Chapter Thirty-Four

Leandra

Left hook to the face.

Right jab to the ribs.

Throat punch followed by a high kick to the head.

While it was fun to go full throttle on the punching bag in my gym, it would have been infinitely better practicing on a real target.

Seamus.

Betty Jo.

Dante or Carmine.

Even the bastard that broke my heart.

When you’re as ruthless as I am, you tend to rack up a lot of enemies.

Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I kept pounding away on the punching bag while trying to form a solution to my latest dilemma. 

Fight night.

As could be expected, word spread like wildfire over the tentative truce between the Irish clan and Italian family.  Angelo Barsotti played up the big news and spun it to his advantage.  Portraying himself as some magical deal maker, the top dog kept spouting off about all the benefits of our new alliance.  The man was no dunce.  In order to obtain true cooperation, he had to get everyone involved and make it sound advantageous to even the lowliest of foot soldiers.

What was a common motivator?  Money.  What brought people together?  Sports.  How to get our two groups in one place without unsanctioned bloodshed?  Friday Fight Night.  Everyone wanted in on the action and it was up to me to select some of the competitors.  As head of the Irish crew, all important decisions fell to my shoulders. 

It was clear that the majority of men would have given their left nut to be able to fight, judging by the way my gym was full of sweaty guys preening and showing off their skills.  However, I ignored them while burning off a little steam of my own.  Just as I was about to go totally buck wild on the punching bag in a grand finale of epic proportions, I felt a tap on my shoulder and nearly had a heart attack.

I turned around to face Samuel.

“Can we talk for a second?” he asked hesitantly.

My bodyguard did not look happy in the slightest, so I had a funny feeling he wasn’t going to drop to one knee, admit he made the mistake of a lifetime, and beg me to be his blushing bride.

Such a waste of a fantastic cock that should be inside me right now.

“What?” I growled, not in the mood for any more shit.  I had enough on my plate at the moment.

“We need to discuss the fight.  It’s in three days.  Who are you putting in?”

Yes, I’m well aware that the meeting with Angelo happened only last night, and already people were discussing wagers, fighters, odds, and rules.  What can I say?  We like to gamble.

“Sure as fuck not you,” I replied with complete honesty.  Softening my tone, I continued, “You look like shit, Samuel.  There’s no way in hell I’m putting you in any fighting ring when you have bags under your bloodshot eyes and look like you went ten rounds with the devil.”

He ran a hand through his hair and looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

“I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“Why not?  You went from hogging a twin mattress with scratchy blankets to having your own king-sized bed, memory foam pad, and high count Egyptian cotton sheets.  One would assume you’d be sleeping like a baby.”

“One would assume wrong,” he snapped with impatience.  His voice grew even lower, which was quite the feat considering we were practically whispering so as not to draw attention to ourselves.  Mumbling inaudibly, he said, “It’s lonely.  I miss your snoring.”

Cocking a fist back with the intention of popping that fucker right in the face, I was halted by the furious voice of one pissed off woman.

“There you are, you dirty little whore.”

Turning around with an eyebrow raised, I came face to face with my friend Angela.

“Normally I would take that little term of endearment as a compliment, but in this case I’m not so sure that’s how it was meant.”

Angie was furious.  Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, face red, steam coming out of her ears.  Okay, not that last one, but it might as well have been.

“Am I not your best friend, Leandra?” she asked in a very icy tone that implied the last thing on her mind was ‘friendship.’  I’d say she came for murder instead.

“Quit beating around the bush,” I urged impatiently, not in the mood for a pissing match.  “If you have something to say, then say it.”

Angie usually spoke with her hands, wildly flailing around while she talked, and this time was no exception.  Raising a fist, she began to tick off all the reasons I was currently on her shit list.

“Let’s start with the fact that you never showed up at my party on Sunday, causing me grave concern.  Then I hear about some dangerous car chase and you go AWOL without so much as a fucking phone call.  I get no word from you all week long, which is no way for a best friend to behave, and then you just magically show up out of the blue yesterday like everything is perfectly normal.  But it’s not, is it?  Nope.  I have to find out through the grapevine that you’re back in town, you can’t be bothered to call me, and then I learn about the whole truce with the Italians!  What the fuck, bitch?  I used to be your sounding board.  Your confidant.  Your B-F-F.  That stands for ‘best friend forever.’  But right now…I just feel like an S-F-S.”

