Page 33

Chapter Thirty-Two

Fitz

Jim touched my shoulder, so I leaned closer. “Sawyer went to place the bet. He’ll be right back.”

I glanced behind us, not seeing my guy, so I stood, stepped around Jim, and into the aisle. As I was in the line to get my hand stamped to come back in, I saw Sparky, Monty, Leo, Digs, Dallas St. Michael, and his husband, Rafael Torrente in the security line to enter the theater.

After my wrist was stamped, I stepped out of the theater and walked up to Sparky, extending my hand to shake. “Thanks for coming. I know Sawyer will appreciate it.”

Dallas stepped forward and grinned. “You’re running in unexpected circles these days. I saw your better half headed to the betting window. You got a line on a sure thing?”

I laughed. “Nope. We’re just operating on faith like every other fan.” I had no doubt Sawyer would bet on TJ, even with the possibility that the kid would take a dive.

“Hell, I’ll go make a bet. Chef, you wanna come with me? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Rafael extended his hand for me to shake, which I did. He touched Dallas’ arm. “I’ll come along to make sure you don’t bet the house.” Dallas laughed and put his hand on Rafe’s back as the two of them walked away.

Sparky stepped over to me. “Are there Scorpions here?”

“Yep, sporting the colors proudly. I don’t know any of them, but I know Sawyer’s father and one of the guys who was a Cowboy are sitting with them.” Seeing the smug smile on Keller Abbott’s face had turned my stomach.

“Is Sawyer’s father Keller Abbott?” Sparky reached into the pocket of his leather coat and pulled out a warrant, handing it to me.

“He is. Since when are you serving warrants? Did he skip bail here in Nevada?” I opened it to see Keller Abbott’s name at the top of a warrant for arrest for contempt of court.

My eyes must have grown three sizes larger. “What the fuck?”

Sparky got a cocky grin. “I got a call from Judge Ruth Stanley to serve it personally. I was sure he’d be here, and I’m gonna take him in after the fight.”

“Why wait until after?” It made no sense to wait. He was there and maybe it would cause less commotion if he did it now.

“Those are the orders I was given from the judge. I don’t ask for reasons. I do what I’m told. Anyway, we’re going to get to our seats. If you wouldn’t mind providing backup, I’d appreciate it. I called in one of St. Michaels’ IOUs to get him to come with us, but if Keller’s with the Scorpions, he might put up a fight, and I can’t bring a weapon in here.”

Of course, I always had my badge, so I nodded. “We’re in the sixth row. Where are you?”

He looked at his ticket before flipping it around for me to see that they were at the end of our row, which made me laugh. “Give me a signal when you’re ready.”

Sparky nodded and got back in line. Monty smirked and followed.

I was sorry I’d volunteered to be the DD for this shit show. It would take at least ten shots of whiskey to help me wrap my head around what the fuck was happening right now. I went in search of Sawyer, who had just walked away from the betting window.

“I have something to tell you.” I wasn’t sure if it was the right time or place, but he needed to know what was going to happen so he could be prepared.

I took Sawyer’s arm. “Sugar, Sparky is here to arrest your father after the fight.”

I glanced around, noticing a few of Clark County’s finest around the entrance to the theater. They were geared up as if they were going into battle, and I had the strange suspicion that maybe Keller Abbott wasn’t the only person being arrested.

“Why wait until after?” He looked as confused as I felt.

“Don’t know, but I think you should get out of here. I’ll go back in and look out for Jim.”

Sawyer shook his head. “I’m not running. They closed the betting window on the fight card and the fights were only listed by class and number—no names. It must be close to fight time. Let’s get in there.”

He took my hand and led me through the line to get readmitted to return to our seats. I was on pins and needles as the lights in the theater went down.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to The Turkey Brawl at the Ace of Spades Casino. Tonight’s fight card is…” The announcer went on to list the fights that would take place that night.

