Page 13 of Nick

Chapter 10

The next morning I head downstairs to workout as usual. After a long run on the treadmill, Patrick is waiting for me in the kitchen. “Busy night?”

Nodding, I continue to my room to shower. This should be interesting. Patrick will demand details about last night, which I can’t give him. I’m more concerned about Artur’s retaliation than I am Patrick’s, although this may put Shortie and Gabby in danger, so I need to tread carefully.

After I’m clean and dressed, I walk out to the kitchen to make eggs and toast. Patrick allows me to eat in peace before he takes a seat across from me at the table. “Details, Nick, now!”

“If I tell you, Artur shoots me. If I don’t tell you, you’ll go after my family. Let’s be smart about this. I was part of a fight, just like on Friday nights. If there’s anything more to it, I didn’t see it last night.”

Patrick sits back and stares at me as I sip my coffee. I keep my face blank, as always. “You fought, nothing more?”

“Not last night,” I shake my head.

Patrick eventually nods. “If it’s just more fights, it won’t interfere with my plans. You tell me immediately if anything else is happening.”

Nodding in agreement, he leaves me in peace.

An hour later, we’re doing the usual pickups and drop offs around town when he gets a call from Artur to return to the bar. When we step through the door, he's grabbed by Artur's favorite goons, and they haul him downstairs. Artur is standing in the hallway watching. I quirk an eyebrow at him in question. "His crew won't bother you again. Patrick should know better than to put one of my fighters at risk." With that, he walks down the stairs, and I'm left standing there. Shit, his crew must have squealed on him. That'll put him in a bad mood.

I go into his office to watch some tv until my shift starts. About a half hour later, Patrick comes stumbling into the room with what will be a black eye, and he's holding his left side. I stay quiet as he collapses into his chair. We don't speak to each other as he sits there fuming. I'm surprised he's staying here instead of going home to lick his wounds. Maybe Artur told him to?

I leave the office to grab dinner around 7:30 p.m. Ordering a burger and fries, I take a seat at the bar and look around. It's fairly busy for a Wednesday night. Deke and friends are sitting in their usual booth looking a little rough, but no worse than the sperm donor. Deke is glaring at me, but that's nothing new.

My night is uneventful, and Patrick decides to leave early at 11pm. Even when we arrive at the condo, he doesn't speak to me, just snorts a line of coke and goes to his room. Technically, I didn't rat him out, so he doesn't have a right to blame me, but that's never mattered before. However, I'm sure Artur made it clear I'm off-limits.

Chapter 11

After a week with a very agitated Patrick, I’m picked up by the same security guy for my second Tuesday night fight, but he doesn’t escort me past the elevator this time. Artur answers the door, ushering me into cocktail hour immediately. One young girl attaches herself to me as soon as I enter. I don’t know why she chose me out of everyone here, but she looped her arm through mine and won’t let go. I allow it, if only to give her a safe place to be. Unfortunately, they separate her from me at dinner and place her between two handsy men. All the girls are new tonight, I think.

As I'm waiting in the locker room before my fight, the guy in green shorts takes a seat beside me. "Hey man, I'm George."

"Nick," I nod.

"So how'd you get involved in these fights?"

I raise a brow but don't talk.

He leans closer. "Just be careful. The man you replaced was a good fighter, but he had a big mouth. Told us he was in with an FBI agent who attended these fights and was helping them bring down the organization. We never saw him again," he whispers.

Nodding I heard him; he stands and walks away. Well, damn. Is there really an FBI informant here, or is Artur smart enough to test his fighters? It could be either, but my money's on Artur. Fuck my life. Whatever Patrick is planning may be my only option to end this mess. Artur and Fitzgerald are too smart for me to deal with on my own without getting fucked over. I could've never imagined the kind of nightmare I was walking into all those months ago. I still would've come here, but shit…

I'm in the second fight again tonight, and I win. It was close, but I enjoyed myself. After my fight, the same girl from earlier runs out of one of the rooms upstairs as I'm walking by and loops her arm through mine again, not saying a word, and follows me into the room with Artur. I pass her a bottle of water before grabbing one myself, and then we sit down to watch the final match.

Artur comes over after talking with a client and asks her to go back to her room, but the girl doesn’t even acknowledge him. Her eyes are chips of ice as she stares intently at the cage. I tell him she's cute, and I don’t mind her company, but Artur shakes his head at me before taking the girl’s arm and pulling her up. “Hey, easy there,” I say.

“This does not concern you, Nicholas,” he replies before leaning closer to whisper. “You wouldn’t want to endanger Summer or Gabrielle.”

Fucking prick. I feel helpless as he walks her away.

A woman dressed in a shimmering blue gown takes the vacant seat. She’s younger than most here, maybe late 20s. I noticed her with a much older man earlier tonight. “You were spectacular tonight, Nick,” she purrs, leaning against my side as much as she can from the next seat.

I nod my head while keeping my eyes on the fight below.

She trails her long red nails down my arm, stopping at my wrist. “I find these events tedious, but they’re necessary. The fights are the only tolerable part of the evening.”

Interesting. “What line of work are you in?” I ask. Maybe I’ll get some information out of this one.

“International investment banking. It’s a family business, you see. I inherited it recently from my late mother.”