A Deal With the Devil (8 page)

Ted leaned against the ropes and watched, then as Rey came to a stop he called over, “Did you catch them?”

“Who?” he just about managed to articulate through gasps.
Kate?

As he climbed back into the ring Rey thought back to earlier this morning as he’d watched her disappear around the corner the moment she’d had a chance. And he’d been nose-to-nose with a disgruntled punter and unable to stop her, unable to chase down that particular demon. Which had left him feeling … well,
feeling
. Disappointed mostly, turned on. Let down. Intrigued. Wanting more. Aching for her. And he never felt like that. Feeling was something he’d stopped doing a long time ago. So he’d stopped short of looking up her personnel file for contact details and calling her cell phone to demand answers, and tried to exercise her out of his system.

“Your demons, man? You looked like they had you on the run.” Ted wrapped a towel over Rey’s shoulders and rubbed them down, then shoved a bottle of water into Rey’s hand. “Talk. Because you’re going to be rat-shit useless if you don’t get it off your chest.”

“Whoa.” Rey hauled in breath after breath, filling his lungs until he could manage a few words, “You’re all touchy-feely today … Don’t ever go into … counselling.” Then he sat down heavily on the three-legged stool in the corner of the ring, took a long cool drink. It looked like Ted wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. The bugger would jab at him, metaphorically speaking, and make him talk. That was his style. Dogged. Good for Head of Security. Not so great as a best mate. Scratch that—he was a great best mate.

“I said talk.”

There was no point even bringing Kate into the conversation, she’d made her feelings very clear—not a lot to misinterpret by a woman running off, leaving your suit jacket hanging from your Harley’s handlebars. So he might as well get the other deep stuff over with. “About No Surrender—”

“Whoa …” Ted nodded, a hand up to stop Rey mid-sentence as he dragged another stool over and sat down. Sweat dripped from his nose making a little pool on the floor. Rey loved the man like the brother he never had but sometimes … “… I told you, I’m on top of the breach. Do not worry that pretty little head of yours, it’s fixed already. So, okay, here’s the deal; we’ve got eight men in definitely … waiting on a couple more to confirm, and for their papers. Johnny Richmond’s opting to fight you.”

Rey shook his head, determined to get this done, once and for all. “I’m not fighting.”

“Yes you are.”

He found his balls. “I’m shutting it down, the whole thing. No more No Surrender.”

“Why the hell …?” Ted looked confused. Shocked. “You know what kind of money we get rolling in from the online gambling?”

“I don’t care. The Macau deal’s worth a hundred times that if I can pull it off. We’ll be set up for life. Hell, Ted, we’re set up for life already. Ten lives. We have everything we need, Macau’s just icing, with a little bit of greed tossed on the side. Plus, I want to do something no westerner has done for years and get that license.”

“We can do both? No?” Confusion turned into a frown. “There’s something else going on here … what is it? Truth up, man.”

Rey gulped more water to buy time, controlled his breathing. Bringing this up would disturb Ted’s tender equilibrium. “That kid, the one that got hurt, has been on my mind. We can’t risk anything like that happening again.”

“We’ve been over and over this. It was his own fault, silly little runt. Playing with the big boys, fighting Billy Martin—idiot child.” Ted’s face was a whole shade redder than before. “Good job you stepped in and stopped it. And that the Doc was there.”

The only secret fight club in history with its own doctor on board. Not that anyone else knew, of course. They all thought they were fighting to the death, but Rey didn’t want that on his conscience too. He had enough to keep him awake at nights. “Everyone in the forums know it’s my club. Two clicks by the right people and I’m there—exposed. The Macanese get wind that a kid was hospitalised because of the club, because of me, and they’ll either use it as more bargaining power or just to get the hell out. They don’t want to be tarnished by that kind of scandal. Neither do I.”

“And I’ve apologised, what? A hundred times? The kid was mouthing off, he wore me down and, to be honest, my mind was on other things. I shouldn’t have let him in.”

Trouble was, Ted’s mind was often on other things; women, gambling, drinking. God love the bastard, he was one of the good guys, but he did have his share of problems. If they didn’t go back so far Rey might have thought twice about involving him in his business. But they both knew where the boundaries were; Ted kept his ‘problems’ away from the casino and Rey kept him on the payroll. “No. You shouldn’t have, but you did. We all make mistakes. But I’ve had it, Ted. I want out. I want to distance myself from it all. Too many people thinking they can play hard when they can’t. Too many people get hurt.”

“You getting soft?”

“No.” Something Kate had said made a lot of sense and cemented his resolve.
Lives get ruined
 … he didn’t want any more lives ruined because of him.

And since when did he ever listen to a waitress?

Since she’d peered up at him with those dark blue eyes and asked him gently about his past, looked as if she’d cared. And he’d wanted, right then, to be a better man. For her … of all things. The attraction had been immediate and blindsiding. He couldn’t get his short-circuiting brain around it. “Call it what you want, but I’m out.”

