Page 18 of Sugar Rush (Sugar Bowl 2)

"That makes it a popular sport to bet on," Beck surmises.

"Exactly," Dennis says with a nod. "But here's why this is an opportunity for you. Most UFC fighters don't make a lot of money. The median pay for a fighter hovers around the twenty-thousand-dollar mark with some bonuses thrown on top for a win."

"Not a lot of money to get your ass kicked," I mutter.

"It's not," Dennis agrees. "Sure, some of the top-billed fighters can earn hundreds of thousands for a match, but those are probably only the top one percent."

"Where does VanZant fall?" Beck asks.

Dennis smiles, because Beck has caught on. "He's undefeated, so he commands a bit more, but he's only getting a hundred thousand for the fight, with a fifty-thousand bonus for the win."

"So he can be bought?" I ask with skepticism.

"Maybe," Dennis says as he pins me with a direct stare. "He'd have to weigh the risk. He could lose to Mariota, who is also undefeated and the reigning champion of his weight class. That would probably cause his earning potential to be crippled. The other risk is of serious injury. Fighters don't last long in this sport, as the risk of debilitating injury is high."

"What are the pros?"

"If he wins, he's looking at potential lucrative endorsements. A higher salary for his next fights, probably with a cut of pay-per-view earnings. A win against Mariota could potentially send him up the ladder with the big boys who can earn half a million to a million on a fight."

"So we have to make an offer to him that can't be refused," Beck says thoughtfully.

"Five hundred thousand," Dennis says matter-of-factly. "Maybe less, but if you want a done deal and you want him to fall believably, I think that's the amount that would do the trick."

"And what?" I say, still unsure about how Dennis could even accomplish something like this. "You're just going to approach him with an offer?"

"Not me," Dennis says vaguely. "But I have a contact who will for a small middleman fee."

"And just how much then would you be filling in that blank check Beck gave you?" I ask.

"For my investigation into JT and his accomplices, the middleman fee to float the offer to VanZant, and VanZant's bribe...with Beck's permission I'll fill it in for $675,000. I dispense all the money so the only paper trail is of you paying an investigative service. We can say it's a multiyear retainer for me to contract privately for The Sugar Bowl to vet the Sugar Daddies and Babies."

"No," I say, turning to face Beck on the couch. His head swivels to look at me with raised eyebrows. "It's just too much money. Too much risk."

"Sela," Beck says soothingly as he turns all the way to me and puts one hand on my knee. "Unlike JT, I have not squandered my money and I have plenty of it. That's nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"It's too risky," I maintain, suddenly not feeling good about this. "I mean, even if VanZant loses, you're still banking on JT coming to you for the money. And if you're lucky enough to have him do that, I'm not about to have you hand over four million to satisfy his debt. I can't stomach the thought of you giving JT that type of money."

"It's the only way to get him out of The Sugar Bowl," Beck says softly. "It would be a nominal amount to get sole ownership of The Sugar Bowl, which will earn millions and millions over my lifetime. It's nothing more than a buyout, which is what I'd have to do if he willingly sold to me, and if he willingly sold to me, he'd demand much more than four million dollars. Trust me on that."

I open my mouth to argue, but Dennis cuts me off. "You could come out cheaper."

Both our heads turn his way.

"How's that?" Beck asks.

"Buy his current debt from the bookie," Dennis says simply.

"That wouldn't work," Beck says adamantly. "I'd have no leverage to make him pay. I'm assuming, at the least, his bookie has an enforcer that would impress upon JT the importance of satisfying the debt."

"I'm not finished," Dennis says with a calculated smirk. "Normally you'd buy the debt at a reduced price, which is attractive to the lender because it's guaranteed. But instead, offer to buy it at full price and have the bookie still run a sham double-or-nothing bet. VanZant takes the fall, and the bookie is owed a sham four million. You wouldn't have to pay a damn penny more to him on JT's behalf when he comes asking for the money, but JT doesn't need to know that. You'd essentially be buying the enforcement."

