his. We were equally damp with sweat, and I hoped it wouldn’t take too long to convince him. The water called to me. “It’s not like it’d be a waste either. We’ll just save the preparations for this event to a later date.”
He huffed and inched away. “Jesus Christ, Reese.”
“Is that a yes?” I grinned and gave his shoulder a nip.
He grunted, cupping my elbow. “Depends on the theme.”
I hummed and eased back enough to lift a brow at him.
Come on. It was a given.
He narrowed his eyes, and I was, as always, struck by how vivid the green in his eyes was, warmed up by flecks of gold and something else reserved for only me.
“Fine,” he sighed. “We don’t have everything we need for the cage fights, though. I know, I know. I’ll call Joyce—but still. We gotta prepare a lot.”
“You can swing it. I know you can.” Happy as a pig in shit, I smacked a kiss to his cheek before backing away and hauling my T-shirt over my head.
“I’m noting that I’m saying we and you’re saying you,” he said.
“This is really your area of expertise, brother.” I removed my belt, then pushed off my jeans and boxer briefs. “Come on, let’s get in the pool and discuss Shay before I sweat my balls off.”
I trailed over to the wide stairs and descended into the water that’d heated up plenty since this morning. All right, I winced and cupped my junk briefly, but that discomfort faded within seconds. Then I sank into the bliss and submerged myself completely.
I’d been waiting all fucking day for this…
When I resurfaced, Riv was on his way in too, though he kept his boxer briefs on.
“I don’t think we can actually trick him,” he said pensively. “He won’t be taken for a ride.”
No, I’d gotten that impression too.
Of course I’d noticed him before all this. Shay was an incredibly sexy young man, and apparently he loved extreme pain. In theory, that made him our favorite drug. But I’d written him off when I’d learned about his behavior toward Sadists. Or rather, why he might want that pain. And if that was true, he wasn’t a masochist. He was just a lost kid looking for punishment.
According to River’s brief surveillance and profiling, Shay was sharp and trusted no one. He was fearless because he’d given up on something, on life—or if he lacked direction or purpose. He was highly skilled and trained in martial arts like kung fu, Krav Maga, combat sambo, judo, and tae kwon do, and my brother didn’t hand out compliments for nothing. If someone impressed him, they’d gone far.
“We could bargain with him,” I said. “He wants something we’re capable of giving.”
Riv nodded with a dip of his chin and joined me by the shallow end.
“You’re not convinced,” I stated.
He squinted and ghosted his palms along the surface of the water. “I don’t think it’ll be enough to bring him out here for several days, no.”
We needed several days.
Shay had lost most of his family in a fire. His mother, his father, and his sister. Shay and two younger brothers had survived. That kind of pain didn’t go away, nor would changing his mind be easy or happen quickly. And if he sought out underground cage fighting instead of seeking actual help, there was no way he’d come willingly—unless we struck the right deal.
“One of us can fight him,” I noted.
River cocked his head at me, listening.
“You said he hasn’t lost a single match,” I went on.
“I said he hasn’t lost a single match fairly. I’ve seen him throw fights—presumably for money.”
“Semantics,” I replied. “He knows he’s not losing because he can’t handle the fight. I imagine he’s pretty cocky by now—or at least, at ease and confident in his skills.”
My brother got my line of thinking now. Because all we had to do was show up at one of those fights, pay the buy-in, and challenge him. One of us against him. If he lost, he had to come out here and spend a week with us. Maybe two. We’d get a better sense of him this weekend, I reckoned.
“It’s up to you to decide which one of us is better suited to take him on,” I finished.
I hadn’t seen Shay fight yet.
River glanced away and sucked his teeth, always reluctant to make quick moves. Even more so in this case when his only source of profiling came from an underground club where it’d be weird as fuck