  SFS?  What the hell is that?  I was gone for a week and I miss new slang?

Noting the look of confusion on my face, she explained, “SFS…stupid fucking stranger!”

“Did you just make that up?”

“That’s beside the point!  What the hell is going on with you?”

Obviously her voice got louder and louder until it was well within ‘shrieking’ level, so I had to pull the crazy woman off to the side and out of earshot of anyone else in the place.

“Hey, just relax and take a breath,” I urged in my best soothing voice.  “A lot of shit went down on the night of your party, okay?  I got in a high speed chase with Barsotti’s goons and had to ditch one of my cars and lay low for awhile.  I specifically called Ian and told him to let you know I was safe.  Did he not do that?”

“He did,” she admitted.  “But I wish you would have called me yourself.  I could have helped.”

“I’m going to be brutally honest with you, Ang.  At the time, you were compromised.”

“What?”

“Hawk.”

Her face fell and I could tell she was frantically trying to spin an excuse.

“If you want to start a fight,” I snapped, not giving her a chance to reply, “then let’s discuss that, shall we?  How long have you been seeing him behind my back?  Do you know how I found out?  Samuel had to tell me!  Do you know what it’s like to hear gossip about your best friend from someone other than the woman who’s obligated by the ‘best friend code’ to tell you her secrets before anyone else knows them?”

“You just made that up!  There’s no code!” she argued.

“Well there should be,” I countered.  “Under normal circumstances, I would not care one bit if you were fucking one of my employees.  However, the whole affair was behind my back and Hawk stole from me.  That is a betrayal.  I don’t tolerate that shit and you know it.”

Angela held up a hand for me to stop.

“You don’t know the whole story, Lee.  Hawk never really stole the money from you.  He had his suspicions that Seamus was dirty, so the only reason he took the cash was to expose the rat bastard.”

“I see.  Then why didn’t he tell me about Seamus and give back the fucking money, Angela?”

“He knew that you would believe Seamus over him, and it took longer than anticipated to gather proof.”

Yeah, right.  I was just about to tell her that she was blinded by a pretty smile and a giant cock, when my phone chose that moment to begin ringing.  I suppose it was good timing.  Our little spat was going nowhere fast.

“Hold your thought,” I said, picking up my cell and checking the caller ID.

Unknown caller.

Interesting.  No one has this number.  Well, okay, the only people that have it are trusted family and associates.  Ian was kind enough to get me a new phone after I smashed the shit out of my old one the night of the car chase.  What a thoughtful guy.  Anyway, the new phone had my old number, so it’s not like this possibly could have been someone’s long lost aunt trying to get in touch with them.

“Who the fuck is this?” I snapped, not interested in making any new friends.

Once the person on the other end of the phone identified themselves and began talking, I instantly relaxed and broke into a wide smile.

“Now that is definitely a welcome voice,” I admitted happily.  “Don’t tell me you’re actually in town?”

We spoke for a few more minutes and arranged a meeting tonight.  The entire time, I gave away no details of the caller’s identity and Angela kept giving me a look of curiosity.

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as I ended the call.

“That was actually a friend that I’d like you to meet.  Everything is falling into place.  How about we get together at my club tonight and talk about some things in more detail?”

“What kind of things?”

“Hawk.”

“Are you going to listen to his side of the story?  I really don’t think it’s fair that he’s being forced to sit on the sidelines.”

“Out of respect for our friendship, your boyfriend is alive and well and walking around on two legs instead of a much worse alternative.  You’re welcome.”

She glared at me, unimpressed with my generosity.

“Just meet me tonight at nine, okay?  We’ll work through this and figure something out.  Come alone and do not bring that asshole.”

With a grunt of disapproval, she stormed out.

Things were definitely taking shape in a major way.  Not only did I have one fighter for Friday night, but I might just have two.