"That's too complicated," I say, nibbling on a fingernail in worry. Everything we're talking about is illegal as hell, and I have to wonder why I'm suddenly growing a conscience when murder had been my primary agenda in the not-so-distant past.

"Or," Dennis says with an evil glint in his eye. "Let JT make the bet, let him lose, and you promise to pay the bookie. Get it in writing he transfers Sugar Bowl ownership to you, then fuck him over and don't pay a damn dime. Let him take the beating he deserves, then go to the police."

"Fuck JT over?" Beck asks in amazement, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that this appeals greatly to Beck's sense of justice.

"It's still too risky," I say, again trying to be the voice of reason between these two men who are now scenting blood in the water. "We don't even know VanZant will take the fall. Or that JT will come to you for the money. It's a whole bunch of luck you're relying on."

Beck turns my way once again and smirks. "Seems to me I remember a woman who was banking on a whole lot of luck that first night when you planned to confront JT at that mixer."

"Well, I hadn't thought things through--"

"Sela," Beck cuts me off. "These are all good options, and yes...luck will be involved. What's the worst that will happen? I won't get JT out of the business cleanly, but we'll still have the option of going to the police."

I stare at Beck, searching deeply into his eyes, hoping to find some measure of comfort over what we're attempting to do. I'm terrified Beck will get so caught up in this he'll fail to look out for his own safety and well-being, but he looks back at me with confidence and surety.

He's asking me to trust him on this and let him help me.

While so much of this still feels wrong, it's the way Beck is looking at me right now that causes me to nod my head in acquiescence.

Beck turns to Dennis. "Make the offer to VanZant. If he bites, we roll forward as planned. Operation Fuck Over JT is now in progress."

"Do you want me to float an offer to buy the debt from his bookie?" Dennis asks.

Beck immediately shakes his head. "No. Like Sela said, that's just too complicated, so let's keep this very simple. Make the offer to VanZant to take the fall. If he does, JT loses the bet and the bookie comes to collect. I'm prepared to pay four million to JT to get him out of The Sugar Bowl. It's a cheap price for the buyout of a business that will generate more than a hundred times that amount over my life."

He then turns his gaze to me and gives me a reassuring smile. I try to levy one back at him, but it's a pale attempt.

Reaching his hand out, he places his palm to my cheek. "Trust me...this will work."

"I trust you," I tell him, my smile getting a bit stronger.

Because I do.

Trust this man.

More than anyone else in my life, and I have to believe that we'll both come out of this on top and I'll be vindicated.

Sela was a nervous wreck this morning as she kissed me before I left to come into work today. After Dennis left us Friday afternoon, we had a low-key weekend, preferring to hang at the condo and decorate for Christmas. We were both somehow able to put all the craziness of our plot against JT aside, and instead concentrate on invoking some holiday spirit.

This will be my first Christmas with a girlfriend.

It's Sela's first with a boyfriend.

Two souls who have preferred to be alone for holidays past, now bonded through circumstance, passion, and a focused need for revenge. I'm not sure if that's the stuff that love is built upon, but I know that watching Sela set out her mom's nutcrackers with a fond smile on her face, or helping her

cut out sugar cookies that we later burned and still ate anyway, filled me with a satisfaction and warm happiness I've never felt before.

For the entire weekend we transformed the condo into a Christmas wonderland, ate takeout and burned cookies, and fucked--or maybe we made love, I'm not sure--like two people starving for a connection.

We didn't discuss JT or our plan to bring him down once.

Until this Monday morning after I showered and dressed, drank my cup of coffee, and Sela walked with me to the condo door to kiss me goodbye.

"Why the worried look?" I asked her after our lips parted.

"You're going to be seeing JT for the first time since you found out what happened to me," she said with a furrowed brow. "I'm nervous."

"Don't worry," I told her with a confident smile. "I can keep it together."

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