Page 12 of Claiming Veronica

I blinked, pulling myself back to the present. “Yeah. Fine. Just thinking.”

She raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

I shrugged. “Just… everything. You know. It’ll be weird being here in a house alone.”

Natasha studied me for a moment, then smiled knowingly. “It’s nice, right? Just us. I’ll be able to spend more time with Pike without Enzo and Luca constantly hovering.”

I nodded, but my thoughts were already somewhere else. They’d be gone by morning. I couldn’t wait to tell the girls. Man, they were going to go bonkers.

Chapter 7

Eli

The place was ritzy, with table reservations and one of those snooty hosts at the front who looked at you like you didn’t belong. Like all places, Phoenix managed to have sections where the rich liked to separate themselves away from the less fortunate. Restaurants were always one of the places where you could see the great class divide. The inevitable slide where the amount of money in your wallet made the difference. Too bad their food was shit.

When we were kids, we’d dream of a day we could eat somewhere like this. All the people sitting at tables with plates full of their fancy food, with people putting actual napkins in their laps. It had seemed the pinnacle of wealth to us.

“Can I help you, sir?” the maître d' asked, his question tinged with disdain as he examined my tattoos, making it more than evident that he disapproved. He didn’t dare say anything to me.

“No, thank you. I see my party.” I’d learned over the years that in these restaurants, you wore an appropriate tailored jacket and a collared shirt, and you took no shit.

Moving through the tables, I ignored the other diners. None of these rich fucks interested me. It was the man in the back.

Matteo Spato lounged with his small entourage with plates spread around them as he laughed loudly at something someone said to him. Matteo lived big, but the guy was a shark. He moved through the world like it was one big party, but he didn’t fool me. There was a monster under that facade.

“Matteo,” I said, dropping into a vacated chair. “How did you know I was in Phoenix?”

Matteo texted me yesterday asking for a meeting here. He was a broker on the dark web for all kinds of unsavory things, but he liked to dabble in the underground fight scene when he had the opportunity.

He spread his arms genially. “Havoc. Nice to see you.” His voice was slick and oily, as if hethought his charm would get him somewhere. “How have you been?”

The look on his face told me that he knew exactly how I’d been. I stared at him, letting the silence stretch. Most guys like him cracked under the weight of silence. They needed to fill it, to feel in control. This one wasn’t any different. After a few seconds, he fidgeted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up with a cheap lighter that clicked too loudly in the quiet. There was probably no smoking in this fancy restaurant, but I was guessing he didn’t care.

“I have people to look into that sort of shit. It wasn’t hard to find you. Information is power.” He gave me a sly look. “I found other things too.”

That didn’t bode well at all. Some of our fight fans got itchy if we went too long without letting them have their fix. Matteo could be in that camp. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that comment, but I didn’t want to poke at it too much. He could have meant information about Victor’s death, or now there my brother was back in the picture, and that was another can of worms. Then there was Veronica. I had more to lose. I didn’t like that.

“Your reputation is growing.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Underground fights, managing the books, even stepping in the ring when the situation callsfor it. A real hard-ass. You and Luther are making a lot of money.”

I tilted my head slightly, giving him just enough of a smirk to make him uneasy. “So? What’s it to you?” I had never been exactly sure what his gimmick was. Typically, we had people who brought us fighters or wanted a fight organized, but there was always some reason behind it. Was that what this was?

His smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. “I’ve got an opportunity for you. Some real money to be made if you’re interested. Got a few guys who need organizing for a fight. High stakes, lots of eyes on it. You know the drill.”

“I don’t work with amateurs.”

He chuckled, a nervous edge creeping into the sound. “No amateurs here, man. These are real fighters, real killers. You’re the best at what you do, and that’s exactly why I’m coming to you. Heard you might be in the area.”

I stared him down, my patience wearing thin. “Alright. I’ll take a look, but they won’t be the only ones on the docket.”

His face twitched just a fraction, but I saw it. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like me, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. I’d been in this game too longand seen too much blood spilled in back alleys and basements to be intimidated by the likes of him.

“I’ve got people I answer to,” he said, leaning forward, trying to regain some ground. “Big names. They want this fight to happen, and they want you on board. You’re good, Havoc, but don’t get cocky. There’s a chain of command, and you’re not at the top.” He tried to lean back and look cool but failed miserably.

I couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled up from my chest. This guy had balls. I’d give him that. But he was a fool if he thought I cared about some suit calling the shots from another city.

“I don’t give a fuck who you answer to,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. “You ask me to set up a fight, and you think you’re calling the shots? No. That’s not how this works.”

His bravado faltered. I could see it in his eyes — realizing he was out of his depth. But he was stubborn, still holding on to whatever crumbs of power he thought he had. “The people I work for?—”

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