“Wait. So all these guys are throwing their fights?” My stomach has contorted itself into a knot of unbelievable intricacy. It’s going to take a miracle to untangle it. Throwing fights, even in small time underground matches like the ones held at French’s, is a heinous crime in the eyes of any organizer. And organizers are usually violent, unforgiving men with a penchant for breaking people’s kneecaps with a sledgehammer should the mood take them.
“Jesus. Keep your voice down.” Kaya takes a drink from her milkshake, scanning the room to see if anyone’s listening. I already know we’re the only ones in here, but she seems on edge. Frightened, even. I can’t say I blame her. The waitress brings me a mug filled to the brim with filter coffee blacker than tar. When she’s gone, I lean across the table to hiss out my next question under my breath.
“Tell me Ben wasn’t stupid enough...” I already know he was, though, otherwise Kaya wouldn’t be here, telling me this.
“He took five grand to go down in the first round. Jameson wanted it to look like he’d destroyed him, and your friend said he needed the cash. Extra, if Jameson wanted to humiliate him in the ring. So that’s what happened. And then this morning three of the doormen from French’s show up at the apartment and drag him out of bed. They said they knew about what he and Ben had done. Told him it would be better for him if he just admitted it. Jameson said he didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about, but they obviously knew he was lying. They tried to beat the shit out of him, but you know my brother.”
He put up a fight. Of course he did; it’s in his very nature to brawl. And if he had three guys looming over him after he’d just been rudely awoken from sleep, I’m imagining it was in Jameson Rayne’s nature to knock all of their fucking teeth out. Kaya continues.
“He broke one of their collar bones for sure. The bone was sticking out of his neck,” she whispers. Her face is devoid of all color, her skin ashen. “There was blood everywhere. I was screaming at them to leave then, to just go, but the other two guys lost it. They said he could fuck one of them up, but he had no chance against two of them together.”
“Let me guess. He snapped their bones like twigs, too.”
“He smashed one of their faces into the cook top. It dented the metal. He shoved the other one out of a second story window. He landed on his back. I have no idea whether he lived or died. I kept trying to lean out of the window to look, but Jameson wouldn’t let me. He was still screaming at the other two, trying to make them leave, so I stood well back and prayed it was going to be over soon. Before they went, the main doorman guy, the one with the shaved head and the knuckle tattoos—” I know the one she’s talking about “—told him it was only a matter of time. They knew what he’d done, and they knew Ben was in on it, too. They said Ben wouldn’t be able to hide the truth, and that the two of them were dead men walking. They can’t have gone to find Ben straight away, they were far too messed up, but that’s not to say the guys at French’s didn’t send someone else over to speak to your friend.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me he was in trouble at the shop?” I snap. My voice is raised, drawing attention from the curly haired woman watching an old re-run of Jerry Springer on the ancient, fuzzy television behind the counter. I know I’ve been a shit immediately. I didn’t give her a chance to tell me earlier. I was rude and I chased her away before she had the chance to tell me anything whatsoever. Kaya’s ears pull back a little, her eyes narrowing.
“I don’t need to be here right now, Mason. I could be at home, sweeping up broken glass and trying to glue the shattered remains of my furniture back together. Instead I thought I would give you a heads up. Jameson told me he would deal with it, but I know when my brother’s lying, okay? Ben doesn’t matter to him. If those doormen are too distracted hunting down your friend and beating the shit out of him, Jameson has time to figure out a way to get back into their good graces at French’s. He’d kill me if he knew I was here. So, please, Mason. Cut me some slack.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” I rub my hands over my face, blowing out a deep breath. Fuck. How the hell am I going to fix this? I’m a no one in the fighting world. I don’t have anyone’s ear to whisper into. I don’t have any favors to call in. I mean, I have absolutely no way of digging Ben out of this hole he’s managed to fall into. So fucking typical. I feel like I’ve been doing this my entire fucking life. “Thank you for letting me know,” I say quietly. Outside on the street, a police siren blares into life right outside the coffee shop, drowning out my words. Both Kaya and I startle at the sound. The car races off down the street, tires audibly screeching as it takes a corner too fast, leaving both myself and the tiny woman opposite me smiling nervously for no good reason.
“You should find him,” Kaya says. “These guys aren’t known to wait around.”