CHAPTER 18

Brock

The roar of the crowd echoed through the building as I made my way to the bank of elevators that would lead me to the club boxes. It wasn’t often I arrived after Ashton, but tonight it took me a little longer to get out of the house. Amanda was still doing everything in her power to get me back into bed. The problem I started to realize was that Amanda would never be just another fuck. Which was exactly the reason that shit had to stop. Before I let my dick loose again near Amanda, I needed to decide what else I wanted. I always swore I wouldn’t get involved with anyone. That I’d never risk their safety in this life. But Amanda had already been much more a part of this life than any woman I’d been with before.

Tonight she begged me to stay, giving me the same sad, puppy dog eyes that used to get her whatever she wanted with me. No more. She’d run her hands all over my chest, trying to get me to take her back to my bedroom. It wasn’t until I’d reminded her that I had a job to do and she didn’t want any of the Hawes family here trying to figure out why I hadn’t shown up. Even though she’d lived in the bubble of my house for the last few weeks, she wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was truly safe. She knew they were looking for her, and the longer she stayed out of sight the safer she was.

I’d already texted Ashton to let him know I was running late, which really wasn’t a problem since the first drop-off wasn’t supposed to be until the bottom of the second. I pressed the button for the floor and waited while the elevator ascended. Once the doors opened I showed security my pass before heading down to the box. The second the door opened, Ashton looked over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Please tell me you just crawled out of bed with a hot as fuck blonde.”

I scoffed. “Don’t I wish.”

I’d been trying to keep out of her bed, but she certainly was hot as fuck, even without being blond.

Ashton laughed. “There’s always later. I ordered dinner.”

I took my seat in the chair next to his. It was only the bottom of the first. By the time the first drop-off got there, I’d be in the seat behind Ashton. It made him look more powerful to be sitting alone with me, waiting in the wings if he needed me. However, most of the time we enjoyed the game together.

“That’s fine.” I usually kept to the same choice anyway. “How many drops do we have tonight?”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at me, one brow raised. “Why? Planning to take my advice on the blonde?”

If only things were going to be that easy. No reason to beat around the bush. “Not exactly.”

That got his attention. He turned his head in my direction, his eyes narrowed. Ashton knew when something wasn’t right. It was why he was perfect for debt collection. Miller would beat the shit out of everyone, but Ashton knew when people were hiding something. “Anything you want to tell me now?”

I shook my head.

“The last drop is in the bottom of the seventh. After that you’re good.” Ashton turned his head back to the game, his eyes darting over like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. It wasn’t often that I questioned the number of drops for the night.

A knock on the door interrupted my answer. The wait staff for the stadium brought in a cart filled with trays of food. One benefit to a private box was the food service. We could order anything in the stadium or other items specifically prepared by the kitchen for the boxes. With a famous chef like Ashton Hawes in the building, the chefs here did their best to show off their skills.

I tucked into my food, Ashton doing the same while we waited for the first drop. “How’s Tess?”

He glanced up from his plate. “Much better. Now if Miller would calm the fuck down everything would be good.”

I lifted a brow at him.

He set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “I get why he had me move her shit before she was out of the hospital, which she finally forgave him for, but now, even with Marcello gone, the dumbass still won’t let her go anywhere alone.”

I chuckled. “Like you did with Elena?” Wasn’t that ironic since I spent months escorting Elena everywhere she went? I saw her first show so many times I had the damn thing memorized.

He held up his hands. “Hold on. I stopped that the moment her piece of shit husband died.”

“Fair enough. But you can’t tell me you still don’t have protection on Elena.”

He pulled his glasses off his face and rubbed at his eyes. “Of course I do. She just doesn’t know they’re there. Until we know where the hell Isobel Marcello is, I’m not taking any chances.”

“We’ll find her.” I couldn’t stop the hard edge that bled out into my tone. I had no idea how Ashton would take it. I wanted to save the conversation about Amanda until the end of the game.

He put his glasses back on and looked over at me. “I know it wasn’t an easy job, but you did it. If anyone can find Isobel Marcello, it’s you.”

Soon enough he’d know I’d already found her.

Once again, my answer was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. I checked the scoreboard to see it was in fact the bottom of the second.

As I got up from my seat to answer the door, Ashton called out that the guy owed twenty grand. Clients knew better than to open the door on their own and walk in on something they wished they hadn’t. The guy must have been a new client. I hadn’t remembered seeing him before.

“Mr. Dunn.” Ashton nodded at him to come in.

Slowly, the man raised his head to look at me, and for one minute, I thought he actually might turn and sprint back down the hall. At least, that was until Ashton spoke up again.

“I don’t have all night.” His voice had taken on the cold, detached tone he used with all his clients. He wanted to make it clear he wasn’t fucking around and if they didn’t take his warning, it was up to me to show them how to behave when making a drop.

