Page 82 of Filthy and the Beast

I blink. “What?”

Enzo pushes his hand through his hair. “Just chasing down a lead. No big deal.”

I laugh. “Excuse me? No big deal? Except for your secret Sunday drives, you’ve barely left the house since…” I trail off, trying to remember. “The first night we hooked up!” I squint at him. “Is this that asshole you only see every ten years?”

“I could have other old friends, you know.” He grunts. “But yes. That asshole.”

“That’s so cool that you’re moving ahead.” I step forward. “You must be really excited to get back in the ring.”

Not excited enough to tell me before, but whatever. I try not to feel stung.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s just try not to jinx it, okay? It’s nothing but a meeting.”

“Okay,” I promise. “No problem.”

Enzo nods. Clearly, there’s plenty more on his mind, but he doesn’t give me a chance to ask about it. “Gonna hop in the shower.”

“Cool.” I pull my phone back out. “I’ll finish this video while the snow is falling.”

He disappears into the house, leaving me in the cold garden. Boxing again will be huge for Enzo. It’s his passion, and I see his dedication to the sport every day. I’m so happy for him, moving closer to what he wants, but as the snow falls, I’m left feeling the distance, too.

I’m falling in love with that man, but he’s still a mystery to me.

* * *

ENZO

Buck makes me meet him in a food court at a dying mall.

A fucking food court. It’s like he’s trying to insult me.

I get a vanilla milkshake and find a seat. There’s a cheap jewelry place to one side of me and a ball pit to the other, kids screaming inside. Occasionally, a plastic ball rolls out, and a teenage worker rushes after to retrieve it.

Yesterday, Damian was so damn excited and cute when I told him I was getting back to fighting. He believes in me, but guilt twisted in my gut like I was lying to him.

Maybe I am. Lying to myself, too. Maybe Buck is going to laugh in my face again, and the roof will devour my savings, and Damian will see the truth about what a failure I am.

But I’ve got to try. When he was playing with the dogs and said he wished he could spend all day doing that, I wanted nothing more than to tell him he could because I’ll take care of him.

Can’t make that promise now. Haven’t earned it.

I finish my milkshake and look up. Finally, Buck sits across from me at the little table without a word.

“A food court?”

“Can’t risk someone seeing me with you.” Buck pulls his stocking cap off, revealing his bald head to the overhead lights. “What the hell are you calling me for, anyway? Can’t imagine you’re finally caving to the fixers.”

I take a deep breath. I’ve got one chance to make my pitch.

“Hell no. But I got to thinking—they don’t own this whole world. Boxing is popular all over the globe, and I know you’ve been in the game long enough to have international connections. I don’t mind traveling to fight.” Holding his eye, I lean forward. “All I need is a phone number. I don’t care where. I’ll fly anywhere for a night or two if there’s a fight for me. Vietnam. Croatia. Brazil. Anywhere the mob can’t get me, I’ll make it work.”

Buck shakes his head. “Why the fuck would I do that for you, Enzo?”

“Fifty percent,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do shit except give me a phone number, and I’ll give you half my earnings. Off the top.”

It’s a shit, shit deal for me. But I have to make it too good to resist. He’d be taking on a major risk working with me.

Buck crosses his arms over his chest and leans back. When he doesn’t say anything, I sigh. “What?”

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