"I'm sorry," I said to the brown-eyed man. "I have no idea what his problem is."
He looked down at me and I saw the flash of sadness there again. "I do and it’s only going to get worse."
"Not before I do some serious damage to you and your friend over there. Now, turn around and leave," Fenton said.
He stood with his shoulders thrown back, his arms raised away from his body, fists coiled, but not yet clenched. Fenton was a step away from fighting the other man and I had to stop it.
"Excuse us, please," I said. I grabbed Fenton's arm, but he did not budge.
"You're leaving. Both of you. Now," he said.
The tall man shrugged his shoulders and looked over at the man in the suit. The narrow-eyed man finished his drink and nodded. They both headed toward the exit.
As soon as they were gone, Fenton dragged me into the back hallway of the bar. He was breathing heavily, muscles still coiled.
"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to see you get taken in by those other agents. I had to do something," I said.
"This was about work?" he asked. His voice exploded in the small hallway. "You were trying to get my
attention to pitch your contract? With that man?"
"What was so wrong with that man?" I asked. "He was a perfect gentleman. I didn't see him running around signing women's breasts and trash talking every male in his vicinity."
"Get it through your head, Ms. Allen," he said. "I'm never going to be the buttoned-up client you are hoping for. You're not really interested in me, and I'm done with you."
Chapter Sixteen
Kya
I wanted to follow him, but his shout still echoed in my ears and kept me frozen. Fenton was angry and he had every right to be. Not only had I manipulated him by flirting with another man, but I had done so only to further my business aspirations. He thought I was interested in nothing else but the dotted line of the endorsement contract.
There was no way I could explain that beyond the thin connection my work had offered us, I felt tied to him in a way I had never felt with anyone. I was all tangled up in Fenton Morris and had been since the moment we met.
I could not tell him any of that. What if he felt the same? He needed to keep his mind clear, focused on his next fight. What if I distracted him and he lost again? The image of his laser blue eyes dimming as he toppled to the mat still made me feel sick. So, the only excuse I had to be near him was the endorsement deal.
Except now. Fenton was upset and it was obvious it was more than just my tacky business tactics. Why had he been so upset about that tall man in particular?
I came out of the back hallway in time to see Fenton disappear out the exit the two men had used. He was going after them. By the time I reached the same exit, I saw him catch up to the men in the middle of the roulette tables. James Cort's gambling advice to always bet on black rang hollowly in my head. There was something menacing about the man in the black pants and tight black t-shirt. His brown eyes might have had a hint of something else, but he was clearly built to enforce whatever business he was in.
He loomed over Fenton. The muscles across Fenton's shoulders rippled as he flexed and faced off with the taller man. The man in the suit stood back, a sharp smile on his face. He was the only one talking, but I could not hear what he was saying.
I sidled along a row of video poker machines and hoped I could get closer before a fight broke out.
"The deal is simple, Mr. Morris. Just do as we say and your luck will stay intact," the man in the suit said.
I did not understand the threat, but nothing more was said. With one last sharp smile, the man called off his hard-muscled companion. He gave Fenton one last tense-jawed look, then turned and left. I ducked as Fenton turned back toward the party and was glad he did not see me interfering again.
I followed Fenton back toward the bar, but stopped when I saw him rejoin Bethany and Alice. It was useless for me to reappear. Anything I did now would only drive him further away.
Unless… I thought and spun around. Unless I figured out why the men were threatening him and then got him out of a bind. It was one way I could prove I had his best interests in mind.
I rushed out of the casino and caught sight of the two men on the Strip. They were heading across the street to the MGM Grand, and I dodged through traffic to follow. Two horns honked and the tall man glanced around. I dove into a gaggle of young men and could not extract myself until we reached the arena doors. They begged me to join them for Blackjack, but I pretended I had prepaid tickets for whatever was happening inside.
It turned out the event was free, a featherweight preview boxing match. I went into the nearly empty arena and stuck to the back rows, hoping the two men would not see I followed them. It was strange to be in the cavernous space where only days ago cheering crowds had watched Fenton step into the ring.
The two boxers dodged around each other, on their toes, with heavy punches coming in sporadic bursts. I was transfixed for a moment by the differences between classic boxing and the exciting flurry of mixed martial arts. There was an art to both, but what Fenton did with his whole body was truly amazing. I could appreciate the skill and power as the boxers clashed, but without the kicks, spins, and lethal combinations, it just did not get my heart pounding. Not like Fenton did.
I slumped down in the nearest seat when I spotted the men I was following. They marched right up close and did not bother to sit down. The boxer in the red shorts noticed them and took a kidney punch. Within a minute, he lost his focus completely and was taken out by a whirlwind of jabs straight to his chest and chin. The fight was over and though it was discreet, I saw lots of money change hands.