Tempted 2 Raw Temptation Eve Carter

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this conversation was heading.
You re killing me, Brad. What is it?
I m talking about you getting in shape and winning that damn fight.
Now I was confused. What does that have to do with anything? I am training. What
does this look like? I held up my hands in their fighting gloves and waved them in front
of his face.
The humor vanished from his expression and his smile faded.
Here s the deal, Luke. Last weekend, I was at a regional golf tournament and I met
Judge Schwartz. I m sure you remember him. He handled the case that got you banned
from professional fighting.
The muscles in my jaw tightened. I remembered the self-righteous prick. He had
made it his life s work to go against our sport.
Brad continued as if he couldn t see the scowl etched into my eyebrows. He had
some interesting things to say about your promoter, Bruno. He opened his mouth to
speak, but then hesitated. He shot a cautious glance around the gym and then lowered his
voice when he said, We can t talk here. Can you take a break? There s a coffee shop down
the street and I m having wicked caffeine withdrawals.
Brad wasn t the type of guy to invest time in frivolous socializing. The fact that he
was here meant it was important. Sure, I said. Let me clean up a bit. I can be ready in
ten minutes.
*****
When we walked into the coffee shop, there was just sprinkling of people sitting at
the tables. Most were students from the nearby college, engrossed in something they
were reading on their laptops, or hunched over their cell phones, eyes glued to their
screens.
We each ordered a coffee and Brad led the way to a booth far from anyone else.
This is strictly confidential. As in, you can t tell a soul, he said as we slid into our seats.
As you can imagine, Judge Schwartz has a few connections in your old fighting
organization.
I scowled. I don t want to talk about the UFC or Judge Schwartz. He single-
handedly took away my license two years ago because of his indictment against me. He s
the reason I got involved with Bruno and have to fight in this shit-hole of a place instead
of making an honest living in a professional league. My tone was edged with bitterness
as the words came out, but I didn t give a shit. My daughter would ve been safe with me if
it hadn t been for that judge.
Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn t have put that guy at the bar in a wheelchair, Brad
replied flatly.
I didn t regret what I d done that night. He had it coming. He nearly killed that poor
girl.
Brad pressed the palms of both hands flat on the tabletop, staring at the coffee cup
between them, then pursed his lips. That may be, Brad admitted. But in this country,
the justice system doesn t allow for vigilantes. You should have reported it to the police
instead.
She would ve been dead if I d left it to the cops, I snapped. Twice they went and
picked him up after he d beaten her. Both times he walked out of the police station an
hour later. When it happened for a third time, that was it. Someone had to stop him.
Guys like Brad believe in the law and justice. They don t understand evil like I do.
Sometimes, you just have to take things into your own hands. At least the charges against
me didn t stand but the whole affair was enough to give me a lifetime ban from
professional fighting.
Brad shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Anyway, I have some good news.
The judge said there s a way to get the indictment erased from your record. You could get
your license back.
I tried not to let the hope that suddenly spiked in me take root. This sounded too
good to be true. Go on, I said cautiously.
This is why you can t tell anyone what I m about to tell you. Brad leaned toward
me, rested his hands on the table and said, Apparently, the FBI is investigating Bruno for
some illegal gambling.
No shit, Sherlock. Everyone knows Bruno s racket. Now tell me something I don t
know.
Brad drew back and gave me a hurt look, then added, And it looks like he had
something to do with that hooker who got killed two months ago over near the Greymore
Hotel.
I stiffened at the name of the hotel where Dani had worked. I had a bad feeling the
shit was about to hit the fan. What s that got to do with Bruno? I asked. Hookers get
killed every week in this city.
Yes, but rumor has it that this particular incident had to do with some missing
money. A quarter of a million dollars, to be precise. Brad took a sip of his coffee. Have
you heard anything about that?
No. I kept my answer simple and short.
So Bruno never told you about losing a quarter of a mil?
I kept my voice flat and annoyed, hoping that would cover my nerves. I have no
fucking idea what you re talking about, Brad. Do I have to spell it out for you?
He held up his hands as if he were surrendering. Okay, okay. I just wanted to make
sure.
I needed to steer this conversation away from the money, like ten minutes ago, but I
didn t want to seem suspicious. Cupping my hands around my coffee, I said, You guys
talked about this while you were playing golf?
Brad chuckled, some of his lawyer attitude returning. Yeah, I thought I told you?
The biggest deals get made on the golf course. Besides, it was a pretty long game.
Sounds like I should take up golf now, I said wryly.
You just focus on your training. Let me handle the golf course. His expression got
serious again. Anyway, the judge wants to make you a deal. He ll do everything in his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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