I wrinkled my nose in an expression of disdain. "I’m here to see your fighter. Anything more than that would require greater capital than you could possibly have."
I was deliberately evasive, since I was counting on the fact that our cover story had gotten to Coker. Our cover story was that we were scouting talent for an international fight channel with a huge Middle Eastern and East Asian audience. One of the members of my crew, Emir - hacker and tech expert extraordinaire - had already uploaded videos, supposedly taken from our international fight channel, and posted them online, backdated through the past six months.
The key was that we'd hinted that there was a potential opportunity for a promoter who might want to invest in one of the shows. And that was the message we’d been spreading through whispers and rumors in the fight circuit. That was the message we wanted to get back to Coker.
"Try me," he said. "What kind of capital are you talking about?"
I waited a moment, listening to the sounds of the people gathering around, all of them waiting for the fight to begin. "Half a million dollars," I said, leaning toward him. "I'm here to see your fighter, because I'm curious, and I'm staying because I enjoy seeing an attractive man pummel another man. But I'm afraid investing like this is something better left to the big boys, Mr. Coker."
I kept my eyes straight ahead, but from the corner of my eye, I could see him shift uncomfortably in his chair. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
The truth is, my team knew what he could afford. Half a million dollars wasn't a number I'd just pulled out of my ass.
He was silent for a moment.
This was my favorite part of a con - the part where we got to see if what we'd predicted about the mark's behavior was true.
Would he take the bait?
The truth was, they almost always took the bait. Greedy men couldn't resist an opportunity to act on their greed.
To me, a long con didn't get any more exciting than this moment right now.
I could feel the goose bumps on my arms. My pulse raced, the blood pumping loudly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
This part of a con was like a high. I’d never been addicted to anything, like booze or drugs, thanks to my parents, who instilled in me the importance of situational awareness. But the high of running a con beat anything else in life I could imagine.
It was like an extended version of that moment right before the dice land on the table - the ultimate gamble, fate hanging in the balance.
The promoter cleared his throat. "I'd have to call my guy," he said. "Move some things around. But I could manage that kind of capital. That is, if you’re providing the kind of return I’ve heard you’re getting for investors."
I turned my head slowly, and nodded. "Perhaps I underestimated you, Mr. Coker."
That was another lie. We were right on base with our estimation of him.
I leaned back and crossed my arms as the announcer brought out the fighters, satisfied with the fact that this was a done deal.
I was feeling smug.
Coker was ours. Hook, line, and sinker. His fighter just needed to lay a good beat down on the other guy, so I could be impressed with him. Then it was just a matter of trying to convince Coker he should not give us his money.
The funny thing was that the more you suggested someone not do something, the more intrigued they were by the prospect of doing exactly that.
"And in the blue trunks," the announcer's voice blared, "is Silas Saint."
As soon as he said the name, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hadn't heard that name uttered in years.
Not since I was seventeen.
Silas strode across the ring. Even before he reached me, I knew it. The way he moved, his build...
But it wasn't just his rippling muscles or the chiseled cut of his jawline that told me it was the same Silas from my past.
It was something intangible, the way he triggered some kind of sense memory. It was like every cell in my body knew it was him in that ring, a shock of electricity running through me in response to his mere presence.
Even if I hadn’t heard his name, I would have known. I knew it was him the moment I saw him.
My heart caught in my throat, and I held my breath as he turned, walking towards my side of the cage.
And then he looked at me, directly into my eyes.
Those damn baby blues, I'd know them anywhere. They haunted me. He haunted me, the memories of him, of the way he used to look up at me, his face buried between my thighs.
I was his first love.
He was the only man I'd ever loved. The one I'd left behind, without saying goodbye.
And he was standing here, so close I could have stood up and reached for him. As he walked along the edge, his eyes never left mine. He turned his head to look back at me even after he passed me.
Silas Saint.
I felt the familiar rush of attraction, something primal, an old feeling from years ago. It was the same thing I'd felt for him when we were kids.