Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“This is nothing compared to what we’ll do if he doesn’t pay.”
“He doesn’t owe you shit. I gave him the money to place that stupid bet.”
“That was just a down payment. A deposit. Now my boss needs the rest.” The guy’s grip goes tighter. “Where the fuck is he?”
“I don’t know. I’m not his keeper.”
My gaze darts again to the ring, where Chuck is stumbling to his feet. I want him to come over here and tell me I’m wrong. I want him to say something—anything—to make these awful thoughts go away. Maybe I haven’t felt close to him in weeks. Maybe I knew this wouldn’t work between us and was already planning my exit, but he wouldn’t con my brother into betting on him in a fight he planned to throw. Would he?
In the ring, Chuck catches my eye and winks. He winks.
“Will you fucking listen when I’m talking to you?” the bookie says.
I try to turn my focus back to him, but at the same moment, I lose the battle with the contents of my stomach and throw up red punch right onto the guy’s white shoes.
He scrambles back. “Bitch! What the fuck?”
I wipe at the back of my mouth, torn between horror and the next wave of nausea. “Oh my G—”
The hand that strikes my cheek cuts me off before I can finish my apology, and I stagger back as if I’m doing a comical replay of Chuck in the ring.
I shake my head. “I don’t know where he is, but I’m sure he’s going to pay you.”
It’s a lie. Nathan doesn’t have the money. He doesn’t have anything. We were conned out of money we don’t even have.
I wish this were a nightmare, but the smell of my own vomit makes it all too real.
Chuck uses that moment to remember my existence. “It’s fine.” He limps as he comes toward me. “Savvy’s family is loaded. Her brother is good for it.”
I spin on him. “You did this on purpose!”
The crowd’s cleared out. Only a few groups of people remain in this dingy, cavernous space, and they gasp as they hear my accusation.
“Excuse me?” Chuck rocks back on his heels and folds his arms. “You think I enjoyed that?”
I don’t even try to hide my sneer. You don’t have to enjoy something to profit from it. “You don’t understand what you did. Nathan doesn’t have any money.”
“I’m sure he can ask your daddy for it,” Chuck says.
A few minutes ago, I hoped to never see another fist connect with Chuck’s jaw, but I’ve changed my mind. Now, I would relish the sight. And I’d like the fist to be my own. “He doesn’t have it.”
“Your girlfriend’s lucky. I’m willing to let her work off her brother’s debts,” the bookie says. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have a brother anymore.”
Chuck huffs. “Yeah, right.” He smacks my arm playfully. “Quit acting like you don’t have any money, Savannah. Call your parents.”
“No,” I growl, stepping away from him. If I doubted it before, now I’m sure. Chuck did this on purpose. He set up Nathan to make a big bet on this fight.
This is what you get for pretending to have money. You become a target. If they knew my family was living on borrowed money and the power of my grandfather’s name, they never would’ve bothered.
“What’ll it be?” the bookie asks.
“Fuck off.”
Chuck gapes at me. “Call. Your. Parents. Jesus, Sav, these people aren’t playing.”
“My parents are broke,” I shout, and I swear the word echoes so loudly it makes my eardrums ache. If this gets back to my mother, she’ll disown me. If my parents worked half as hard at making money as they do trying to pretend they never lost Dad’s inheritance, we’d be fine. Maybe we wouldn’t be millionaires, but at least Nathan wouldn’t be running around making dumbass bets on illegal fights with money he doesn’t have.
Maybe Chuck got punched in the head too many times tonight, or maybe it just takes him that long to register that I’m serious, but he finally gasps. He pales and whispers, “Fuck. Shit. Your brother’s gotta find a way to pay these guys, Sav. This is serious shit.”
I grab his arm. “Then help him.” If I’m right and he threw this fight, he didn’t do it for free. “Help him pay them!”
“I’m not the one who placed a bet with money I don’t have. Fuck that.” He worms away from my grasp and backs up a step before shaking his head and turning to the exit.
A redhead with her hair in fucking pigtails grabs on to his arm on the way out. “Come back to my place and I’ll clean you up,” she says. She sneers at me over her shoulder, and I think I’m supposed to be jealous, but I’m not.