All of the Lights

by K. Ryan

  "I hope it's okay that I'm calling," Sean continues and I can hear other muffled voices in the background. "Jack gave me your number yesterday. He told me he thought you'd probably like hearing from me, so...like I said, I hope it's okay."

  "Of course it is," I nod into my phone even though he can't see it. "You can call whenever you want."

  "That's good to hear," he chuckles and then his voice turns more serious. "Hey, just so you know, all these calls get recorded so, maybe, don't say anything you wouldn't want someone else to hear, yah know?"

  "Okay. Got it."

  There's some shuffling in the background and I hear Sean telling someone to back off for a second and then his voice comes in a little clearer this time, "So, uh...hi."

  "Hi," I laugh and I catch Bennett smiling at me before he reaches over to squeeze my hand.

  "Sorry, I'm not real good at this. I mean, I'm used to brothers, yah know?"

  "Right. It's okay. You're doing just fine."

  "Am I? Doesn't really feel like it right now," he laughs mirthlessly and I can almost see him shaking his head. "So, uh, anyway. How's your day goin'?"

  My lips pull apart in a wince. "I probably shouldn't tell you that."

  "Okay, fair enough," he laughs. "Any big plans tonight then?"

  "Probably shouldn't tell you that either."

  "Shit, okay. I'm completely striking out here. I just...I don't really have much else. I'm sorry I beat so bad at this kinda thing. I've never been much of a talker."

  "It's okay," I smile. "This was a good start."

  "Yeah, I guess it was, wasn't it? Look Rae, I need to get going soon, but whatever's going on, just...promise me you'll be careful."

  My throat tightens and I have to wipe away another stray tear with my free hand. "Yeah. I promise."

  "Good," he tells me in a firm voice. "Keep that promise, okay?"

  "I will."

  "And you're really sure it's okay if I keep calling? I mean, I don't want to—"

  "It's really okay, Sean," I tell him through fresh tears. "I promise. Please keep calling."

  "Alright," I can hear the smile in his voice even though my brother's so far away. "I will. I promise."

  I'm still smiling when I swipe across my screen to end the call and Bennett squeezes my hand again to get my attention. After swallowing back the massive lump in my throat, I finally let myself look at him.

  He flashes me a soft smile. "Interesting day, huh?"

  "Yeah," I laugh in spite of myself. "Interesting is one way of putting it."

  "That was pretty nice of him," Bennett says nonchalantly as he pulls into my parking lot. "Setting everything up with your brother like that."

  "Right."

  "And jumping out of the car and coming in after you because he knew you were upset," he lifts both eyebrows at me. "That was pretty nice, too."

  My eyes narrow. "Right."

  "Ah," he shrugs. "Just sayin'."

  I don't need him to tell me what I already know, or at least, what he wants me to know. But it isn't until I'm finally in my apartment with Freya rubbing against my legs as I lean back against my front door that I let it all sink in. What a strange, terrifying, and equally wonderful day this was—and I know exactly who was responsible for it. I suck in a deep breath for strength and then dig my phone out of my purse one last time.

  My fingers hover over his number before I finally trump up the courage to do this. So I type out, thank you, and hit send before I can stop myself.

  A few moments later, I get Jack's reply: For what?

  My lips curl into a smile as I send back: Sean.

  His answer doesn't do anything to curb the grin on my face.

  No problem. See you later tonight.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jack

  Bennett sure wasn't kidding about the lights. They zip around from every angle of the club, whipping past me and blinding me. Darkness shoots across my vision and just when my eyes adjust, more flashes light the small, crowded space I've found myself crammed into. Brennan shifts next to me as yet another flash of light blazes through my line of sight and I have to crane my neck to get a glance of another flash.

  Then I see it and I force myself to take another pull from my beer to mask all this anxiety.

  There it is again. Red. Always red.