The guy pulled the bag farther up on his shoulder and straightened his back and took a step inside the room. His pace was slow like he was approaching an angry lion. A wise move.

“Mr. Hawes, s-s-sir. I have . . . I have your money.”

Ashton placed his elbows on the chair and steepled his hands in front of his face. “I’m glad to hear that.”

It was obvious the guy standing in the room was too scared to do anything but cower before Ashton, so I took my normal seat for drops by the bar. With trembling hands, the guy passed the bag to Ashton, who nodded curtly and handed the bag to me. I opened it to count the money while the guy stood there with his eyes firmly on the floor.

It was wrapped in thousand-dollar stacks. I counted twenty and turned to Ashton. “It’s all here.”

Ashton looked back at the guy. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dunn.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hawes.”

The guy practically bowed his way out the door. The moment it closed Ashton burst into laughter. “I will never understand guys like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, for Christ’s sake, can you imagine a guy like that going to see my dad or Miller to borrow the money if he was that scared about dealing with me?”

That made me laugh. “No. Then again, maybe he was scared of me.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. We already know that one look at you makes people want to run.”

“That’s ’cause I am a scary motherfucker.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go sit your ass down while we get all of the business done. We can deal with your inflated ego later.”

“Fine. I’m grabbing a drink. Do you want one?” I went for the bar.

“Yeah, grab me a bourbon.”

I picked up Ashton’s favorite scotch and poured us both a glass. Three more drops to go. This was fucking ridiculous. I hadn’t been lying when I said I was a scary motherfucker and I knew it. But there I stood worried about the conversation I needed to have with Ashton. I wasn’t exactly sure what I would do if any member of the Hawes family ordered me to kill Amanda. Even after all they’d given me, I honestly believed I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Another inning passed and the second drop of the night came and went. Just like the first, it was routine. The guy wasn’t freaking out like the first one, but he still had all the money he owed. By the bottom of the fifth, I wondered if we would have a peaceful night. The kind where no asshole came in thinking they’d win against the Hawes family.

The knock on the door came, but this time I’d been waiting. I opened the door, except, unlike the other two clients, the guy came storming into the room like he owned the place. So much for a peaceful night. Something told me this asshole was going to push Ashton too far. I didn’t bother taking a seat. Instead, I stepped farther into the room and with my feet spread apart braced for a hit, I crossed my arms over my chest. The guy didn’t waste any time being an asshole. He walked over to Ashton and threw the bag at his feet.

“There’s your fucking money.”

Ashton bent his head, looking at the guy over the frames of his glasses. “Excuse me?”

I noticed him shift slightly in his seat. We’d been working together long enough, that not only did we both recognize when things were going to go south, but we knew what move the other was going make before it happened. Ashton was adjusting his weight to allow him to jump from the seat in a heartbeat.

“You heard me,” the guy snapped and turned to leave.

I stepped into the guy’s path, knowing Ashton was nowhere near done with the little prick.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Ashton’s voice was low and dangerous.

“What does it matter who the fuck I am? You got your money and I’m leaving.”

Ashton motioned to me to bring the guy over if he didn’t listen to Ashton’s demands. “I don’t fucking think so. Now get over here before I let Brock bring you back. I make no guarantees about what will happen to you on the way.”

I didn’t budge from my position, letting him see exactly what he was getting himself into if he fucked with me. One of my brows lifted and I waited in silence for him to make his decision. Whatever changed his mind, the guy stormed over to Ashton.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m here. Now what the hell do you want before I leave?”

Ashton lifted the bag and handed it to me. “First, I want to make sure you brought all of my money.”

“I already—”

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t finished. Second, we’re going to have a little chat about proper behavior before you leave.”

The guy crossed his arms over his chest. “Then count the goddamn money so I can go.”

That got Ashton on his feet. With slow, measured steps, he advanced on the guy, clearly done with the mouthy asshole’s shit. “One more word from you and we won’t be having a verbal lesson on proper behavior.”

The guy rolled his eyes, and Ashton’s fist swung out like lightning, sending the guy to the floor. “Stay down there and shut your goddamn mouth until I’m ready to deal with you.”

Ashton picked up the bag and handed it to me. “Count it. Dumbass owes me thirty-five, but it’s about to be forty if he doesn’t learn to behave himself.”

“Forty—” His protest was cut off by Ashton’s foot landing squarely in his stomach. A rush of air left his lips. He no longer held on to his nose, but curled himself into a ball.

I opened the bag and began counting. At least the little shit followed one rule and had his money wrapped correctly. The first time through I counted thirty-three, so I went through them again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. A second count gave me thirty-three again.

“Two short.”

Ashton snarled and looked down. “I guess we see why you were in such a rush to leave. Thought you’d get one over on me by acting like an asshole in an attempt to cover up the fact that you were short.” Ashton squatted down next to the guy. “I can guarantee you would’ve been better off coming in here contrite and honest. Then, I might have given you extra time to get the rest. Now, I’ll let Brock deal with you.”

