Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I blow out a breath, frustrated. “I did it for her own good.”
“Who are you to tell her what is and isn’t for her own good?”
“Mackenzie, she’s gonna get hurt if she keeps fighting.”
“Every fighter gets hurt, Maart. It’s part of the job.”
“I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Most people don’t want anyone to get hurt. But this is the only skill the girl has. And you tried to take it away. I would’ve run from you too.”
“I tried to find her a husband. I didn’t just kick her out.”
Beth stares at me. Blinks. Blinks again. Then regains her composure. “You tried to find her a husband?”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Why do… Maart. Is this what pissed her off? You set her up with someone?”
I let out a long sigh. “He was a good man. With a lot of potential and money. I figured…” I throw up my hands. “Hell, I don’t know what I figured. She was so persistent. And I already knew she was in love with me. So on her sixteenth birthday I bought her a dress and took her out to have dinner with the man and his father.”
“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
“What?”
“That’s… cruel, Maart.”
“It’s not cruel!” At least I didn’t think it was. At least when I planned it. I sit back in my chair, angry, and defeated, and sad. “I can’t watch it, Beth. I can’t watch her fight. I can’t do it.”
“Then don’t watch it, Lance. You’re not the babysitter. And even if you do have nanny tendencies, she doesn’t need you anymore. She’s a grown-up and, from what I can tell, she’s doing just fine.”
“So you’re, what, telling me to drop it?”
“Not at all. I’m telling you to let her go. I don’t know what your plans are, but if they include any thoughts of dragging her back here to Brazil, you’d better have a backup. Because that won’t fly.”
Then she picks up her fork and starts eating again. Leaving me to stew and think about her words.
After a minute of this she leans back in her chair, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin. “So. Do you want to know my story? Or are you ready to go now that you got the information you came for?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just got here.”
She smiles, which kinda forces me to offer one back. “I’m not done with Irina. I have a call in and I’m sure it’s gonna pan out. So I’m going to find out more. She’s with another fighter.”
“Who?” I snap this word out and it hangs in the air like something sharp.
“A guy called Dead Eyes. You ever heard of him?”
I squint, thinking back. “Maybe. Wasn’t he called X-Eyes, though?”
“No. Different fighter. That was his first mentor.”
“Oh. Then maybe I don’t know him.”
“You probably don’t. He was only”—she hazards a guess—“sixteen or seventeen, maybe, when Benny was killed.”
“Who the hell is Benny?”
“His owner.” Beth takes a deep breath and holds it.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“He was there. In Cort’s camp. That day you guys killed all those people.”
“What?” I make a face.
“That’s right. You killed his owner. It’s kind of a weird situation because Benny was up-and-coming. A Saudi prince. Dead Eyes—his name is Eason, by the way—Eason was his only fighter. And Eason was vacationing on a beach in France when the word came in that Benny had been killed. There’s a little more to it than that, but the outcome was… he was let go.”
“Let go, how?”
“Just… let go. His trainer, along with Benny’s accountant, kinda… took him.”
“Took him where?”
“I think they went to Dublin first. But they’re in Miami now.”
“She’s dating him?”
“Are you jealous?”
I want to automatically say no, but Beth is perceptive. And there’s no point in lying to her, so I take a moment to consider the question. “A little bit. Maybe. But not the way you think. I just… she’s just…”
“Yours?”
“Mine.”
Beth smiles. “Not any more, Lance. You need to, at the very least, accept that Irina is a grown woman who can make her own decisions. But, from what I can tell, she just met him. Maybe she’s dating him? Maybe she’s not? But if you’re going to make contact with her then you need to keep calm about her choices in men.”
“Is he an asshole?”
“I haven’t a clue. I did interview him. Three times, actually.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You did?”
“Yeah. Three fights in the Ring, three interviews. He was the last interview I ever did for Ring of Fire.”
“Do you have the issue?”
“Not with me. But I can get it. Do you want it?”
I nod. “Yes. I do.”
“OK. What do you want me to do next? Call up the trainer again? Try to get Dead Eyes on the phone?”
“No. I don’t want to talk to him. Try to get Irina on the phone.”