Okay, yeah, this might be trouble. He sized the guy up, pegged him as having no military training. Judging by the tats on the side of his neck, he was nothing more than a thug who had done some time. Definitely the more dangerous of the two, but still nothing to write home about. He dismissed the pair of them and shouldered between them.
The little guy grabbed his arm. “Don’t walk away from me. I lost ten Gs on this fight.”
Vaughn shook off his grip. “Not my problem.”
“I’m making it your problem. Everyone knows my cousin doesn’t lose. Ever.”
Vaughn stared down at him. Who the hell was this kid?
“Tommy, enough.”
At the rumbling voice, the crowd went silent. Vaughn’s stomach knotted as a barrel of a man walked toward them. This guy, he knew. Giuseppe Bellisario, former heavyweight champ and current head of the Bellisario crime family. He’d known the Bellisarios ran this underground fight ring, but he’d never seen any of them here before. He glanced over at the little shit in the tracksuit and inwardly groaned. That must be Tommaso “Tommy” Bellisario, Giuseppe’s nephew and by all accounts, the future don since Giuseppe’s son, Marcel, had been killed several years ago.
“He beat Cristiano fair and square,” Giuseppe said to his nephew, and there was no mistaking the note of shut-the-fuck-up in his tone. Then he turned back to Vaughn and held out a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt. “It was a good fight. You have a name?”
Fuck. He really didn’t want to be on a first name basis with the crime boss, but refusing the handshake was tantamount to suicide. “Vaughn.”
“You pack a hell of a punch, Vaughn, and you fight like nothing I’ve seen before. May I ask what you do for a living?”
Again, he’d rather not answer, so he settled on a half-truth. “I was military until a few years ago.”
“Ah, I thought maybe. No job now?”
“Occasional P.I. work.” Another half-truth. He wasn’t about to drag his brothers or Wilde Security into whatever this was. And it was something. Calculation lit Giuseppe’s dark brown eyes as he sized Vaughn up.
“Not many people can beat my son. He takes after me that way.”
Yeah, Giuseppe Bellisario had been a legend in his day. He still was. There were rumors of guys challenging him, and those fights never ended well for the challenger. At nearly sixty, Giuseppe was in awesome shape. Getting in the octagon with him was a fight to the death.
And holy fuck, his son? Vaughn gazed back toward the cage, where another bodyguard-type dude was helping Cristiano Bellisario to his feet. He hadn’t known there was a second son, but now it made sense Cristiano had a spotless record. No guy in his right mind would dare beat Giuseppe’s only living son unless they wanted to end up at the bottom of the Potomac with concrete shoes.
“A thinker, not a talker, huh?” Giuseppe said after the silence on Vaughn’s end dragged on too long.
“Honestly, I’m calculating my odds of living through the next ten minutes.”
Giuseppe gave a genuine, full-bellied bark of laughter. “Do you think the odds are in your favor?”
“Yeah, I do. If you wanted me dead, you’d have already sicced one of your attack dogs on me.” He motioned to the tatted killer with his chin. “I’d be on my way to meeting my maker instead of standing here chatting with you.”
The crime boss made a noncommittal sound and turned to watch his son stumble from the cage with the help of two of his men. “Tell me, did you know Cristiano was my son before the fight?”
“No.” Vaughn straightened his shoulders. “But it wouldn’t have changed anything if I had. It’s not in me to throw a fight, no matter who my opponent is.”
Giuseppe grinned. “Nor is it in me. I respect that.” He reached into his coat, and Vaughn’s heart rate jacked up, his shoulders tightening in preparation for another fight. Giuseppe only chuckled and produced a card, which he held out between his pointer and middle fingers. “If you’re ever in need of work, I might be able to find something for you.”
Tommy sputtered. “Uncle, you can’t—”
“Go see to your cousin, Tommy. And if you again dare to tell me what I can’t do, I’ll cut out your tongue.” Giuseppe never took his eyes off Vaughn as he spoke, but he didn’t have to. He was the kind of man used to having his orders followed without protest. Tommy straightened to his full height and glared daggers at his uncle’s back, but he did as he was told.
Giuseppe wiggled the card. “I need a man with your skills in my corner, and the money’s more than you’ll ever see as a P.I.”
Vaughn hesitated only a heartbeat before accepting the card. “I’ll think about it.”
Giuseppe inclined his head and stepped back, allowing Vaughn to pass. Killer didn’t look any happier about the job offer than Tommy had been, but the guy was smart enough not to voice his opinion. He just did his best to murder with his glare as Vaughn left.
Fucking hell.
Outside, Vaughn stopped and laced his fingers behind his head, sucking in a deep breath of the bitter February air. The conversation had left him jittering with an adrenaline burn, and the little bit of relaxation he’d found in the fight was long gone.