  It's distracting, sitting here like this, trying to act cool, trying to hide the fact that I'm looking for her every chance I get. My focus needs to be on the two men seated at the table with me. I need to get my head in the game and just trust that Bennett will get her out of here if it comes down to it. Anything more might tip them off and if that happens, it won't matter where Rae is because I won't be able to help her.

  Enzo Gianotti, the eldest of the two brothers, leans forward on the table and slides a piece of paper our way. We've only been at the table inside Club Nova for less than ten minutes and in that time, cocktail waitresses have seen to our needs, we've been welcomed, and now, we've officially been served.

  The other brother, Nero, just grins at us from his seat, perfectly happy to sit back and let Enzo do all the talking.

  Brennan glances down at the paper and whistles lowly before pushing it to me for a better look. It takes a few moments for the words to register and the lights aren't the only ones to blame. The words Santino Center glare up at me and I still don't really know what I'm seeing.

  "Santino was our father," Enzo tells us, nodding to the paper. With his grizzled, scarred face and midnight black eyes, he's by far the more menacing brother. "We wanted it to have his name."

  "What's that?" I frown.

  Enzo just cocks a grin our way. "Our boxing arena."

  Ah. Now that makes sense. And with that little revelation, so does everything else.

  "And when do you plan on opening this arena?" Brennan pushes on.

  "We've got a location pinned down. Our fighter is primed and ready to go. Shouldn't be more than a few weeks," Enzo shrugs.

  Now it's my turn to lean forward. "And you want this first fight to be between me and your new guy, huh?"

  Enzo's lips curl up into a smile that I feel all the way down to the base of my spine. "Yes."

  It's a simple answer, but it speaks volumes.

  "So," Brennan spares me a quick glance when he leans his elbows on the table. "What exactly are we talking about here? Money? Bragging rights?"

  And more importantly, I think to myself, what's the catch?

  "All of the above," Enzo nods and gestures toward the paper again. "We would, of course, choose a night other than a Friday or Saturday so as to not compete with your establishment. We're not looking to steal your business, gentlemen, we're just looking to expand it."

  "Sure," Brennan cocks an eyebrow at him.

  Even now, I can't stop my gaze from roaming. Can't help myself from looking for those bright flashes of red. From where I'm sitting, I can just barely make out her small frame right next to the wall kiddie corner from the bar. Bennett hovers in front of her, carefully shielding her from view but positioned just right so Rae can peer around his shoulder to scan the crowd.

  What she's looking for is sitting right in front of me, but she's never going to get close enough to get a good look at them. At least, not if I can help it.

  Enzo's voice jerks me from those thoughts when I hear him say, "If you're thinking I'm going to tell you have to lose, you're wrong."

  Alright. Fine. But something about this still feels too good to be true.

  "This fight has to be legitimate," Enzo stresses. "If anyone were to think we fixed it so Angelo would win, we'd be sunk before we even really got a chance to start. I want you to fight the way you've always fought—with ferocious gusto and that Irish left hook that will get bodies in the seats and bets coming across our table. It's the only way this new enterprise will ever be successful for us."

  He's right, of course, and I have to admit, I'm a little intrigued. Even if I didn't have ulterior motives for being here tonight, I'
d be intrigued anyway. Brennan has to be feeling the same way because his eyebrows knit together as he considers all these new details, but he's not backing away either. He's not pushing me out of this table and telling me we need to get out of here. He's just as interested as I am.

  "So what about after the fight then?"

  I have to toss it out there. They can't just set up a boxing arena a few miles away from our bar and call it even. Business doesn't work that way and the crowd goes where the fights go.

  "I'm sure we can come to an agreement to keep our business from intersecting," Enzo nods with a knowing grin. I'm sure he's expected this and just as I expected, he's got an answer all ready to go. "Your bar has fights on Fridays and Saturdays. Our arena will naturally be able to accommodate a bigger crowd, but that doesn't mean we can't co-exist in this market together."

