Page 93 of Embriagado

Sinclair, who worked for the Frenchman, was often amused by the number of failures I brought here. But to be fair, all those other morons I’d wasted my time on didn’t last two rounds in the cage.

“God has finally shown me a bit of luck with this fighter.”

“You and God?” He snorted, lighting up a smoke. “It will be a cold day in hell before anybody believes you have one.”

I hate smoking.

“Now, then, tell me, where did you find your guy?” He took a pull on his cigarette.

“At a dog shelter.”

Exhaling the smoke, he huffed a laugh.

“My God, I forgot your sense of humor,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Anyway, I mean it when I say the boss is interested. It’s the first time he’s asked about a fighter only three fights in.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Of course he did. The Frenchman had a fatal attraction to only two things, okay, maybe three—money, sex, and blood.

“Well, tell your boss that my guy is only here for a short while.” A slight smile spread on my lips. “Five fights and he’s out.”

Locking eyes with me, Sinclair pushed four stacks of money toward me. “Are you sure about that?”

I reached down and collected them. “Yes.”

He pushed another stack. “You know my boss has an eye for talent.”

Collecting the fifth stack, I brushed a finger over the bills. “He and I both.”

“He’s also persistent.”

“Again… he and I both.”

He clicked his tongue before pulling out another stack and placing it on the table.

Pleased, I took it.

“We want him in the big league.”

“The big league, you say?” I hummed, eyes focused on the money. With my betting profits and the extra he gave me, there was easily 40K in here.

“Yes.”

I looked up at him, the smile once again returning to my lips. “With your generosity and warm hospitality, I might just consider it.”

Sinclair stared at me with a raised brow.

“You know, my boss doesn’t like people standing in his way.”

Oh, did I know it. In fact, I was counting on that man’s greed and juvenile impatience.

“Tell your boss that my dog won’t fight for anyone but me. So if he wants to see him again, he’d better behave.”

Sinclair gritted his teeth, saying how I needed to watch my mouth, although at this point, I didn’t care for what he had to say, as I’d already gotten what I needed.

A ticket to the big league, where the real money was.