Read Online A Night With Knox by Eve Jagger - Free Book Online

why
they don’t hassle me. Sometimes they even take a try in the
ring.
    Tyler shrugs. “It’s been gradual. Losses on a couple
fights, loans to cover him,” he says. “I hate to be the
bearer of bad news. But I double checked the ledger, and it adds up.”
    “Fuck me,” I say, and a blond woman in high heels and a
dress so tight she must not have exhaled all night turns toward us.
She raises an eyebrow at me, smiles like she might take me up on the
offer.
    And with the way she wraps her mouth around the neck of that beer
bottle, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she takes a drink, I might
just let her.
    Tyler’s voice yanks me back to the problem at hand. “So
what do you want to do?” he says. “He’s offered his
house as collateral.”
    I
shake my head. “This isn’t a swap meet.” Sometimes
people think that just because I run an illegal fighting circuit and
betting ring, I must be dishonest or inattentive to keeping the
books, or maybe just dumb. So they try to take advantage of me
occasionally. They think I won’t notice or care if they siphon
a little cash or don’t pay in full or don’t pay at all,
that I’m just a guy who made his money beating the shit out of
strangers while debutantes and their dates made their bets. All brawn
and no brains. But they’re wrong.
    In
the ring, I didn’t mind being underestimated. It helped me win.
Some spectators think when you look like me, tall, muscular,
broad-shouldered, you won’t be agile enough to dodge a right
hook. So they bet against you. They don’t realize those muscles
aren’t just for showing off to the female members of the
crowd—not that I minded when they noticed. Those hard biceps
mean you’re strong, and those washboard abs make you quick, and
it all adds up to making my bank account big.
    But as the boss outside the ring, I can’t have people not take
me seriously. The Armani suits I wear on fight nights look damn good
on me but they don’t come cheap, so when I loan money I expect
to get it back when the handshake said I would. It’s only fair.
I’ve got a reputation to protect, not to mention a legitimate
business career to support, owning two of Atlanta’s most
popular nightclubs, a cocktail lounge, and Altitude, a bar some
buddies and I run together. I got to the top flying like a butterfly
in the ring, but I stay there because I sting like a bee outside it.
    And Jamie McEntire’s about to feel what I mean.
    “You know where this kid’s house is?” I say,
clapping Tyler on the shoulder. He nods. “Good,” I say.
“You’re driving then. Grab Valero and let him know that
as soon as this crowd clears, we’re making a visit.”
    Tyler leaves, and the woman in the tight dress with the lucky beer
bottle approaches. The dip of her neckline is as low as her skirt is
short. “Someone should wash your mouth out,” she says.
    “Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities,” I say,
smiling. We’re at an underground bare-knuckles fight. Fuck is hardly the most offensive thing she’s been exposed to
tonight.
    “Not at all,” she says. “I like a man who talks
dirty.” She takes a sip from the bottle, tipping it toward me.
“Want some?”
    I don’t think she just means the beer.
    Over her shoulder, behind her in the crowd, I see a guy in a
decent-looking grey suit. He’s standing with a few other
people but his attention is clearly fixed on her, watching. I tilt
the bottle back toward her with my index finger. “Who are you
here with?”
    “No one special,” she says, taking a step toward me.
“Unless you want some company.”
    Women. They smell good, they look good, they taste good, but they can
be so bad for you.
    I’ve been Grey Suit back there. Even in the shadows of the
warehouse I can read the look on his face, the narrowed eyes,
slightly turned down mouth. He’s a guy who knows that just
because he’s the one who’s taking this girl out tonight
it doesn’t mean he’s going home with her. Back when I