Page 13

Chapter

Thirteen

LOTTO

G ood thing I had already taken a swig of my beer, or I would have spat it all over the screen.

The newscaster droned on and on, even as I choked from breath.

“Point Seasons, the parent company of Bay Area giants Seasons’ Seasonings and Point Jay Holdings, is under suspicions of embezzlement and money laundering after it was found that ? —”

I stared at the chunky man in the photo on the TV.

Nathaniel Fritz

CEO and Founder of Point Seasons Inc.

Lucien Fritz’s goddamn father.

Our fucking sponsor.

The same Lucien Fritz who was on our ass for “being the worst in the Circuit,” even with our winning record. Third place out of 24 was nothing to laugh at. Keeping up with that would send us straight to Vegas. But that wasn’t good enough for Lucien. No, we needed to be number one. The best. He rode our asses after every single match to do better.

Now it all made sense.

He needed us to be the greatest so he could embezzle some more money for dear ol’ dad and One, Two, Hook’s parent company.

Troy’s bitter laugh rang in my ears, drowning out the rest of the news story. The inside of my chest felt hollow. I wasn’t going to sit here and pretend I trusted Lucien. He was up to something, even if my contacts didn’t have more than a few rumors here and there. But none of those rumors pointed to anything close to taking dirty money. If Lucien paid us with laundered money, we’d have next to nothing when the feds came knocking.

And I was sure they wouldn’t stop sniffing around until they figured out where the rest of our funds came from.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” I muttered as I pulled up Lucien’s name in my contacts.

He answered on the third ring. “So you saw the news.”

“Hard to miss when your dad’s face is front and center, Lucien.”

He huffed. “Because my father’s name gets views and clicks. That’s it. It’s absolutely nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

That meant I needed to be really fucking concerned.

“Is this going to affect our upcoming matches?”

“No, and I don’t see why it would. One, Two, Hook is under my name and has nothing to do with my father.” There was a pause on his end before he grunted. “I’m getting another call. Win the next match and get the media talking about something else.”

His unspoken “or else” hung in the air long after he ended the call.

I tapped my phone against my temple, keeping my eye on the news. But there was nothing more about the Fritz misfortune. Only a little segment on a puppy parade that was much cuter than any of the Fritz family, and probably more well-behaved, too.

Shit. I needed to tell the others, but we were already wound up as it was. Bones had told the others about his hand, and Ari had forced him to see a doctor. “Resting the injury” was kind of impossible when we made a living with boxing. And it wasn’t like he could take some big, long break. Now we were tied for third with St. Luka’s Underground and tomorrow’s match was against the bastards. Well, I probably shouldn’t call them bastards. The good nuns who acted as their trainers would probably knock my ass out then call on God himself to pray over my body.

I spent the rest of the night nursing a flat beer and a host of messages from others in both the Circuit and my circle. But no one, even the clickbait hacks who called themselves internet “sleuths,” had any more information. If info was that wrapped up tight, the Fritz family was in some hot shit.

Taking the last swig of my lukewarm beer, I shot the Smiley’s group chat an SOS.

Family meeting, bright and early. Get some beauty sleep because we have a lot to talk about.

Bring extra coffee or face my wrath , Ari wrote back not even a minute later.

I snorted.

If we got out of this meeting without some kind of explosion, I’d personally pay for some coffee beans from elephant shit, roast it, and pour it for her myself.

“I told you we shouldn’t have trusted that dickbag.” River lifted a shoulder and settled back in his metal chair.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and the elephant poop coffee was out of the picture. At least I’d save some money, but I definitely wasn’t saving any sanity. Frankie was on his feet, his chair kicked over to the side. Ari dug her nails into her elbows so hard she had crescent-shaped divots in her skin. Bones had put his head in his hands and not looked up since I pulled up the news report and read it out loud. The only ones who didn’t look fazed were Teo and River—Teo because he still looked half-asleep and River because he was right. Again.

“You didn’t really push to stop us,” Ari snapped. “If I would have known?—”

“Would it have changed your mind?”

She inhaled through her nose, and when she exhaled, she gave a small shake of her head. “Probably not.”

“It’s not like we had much choice. We already knew it was sketchy.” Frankie kicked at his downed chair so that the metal clang rang in the gym. “Fuck that guy.”

“So, like…” Teo rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Sorry, sorry. Anyway, what are we going to do?”

“What can we do?” I crossed my arms over my chest and drew a deep breath. I needed to keep calm, but part of me really wanted to kick Frankie’s chair, too. “Nothing official has happened. He’s still our sponsor.”

Ari hummed. “And the backup sponsors?”

“There are six backups, two per state that was invited to the Circuit. Half have already been used.”

“So basically, he has to fuck up now or fuck us over later.” River ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I’d prefer he fucked up now, personally.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s got that covered for us.” Frankie set his foot on one of the flipped legs of his chair. “Are we really messing with dirty money again?”

“I fucking hope not.” All traces of River’s happy-go-lucky demeanor were gone. “Or I’m out the door.”

“We know, River.” Ari sighed. If she scratched at her scalp any harder, I thought she might draw blood. “Look, we don’t want that either. Promise. We’re in this for the right reasons, even if Lucien isn’t.”

“So, our options are… what?” Teo drawled. “Ask for another sponsor or wait and keep going?”

“And keep winning,” I confirmed.