TJ’s name was shown in the third fight listed on the program, but the opponent wasn’t listed as Romero Garza as we expected. It was a bantamweight match, which fit with TJ’s frame, but I had no idea who Edgar Jaqeli was.

The first fight commenced, and I kept my stare directed toward Keller and his Scorpion buddies. They were drinking and laughing as the two women fighting in the strawweight class pummeled the shit out of each other.

“What do you think is going on? That guy isn’t Romero Garza.” I reached over and put my hand on Sawyer’s knee.

He placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed. “I have no idea, but what I really want to know is if TJ knew he wouldn’t be fighting Garza before he came into the theater.”

One woman gave a roundhouse kick to her competitor, and the other woman went down. The ref gave the count and when he finished, her people stormed the stage to take care of her.

Once the blood was cleaned from the mat, the lights went down again, and another fight ensued. Both men were quick and brutal, and the fight ended with a decision for the more popular fighter.

There were a few minutes between the fights, and my nerves built as we waited for TJ’s fight to commence. The lights went down again, and music began to play. “Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight’s bantamweight match is next on the fight card. Our first fighter is homegrown, hailing from Pahrump, Nevada, and making his MMA debut. Weighing in at one hundred and thirty-two pounds, welcome Thomas James Middleton.”

TJ came in with three guys I didn’t recognize behind him. He jumped around, shadowboxing for the camera that was telecasting the fights on the monitors around the theater.

He was wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a large white scorpion on the back and the club name down the left arm in white letters. I glanced at Sawyer to see him shake his head.

They stopped by the stairs to the octagon, and TJ kicked off his athletic slides before taking off his T-shirt to hand to one of his escorts. A tall man dressed in trainer’s gear slid petroleum jelly over TJ’s face in the strike zones and a referee stepped up to pat his hair, check behind his ears, and examine TJ’s competition gloves for sharp objects wedged in them to do harm to his opponent.

I only knew what was happening because Jagger had his phone out and was giving me the play-by-play. Apparently, he wasn’t familiar with the world of MMA fighting either.

Once TJ was in the ring with two trainers, the opponent was introduced. The guy was from the country of Georgia, which explained his name, and to see the two of them, I believed them to be evenly matched. TJ, however, had no stats, while the other guy, Edgar Jaqeli, had an impressive record with eleven fights under his belt, eight wins, two losses, and one tie.

I leaned over to Sawyer. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He turned to me and winked. “The odds were 10:1, so if TJ kicks this guy’s ass, we more than make up for the money the Scorpions stole from the dispensary. I wouldn’t hate that.”

“The fight will consist of three rounds, lasting five minutes each. Gentlemen, shake hands,” the announcer said. Both men stepped into the center and tapped gloves before the ref made the motion for them to engage and a bell rang.

The fighters circled each other in the middle of the ring. “They’re sizing each other up. This is where, if TJ has any insight into the guy’s style, it will be beneficial to him.” Jagger had suddenly become an expert on the sport, and it was hard not to laugh at his enthusiasm.

Jaqeli swung out his arm and caught TJ on the shoulder. The two of them traded jabs and Jaqeli went in for the takedown—again, according to Jagger. They rolled around the mat with each other, taking turns being the dominant fighter in the encounter, and before I knew what was going on, Jaqeli kicked out and caught TJ in the mouth with his heel. Thankfully, the bell rang, signaling the end of the first round as TJ’s mouthguard flew out, followed by blood.

More blood was let in the second round, and TJ was dazed a couple of times before the bell signaled the end of the round. Sawyer explained things to Jim, and the older man closed his eyes, probably envisioning the fight in his mind’s eye.

I glanced across the octagon to see Keller staring at me. The motherfucker winked, which pissed me off. I wanted to get up and go beat the cocky out of him, but I kept my anger in check. There was enough going on without me adding to the chaos.

