Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“Worry about your own wife, bro,” Z snaps. “Oh, wait, you don’t have one.”
“Ouch.” Hustler claps his hands to his cheeks. “That stung.”
We run through a list of other items, then Rock excuses everyone except the officers.
I’m already halfway to standing. “RC’s too?” As I’m asking the question, I note Dex’s ass still firmly planted in his seat.
Fuck.
Rock points to my cut. “That road captain patch just for decoration?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He nods to the vacant chair next to Murphy. “Come sit your ass down.”
“Clown,” Rooster mutters against my ear.
“Dickface.”
Once we’re all rearranged, Rock nods to Wrath.
Elbows on the table and hands clasped together, he leans on the table like we’re about to discuss a bank heist.
This should be good.
“I have a source who says when Griff’s done with that shitshow reality nonsense he’s going to be offered a pro fight in Vegas.”
“No shit.” Murphy whistles and sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You think this is an investment opportunity?” Teller asks.
Boy, he sure got there fast. Always looking for ways to make bank.
“I do.”
“Wait,” I cut in, frowning. “I’ve been helping out at Remy’s place, and he hasn’t mentioned it.”
“He doesn’t know yet. It’s not final. That’s why I didn’t want to discuss it in front of everyone yet,” Wrath explains. “Griff still has to agree to do it.”
“Not a chance he’s saying no to that,” Murphy says, shaking his head.
“Did you watch the show?” Dex leans forward, expression twisted with disgust. “From the bits I saw, it’s fucking awful. Doesn’t have much to do with fighting. I tried to warn him…”
Wrath shakes his head as if that part’s unimportant. “The fights they did show? He’s by far the best fighter in the whole house.” He points at Murphy, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Reminds me of you when you were younger. If you’d been more disciplined.”
Murphy bristles. “Well, I didn’t have the luxury of being disciplined when I was younger.”
“Easy, Jolly Green. It wasn’t an insult.”
I jerk my thumb at Murphy. “Is that new? Are we calling him Jolly Green now, because I can get on board with that.”
Wrath’s deep laugh shakes the table.
“Is there a point to all of this?” Z asks.
“Yes, there’s a point.” Wrath nods to Teller. “Bishop Babymaker was right.”
Teller groans.
I grin. Glad that stuck.
“It’s an investment opportunity,” Wrath says slowly, like he’s trying to dazzle us. “Griff will be the underdog. The odds will be against him.”
“Because he’s unproven,” Grinder points out.
Wrath’s already shaking his head. “Yeah, in a professional cage, sure. But he’s been fighting for years. Fought for his life at The Castle.”
Teller’s jaw tightens. “They should’ve burned that place to the ground.”
“Now he’s been professionally trained, and he’ll have to train nonstop for that fight,” Wrath continues. “Plus, he still needs money. Once the government takes its bite of whatever shitty prize money he wins, he won’t have the nest egg he wants.”
“What does any of this have to do with us?” Rock asks in his usual move it along tone.
“I think we should nurture this opportunity,” Wrath says. If he were a cartoon character, there’d be dollar bill signs in his eyes. “Offer our support. Offer our protection at the fight.”
“You want the whole club to swarm into Vegas?” Z asks, raising an eyebrow. “The club we don’t name still runs that territory. We show up in force there, law enforcement will be all over both clubs.”
“No, not the whole club,” Wrath says. “I’m sure Remy and Eraser will be there. We only need a couple more guys who Griff can trust to have his back.”
“Dawson’s really into MMA,” Rooster chimes in. “Watching the fights,” he clarifies with an eye roll. “Betting.”
“Does that guy have his own personality?” Hustler asks.
“Yes,” I answer in a dry tone. “Being so stupid-rich that he picks up hobbies like babies pick up seashells.”
Rooster rolls his head to the side and gives me the questioning eyebrow/eye roll combo.
“What?” I shrug. “It’s true.”
“Weird comparison, but okay,” Z says.
“He goes to Vegas all the time,” Rooster says. “I’ll ask him what the security situation is at those events.”
“I know what it’s like.” Wrath circles a finger in the air. “Those fights are on pay-per-view, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s not the same,” Murphy says. “Some of those so-called pro fighters are gutter rats. Griff might not get a warm welcome as an outsider. They don’t air all the squabbles that go on backstage between the fighters and their entourages.”
I pull back and stare at Murphy. “Look at Jolly Green with the big words today.”
“Fuck off.” Murphy laughs and punches my shoulder.
“Exactly.” Wrath nods like he’s happy someone’s finally getting his point. “We should be there to make sure no one fucks with him.”
“The odds will be so against him, the payoff could be huge. If he pulls it off,” Teller says, practically salivating at the thought of a major influx of cash. He turns to Rock. “We could take a portion of club funds.”