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Hard Bastard(203)

By:B. B. Hamel

“Fight’s on short notice, but I’ll be ready.”

“How long do you usually get?”

“Months, at least.”

“Wow.” She paused and sat forward, looking away. “Maybe this isn’t a good time.”

I could tell she had something she wanted to say, but clearly it was a little uncomfortable for her. I realized I’d probably been neglecting her and our little blackmail issue.

“Now is a good time.” I wiped the towel across my brow and leaned up against the wall across from her.

“It’s about Madison.”

“The assistant.”

She nodded. “I went and saw her.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. I had planned on dealing with that, but my workouts and preparation had gotten intense, and it had slipped my mind.

Still, I hadn’t expected her to go and talk to the girl herself. “What happened?”

“Well, your mom wanted to have lunch with me, so I used that as an excuse.”

“Cindy did?”

“Yeah. Something about wanting to be a family?”

I laughed, grinning at her. “We’re a pretty close family already.”

She blushed. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t need to know that.”

“So how did it go?”

“Lunch was fine, I guess.”

I smirked at her. “I mean with the assistant.”

“Oh.” She paused, her discomfort growing. I wanted her to spit it out, but I decided to let her take her time. I didn’t want to spook her or something.

“Well,” she said, speaking slowly, “I found out some pretty interesting stuff.”

“Do tell.”

“First of all, she’s not really our problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she paid for the pictures and everything, but she’s not really the one blackmailing us.”

I let out an annoyed breath. This whole thing had been a long lesson in failure. We’d been so sure at least two other times that we’d had the culprit, and now I was finding out that we had hit another dead end?

“But I know who it is,” she said quickly, probably sensing my anger.

“You sure? Or is this just going to lead to ten more people?”

“No, really. It’s her boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now, I guess.”

“Who is he, some dickhead that hates the tech industry or something?”

“I think you should sit down,” she said softly.

“Why? I don’t care about some liberal arts pussy. Just tell me his name and I’ll take care of him.”

“His name,” she said slowly, “is Trent.”

I blinked at her. “Okay. That’s a weird coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence, Cole. Well, it is, but not how you’re thinking.”

I stared at her for a second, a strange feeling wheeling around in my gut. “Spit it out, Alex.”

“Madison used to work PR for UFC, which I guess is the company that runs MMA fights.”

I nodded, confirming what she said. I thought the room might begin spinning.

“Well,” she said, “Madison met Trent while she was doing that job. Your Trent. Then she got the job as Cindy’s assistant, basically by accident, and lucked into those pictures.”

“You mean she didn’t pay for them?”

“No, she did, but she wasn’t coming after us. She was just looking for some pictures to sell to some tech blogs in the area.”

“Trent . . .” I said, trailing off.

“Trent was her boyfriend. He saw the pictures and knew what he had. Trent is the one blackmailing us, Cole.”

I stared at her for a second and then shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry, Cole, but it’s really him.”

I felt rage rush through me then, a rage I’d never experienced before. “That motherfucker,” I said. “He’s doing this just to distract me, to make this fight easier. That fucking piece of shit. That’s why he wants to rush in to it.”

“Cole, calm down,” Alexa said, standing up.

“That snake cunt,” I said, grabbing the end of the weight rack and tearing it to the ground. Weights smashed to the floor and went toppling.

Alexa backed up, her eyes wide. “Cole,” she said.

I couldn’t control myself. Every bit of my carefully built self-restraint was suddenly gone as I ripped off another rack of weights and pushed over a machine, my muscles flexing. Rage flowed through me freely, and I wanted to kill Trent, kill him with my bare hands. I wanted to tear his skull to bits and drink his blood.

It wasn’t that he had hurt me. I didn’t fucking care about that. Fighters did dirty shit all the time to try to get in their opponent’s head. I didn’t fucking care about that shit. Trent was a snake fuck, and he’d do whatever he had to do to win, including some dirty as fuck tricks.