Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I only found out about it because I’d been at Chaz’s bar and heard some guys there talking about it. I managed to get the information out of him thanks to some simple flirting.
I didn’t invite Sage this time. Mostly because if there was any risk of getting into trouble, I didn’t want her involved. She likely had a nice, long life ahead of her. She didn’t need an arrest for attending an underground fight to deal with.
I wasn’t even sure what kind of trouble you could get into for this.
I’d grown up in a very average family. No one got so much as a parking ticket. And I’d been raised to be very afraid of getting into trouble. So, yeah, I had no clue what kind of bail or sentence would be ahead of me if the cops raided the joint.
I wasn’t going to let that stop me, though.
But I did go ahead and stick a small eye-gouger that had been a Christmas gift from Sage into my little clutch I was bringing. Just in case.
With that, I got in my car, and drove across Navesink Bank to some random side street where a long, low building that had clearly once been a school, was located.
The back lot was fenced off with a little intercom waiting there.
Walking up, my belly flip-flopping with anticipation, I pressed my finger into the button.
“Yeah?”
“Papa Roach,” I said, remembering the password the guys at the bar had told me about. Apparently, it changed weekly, so the owners could prevent just anyone showing up all the time. It was always, they’d claimed, a name of some random aughts band name.
There was a pause before there was a beep, then the gate slid open.
The back lot was jam-packed full of luxury cars whose owners clearly got priority parking and didn’t have to park halfway down the street like I had.
There was a small group moving toward the back door ahead of me, pausing to give the second passcode, before the bouncer stood to frisk the men, letting the women in without touching them.
“‘Sup, babe?” he asked when I made my way up, both impressed and mildly insulted when his gaze didn’t move over my carefully chosen dress that hugged me in all the right ways.
He was a looker himself, tall and fit with dark skin, and a very expensive-looking suit that was tailored to his wide frame perfectly.
“Oh, ah, twenty-one-thirty-seven,” I said, offering a smile that I hoped looked more confident than I felt.
“Yep,” he said, nodding. “Open your bag for me,” he demanded, making panic shoot through my system, remembering the eye gouger just casually sitting there in all its bright pink glory.
“Ah, sure,” I said, starting to sweat as I opened it.
He grabbed a flashlight, shining it inside, but not actually touching anything.
I knew it when he spotted the weapon.
His gaze cut up to me, then behind me, before looking me in the eyes.
“You here alone, baby girl?”
“I, ah, yeah,” I said, nodding.
To that, he exhaled a little, clicking off the light, and nodding.
“Alright. Go on in.”
“I, ah, thanks,” I said, not wanting to test my luck, and rushed into the back door.
Where I was met with a stairwell, leading both up and down.
The bar guys had mentioned a basement, so I headed down, trying to pretend the thudding of my heart was anticipation, not anxiety, as I came to a set of doors with that push bar across it.
It wasn’t too late to turn around.
But I was trying not to let my fear win.
So I slammed my hands into the door, and moved in.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting.
Something seedy, I guess.
But this basement had been transformed into some sort of luxury bar.
Sure, there was a giant cage ring toward the side.
But the rest of the place was swanky.
Dark woods, moody lighting, a long wooden bar with two gorgeous people—a man and a woman—behind making drinks.
There were a ton of seating areas. Some tables and bar chairs, other intimate leather wingback chairs in sets of two.
The people moving around were equally as glamorous. Most men were in suits and the women in dresses, making me glad I’d opted for fancy instead of casual.
Sure, there were some men and women around in jeans and tees, but they were more in the minority.
This room reeked of money.
Both for the owners of this place, of course, but also in the pockets of everyone attending.
Obviously, any sort of sporting event was something people bet on.
This was no different. There was a man standing off to the side, accepting cash, and jotting things down in a notebook. Beside him, a bigger man stood with a briefcase on a table. A briefcase that was handcuffed to his wrist. I didn’t miss the guns at his waist and under his arm, either.