  And now, the wheels won't stop turning. I can use this. I can milk it. Play it and string it out for as long as I can. Every meeting with them will be another opportunity to learn something new and I can't see a reason not to move forward on this. Even if nothing comes of it, even if I decide to scrap the fight, this might lead to something we can finally use.

  "I don't know," I lie right through my teeth and I'm surprised how easily it rolls off my tongue. "How do we know this isn't really some set-up?"

  "It's not," Nero finally chimes in. While Enzo is the brains of the operation, Nero is clearly the brawn. All muscle, no backbone, and no decisions. "You have our word."

  Brennan huffs out a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. "Right. Like I'm going to just throw my brother into a ring on your turf in your arena with your guy. I think we're going to need some time to think it over."

  "Of course," Enzo nods, his features drawn tightly across his scarred face. "I wouldn't expect anything less. In fact, I think this is a natural next step. You need some convincing and I understand that. Allow us the opportunity to convince you and I promise you, you won't be sorry."

  "Oh really?" I cock an eyebrow at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Enzo just grins. "Every man has their price, Flynn. I just need some time to figure out yours."

  I lean back against the tall cushions of our private booth, my eyes never leaving his. He meets my stare, measure for measure, beat for beat, and the challenge is clear. He's got his opportunity and now I have mine.

  "I can assume money will be a factor in your decision and I can tell you right now we're prepared to offer you 30 percent of the net sales from tickets regardless if you win or lose."

  Brennan and I glance at each other and I know exactly what he's thinking before he even says it: "How much is a ticket?"

  Enzo grins knowingly. "Starting rates are $100 for our average buyer and then the rates increase depending on how close you are, of course, but we have investors willing to pay upwards from $500 for our special seating area."

  Of course they'd build a viewing room for all their cohorts, allies, and enemies in their fancy new arena. Which, of course, means that the mayor might very well be one of those patrons in their special seating area.

  "And how many seats are gonna be in this arena?"

  Enzo doesn't miss a beat. "Right now we have 2,000 seats installed and we'll have another 1,000 in before the fight."

  Alright. That changes things too.

  "As you can see, my friends," Enzo grins on those last words, but it looks more like he's bared his teeth than actually smiled. "We want this new enterprise to succeed and we're willing to work with you to come to an agreement that benefits all parties involved. Of course, the 30 percent kickback will only be for this first fight because we want to get bodies in the seats, but I'm sure you assumed that already."

  He pauses for Brennan's nod before he continues.

  "This needs to be a good, clean fight and I have no doubt that you," he nods to me, "and Angelo will give our audience a show they won't forget. With your name attached to this first fight, there's no way we won't have a packed house."

  While he may be laying it on more than a little thick right now, I see his point. Why wouldn't they want me—the Irish fighter who never loses—to go up against their new Italian investment on the first night? It would get bodies in the seats, just like Na Soilse is packed wall-to-wall every night I fight. My eyes flick to the other side of the club and I find Rae staring right back at me, observing this exchange from a safe distance, just like she should be. They're saying everything they know we want to hear and I'm ready to hear more.

  "So tell me about this arena," I lean my elbows on the table.

  Enzo's black eyes flash and I'm surprised he doesn't rub his hands together in glee. "Would you like to see it?"

  Yeah, I think to myself with a grin, I think I would.

  WHEN BRENNAN PULLS his truck over to the curb, I can't believe my eyes. I should've known. Should've seen this coming. But still, I'm completely blindsided by the building in front of me. I don't know what this means, but I know it's something.

  Because sitting in front of me is the warehouse Rae and I tailed the mayor to last week.

  The very same building the Gianotti brothers are planning to use as their new boxing arena.

  "What are yah thinkin' about all this?" Brennan's cool voice calls out to me.

  "I'm thinkin' it's a lot of money for one fight and that doesn't even include what we could get when I win."

  Brennan shoots me a sly smile. "Definitely when, not if."

  We share an easy grin, but that doesn't last too long.

