The motherfucker’s eyes light up. Asshole.
“I’ll do the talk shows, interviews, whatever you want. All I ask is that you keep me on as a fighter, and that you back my confession. Show the public that you’re forgiving me and giving me another chance.”
“That’s it? All I have to do is show support?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I have to say, this was brilliant. I’ve never seen so much UFL media coverage. You played that perfectly.” I scratch my chin and grin. “I do have one question though. The steroids angle was a huge risk. It could have discredited the sport, and you could have lost.” I lean forward and keep my voice quiet, but loud enough to be picked up by the mic. “How did you know it would work?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Cut the shit, Gibbs. If we’re going into this together, let’s do it without the piles of lies between us. This deal I’m offering is huge. The cops will back off their investigation of the UFL, of Doc Z, but I need to trust you. So tell me. How did you know?”
He looks around the room as if contemplating my words. “How do I know you won’t fuck me?”
I hold up my hands. “You’ve got the upper hand. It’s the owner of the UFL’s word against the jailbird fighter’s. No one will believe me over you.”
Exhaling a long breath, he shrugs. “It was a business deal. Nothing personal.”
It was personal to me, you son of a fuck! “Right, business. I get it.”
“Lance Armstrong brought bicycling to the forefront with his blood doping. I thought I could do the same.”
My temper threatens to overcome my restraint. If I blow this now, I’m back to Internet searches for doctor that doesn’t exist. I bite back my rage. “But blood doping and steroids is bad publicity.”
His lips curl into an evil smile. “No such thing as bad publicity.”
It takes every bit of my energy to fake a grin. His answering chuckle tells me he bought it. I still need more.
“I get it wasn’t personal, but why me?”
“Wrong place at the wrong time. We could have doped up one of the other fighters with oral steroids, but you needed the cortisone. That helped. I would have waited until the perfect opportunity arose, but your fight was right around the corner so…” He shrugs. “I thought we’d have to wait until you got tested before your fight. It was Stewart’s idea to provoke you into a fight at Layla’s place. As over-doped as you were, he was convinced he could get you to roid rage. Doc Z told him you were getting close to that on your own. He provided the push. I want you to know, I didn’t agree to that. I thought the steroids was enough, but he wanted retribution for you banging his wife.”
“I appreciate your honestly, Gibbs.” I stand, unable to take another word from his backstabbing mouth. The steroids are leaching from my system, so I no longer have the urge to rip off people’s limbs, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to beat this fucker’s ass bloody.
He stands and moves around his desk. “I’m glad you came to me, Blake. Now that everything’s out on the table, I think we’ll be able to spin this to our benefit, as well as to the UFL’s.” He offers his hand.
I smile and shake his hand. “I agree.” Yanking his arm, I grab him behind the head and smash his face into the corner of his desk.
He grunts and cups his face. Blood spills from his nose.
“Spin that, bitch.” I turn and walk to the door just as it opens.
Undercover cops file into the room, yelling for Taylor’s cooperation. Lieutenant Hodgeson is waiting outside, leaning on Layla’s desk. He pops the earpiece from his ear. “Easy enough?”
I rip the mic from my chest and hand the equipment to him. “Yep. Just uh… be careful.” I point over my shoulder. “The floor in the office is uneven or something. Gibbs tripped and busted his face up.”
He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t call me out. “I’ll make sure to watch where I step.” Shifting slightly, he spots the picture of Axelle and picks it up. “Pretty girl.”
“She is. Just like her mother.”
“Well, looks like we’re all done here. I’m sure your lawyer will be in touch with the details.” He hands me the framed photo. “Looks like you got your life back, Snake.”
My life, yes.
But not my heart.
Thirty-three
Layla
I can breathe again. After getting Stewart’s confession, I went home and slept for fifteen hours. Setting up my ex in a covert undercover operation with the LVPD was exhausting. But knowing he’s in custody where he’ll pay the price for what he did to me, and to Blake, makes it easier to relax.