Read Online Inferno: Part 1 by Alyssa Winters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alyssa Winters
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curiosity.
Alexa laughs. “That’s me before I fell off the straight and narrow, as my dad calls it.”
She flips through a massive wardrobe stuffed with expensive clothes, but my attention is drawn to the enormous bed. I’ve never seen one in real life, but it looks like a California king-sized round bed, complete with red silk sheets. The bedspread is on the floor, and just under the hem I see a watch peeking out.
Alexa goes into the bathroom that adjoins her room. I hear the faucet come on and decide to examine the watch more closely. I pick up the bedspread and see a Rolex. It looks exactly like Bryce’s.
All those weeks ago, he showed up at my apartment drunk and smelling like perfume—could he have been with Alexa? I shake it off—I’ve never smelled that perfume on her and they seem to have more of a sibling relationship. My mind is still arguing over the idea when Alexa’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“So there’s this party tonight, and I’m serving,” Alexa says.
I drop the sheets and take a few steps to the side so she doesn’t know that I’ve been being nosy.
Alexa continues, “You should come along—super bourgeois people but they do pay the best.”
“You’re a lifesaver, I could use the cash,” I say quickly so she doesn’t realize I’ve been preoccupied with ludicrous thoughts.
We spend time deciding what to wear, and then I head home to change for the job after Alexa gives me the address.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bryce
Sam and I are going over numbers for the club this week, when Nathan stumbles in, holding his face. He’s a bloodied, battered mess.
“Somebody get Coach some ice, please!” I direct.
Sam scoots behind the bar, brings back ice, a rag, the first aid kit, and a drink.
“Thank you,” Nathan grumbles as he staggers over to the bar.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask.
He shakes his head at me and doesn’t respond.
As he gets closer I can tell he’s even more banged up than I originally thought so I take him to the bathroom, where the lighting is better. He lets his hand drop from his face.
It’s worse than most of the guys who leave the ring here after losing a match. I don’t know how long whoever did this kept him, but the bruises are already coming out, his nose is mangled and pouring blood, both eyes will eventually be black, and there are several cuts on his face, either where the skin split from punches or someone was using a weapon other than their fist.
He spits blood into the basin, rinses out his mouth with the gin Sam hands him, and then starts to clean up his face. I watch silently while he stuffs tissue up each nostril, wincing as the packing touches his nose. It has to be broken.
He dabs at little cuts, taking small bandages to close the gashes. Then he ices his face, sighing at the pain of the pressure but also the cool relief.
Only now do I find the appropriate words. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
Nathan shakes his head looking at me through the reflection in the mirror. “Too many questions.” He averts his eyes back to the gashes on his face.
“You’re not going to get away without explaining this to me.” I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest.
Nathan backs away from the mirror and takes a seat on the bench.
“Okay, okay. So there are some people who wanted side action in the fights, but wanted to keep it off the books. I set everything up. But they kept betting on each game and I had borrowed some of the money to settle other things on the side. So when they came to collect, I was short.”
“How could you borrow from the pot?” I ask squinting my eyes at him.
“It was stupid, but the online site was doing so well that I had made some other bets.” He places his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hand.
“Too much info,” I insist. Nathan’s crimes don’t have to be mine, as well.
He looks up at me, defeated. “Right. Well, I had stretched myself a little thin, shall
Alexa laughs. “That’s me before I fell off the straight and narrow, as my dad calls it.”
She flips through a massive wardrobe stuffed with expensive clothes, but my attention is drawn to the enormous bed. I’ve never seen one in real life, but it looks like a California king-sized round bed, complete with red silk sheets. The bedspread is on the floor, and just under the hem I see a watch peeking out.
Alexa goes into the bathroom that adjoins her room. I hear the faucet come on and decide to examine the watch more closely. I pick up the bedspread and see a Rolex. It looks exactly like Bryce’s.
All those weeks ago, he showed up at my apartment drunk and smelling like perfume—could he have been with Alexa? I shake it off—I’ve never smelled that perfume on her and they seem to have more of a sibling relationship. My mind is still arguing over the idea when Alexa’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“So there’s this party tonight, and I’m serving,” Alexa says.
I drop the sheets and take a few steps to the side so she doesn’t know that I’ve been being nosy.
Alexa continues, “You should come along—super bourgeois people but they do pay the best.”
“You’re a lifesaver, I could use the cash,” I say quickly so she doesn’t realize I’ve been preoccupied with ludicrous thoughts.
We spend time deciding what to wear, and then I head home to change for the job after Alexa gives me the address.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bryce
Sam and I are going over numbers for the club this week, when Nathan stumbles in, holding his face. He’s a bloodied, battered mess.
“Somebody get Coach some ice, please!” I direct.
Sam scoots behind the bar, brings back ice, a rag, the first aid kit, and a drink.
“Thank you,” Nathan grumbles as he staggers over to the bar.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask.
He shakes his head at me and doesn’t respond.
As he gets closer I can tell he’s even more banged up than I originally thought so I take him to the bathroom, where the lighting is better. He lets his hand drop from his face.
It’s worse than most of the guys who leave the ring here after losing a match. I don’t know how long whoever did this kept him, but the bruises are already coming out, his nose is mangled and pouring blood, both eyes will eventually be black, and there are several cuts on his face, either where the skin split from punches or someone was using a weapon other than their fist.
He spits blood into the basin, rinses out his mouth with the gin Sam hands him, and then starts to clean up his face. I watch silently while he stuffs tissue up each nostril, wincing as the packing touches his nose. It has to be broken.
He dabs at little cuts, taking small bandages to close the gashes. Then he ices his face, sighing at the pain of the pressure but also the cool relief.
Only now do I find the appropriate words. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
Nathan shakes his head looking at me through the reflection in the mirror. “Too many questions.” He averts his eyes back to the gashes on his face.
“You’re not going to get away without explaining this to me.” I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest.
Nathan backs away from the mirror and takes a seat on the bench.
“Okay, okay. So there are some people who wanted side action in the fights, but wanted to keep it off the books. I set everything up. But they kept betting on each game and I had borrowed some of the money to settle other things on the side. So when they came to collect, I was short.”
“How could you borrow from the pot?” I ask squinting my eyes at him.
“It was stupid, but the online site was doing so well that I had made some other bets.” He places his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hand.
“Too much info,” I insist. Nathan’s crimes don’t have to be mine, as well.
He looks up at me, defeated. “Right. Well, I had stretched myself a little thin, shall
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