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“So this building isn’t owned by one of your property companies?”

“Use of my space goes with my support.”

I began to walk away when he called out, “And you don’t fix any of these fights?”

Luckily no one in the area heard him, or a shitstorm would’ve erupted.

For the majority of the fights, I stayed out of it. I’d rarely even attended.

That didn’t mean I hadn’t ever stepped in. It wasn’t often, but sometimes, like earlier, a manager or trainer didn’t fit in well. Occasionally, it was the fighter that was the issue. There’d even been a time or two that the fighter’s funder was the problem. In that case, the fighter usually showed up injured and the funder lost a shitload of money.

But paying a friendly visit usually sufficed.

“What did you just say?” I growled.

He held his hands up, palms facing me. “I’ll say it again, Amato, I’m not the bad guy. There are a lot of benefits that come with being a state senator, but entertainment and enough money to fund my hobbies aren’t among them. You let me, let’s say… invest, and I get a cut of certain things.”

“And I’ll say it again, Larson, I think you’re mistaken about what I do. If you’d like, I can put you in contact with the people who run these fights, but they’ll likely tell you to invest your money with a good bet. You want in deeper, find a fighter.” I pointed my finger toward the back hallway. “Just make sure it’s anunsignedone. At least unsigned in this circuit. Otherwise, like the gentlemen who’s getting his ass kicked in the back alley, you’ll find yourself no longer welcomed back, no matter how much money and power you have to throw around.” I gave him a distaste filled smile. “The legal kind, of course.”

Hoping that was the end of seeing him, but knowing it probably wasn’t, I walked over to Sammy. “You see him at fights doing anything more than placing bets and watching the show, I want him gone.”

“Got it, boss,” Sammy said, jotting something down on his clipboard.

“Everything good?” Luc asked from behind me.

I nodded, leaving the room before speaking again. “I want you to do some digging, and see what kind of skeletons Larson has hiding in his closet. I’m thinking it’s time we made them rattle.”

“On it. You sticking around to watch Astaire?”

I thought about Dahlia sitting at home, likely sleeping, and shook my head. “I’m going home.”

???

The Previous Saturday

I was fucking pissed.

Livid.

After messaging Luc in the car on the way home from the gala, I’d pushed Larson out of my mind so I could focus on Dahlia for the rest of the night. Once I’d dropped her at Java Brew that morning, the rage resurfaced, burning through me like fire.

That smug motherfucker had talked tomygattina. He’d tried to use her to get my attention.

Well, it worked. He had it.

And he was going to regret it.

Taking the elevator at Amaric all the way to the second to top floor, I was happy to see everyone was already there and on high alert.

Niall, Luc, Gabe, and Dale’s eyes all swung to me.

“What’d you find out?” I asked Luc.

He slid a pad of paper over to me, his handwritten notes scrawled in random spots on it. I scanned the notes even as he spoke them aloud. “The senator has been a bad, bad boy. Drugs,” he held up three fingers, lowering one down as he listed, “producing, selling,andusing. Same with women, including producing. The guy has more kids than brain cells. He’s a common face in backroom poker games, and the bastard is actually pretty lucky. He has at least three hefty bills a month the government pays that’re actually deposited into his own offshore accounts.” Luc tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m forgetting something.”

I looked down at the pad to see the word ‘bored’ written in bold letters and underlined multiple times. “Bored?”

“That’s it. I’ll let Niall fill you in on what he found out.”