The guy assesses me some more. The way it feels like he can see straight through me is more than a little unnerving. “You about to ask me out on a date or something?” I snap.
“Watch your fucking mouth. You wanna walk down those stairs in a moment or you want your ass thrown down them?”
I refuse to answer him. Instead, I just fix my gaze on the wall, clenching my jaw. The guy paces again, and I avoid looking at him.
“My name is Zeth. Like I said yesterday, you can come here and train with me a couple of times a week. But you step outta line fucking once, and you’re gone. You hear me?”
I suddenly feel really goddamn sick. Zeth? I may not know a great deal about the organised crime in this town, but I sure as hell know that name. Mac used to have to pay dues to Charlie Holsan before he died. Nearly twenty percent of his profit from both his legit and illegal businesses went into that crazy English bastard’s back pocket. News spread like wild fire when he was killed, and there was one name on everyone’s lips: Zeth Mayfair.
Mac closed the shop early the day he heard. He bought three bottles of Johnny Blue and kept pouring shots for his employees until every single one of those bottles was empty. Each time he lifted that shot glass to his mouth, the toast went to Zeth Mayfair. Does Mac have any idea that the guy who nearly gave him alcohol poisoning runs the gym over here? Fuck knows. I sure as shit ain’t gonna tell him.
I can’t believe I broke into his fucking gym. No wonder the guys down on the floor all look at him that way. The guy’s notorious.
“I said,” Zeth ducks down in front of me, “do you hear me, asshole?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course, man. I won’t step out of line, I swear.” Not now I know who you are, anyway. I’m not fucking retarded.
“All right. Go down to the lockers and grab a pair of gloves and a head guard. Mauy Thai today. Wait for me by the cage. I have a phone call to make.”
It was one thing being in a ring with this guy when I didn’t have a clue who he was, but now that I know he’s a stone-cold psycho and he wants to shut me in a cage with him, I’m having second thoughts. He can probably feel my hesitation pouring off me. “You don’t want to, that’s fine by me. Go hit a speed bag for forty minutes on your own, see what you learn. Either way, get the fuck out of here so I can make my phone call.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m up out of the chair and jogging down the stairs before he can blink. The door to his office slams closed behind me, and I feel a bead of sweat run down between my shoulder blades. Jesus Christ. I should get out of here before he comes down, and I should not fucking come back. The guys training around me shoot me curious looks, as though they weren’t really expecting me to make it back down here again. I shake my head as I pass them, counting myself lucky that I did. I should just go home and grab Millie. I can figure out another way to train for the fights without the risk of associating myself with a guy like Zeth fucking Mayfair. But even as I’m hurrying across the gym floor in a direct beeline for the exit, my mind is already racing. What other option do I have to train? Especially an option that’s as good as this? I mean, training with him? That’s like being trained by De Silva or something. He might be crazy and he might have killed the worst mob boss Seattle has ever seen, but that also means he’s the best. Where else would I get training like that? And for free?
I know, even as I’m slowing down, that I’m not gonna make it to the exit. The sigh that works its way out from deep inside my chest feels like resignation, tinged with a little panic. This could go bad for me. This could go really fucking bad. As I make a course correction, reluctantly heading for the lockers, I look up and see the man himself watching me from the window of his office. He’s holding a cell phone to his ear and his mouth is moving, but it’s clear his attention is solely fixed on me.
I wonder why the hell he’s doing this.
Chapter Six
Sloane
“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I was…I was kind of hoping to go out for a drink with Oliver tonight anyway.” I don’t lie to Zeth. I know he won’t like me going out with Oliver, but he’s not my keeper. He’s never tried to be. And besides, it sounds like he’s got his hands full with this new kid at the gym. He called to tell me he was going to be home late, so he really can’t say anything at all about me heading out after work.
And so he doesn’t. Not a word.
“Zeth? Are you plotting ways to kill my friend?”
“No. Just thinking.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Should I be? Is he gonna try and lay his hands on you?”
“No.”