Fighting Dirty
Page 44“He told me to mind my own business when I asked, but I don’t think that was it.” Disgusted, Denver told him, “I think someone in his family is roughing him up.”
“Damn.” He hated it, but Armie nodded. “I’ve had a few doubts myself. I asked Cannon about it, but he doesn’t know the family, either.” Which was unusual, because Cannon knew pretty much everyone in their small town.
“I considered talking to Logan or Reese—”
Detectives. Armie cut him off. “Bringing in the police should be a last resort. If the parents skate by, it could just make them defensive and they might stop Bray from coming around.” Then they’d have no idea what was going on, and Armie knew that’d eat him up.
As if he’d already come to that conclusion himself, Denver cursed. “He asked about you.”
“Bray? Yeah, I’ve been working with him.”
“He knows you’re prepping for a fight so he hated to get in your way—his words, not mine.”
“You should have told me earlier.”
“I tried. He was pretty adamant and if I’d pushed it, he might’ve booked.”
“So instead you spent extra time with him?”
“Yeah. Not sure if it helped or not, though. Bray’s not real talkative.”
No kidding. “His specialty seems to be sullen disgust.”
Denver grinned. “Pretty much.”
To give himself a second to think, Armie went back to cleanup, putting the weights where they belonged.
“You know you don’t need to do that now.”
He glanced at Denver, who’d fallen into step beside him, doing his own fair share of end-of-the-day arranging. “I don’t recall you, Cannon or Stack dodging chores just because you had an upcoming fight, especially not a month out.”
“Thanks,” Armie said. “But I don’t mind.” He checked the time. Rissy would be off work shortly, probably headed straight to his place now that she had some of her stuff there.
She tended to peel out of the business clothes the second she hit the door. Around the apartment she favored pajama pants, big sweatshirts and bare feet. Rissy’s idea of sloppy comfort never failed to fire his libido in a big way.
It wouldn’t kill him to be an hour late. Mind made up, he told Denver, “I think I’ll go by Bray’s house. Get a lay of the land, you know?”
“I already checked.” Disgusted, Denver explained, “He’s in the worst part of town.”
“Yeah, I know.” A lot of the kids that straggled in did so out of boredom, anger or need. Armie had a feeling Bray hit all three categories.
It was a hell of a setup Cannon had created, a real way to help the neighborhood.
And to help Cannon, Armie stayed up on everyone who came or went, especially the kids in need. “I wanted to ask you about something else, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Denver did his own check of the time. “Cherry will wait another thirty minutes before she gets too impatient.” He said it with a big sappy grin.
“Cherry Pie,” Armie said, knowing it’d irk Denver. “Did you give her hell for comparing bedtime stories the other night?”
“Naw.” Denver sent him a man-to-man look. “Gave her some better stories to tell, though.”
Armie grinned. Not that long ago, Denver had been denying himself, and although she’d put up a good front, Cherry was miserable about it. He was glad they’d finally worked out their differences. They both deserved the best.
“So what’s up?” Denver asked.
It was an awkward conversation and Armie wasn’t quite sure how to get started. “You’ve had first fights.”
“Nervous?”
Armie snorted. “You know I’m not.”
“Fine. They’re paying me a shitload.” And he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that. Until now, he’d mostly just ignored the fact. But that was the stupid way to deal with it and Armie tried not to be stupid—even about money.
“I’d heard.” He clapped Armie on the back. “After you win, you’ll get a bonus. And I’m betting you get the fight of the night bonus, too.”
Damn. The financial aspect of fighting for the SBC sometimes boggled his mind. He’d spent his life being frugal, but he’d never wanted for much, had always been able to afford what he needed, and he was comfortable. But now...
It’d be a lot easier to just concentrate on Rissy than finances. But since he was here with Denver... “You’re still an accountant, right?”
“I’ve kept a few established clients. Why? You need advice?”
From behind them, Miles said, “When doesn’t he?”
Armie flipped him the bird. “I’ve never really done the whole investment thing. I mean, I keep cash in the bank. And my finances are currently...fine. I can’t say I’m swimming in it, but I don’t have debt, either.”
“I’d be glad to help out,” Denver said. “We can get together after the fight and figure out a plan.”
“Great. I was also thinking about a house. You know, instead of paying rent?”
Denver stared at him.
“What?” Was the idea of him as a home owner so ludicrous?
Miles sidled up, dragging the mop bucket with him. “Why would you want a house?”
Scowling, Armie asked, “Why wouldn’t I want a house?”
“Rissy already has one,” Denver pointed out. “That’s why.”
“Since it’s her family home,” Miles added, “I doubt she’d want to sell it.”
Slowly, Denver grinned, then elbowed Miles. “Look at him. He’s caught, but not sure how caught, so he’s keeping mum.”
“Seriously?” Miles scratched his chin. “You thought no one knew?”
“He thought he was being all covert,” Denver said in a ludicrous stage whisper. “Real hush-hush.”
“With the way Rissy looks at him now?”
“And,” Denver added, “how he looks at her.”
“Yeah. Almost made me blush a few times.”
Armie reached for him, and Miles ducked away, laughing. “Take a breath, man. Relax. If we didn’t know you both so well, we might not have noticed. But we do.”
“We do,” Denver agreed. “And you really do burn the girl up with how you stare.”
Armie scowled. “Shut the fuck up.” But of course they didn’t.
“Why all the secrecy anyway?” Miles asked. “It’s not like she’s still in high school.”
“Or a virgin,” Denver said, pushing him. He turned to Miles. “You remember that other douche she dated?”
“Steve,” Miles said with a curled lip. “No way was that guy hands-off.” He shuddered as if repulsed.
“Hell, I’m guessing everyone will be glad you’re in the picture. It keeps creeps like Steve from crawling back in.”