And I’m not. He takes me down to the mat, into an immediate lock on my legs, then batters my nose, my cheeks. Anywhere he can reach. The pain starts to feelgoodafter a minute. In fact, I hardly notice it. I smile as he continues his rampage against me until the bell rings.
Tade shakes his head at my acting skills as I stumble back to the stool as if I can barely hold it together.
Eyes already swelling shut. Cut that needs taping. Bruised ribs. Broken finger. I’ll pop that back in later.
Final round. Time to make my move.
“I’ll enjoy my new car tonight,” Lou yells at me, dancing back and forth.
“What if we increased that bet?”
He almost laughs with glee. “What do I win now? A house? A yacht?”
“Your mom’s freedom.”
Lou freezes to ice in front of me. “What thefuckdid you say?”
“She’s spending twenty in the State Pen, right? Still has ten to go, no chance of parole?” The woman did get a bad rap. Shouldn’t be in there. But still…I need something only Lou is dumb enough to provide me.
“Yeah…”
“I can make all that go away.”
He seems to consider me for a long moment, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’d do that.”
“I’m a Cardell. Of course I can. We own the?—”
“Law,” he finishes, as if he’s suddenly realizing the power that I hold.
“You understand me,” I repeat.
He’s already practically nodding before I even ask for my winnings. Glancing over his shoulder, he seems to study his girlfriend for a long moment. “For her?”
“No, I’m over my crush already. But there is something you can give me.”
“I’m sure. What is it?”
“Your family’s shares in the White Wolf Lodge and Casino are about…twenty-three percent in total now?”
As if confused, he rubs a hand through his hair. “You wantsharesof this dump?”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
“For Mom to get out of that hellhole. Okay, bitch. Game on.”
His taped knuckles smack mine in a grimy pact. Lou thinks it’s another bet. Those pieces of the company are worthless to a guy like him. Probably not to his family, but he won’t realize that until it’s too late. They certainly aren’t nothing to me.
The ref waves us in.
I don’t circle. I don’t dance. One spin, one perfect roundhouse, heel to temple—and he drops like a marionette with its strings cut. Out cold.
The crowd explodes, the cage rattling under their fists. The ref captures my wrist, shoves it skyward.Winner.
And just like that, the Asshole-In-Charge owns nearly a quarter of Ashlyn Donovan’s father’s empire.
twenty-seven
“It’s December thirteenth,”I say on Saturday morning, waking up in Aiden’s bed with a snap of my eyes.