Page 79 of Shaken Knot Stirred

Beg grabbed Nico by the tie and shoved him toward me. He caught himself on the wall before crashing into me. I put my hand on his stomach just to make sure he was real and unharmed. He cupped the back of my arm to reassure me.

“The fights are starting. Go do your job.”

Nico curled his hand around my waist to turn me back toward the entrance to the Vig. His fingers were warm, almost hot. He lingered on my lower back, encouraging me forward. I could feel Beg right behind us. I didn’t dare look back at Moxie.

“Get behind a bar and make me some money. Or I’ll have you do it on your back with chains instead of handcuffs,” Beg said from behind me.

Terror ripped through me. What had Beg done to Moxie? To Nico?

“There’s an issue with the security boys. Go work that out and then get in the ring,” he said to Nico, pushing past us, shoulder-checking Nico, who curled around me. I snuck a look back atMoxie. She was leaning casually against the doorframe, the soda bottle swinging from her fingertips.

“Lana!” Beg bellowed from just inside the Vig. “Go find JP and get him signed now.”

I glanced up at Nico. Up close he looked terrible, like he’d aged ten years overnight, blue-black smudges under his eyes. He gave me a small nod to tell me everything was okay. It wasn’t. It would never be.

I jumped when Beg screamed my name again. I dug my hand into my pocket, sliding my finger into the ring, and stepped into the Vig.

Chapter 44

Nico

I sidestepped a bodyflying through the air and bent to pick up a kid by the scruff of the neck.

“Gotta stay on your feet, man.” I patted his face. His eyes had that glaze that told me he had taken too much Disco. He wasn’t feeling anything but good right now. Tomorrow, he’d show off his bruises and wonder how he got them.

The kid staggered deeper into the Pax. Things would only get more chaotic as Fight Night progressed. I completely ignored my phone and the half a billion texts from Dorian, the generalmanager. I didn’t fucking care anymore about Beg’s nightclub making money. The texts from Ethan were another matter.

Ethan:

911.

Ethan:

Beg said it was onsite and to fuck him up if he showed.

Ethan:

Get here now. In a holding room.

I darted out a side door near the entrance of the lobby space. The first floor of the Pax branched off into three main areas: the dance club and two bars. The stairs leading to the Vig and other private areas were roped off. Tonight, the empty warehouse areas would be rigged with a huge caged ring. We kept the security office well out of sight.

Beg had spent big money on the soundproofing here. Hearing people scream while Beg worked over his marks was bad for business. I passed by the surveillance room. They’d be working overtime to isolate salacious images should Beg decide to blackmail and ruin people’s reputations tonight.

I ducked down the only hallway that didn’t have cameras. There were some things even Beg didn’t want captured on film. Ethan bounced on the balls of his feet outside a holding room. He was a good kid and absolutely should not be working for someone like Beg. I had wanted to fire him, force him to look for work elsewhere, but I couldn’t make myself do it. There was a small cadre of people who turned a blind eye but had limits. You could only have so many sociopaths on your payroll.

“You got maybe ten minutes before Dorian figures this out and finds Beg,” Ethan said, playing nervously with the strings of his black staff hoodie. I nodded and said nothing as I slid into the room.

Star was all in black, jeans and a button-down. He had his back against the wall, one knee up, and his arms crossed. His mask of boredom slipped the moment his eyes fell on me.

I had betrayed him. I had tried to use him to get me out of the shitstorm I’d created with his brother. I’d left him with no explanation or justification, just his brother’s festering bite mark on my neck.

The day before, we had lounged in his bed, sweaty and exhausted, cocks raw from use but still hard for each other. He’d poured out all his birth pack drama. He was being pushed to form a pack. But he didn’t want a pack. He could never be sure if people were with him for the Knightbridge name and what that could buy them. “And all I want is this little thief in my bed,” he had said, filling my mouth with his tongue and rolling me over to fill me with his cock.

He should hate me, like I hated myself.

He slowly lowered his foot and uncrossed his arms. His coffee scent filled the room and stung my eyes. The next second, he crashed into me, his fingers digging into my neck, bringing me to his mouth.

“I’m so sorry.” His kiss was just as desperate as mine. “I should have fought for you. Fucking Beg…”

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