River’s shoulders relaxed. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“If we have a backup fighter.” For the first time since we started talking, Bones lifted his head. Hard eyes dragged along every single person before landing on me. “Have you found anyone?”

I nodded reluctantly. I hated the way Bones’ face twisted and fell. He’d been down in the dumps since coming clean to the rest about the tweak in his hand. I kept my hunting to a minimum and kept him out of the loop as much as possible. He didn’t need to know how hard the search had been to find someone on such short notice.

“Pinstripe.”

“Really?” Frankie sighed in frustration. “That’s the only guy willing to join us?”

“Yep.”

“He’s three to thirteen in his matches in the last three months.”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure that’s it? Even with River on the team?” Ari’s question was reluctant. When she saw Bones’ expression darken, she held up her hands. “I don’t mean it like that, Bones. Really. I just mean?—”

“That we’re near the top of the Circuit, even with all the shit in our way, so it’s suspicious as fuck that no one wants to squad up.” River’s eyes flicked over to me. “Which means something is up.”

More like someone . Every person I reached out to as possible backups had some excuse to say no. Sick animals, familial and work obligations. Those were understandable. But even the scrubs had some wild reason to deny a spot. An all-inclusive cruise around Mexico. Plastic surgery. My personal favorite: a boil on their ass that needed extensive treatment. When I asked who was paying for all this shit, the lines went dead.

Silence said a whole fucking lot, and this time, it was screaming Troy Godwin’s name.

No one was going to go against the owner of Heathens Hollow—not with the number ones out of the way.

Fucker.

“If Pinstripe’s all we got, then book him.” Bones clenched his jaw. “He’s better than nothing.”

“But—” Ari shifted in her chair. “I don’t know. It feels like bad vibes to sign someone else before we need them. Like asking for trouble.”

“Ari, everything we do is asking for trouble.” Frankie rubbed at his eyebrows so hard, I thought they might burn off. “Has been since we started.”

“How you feeling, my man?” Teo leaned forward to look around me and tip his chin at Bones. “Doing stretches and all that?”

Bones nodded. “Following what the doctor says. Icing it after matches and resting as much as I can.”

“Then we probably won’t even need him.” River slapped his hands on his knees. “I could probably get us a discount on Pinstripe, too. He owes me for some car work I did for him during my days in the suit.”

“Do you know everyone?” Ari questioned, her brows high.

“Not my fault I’m so likable.” When Frankie scoffed, River grinned at him. “Ain’t that right, Frankie?”

“You don’t have to be likable to be a winner.” His glare passed over all of us. “That’s what we do. Keep winning. That’s it. I should have already had a backup in place, but I believe in us.” His eyes landed on Bones. “In you.”

I set a hand on Bones’ shoulder and squeezed. He set his hand over mine, but his downtrodden expression didn’t change.

“Let’s take today off,” Ari offered and eyed Teo. “Looks like you need it.”

He smiled. “Guilty.”

“Then tomorrow morning, we’ll drive to Portland together for our match against St. Luka’s. Well-rested and ready to win.”

Ari’s eyes fixed us with an all-knowing stare. Not that she was wrong. I’d rather use my dick than my brain at this point, but there was too much to do.

“I’ll call Pinstripe. Get him on board. Then we’ll take it easy. All of us.”

Everyone mumbled their agreement and split up for a rare day off. I spent the rest of the day working through conditions and a three-month contract with Pinstripe. By the time I went to bed, I had a raging headache and an even worse mood. It lingered the entire three-hour drive to Portland all throughout warmups. I tried to hide my annoyance during pre-media with St. Luka’s, but before I could walk off, their best fighter—Alonzo Margina—slapped me on the shoulder.

“You look like you ate a lemon, bud. That a new pregaming tactic?”

“Sure. All you have to do is fuck everything up to get this frown,” I muttered. St. Luka’s were nice enough, but we needed to focus on winning.

Alonzo’s smile took up half his face and showed off his chipped canine. “Pass on that one, but if you got any lemon-flavored candy, I’m first in line.”

“Leave him alone, Zo.” Monique, the only female in the entire Circuit, peeled his hand off me. “You eat enough as it is.”

“I can see that.” River strolled up next to me. “Put on some muscle in the last few weeks, Alonzo?”

“Gotta beat you somehow. You’re one scary motherfucker, you know that?” He held out his hand for River to shake. “May the best man win.”

“Or woman.” Monique shot us a smile. “I’ll go easy on your boy Teo.”

“You can kick his ass, it’s fine.” River took the offered hand. “But not mine, thanks.”

“Lotto, River, get over here!” Frankie barked. Bones, Ari, and Teo stood around him, already talking strategy.

“We should get back to Vinny, too. Good luck out there.” Monique waved a hand before they headed toward their side of the ring.

As soon as I approached, Bones slid an arm around my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine. I can handle Vinny no problem.”

I nodded. I didn’t want to say anything because a bad feeling was lingering in my gut. Maybe Ari was right that signing Pinstripe was bad vibes because I couldn’t shake it, even after Teo and Monique drew and River won his match.

Bones stepped into the ring with Vinny and tapped gloves. My entire body was on edge. One round passed. Then two. Everything was going fine, and for the first time since yesterday, I was able to catch my breath.

But it was way too fucking short-lived.

Thirty-two seconds into the third round, Bones threw a right hook and clipped Vinny Russo’s chin. Vinny went down.

But so did Bones.

Cradling his right hand as he cried out in pain.