Page 183 of Wicked Minds
“You’re sure this profile will be enough to fool her?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me.” The voice sounds gravelly, as though it’s coming through speakers. Perhaps from a phone? I try to peer through the crack in the door, but it’s too narrow to make anything out.
“Blue is the best,” another voice states, this one coming from a person standing inside the room.
“Alright,” Royce reluctantly relents. “Did you find anything else on her? Has she been in touch with anyone else?”
“Nope. She’s clean as a whistle otherwise, and she seems to believe you are who you’re claiming to be.”
What the hell? Who is thisshe,and who the hell is Royce claiming to be? A sick sense of unease settles in my stomach and I slowly back away from the door, convinced I don’t want to hear anything else.
Before I can turn and flee, the voice I faintly recognize from within the room says, “Let’s see if I can still beat you in the ring.”
My mind spins with possibilities as I numbly make my way out to the main bar.
What the hell could Royce be caught up in? A profile for who and who isher?
My stomach twists as I push through the crowd. I spot Tara chatting away to Logan at the bar and make a beeline for them when hands clamp down on my shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” Grayson barks.
“N-nothing.”
“You’re pale.”
“I’m sweaty. It’s warm in here,” I snap back, deflecting as I try to sum up a smile that will hopefully placate him. Instead, it only seems to make his frown deepen.Note to self: start practicing my resting Royce face in front of the mirror.
“You’re lying.”
I sigh, pulling myself from Grayson’s grip. “Prove it.”
His lips flatten in disapproval, but whatever. If Royce is involved in something, he likely knows what it is. He might even be a part of it.
Turning my back on him, I stride over to Tara and Logan, accepting a fresh beer and sipping on it while Tara fills the silence and Grayson looms beside me like a pesky, unwanted pet who can’t take a hint.
I absently nod and hum along to whatever Tara is saying, like the shitty friend I am, as my mind spins.
That is until she starts freaking out beside me. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shitty fuck fuck.”
“Huh? What’s wrong?” My head snaps up, and I follow her shocked stare across the room to where Royce and… “Is thatDax?” It was dark in the club that night and he was dressedverydifferently, but there’s no mistaking the tall, broad man adorned head to toe in tattoos as he steps into the ring alongside Royce.
They shake hands, grinning maniacally at one another.
When Tara emits a croak that sounds as though she’s dying, I tear my gaze from the ring in front of us to look at her. Her face is pale as she stares back at me with wide eyes.
“I thought you said he never comes here?” I ask.
“He doesn’t. I mean, maybe on the odd occasion, but his fights are usually broadcast. If he does so, I always know not to be here.”
My brows lower. Is it a coincidence that his fight tonight wasn’t made public, and he’s also the voice I vaguely recognized from the room alongside Royce’s? What super-secret, hushed-whispers-behind-closed-doors business do he and Royce have together?
Tara’s head swivels back to the ring and I follow. The bell goes, and the two men launch themselves at one another.
I watch with sick fascination as they attack each other like wild beasts. They hold nothing back. Dax is the picture of raw power, his imposing stature speaking of years of intense training. From what Tara has told me, he is in the professional circuit. He literally makes a living beating the crap out of other people. As he drives his fist into Royce’s side, a tinge of worry for him enters my bloodstream.
Royce’s moves are fluid, his intense, focused gaze never wavering from Dax despite the bloodthirsty screams from the crowd, baying for blood—but whose, I’m not sure.
The tension in the room is palpable as they engage in a fierce, almost choreographed dance of combat. Every move is met with a calculated response, and neither man gives an inch. My eyes dart back and forth, following every move with bated breath.There is no clear winner. Both men are evenly matched, and I know the outcome will be impossible to predict.
