Page 6 of Four Cards Exposed

James scowled. He lifted his hand gingerly to the side of his jaw. Moore placed a beer can in his hand. It was ice cold, and James wanted nothing more than to apply it to his jaw and swollen knuckles, but he pulled the tab open and gulped its contents down in one go, crushing it between his fingers when he was done.

All part of the show.

He grinned through his split lip, looking around at the crowd that filled the mechanic’s garage.

“Anybody else you’d like me to take on, boss?”

The crowd seemed to shrink back a few inches.

“Not tonight, not tonight, my boy. You’ll get another chance soon,” Moore said, euphoric. The better the show, the more these people would be willing to pay to come back next time—if they managed to secure an invitation, which only Moore could provide.

This wasn’t regular boxing. You couldn’t buy tickets to Moore’s fights online or through any regular channels. This was bare-knuckle boxing, and the only rules that applied were Moore’s rules, of which there were only three: One, hands and knuckles had to be free of any tape or coverings. Two, closed fist punches were the only strike allowed. Three, a fighter who was knocked down had ten seconds to get back up, or the referee would stop the fight and award victory to the man left standing.

While men from Moore’s team were paying out the bets, several scantily clad young women walked around the crowd, serving drinks.

Moore clasped James’s arm and took him to a corner, where he handed him a bundle of notes.

“Ten thousand. Five for fighting, and five more for winning. It’s all there,” Moore said, smiling. James nodded and put the small bundle in his pocket without counting it. Jay couldn’t afford to offend Moore.

James knew why Moore liked him. Because James was tall, he looked slimmer and less imposing than some of the other guys in his weight category, and therefore often had people betting against him. This had allowed his boss to reap in the rewards, particularly during his first few fights. Now, the crowd was starting to catch on to the fact that he—Jay—was a fighter to watch out for.

James rolled his thick shoulders, shaking off some of the adrenaline still left in his body after the fight.

“Relax, Jay. There’s no more fighting to be done tonight. Come, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

James let his boss lead him across to the corner of the garage, where a slim, tanned man with thick dark hair and a matching mustache sat gingerly on a red velvet couch. He was staring at the fabric as if he’d like nothing better than to apply a UV light to it.

James’s heart sped up. He’d been undercover for three months, and this was the first time he was meeting anybody who looked like they could conceivably be involved with the cartel.

Maybe tonight is the night.

“Miguel, this is Jay, the fighter I was telling you about. Jay, Señor Mendoza is my good friend and business partner.”

Mendoza.

James forced a neutral expression on his face as he sized the man up quickly. The cartel’s leader was called Ernesto Mendoza. Ernesto, not Miguel. Though they’d been after him for years, they knew very little about him—not even his age. This man might be Ernesto’s nephew. His brother. His son.

Either way, it was the closest they’d ever been to Ernesto Mendoza.

The slim man stood up politely to shake his hand. James shook it, pressing just a bit too hard, the way Jay would. Miguel merely smiled where another man would have winced or taken a step back.

Not half as delicate as he looks, then.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jay,” Mendoza said. His English was nearly perfect, but James detected the trace of a soft Spanish accent. “I’ve heard so much about you from Sean, and I enjoyed today’s fight.”

“Thank you,” James grunted, lowering his eyes. One of the ways he’d kept himself out of trouble these last few months was by saying as little as possible. Luckily, nobody was expecting eloquence from a bare-knuckle fighter with big debts to repay, which was how James had managed to infiltrate Sean Moore’s group. Fighting was pretty much all that had been expected from him until now.

Of course, that might be changing as of today. He had the feeling it wasn’t a coincidence that he was meeting Mendoza.

“Listen, Jay. We know you have debts to pay.”

James bristled, as Jay would have done in this situation.

“Relax. We’ve all been there,” Mendoza said with a grand wave of his hand.

James studied the carefully manicured hand.

I very much doubt you have.