“Brock?” His eyes darted over to where I stood. “Mr. Hawes, I’m so sorry,” he said, dragging himself across the floor, trying to get Ashton to listen.

What he didn’t know was that Ashton was beyond reaching at this point. He’d need time to cool off. It was why we scheduled them every other inning, just in case anyone pissed him off. And tonight was the perfect example. Ashton moved back to his chair, taking a seat.

Shit.

With the snarl curling Ashton’s lips, we were probably going to have to call cleanup to deal with the mess. Ashton was beyond pissed and nothing the guy did or said was going to change it.

“It’s too late for that. Brock is going to teach you some manners. This way when you bring me my two grand plus another ten you’ll remember how to behave when you come in here.”

Ashton nodded at me, and I knew he was done. I took the collar of the guy’s shirt and dragged him off the floor. The whole time, he whimpered and tugged at my hand, trying to get me to let him go. That wasn’t going to happen. I hauled him farther into the room and dropped him to the floor. I glanced over my shoulder.

“Feel like dealing with cleanup tonight?” The guy’s eyes went wide at my question.

“Cleanup?” His voice had become soft, the edge from before no longer there. It took him long enough, but he finally realized how deep in he was. If only he’d caught on earlier. It may have freaked out the little shit at my feet, but I needed to know how far Ashton wanted me to take this. Either he wanted to get home at a reasonable hour, or we’d both have to sit and wait for cleanup to deal with the mess I’d make.

“No cleanup. I want to go home at some point tonight.”

That made me pause, almost wishing he’d wanted to deal with cleanup. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos in my own home. Without cleanup, I needed to be a little more careful about what type of damage I’d do to him. Nothing that could make him bleed. Then again, I didn’t need to. There were tons of ways to make the guy suffer without breaking a bit of skin. I took one of his hands off the floor. When he tried to pull away, I set my foot on his chest to keep him from moving.

“You had your chance.” I seized his arm and forced him to stand.

“Look, I’ll pay whatever it is you want.”

Ashton turned his seat to face us, no longer interested in the game behind him. “Too late for that. I gave you a chance.”

The scoreboard told me I had at least one inning before the next drop was there. I drew back and landed a few blows to his stomach. Fewer blood vessels meant less of a chance to bruise. Carlos dropped to his knees, his arms curled around his waist. Unfortunately, my frustration over my personal life made the blows even harder. I felt the sting with each hit. “Next time, maybe you’ll show up with more manners than what you used today.”

I fisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head back, shoving one of the napkins from dinner into his mouth. When he dropped his hand to the floor to steady himself, I took the opportunity to stomp on his fingers. The sound of bone crunching filled the room, his screams muffled by the napkin. There was a deep sense of satisfaction at his suffering. Maybe that made me a psychopath, but I needed someone else to suffer for a little bit.

I moved my foot. He quickly cradled his hand to his chest and did everything he could to back away from where I stood. No such luck. The only way out was through me to the door he came in. “Had enough?”

He held up his good hand, keeping the broken one close to his body. Tears traced down his face. I took the napkin from his mouth. “I have. I have. Please, no more,” he begged.

I glanced over at Ashton, waiting for his decision. I could keep going all night, but it was Ashton’s choice. Without cleanup, I couldn’t continue to take my true frustration out on him. Ashton nodded.

I took a step back from him. “Next time, things won’t go so easy.”

Carlos whimpered, struggling to his feet.

Ashton cleared his throat, gaining his attention. “I hope you understand how lucky you are right now. Brock can do ten times that amount of damage in less than ten minutes.”

Carlos’s eyes widened as he turned to face me. “I’m sorry,” he cried, continuing to back away from where I was standing.

“As you should be,” Ashton said. “Now, you’re going to leave here with your injured hand in your pocket. And I don’t give two fucks how badly it hurts, you’ll walk out of here with a smile on your face. Next week you’re going to bring me twelve thousand and you better be on your best behavior when you drop it off or I’ll let Brock go to town and wait for cleanup to deal with the mess he’ll make.”

Carlos pushed his hand into the pocket of his shorts. Pain marred his features, but he didn’t dare try and pull it back out. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Hawes.” He started moving toward the door, reminding me of the first guy of the night. “I’ll be back next week with the rest of your money.”

His eyes darted back and forth between the two of us before he bolted out the door. The click of the lock fell into place and Ashton took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes. “There’s always one.”

“There is.” I grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar and laid it over my knuckles. The last thing I needed was the skin to split open. The cold felt good against my abused skin.

Ashton put his glasses back on and turned to look at me, his eye darting to the water bottle. “Hand still swollen from the other night?”

“Yeah. Not as bad as it was.”

“Hopefully, the last drop will go as smooth as the first two.”

No matter what, the final drop wasn’t the problem.

The secret I’d been keeping was.