Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(118)

My first thought is that I wish I could see Jess one last time.

“Hard to believe you decided to show your fucking face around here again,” Spada says when Romano shoves me toward the car. This time I’m a bit more prepared and manage to keep my balance.

“Why not? I live here.” I drag my composure back around me along with a healthy dose of smartassery. “Nothing illegal about going home and going to the grocery store.”

Spada gives Romano the barest of nods, and Romano punches me again. I taste blood, and the pain flares across the side of my head. But I refuse to react to the pain. Instead I let it wash over me then turn slowly back to face Spada. “You gonna let him keep me out of that next fight? The one that’s supposed to net you what—a million and a half?”

Spada’s mouth thins. “You’re damn lucky you’ve got that fight, McAllister, or you’d be dead right now.”

“Oh, really?”

For the first time ever, I see Spada lose his composure. He takes a single step forward, fists clenched, and I see his jaw tighten as he bares his teeth. His eyes look like they could shoot lasers at me. I almost flinch, but I hold on to it. If I can stay calm, I’ve got one up on him.

“You…” He starts and then lets the word die while he swallows and visibly forces his hands to relax. “You have the fucking nerve to talk to me like that after what you did.”

“What’d I do?” It’s kind of fun, actually, seeing how far I can push him. Won’t be as fun when he decides to shoot me in the head, but it’ll be over quick.

He backhands me. That I didn’t expect at all. Spada’s threatened, cursed me out, and verbally humiliated me, but he’s never—never—physically attacked me. That’s beneath him. He has people for that.

“You touched my daughter without my permission. You know she’s promised elsewhere.” I notice he’s careful not to look at Romano as he says this. “And what do you do? You betray me. This is worse than the fuck-up at the fight, Cain. Way worse. And the only reason I’m not having Romano beat the ever-loving fucking shit out of you right now is that I need you for that fight.”

Of course. It’s all I’m good for. Just a body to be pummeled for Spada’s profit. I just stand there and take it.

“Now.” He’s regained his composure now, at least for the moment, and adjusts his cuffs again. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go down.”

I start to say something but think better of it. Instead I nod stiffly, teeth clenched.

“You’re going to finish this fight coming up. You’re going to lose. You’re going to make me a lot of money. This purse, however, will be forfeit. And then, when you’re done, you’re going to file for a divorce, and my daughter is going to do as I’ve told her.”

I just stare at him. Then, quietly, I say, “No.”

“No?”

“I’ll fight your fight. But I’m not going to divorce your daughter. That’s a done deal. It’s over. You,” I direct this at Romano, “will never get the satisfaction of touching her.”

Spada’s not happy with my answer. I can see his hands shaking. I’ve never seen him this worked up; that fabled control, the coldness, is barely holding its own against his fury. “Do you have a fucking death wish, McAllister?”

“No. But I have a wife. And I’m not leaving her.”

I figured he’d threaten me a few more times before we get to the good stuff, but apparently he’s done talking. He gives Romano a curt nod. “Take care of him.”

Before I can prepare for what I know is coming, Romano has hold of my arm and has wrenched it behind my back. The back door of the car opens and another black-suited asshole appears. He casually unbuttons his jacket and punches me in the gut.

I double over. Romano has both my arms pinned behind my back now. The stress on my shoulders makes me think one or both is going to pop out of the socket any minute now. He twists almost hard enough to snap bones. The other guy punches me again, smacks me around. My nose starts to bleed. I think I might have a loose tooth. There’s blood in my eyes.

Then Romano lets go, and I crumple to the ground. While I’m still getting my breath back, the car starts and peels off, leaving me a bloody pile of shit in the middle of the supermarket parking lot.

#

Throughout the incident, nobody’s bothered to come over to see what’s going on. This part of town, they know better. There’s nothing to be gained by interfering with mob business, except maybe your own early demise. So I’m left alone to get back to my feet, regain some equilibrium, and figure out what the fuck to do next.