Page 10 of Unraveling an Enigma
My lips curved into a broad smirk before I nodded.
“Isaac, are you fucking kidding me?” Cormack asked, his tone serious, like he was genuinely worried about my well-being. “He will kill you,” he continued, his gaze drifting to Bruno in the ring.
My half-hearted smile merged into a full grin when I noticed Bruno was attempting to intimidate me. He was cracking his knuckles and his neck as his dark eyes glared at me in disdain.
Turning my gaze back to Cormack, I cockily replied, “He has to catch me first.”
“What’s the buy-in?” I shift my eyes back to the MC.
Back then I didn’t have much money to my name. I worked at a coffee shop, but a majority of my pay went toward my living expenses and what didn’t went into saving for future projects I endeavored to undertake once I graduated.
“Two G,” replied the MC.
I cursed under my breath. If I knew where Cormack was taking me, I would have gone prepared, but I didn’t carry that sort of cash around. I lifted my eyes to Cormack, who was watching me curiously.
“Buy me in, and I’ll give you a cut of the profit,” I suggested.
Cormack’s brows pulled together as he glares at me in disbelief.
“Trust me,” I said, my gray eyes staring into his baby blues.
Cormack took several minutes pondering my request. With reluctance, he pulled his wallet from his jeans. “I don’t care about the money, but if you end up dead—”
“It ain’t going to happen,” I interrupted, my tone cocky.
My eyes darted down to my jeans. I’d never fought in jeans before, but I didn’t have anything else to change into, so they had to do. I pulled off my shoes and socks and handed them to Cormack. He looked at me in disbelief before removing the shoes from my grasp and thrusting them into the chest of the cute blonde attached to his side. Her huff of annoyance changed to a shameful gasp when I removed my shirt. Her eyes bugged out of her head before they leisurely glided over my body.
Smirking at her shocked expression, I winked before following the MC into the ring. Tae kwon do, boxing, mixed martial arts, karate. You name it, I’ve done it. After being weak and sick for the first five years of my life, I became obsessed with anything that required strength and conditioning. My body showed my dedication.
* * *
“You crazy son of a bitch,” Cormack screamed, jumping into the air and throwing his arms out wildly as we made our way back to his car.
“I told you to trust me,” I replied, my tone pompous.
The fight had gone as I had predicted. Bruno was all brute and no brains. It only took him a few swings of his large arms for his exhaustion to kick in, and that was when I moved in. A couple of left and right combinations and one kick to his left temple was all that was required for Bruno to be kissing the pavement. I didn’t even break into a sweat, and Bruno didn’t land a punch on me.
“What are your plans for next Friday night?” Cormack queried while sliding into the driver’s seat of his car.
When I remained quiet, Cormack’s eyes turned to face me sitting in the passenger seat of his vehicle. His curious gaze roamed over my face before lowering to my body. I arched my brow high, unimpressed by his prying glance.
Cormack smiled at my snappy reaction. “We have to play this,” he said, nodding. He lifted his hand and flattened my hair down, then fiddled with the collar of my shirt. He pursed his lips before moving his hands to yank my shirt out of my jeans.
After squinting his eyes, he murmured, “Yes,” while raising his index finger in the air like he suddenly had a brilliant idea. Rummaging through his glove compartment, he produced a pair of thick, rimmed glasses. My loud chuckling rumbled around the interior of his car when I put on the glasses as requested.
“Perfect,” Cormack said, grinning.
All I needed was some knee-high socks, and the dorky, school nerd look would be perfected.
* * *
For the next six months, Cormack and I jibbed the underground fight scene at all the colleges within a three-hundred-mile radius of ours. I'd arrive separately, dressed down in the dorky clothes Cormack supplied me, acting all innocent and unaware. Only once the money was handed over to the fight promoters did I reveal my true self.
I quit my job at the coffee shop and concentrated solely on preparing my body and mind for fighting every Friday night. My bank balance was the highest it had ever been. Most fights were a two or three grand buy-in, but a few fighters would get cocky and increase the purse, believing they were the ones playing me, then I'd walk away with four grand in profit.
It was when we were leaving from a fight one night that I first met Col Petretti’s son, Dimitri.
“How long do you think your con will last?” he questioned, pushing off the brick wall of the building and strolling toward us.
