own good,” she muttered into Kara’s hair.
“That’s why I’ve got you,” she said, hugging Megan even tighter.
“Shut up.”
Kara smiled.
Adam pulled up the hood of his jacket even further, his eyes already scanning the area.
The streets were empty at this time of the night, the occasional cone-shaped headlights of a car passing by in the lane beyond. The warehouse was like he remembered it last.
The rusted metal gate did a poor job of providing the illusion of safety.
Reaching inside his pocket, he turned off his phone, knowing that there wouldn’t be anyone who would bother calling him and yet wanting to take the precautionary step.
Rolling his shoulders to ease the crick in his neck, he stepped to the gate.
He knew exactly where to push the gate so that it didn’t creak too loud.
The bare lightbulb at the door of the warehouse gave out a faint glow. Boots crunching in the gravel, Adam pushed the door open. It was well oiled as always.
Faint sounds of screaming and grunting reached his ears. What he wouldn’t give to leave it all behind. But no, his past had held on to him with a vicious grip and had refused to let go.
Facing it once again, for what he hoped was the last time, was the only option he had.
The inside of the warehouse was dusty. Adam quickened his steps, looking all around, straining to make out the shadows.
As he approached the end of the space, the noises grew louder. The neon light at the top of the staircase helped him only slightly, in picking his way.
He could hear the voices clearly now. Cheering and cursing. Grunting and beating. The smell of sweat and blood drifted up the staircase and for a brief moment, his stomach roiled.
Gripping the metal bar, he descended the steps, the loud sounds making his head ring.
There were three huge men at the base.
On spotting him, they went rigid but didn’t stop him.
The one on his left slid his dark glasses down his nose and gave Adam a crooked smile, a hideous scar running along his cheek, the skin puffed up and pink.
“Yo, the bishop is here.” He bumped his shoulder against Adam’s.
“Good to see you too, you piece of shit,” Adam grinned at him.
Bad Axe. One of his few allies. No one knew his real name.
“It’s good to see you, man.” He hugged him, chuckling. “Days were getting lonely,” he joked.
Adam slapped his back.
“They here yet?”
“Oh, they’re here all right. Danny boy’s got his panties in a twist knowing you’d be coming.”
Adam laughed, noting the amused expressions on the faces of the other two men. “He’s always had his panties in a twist as far as I remember.”
“True that.” Axe held his arm.
“How about we go get a drink like old times when you’re done with the shit in there?”
Adam nodded. “It’s a date.”
Bad Axe laughed and wished him luck, before letting him in.
Adam didn’t stop to see who was getting beat up in the ring. Pushing his way through the crowd, he moved toward the corner of the makeshift arena.
The sounds of the crowd lessened only a bit when he finally pushed open the door to Crawford’s office, without knocking.
Crawford sat with his feet propped up on his desk, a cigarette in his fingers. Two bodyguards stood behind him, dressed in complete leather attire.
“Adam?”
Red’s voice made him turn to his side, and a brief smile formed on his face.
“Welcome home, Adam.”
Crawford pushed back and stood, yellow-stained teeth showing in his smile.
“Crawford,” he said curtly, stiffening at once.
“Come on now, is that the way you’re gonna greet me? Give me a hug!”
Crawford came around and embraced him. Adam didn’t return it, only turning to look at Red.
Red smiled. A genuine smile, and Adam almost felt slack with relief. He’d never forgive himself if Red had been harmed.
“Why did you do it?”
Crawford moved away.
He was ahead of sixty now, and Adam hoped the fucker died soon. Bald since the time he’d seen him first, Crawford looked every bit a thug.
Gold chains hung around his neck. A thick gold bracelet rested on his right arm, and a heavy gold watch on the other. He was dressed in a gray suit, black boots, and too much perfume.
“Do what?” he feigned innocence.
When Adam’s expression remained stony, he sighed.
“I didn’t do any damage. Look at him.” He gestured at Red.
Adam eyed him without hesitation.
“You’re a douchebag.”
Crawford laughed.
“I know that. Now. Let’s talk business.”
Adam took a seat before the desk, and Red reached out to clasp his hand. He was almost ten years older than Adam but was like a brother to him.
He had even named Adam as his daughter Maggie's godfather.
“What do you want from me?”
Crawford gave him a cold smile.
“Well, you see, you made me lose a lot of money. You need to earn it back for me.”
Adam snorted.
“Like you give a shit about the money.”
Crawford didn’t deny it.
“Oh, you know me so well. But that’s what I’m sticking with.” He took a puff of the cigarette.
“How many fights?”
Crawford narrowed his eyes.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you win or lose.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’ve got buyers that can’t wait to see your head on a stake.” He shrugged.
“Cut the bullshit, Crawford.”
His lips compressed to a straight line.
“Fifty if you win, double if you lose.”
Adam froze.
Crawford caught it and smirked.
“Good deal, eh?”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Bullshit!” He almost roared.
“You see now?” Crawford jumped up.
He stabbed the air with his cigarette.
“That’s how I felt when you walked out on me.”
Adam was seething, his fury barely contained. He felt Red’s hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t fucking owe you that much,” he hissed.
Crawford paced before him.
“Eighteen and you can keep the rest.”
Adam turned to look at Red.
“I get you that and you leave us alone. Both me and Red.”
Crawford stared at him, his eyes darting once to Red.
“Deal.”
“I want it written. Your word is not to be trusted.”
“Of course.” Crawford smirked.
“You’ll get it written.” He stubbed out the cigarette.
Adam looked back at Red. The confidence in his eyes helped him just a little.
“When do I start?”
Crawford looked at his bodyguards.
“Now.”