  "Kinda feels like we took a meeting with the devil tonight, doesn't it?"

  I blow out a deep breath as we watch the Gianotti brothers slide out of their shared Maserati, which, naturally, isn't all that different than the one the mayor has been tooling around in for years. Adrenaline pricks up the base of my spine until it reaches my neck, where it settles in and seeps down through the rest of my body. We're getting closer. I can just feel it.

  "Or at the very least," I sigh. "Two of his minions."

  "Right," Brennan laughs, but this particular laugh isn't the confident one I'm used to hearing from him. It's a little shaky and unsteady. "Pop's gonna hit the roof when he finds out."

  I just shrug. "Who cares? It isn't his decision."

  I'd be hard-pressed to let him have a say in any decision of mine ever again, but I couldn't exactly tell my brother that.

  "So what do yah wanna do, Jack? You wanna nip this in the bud or see where it goes?"

  My eyes follow the Gianotti brothers as they hover outside the warehouse's entrance, waiting for us. "I say we play their game for a little while. See what they want. See what they might be able to give us."

  "Might be dangerous."

  "So," I just lift a shoulder nonchalantly. "Every time I step into the ring, it's dangerous. They said they wanted a clean and honest fight. As far as I can tell, the only differences between this and fighting at our bar are the location and the pay-out."

  "Alright," Brennan pushes out a rough sigh and reaches for his door handle. "Let's go."

  Before I follow him out, I slip my phone out of my pocket long enough to text Rae. I hadn't gotten much of an opportunity to let her know what was happening until now and sure enough, I've got a flurry of frantic texts waiting for me. Where are you? What's happening? Are you okay?? Jack??

  Her concern would be almost cute if it wasn't so necessary.

  Just as I fly off a text to update her, my phone jostles in my hand when Brennan makes a grab for it.

  "Hey!" I shove my phone back in my pocket and push him in the chest. "What the hell?"

  Brennan blinks at me and then his lips curl up into a knowing grin. He jabs a finger in my chest and says, "You were texting a girl, weren't you?"

  "Shut up."

  "Oh shit, you really were, weren't you? Does Ma know? Oh wait," he stops right in front of me and gives me a playful push when I try to sidestep around him. "This isn't one of those Tinder bangs, is it?"

  "What's a Tind
er bang?"

  He shrugs as we start walking again. "You know, where you meet some broad on Tinder just so you can bang her."

  The way he says it, I almost think that's a real thing.

  "No," I shake my head. "It's not a Tinder thing."

  "Ah," Brennan waggles his eyebrows. "So it is a thing then."

  "Nope."

  "So yah say," he eyes me warily. "I'll get the truth out of you yet."

  "Sure."

  "I don't like all these one-word answers from you, bro."

  "Okay."

  Luckily for me, we're already at the entrance and Enzo is holding the door open for us with that ever-present slimy grin on his face.

  "Now," he tells us as he ushers us inside. A dim light turns on above us and I have to squint just to get a better look at everything. "It's still under construction, but I think it'll be a real thing of beauty once it's done."

  From the looks of it, he might actually be right. There's already a makeshift boxing ring in the center of the expansive, albeit dim room. Stadium seating fills the rest of the room and right above the highest seat is yet another level overlooking the ring. The potential is here and I can already see what this place would look like when it's packed full. I can hear the roars, hear them all screaming my name as I raise my hands up in victory...

  "Up there," Enzo points to a darkened window in the center of the wall. "That's where our special seating area will be. It's still needs some work—it is, after all, where our most important patrons will view the fights."

  "Of course," Brennan nods. There's just a hint of mockery in his tone and he lifts an eyebrow at me to confirm as much.

  There isn't really much else to see here, but when Nero gestures toward a corridor right behind us, my eyebrows shoot up into my forehead.

  "Training area's down there," he tells us, his eyes gleaming with something I don't like. "We might even put a press room in too if things go well, which they will. Basement's down there too. You wanna go take a look at the rest of it?"