Page 60 of Body Lock

Chapter Twelve

Cadence

Istared at the door, eyes frozen in place. Nico sat off to the side watching me, his greasy skin gleaming under the lights. A twisted, creepy smile rested across his cheeks.

Leaning back, he wrapped a meaty paw around his drink, and kept glaring at me. His stare crawled over my figure, riding my curves as he bit down on his lip, and rocked his head in place.

The urge to hit him again settled in my fists. I wanted to smack that look right off his ugly fucking face.

How long has Quinn been in there? Ten... Twenty minutes?

My heart was racing, the pounding so intense, I could feel it in my eyes. Sweat was beading up on my palms, repeatedly I wiped them over my thighs nervously. The pit in my stomach painful, my nerves electrified, and charging as they shot through my entire body.

What does my father want with him?

Quinn won't fight. He won't. Not after what he went through.

My dad was obviously planning this, he never did anything without running through the risks and rewards. He didn't tell me what he was thinking, but he had been damned determined Quinn would fight for him.

So instead he went to Nico. To the next best person on his list, the one he knew would bend over and kiss his ass.

I think he saw himself losing me, he could see me disconnecting, growing bolder. My backbone was hardening, taking shape inside. The once timid and subservient child he had raised was now climbing out of that shell.

He was watching his grasp slowly lift finger by finger, peeling away.

My father could see how I felt about Quinn, the lust that flickered between us, it had to eat him up inside. I hadn't expected to form any real feelings for Quinn, he had only stood up for me.

When my father wanted me to bring him back, I honestly thought Quinn would agree to work for him. The money always spoke to the fighters. My dad paid well, but he paid himself better.

Most of the men fighting had nothing to lose, they needed any money that would be thrown their way. The guys that came to the Ground Game came in search of two things:

Money or blood.

The Macro created some of these men, gave them the guidelines to succeed or to fail. He had the inside information. Those that came in to bet, they came in like this was the fucking casino. Like they were going to pull the handle and win thousands of dollars.

Sadly, that's how the game was played. My dad would give 'tips'. He would make the high rollers feel special, let them win a few matches, let them feel their bankroll thickening. And then, take them for all they were worth.

Quinn had said no; the promise to his best friend weighed more than any amount of money. It was his sense of loyalty that sent butterflies through my belly, tingles over my spine.

When he had taken me to see those kids, it melted my soul. He had a desire to fight, but to keep his promise, to maintain his word, he shared his love of the ring and taught others instead.

His heart pounded with fire and compassion, a life marred by loss and still fueled to keep going.

We bore similar pasts, and that gave me comfort knowing he could understand me. I hadn't told him too much about my mother. Like him, I understood how it felt to lose someone you loved.

I had connected with him on another level that day, one I had never experienced before with anyone else.

Nervously, I chewed my lip. Nico was still watching me, eyeing me like a fresh piece of meat. So while I waited anxiously for Quinn, what better thing to do that fuck with Nico?

“Nico,” I said, leaning over the bar. And even though he was looking directly at me, he ignored me.“Nico, I'm talking to you.”

“What?” His tone was lifeless, and empty.

Running a finger over the tip of my nose, I gestured to his face. “You got a little something...” Nodding my head, I kept my finger in place.

“What?”

“You have a little something on your nose?”

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