unstoppable. But VanZant wants a shot at him and has dropped almost twenty pounds to move down from light heavyweight to Mariota’s weight class. VanZant is a serious underdog, but there are plenty who think he’s the one. He’s relatively new to the circuit, but the fact he made such a huge weight class move has Vegas all abuzz. Odds are still in favor of Mariota though.
“Apparently, JT is making a last-ditch effort to save his own ass,” Dennis explains. “He’s gone in double or nothing on his debt to his bookie and laid it all on VanZant to win. If he does, his two million gets paid and he walks away with an equal amount.”
“And if he loses?” I ask, but I already sort of know the answer.
“He’s probably going to get the shit beat of out him. I’m thinking busted kneecaps at the least, but they might carve out a spleen or something.”
Nice. I could totally be down with that.
“But, more than anything, if he loses, he’s going to be scrambling for the money. And who do you think he’s going to go to to avoid ending up in the hospital?”
“Me,” I say firmly. He’ll absolutely come to me, and I now see where Dennis is going with this. “I give him the money in exchange for ownership of The Sugar Bowl.”
“Exactly,” Dennis says with satisfaction.
“How do we ensure JT loses?” I ask, because that’s the part that’s risky.
“Well,” Dennis says hesitantly. “That’s going to cost you some money too, but I’ve got an idea. When are you due back?”
Chapter 13
Sela
Dennis Flaherty is an interesting character. He’s imposingly big, yet looks elegant in a light gray tailored suit with a pale blue hankie in the pocket. His face is boyish with Irish freckled skin, bright red hair, and crystal blue eyes, yet there’s a wisdom there that tells me he’s seen stuff in his life. Although Beck said he came highly recommended by a friend of his, I can also tell by just looking at him that he’s trustworthy. It’s a gut instinct, and I’m anxious to hear more of what he has to say about JT.
We flew into San Francisco last night via another layover in Zurich—this time easily making our connecting flight—but Beck and I are feeling the keen effects of jet lag as we all take seats in our living room. With his hand holding mine on the couch, we both watch as Dennis sits in one of the matching white suede armchairs and crosses one leg over the other in sophisticated fashion.
“Where do you want me to start?” Dennis asks as he reaches down beside the chair to a briefcase he deposited there a moment ago, pulling a manila folder from a side pocket. “The info I have on JT or the photos?”
Beck turns to look at me, his eyebrows raised in question for me to make the call.
“The photos,” I say with a hard swallow. That will be the hardest part, as evidenced by the thumping of my pulse.
Dennis stands from his chair and walks over to the coffee table. He opens the folder and pulls out a thick stack of photos and lays them out on the coffee table before me. “There are a lot to go through. I narrowed them down as best I could by the descriptions you gave me, the time period, and what Beck could recall of those fraternity brothers who were close friends with JT.”
I nod as my eyes start scanning the photos before me. They’re all in black and white on glossy paper, with four pictures per page. Leaning forward on the couch, I hover over them while Beck’s hand goes to my lower back, where it presses in softly for support.
My eyes scan left to right, first the top row, then the bottom. I flip through page after page of photos, noting dark hair, pale hair, light eyes, dark eyes. They all look nondescript to me and not one of the photos causes an internal reaction.
Shaking my head, I mutter, “I don’t know . . . no one looks familiar.”
“It’s okay,” Beck says softly, his hand rubbing in circles against my back. “Take another look.”
I do as he asks, flipping back through, a bit slower this time. All the men look back at me with innocent eyes.
“Nothing,” I say in frustration, pushing them across the table back at Dennis.
“Doesn’t mean he’s not in there,” Dennis says as he picks up the stack and straightens it