Water was squirted into TJ’s mouth before he spit into a bucket and stood, dancing from one foot to the other as he twisted his neck. The trainer grabbed both sides of his face and said something that caused TJ to scan the crowd until his eyes settled on his grandfather.

Sawyer stood and nodded as he pointed at Jim. I wasn’t sure what unsaid agreement they’d made, but Sawyer sat down, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

The bell sounded for the third round. The two men tapped gloves again. The place went wild. TJ was circling Jaqeli, who was in the middle of the ring, jabbing and swiping, finally landing a strike at TJ, who couldn’t feint fast enough. Jaqeli landed a right cross that seemed to daze TJ for an instant.

Suddenly, TJ came around with an ax kick to Jaqeli’s temple, slamming the guy into the vinyl-coated fencing surrounding the mat. The ref stepped between them and said something to Jaqeli, who nodded. The ref made a motion for the two of them to re-engage, and when they met in the middle, Jaqeli took TJ down to the mat in an instant.

Sawyer squeezed my hand to the point I was sure he’d break it, and as TJ was caught in a choke hold, I wondered if Jaqeli was that much better than him, or if TJ had agreed to take the dive.

The club members sitting behind us stood and began yelling. A moment later, Jim stood, pounding his cane on the concrete floor and yelling, “TJ, it’s okay. I love you. Stay down.”

The ref began counting, but before he got to three, TJ was out of the hold and on his feet, landing punches on Jaqeli’s face and torso faster than my eyes could keep up with. He backed Jaqeli into the fencing and threw the guy on the mat before climbing on top of him and turning the man’s face into a bloody mess.

The ref tugged at TJ, who seemed to be entranced as he continued to swing, even though the guy was out cold. Finally, the ref got TJ on his feet and away from Jaqeli so the man’s people could get to him. TJ lifted his arm in the air in victory and blew a kiss to the crowd as the clapping, yelling, and whistling continued. It was an upset, and based on the booing I heard, a lot of people lost money.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sawyer slip on some rubber gloves and take something from Jim as the crowd continued to cheer. As I glanced toward the Scorpion contingent, I wasn’t surprised to see scowling faces all around.

Sparky touched my shoulder. “Ready?”

I nodded and pulled my badge from my pocket, draping the chain over my neck. I followed him, and when Sawyer stepped out after whispering something to Jim, I stopped him.

“Where are you going? The last thing you need to do is be over there when Sparky arrests your father. Stay here, please.”

Sawyer chuckled and kissed my lips before he and the rest of the Cowboys walked around the ring just as the Scorpions stood and headed in the Cowboys’ direction. That was when I noticed Keller had kept his seat.

Sparky grabbed my arm as the two clubs clashed and civilians scrambled to get out of the way. It was total mayhem, and by the time we arrived at the section where the Scorpions had been sitting, Keller stood.

“Keller Abbott, you’re under arrest for contempt of court.” Sparky held out the warrant.

“No argument here. Take me away and tell Ruthie I said thanks.” Keller held out his arms and Sparky reached behind his back to grab some zip cuffs from his pocket.

Sparky glanced at Keller and looked about ready to say something when the police I’d seen loitering in the casino earlier came into the theater. Whistles were blowing and people were running. It was completely out of control.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I was convinced they were gunshots, and when people screamed and dropped to the floor, I knew the shit was hitting the fan. The metal chairs that were used for seating during the fight were flying through the air, and the fight in the ring that had just ended was tame compared to some of the shit taking place outside it.

Flashes and ear-ringing pops filled the room as flash bangs and tear gas were deployed in the theater. Monty pushed the three of us through the doors at the back of the theater at record speed where we all gulped the fresh air.

Once we were in the alley behind the casino with a bunch of people who had the same idea, Sparky and I took each of Keller’s arms to lead him to the street.

“Where’s the car?” I asked.

Before anyone could answer, a sector car pulled up and stopped. “Gentlemen, where do you think you’re going, and why’s he cuffed?”

What a fucking disaster.