Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Why I was so quick to jump and get my ass over here is because Jamie has had his ear to the ground about Whitney’s stepfather, Greg. I know Oz is doing what he can, but Jamie can get information a lot of other people can’t. I’ve made Jamie good money off my own sweat and blood, and he owes me whatever information he can get. He is always trying to sweet talk me into another fight, but I’m done with that shit.
I’d had a moment of weakness when I was licking my wounds thinking Whitney wanted nothing to do with me after I beat the shit out of that prick in school over her. I was itching for a fight, and Jamie was more than willing to set me up with one. I jumped at the opportunity. But never again. Whitney’s sweet touches have me craving something other than pain these days.
“You back, Ink?” Someone calls as I enter the main training area that has four rings set up. Two are occupied at the moment.
“Nah. Where’s Jamie?” Taylor pulls the tape from off his hands, nodding in the direction of the offices. He’s actually one of the decent ones that hangs out around here. “Thanks.”
“When you’re done we can go a few rounds if you feel up to it,” he offers.
“Always up for it but not here.”
“Are you trying to distance yourself?” He lifts his brows.
“Something like that,” I say as I pass him to head to the offices. Jamie’s door is open, so I step in. He’s at his small desk, his chair two sizes too big for it, trying to give the appearance that he’s bigger than he really is. Jamie is a small squirrelly little fucker with a big mouth. It’s why he pays to have people around him that can fight his battles if need be. His blond head pops up from looking at his phone.
“What do you have for me?”
A smile spreads across his face, and I know I’m going to hate whatever is about to come out of his mouth. That smile only means one thing when it comes to Jamie. This has something to do with the potential of money, but I know it can’t be simply about some random-ass fight. He knew that wouldn’t get me. He’d need something bigger.
“Guess who was in here poking around about you?” Jamie asks, putting his phone down. I wait. “Okay, fine. Brock Turner.”
The name blindsides me. “His ass is in prison.” At least that’s what I thought. After he got out of the coma I put him in, he was supposed to be tossed into prison.
I, however, had been put on probation and into Oz’s care. The judge said I hadn’t been wrong in what I’d done, but my force and rage had been out of control. He’d been right. When I went after Brock that afternoon when I caught him trying to force himself on one of the new girls, I’d meant to kill him. It wasn’t about getting him off of her. I had the intent to kill him. I’d failed.
“Not anymore from what I found out after he showed up here sniffing around about you.” I grab the door, closing it behind me.
“What do you have on him?”
Jamie’s smile grows as if he can feel my anger starting to engulf the small room. “Got out two weeks ago on a technicality or some shit. I don’t think he’s trying to find you to catch up after I read the police reports.”
“No shit.” I run my fingers through my hair. Does this fucker have a death wish or something? Some people never learn. “Where is he now?”
“Halfway house. Or he was until a few days ago when he went MIA.” I have no idea what to do with this information. It’s bizarre, but I know I need to let Oz know.
“What about Greg?” I’d thought Jamie would have something about Whitney’s stepfather. Not a ghost from my past. One I’d all but forgotten about.
“Everything is going as planned. My guy loaned”—he puts air quotes around the word—“him the extra money, and he took the bait. Spent it all on drugs, as you thought he would. Now you wait.”
Every cent I’d made on that last fight I’d spent to pull this off. I am going to let Greg bury himself. I’d paid for said loan, giving the sick asshole a nice fresh cash flow. Knowing he’d do what any junkie would do and inject every cent of it into his arm.
“Keep me updated,” I say before I head out of his office. I pull out my phone to check and see if Whitney has texted me back. Not seeing anything, I shoot her another text before I call Oz.
A few months ago, I would have handled this Turner thing on my own. I’m itching for him to find me so I can finish what I started. He’s a predator. No amount of jail time will ever change that. He needs to be put down or locked away for life.