Page 27 of Dare to Dance
An earthy scent reached my nose as I stepped up on the curb. Rain was forecasted for that night—a cold rain that could turn into ice, sleet, or even snow. I shivered at the idea that Ruby would be somewhere on the streets in bad weather. My shoulder brushed someone as I trudged into Firefly.
“Watch out,” the stranger said rather tersely.
I honed in on the man, who was a few inches shorter than me. When our eyes locked, I growled. It was the businessman I remembered from the fight last week, the one with the bulbous nose, talking of pimps. The hair on the back of my neck rose. Kody slid his hand in between the man and me. The man’s phone rang as he gawked at me with disgust and anger in his bloodshot eyes. If the fucker wanted to go a round or two with me, I’d be game. It was too bad Dillon wasn’t there to get in on the fun.
The man’s phone continued to buzz.
“Come on, Kross,” Kody said. “Take it down a notch.”
The phone stopped ringing at the same time the man lost his fucked-up expression. “Kross? Kross Maxwell?” He held out his greasy paw.
“Who’s asking?” My voice was hard.
A couple came out of the club, forcing us to move out of the way.
He withdrew his hand. “I’m Trent Baker, a business partner of Tommy’s. He’s told me a lot about your boxing abilities. I wouldn’t mind discussing an opportunity with you for a potential fight.”
I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why his name sounded familiar. The man was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, complete with a handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket. Rich Businessman Trent Baker and Thug Tommy didn’t match as business partners in my book. Then again, maybe Trent was mafia. The mafia entered into deals and partnerships with all kinds of people.
Dillon had mentioned Tommy was into all kinds of illegal stuff, from the underground fights to theft. Apparently, Tommy stole high-end cars for some dude who sold them on the black market for more than the cars were worth. Maybe Trent was the guy. Regardless of cars, I associated Trent with pimps, and that alone made my blood boil.
“I don’t deal with strangers. If you’re interested in setting up a match, then talk to my coach at Crandall’s Gym.” Jay wouldn’t go for his proposition. Jay was all about legal fights and keeping his business legitimate.
Trent whipped out a business card from his suit pocket. “If you change your mind, then give me a shout.” He handed me his card then strode off.
I briefly glanced at the card that read Trent Baker, Owner of Baker Shipping. Now I knew why his name was familiar. I’d read about Baker Shipping in the Herald when Penelope’s father’s shipping company was up for sale. Apparently, Trent’s company wanted to buy out Penelope’s old man. Not only that, Trent Baker had his hands in other businesses like car dealerships.
Kody snatched the card from my hand and read it before he said, “Scum.”
I agreed, but he was a scum who was richer than Donald Trump. I pocketed the card as we entered Firefly. Maybe I would have my buddy, Detective Rayburn, check out the man. I wasn’t into ratting on people, but Trent must be up to something bad.
People filled every table, chair, barstool, and corner in Firefly. Hard rock music pumped out of poor-quality speakers as the voices tried to talk above it. A round-faced waitress zipped around, plucking empty glasses off tables and serving drinks in the process. I was just about to step up to the bar when Kody tapped me on the arm.
“Hey, man.” He pointed to our right. “Isn’t that Penelope?”
I wasn’t sure I heard him. Penelope Harris came from a prestigious family. She would have never hung out in a dive bar. She was the type of girl who was pampered with spas, cars, a credit card with a thirty-thousand-dollar limit, and her daddy’s company jet at her disposal. She recently tried to get me to join her and her friends on a weekend getaway to Costa Rica. My old man certainly had money, but we didn’t flaunt it like her family did. Then again, Penelope and I had values that didn’t jive. I didn’t care about material things. She did. I was all about family. She was all about herself. The only connection we had was in the bedroom.
When I turned in her direction, her green eyes bugged out. We weren’t committed to each other. We weren’t in love, or at least I wasn’t with her.
She hopped out of her chair, said something to the girls she was with, then bounced over. “Kross? I’m so glad you came.” Her blond hair was piled on top of her head in some type of funky style.
I cocked my head to one side. “Come again?” I searched my brain for something I might’ve missed. I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. I hadn’t even called her, which wasn’t unusual with my boxing schedule.
“I told Kelton where I’d be. He told you. My friends and I are here to see Wyatt play tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t talked to Kelton since yesterday morning. “No, he didn’t. You and your friends shouldn’t be here.” Her scantily dressed rich friends were being ogled by a table of men with beards and leather vests that sported the name of a motorcycle club on the back.
She reared back. “Why? Are you doing something behind my back?”
Fuck. I didn’t have time for her, but I also wasn’t a complete jerk. “What I mean is this place isn’t exactly your style.”
She rubbed her breasts against my arm as she grabbed my hand. “It’s so nice to hear you’re worried about me.”
Kody tapped me on the arm then subtly flicked his head at the bar. “Is that her?”
I glanced in the direction of the bearded bartender. When I did, I about lost my breath. Standing on the other side of the bar was Ruby. A pendant light above her head shone down. Gone were the bruises, the swollen eyes, the ashen skin, and the greasy hair. I was looking at the girl I’d met back in the tenth grade. Her skin glowed. Her auburn hair was pulled into a side ponytail, and I swore she was the angel I remembered. She smiled at the bartender as though she was reacting to a compliment. Hell, she was beautiful.
“Who are you looking at?” Penelope asked.
