“Dominguez.”
It wasn’t the guy I was fighting next week. He was clean. Or at least he’d be clean in the ring. It was his backers, one of them specifically. Instead of having sponsors who touted the latest protein powder or sneaker, Sammy the Sandbag Briggs had Dominguez who was infamous for leading one of the nastier gangs in the area, including as far away as Denver. With Brant Valley’s crime rate only getting worse, it only proved he was one mean fucker.
“How the hell did Sammy get mixed up with him?” I asked, shaking my head. I knew the rough life of the streets, the way things worked, but the shit I’d done didn’t even approach what Dominguez did.
“I’ve heard Sammy’s sister is baby mama for one of Dominguez’s men.”
“Baby mama?” I asked, stunned he’d use that term.
“What? I know my street language.” Gray offered a quick smile then let it fall away. “I don’t think Sammy’s got much choice in who’s backing him.”
“I thought he had that energy bar company taking him out for dinner.”
“That was before Dominguez got his hands on him. Everything’s changed now.”
I could only imagine. Sammy must be shitting himself over this whole thing. Would they kill him if he lost the fight next month?
“So Dominguez will bet on the fight, make some cash,” I said, dummying it down.
“If you lose,” he added, leaning forward, putting his forearms on his desk.
I looked at Gray. We didn’t have to say anything because I wasn’t throwing the fight, and I wasn’t losing. Fuck no. I couldn’t worry about Sammy’s neck with only a few weeks to go.
A tap on the office window had me turning around. When Jack caught my eye, he tilted his head past the front counter. I looked in that direction and saw Harper walking out of the gym with Larry the Loser.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
Harper was in her work clothes. I wouldn’t forget those hot heels. She wasn’t in the gym for exercise. No. Based on the look on Larry’s face, she’d taken him up on his offer for a quick fuck. I’d heard his lines, and no woman I’d ever met went for it. He was probably zero for fifty. I’d seen for myself the way she’d turned him down the day before. Obviously not. I didn’t give a shit who Larry fucked except Harper.
I stood and walked out of Gray’s office without looking back. “Later.”
If Gray wanted to talk more, he’d have to wait. There was no way in hell I was letting Larry get his hands on her.
I walked past Jack, who had a pile of clean towels in front of him to fold, and out into the lobby. No Harper. No Larry. I glanced out into the parking lot. Empty. She wouldn’t take the elevator to her apartment, which meant—
Pulling out my key pass from my pocket, I slapped it against the wall sensor, then opened the heavy door to the emergency stairs. There, against the concrete wall, was Harper. Larry was looking down at her and stroking his knuckles along her upper arm. The scene was fucking odd. Larry in his workout clothes, a white muscle shirt and black shorts. He was gangly and had curly hair that was like a dark mop on top of his head—and on his chest. He had the physique of a runner; no amount of weight lifting would get him to bulk up.
For a guy, he wasn’t hideous, but his personality was of a dead fish. A dead fish who wanted to get in the pants of any woman who was conscious. He might even try for ones who weren’t.
They whipped their heads in my direction when I interrupted them. Harper didn’t have the look of a woman who wanted to fuck. No heated gaze, no lip biting or flushed cheeks, no aggressive hands. She just looked stunned to see me.
Larry straightened, turned to face me. “Reed, I was just—”
“Leaving,” I said, finishing for him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared him down. I didn’t want to lay him out, but I would if he didn’t step the fuck away from Harper.
He lifted his hands as if he were being robbed. “Hey, she propositioned me.”
I clenched my fists. Wrong answer. He was putting this whole thing on Harper. Yeah, he was a sucker for a beautiful woman, but she hadn’t been leading him out of the gym by his dick. I didn’t give a shit if a woman wanted to fuck. It was her prerogative as much as any guy, but Larry didn’t have to be a douchebag about it. Shaming Harper wasn’t the way to get beneath that pencil skirt.
Larry narrowed his eyes and studied me then looked to Harper then back. “Are you—”
“Going to kill you?” I asked, my voice taking on an edge it didn’t have before. “That’s up to you.”
His eyebrows rose to disappear beneath his hair. He sighed, dropped his hands to his sides and moved past me to open the door. “Sorry, my bad.”
I didn’t watch him leave, only waited for the heavy slam to know we were alone.
Harper wouldn’t look at me. Her hands were flat against the concrete wall at her sides, as if it was holding her up.