Player - A Deadliest Lies Novel - Michele Mannon Page 0,55
exertion. A handsome, rugged specimen of a man.
Dangerous. I frown, wondering where that random thought came from.
As for clever, “You knew exactly what you were doing,” I murmur, handing him the towel wrapped around ice I talked a bartender into fetching for me.
Finn shrugs and places the ice on his cheek.
“I took pictures.”
He stiffens.
“Only of the last round.”
“Delete them.”
My eyebrows arch high. “What?”
“My boss will kill me if my face gets out there. Delete them.” His tone is flat. Somber. He’s serious. Yet, I can understand his position.
I take out my phone, and as he watches me intently, delete them all. I hold up my phone to show him. “Done.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
I catch his wince and the slight limp as we cross the floor. Subtle things that show he’s in more pain than he lets on. He’s good at hiding his emotions. Excellent at making people believe less of him.
Still, I want to take care of him. Assess his injuries and smother him with affection. Be a proper girlfriend to him.
Right. A proper fake girlfriend, remember?
Finn stops us short halfway to the exit and looks toward the doorway. I follow his gaze.
A small group of men have entered. They stand out like sheep marked pink in a mob of blue. They’re dressed to the nines, wearing collared shirts, thin neckties, finely tailored black slacks, and black leather belts around their waists. All except the enormous, six-foot-seven man with them, wearing a wife-beater, gray sweatpants and black sneakers. His milky white chest is a wall of muscle.
A fighter then?
“The South African showed up,” someone nearby grinds out.
“Just in time for his fight.”
I glance around. No one looks happy, Edward the least of all.
Oh.
“Eddie-boyo is going to be eating Jell-o for supper,” Finn states. He’s quiet for a few seconds then surprises me by adding, “Time to do you that favor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on.”
I follow him toward the wall where Eddie’s group is assembled. Oblivious to their glares, Finn pushes us inside their circle.
No one is happy to see him.
“What the feck do you want?” Eddie snarls.
Finn tosses an arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side. “A job.”
I look at Finn. Now he’s interested in plan B?
“My chailín tells me your brother is hiring. I’d like you to put in a word on my behalf.”
Men snicker, unpleasantly.
“You taking the piss?”
“Dead serious.”
Eddie laughs. “What makes you think I’d put in a word for a wanker like you?”
“I’m about to do you a favor.”
“A favor?” Eddie looks around. “I need favors from the likes of you like I need a hole in me noggin.”
Finn cocks his head. “Very well.” He turns to leave the group with me in tow. Slowly, ever so slowly. Waiting.
“What was the bloody favor, anyway?”
I catch Finn’s quick smirk. “Advice on how to beat the big, ugly beast in the cage.”
Complete silence falls over them.
I grin with certainty. Because, once again, Finn has gotten his way. “Put in a word with yer brother or better yet, his boss, and I’ll help you out. And just think, you take down a man his size and you’ll be the talk of the underground. Fifteen seconds and it’ll be over.”
Eddie bites. “Fifteen?”
“Fine. Maybe twenty.” I pinch Finn’s side, but Eddie ignores the slight barb.
“How?” It’s the question we’re all asking.
“About that job . . .”
“I’ll speak to him on yer behalf if what you’re offering is true.”
“Deal.” Finn leans in toward Eddie like he’s about to share a secret. “Go for the South African’s legs.”
Eddie stands up a bit taller. “His legs.”
“He’s a big fella. Big chest, big arms, big gut. And no doubt, big head. He won’t expect yer attack.”
“No shite.”
“Take a gander at his legs. Scrawny, scarecrow legs. “Steer him toward the back of the mat where there’s spilled beer. Aim for the back of his legs just behind his knees. Kick them out from under him and he’ll go down harder than Goliath.”
“Bloody brilliant, that is.”
“Little, rooster legs,” another man adds. “Eddie will have him cock-a-doodle-dooing within twenty seconds.”
“Johnny will be impressed. So will yer boss. Maybe he’ll get work at the new facility north of town?”
“Shut yer trap, Joe,” Eddie mutters.
“What? It’s no secret.”
Not anymore, I think. O’Brien’s new warehouses. Built to store what? I don’t dare look at Finn, though I’ve no doubt he heard and is drawing the same conclusions.
“Genius, mate.” Another slap on his back. “Pure genius.”
Finn steers us away from the crowd. “I’ll be ready to work,” he