“If you close it, the members will get even more hurt. They’ll take it to the streets, they’ll fight anyway, without your fail-safes and the blood tests beforehand. No Surrender’s a bloody public service, really, Rey.”

“Only when you choose, though, Ted. Right? No blood tests on that hapless kid. He just walked off the street, you let him in and allowed him to fight—no tests, no papers, nothing. We don’t even know his full name. Hardly a public service then, was it? More like a bloody nuisance.” And yes, that was low, Ted had made a mistake. A costly one at that. But in all other respects he was right. No Surrender had given its members a release, somewhere to vent, just like Rey needed. But he couldn’t carry them forever. “What they choose to do afterwards is not my responsibility.”

Ted scratched his balding head. “Okay, let me put it another way. How about, one last fight for you? A swan song. Your last goodbye. They only come to see you fight, really, to see if some part of you rubs off on them. Beautiful, my boy, poetry. One last time … then we can shut it down. Where’s the harm? Come on … I know you Rey. I know how much you crave this. How much you want it … it’s in your blood.”

“No. My final answer.” Rey climbed through the ropes and started to make his way towards the shower room, relief shuddered through him. No Surrender wouldn’t be any more trouble. He was walking the better man path.

Ted was two paces behind. “You owe me, man. Remember?”

“What? Now? You’re calling me on it now?” Years ago, when Ted had been a serving but crooked policeman he’d found Rey in a doorway on Regent’s Street, starving, beaten … a mess … and taken him to a shelter. Befriended him, introduced him to Joe, the boxing trainer who’d seen a sliver of talent. Between them Ted and Joe had nurtured that talent and desperate hunger and shaped Rey into the man he was today. Rey had no doubt that he would have died on the street—if not then, later. Food hadn’t exactly been easy to come by and the weather had turned ice cold. So yes, he owed Ted. His life. Whirling round he saw the face of a desperate man. “You said you’d never mention it again.”

He had the decency to look sheepish. “I’ve got a lot of money riding on this, Rey. A shitload. You don’t show up, I’m in a lot of trouble.”

Rey reached for Ted’s shoulder. “So? I’ll give you what you need. How much?”

“Are you for real? You think I want your handouts, again? And how will you pay for my reputation? You drop out now and that’s me done … I promised them you’ll be there and the bets are laid. No one will take me at my word again. Come on, fight for me. One more time. Macau will never know. No one will know except the club. What harm will it do?”

Ted loved the buzz and the hype and the sweat and the pure raw rush just as much as anyone did. He just loved taking a gamble on it more. He’d saved Rey’s life and he’d never called him on it. Until now. For once in his life Rey wasn’t sure of his next move. He was caught between a rock and dark soulless place that he loved with every bead of sweat and drop of his own tainted blood.

Looked like being a better man would take a little longer than he’d hoped.

“S
o it’s you
and me again tonight, the A team. Only don’t go disappearing off, right?” Carlos grinned as he looked up from behind the VIP mahogany bar, poured Pinot gris into two glasses and placed them on a tray. “Not that it’s any of my business,” he added hurriedly. “What Mr Doyle wants, he gets.”

“Well, it was all work related …” Kate refused to discuss the matter any further. She didn’t have to explain herself, even though she knew how it must look, doing the boss’s bidding. Having had forty-eight hours to mull over her strategy she wasn’t at all sure that she was doing the right thing by coming back. Jake didn’t want her here in the first place and, truthfully, she did not know how to face Rey again after running off without a word. At least he wasn’t here tonight, so far. “Busy night?”

“Up and down.” The barman raised a weary shoulder and glanced around the room. A group of six businessmen were laughing at some joke over at one table. Three couples were dotted around at other tables, all with full glasses. Two women over in the corner looked hopefully at the bar with empty glasses in front of them.

Kate glanced at her watch as there were no clocks allowed in the casino. Policy, she’d read, to keep the customers oblivious to how much time they’d spent there—and, hand in hand with that, oblivious to how much cash they’d lost. Eleven-thirty. “Er … the boss around?”

“He’s just gone downstairs. Dealing with a couple of counters. Take this to table two, please.”

“No problem.” She picked up the tray of glasses, delivered them to the women and was back in a couple of minutes with some empties, which she deposited in the dishwasher under the bar. “I haven’t come across any real counters yet—just a few who think they’re clever but never amount to anything.” She’d been briefed to keep an eye out for any suspicious behaviour and to inform security immediately. “What do they do with them? Just throw them out of the casino?” The security talk at her orientation had been tight-lipped about that.

Carlos’s eyes narrowed. “They back them off first, which means they’re moved to a different table or different game, then if they don’t stop counting they ask them to leave. Or they talk to them.”

“
Talk
.”

He winked. “Sure. That’s what they call it.”

She didn’t want to think what that might mean. But judging by the look on Rey’s face the other night when dealing with the drunk, talking was the last thing on his mind.

Which sure as hell didn’t make her feel confident about her next move, but she didn’t know how long he’d be busy. This might be her only chance to try to carry out the next stage of her plan. Somehow she had to get into his laptop. Or into the business computer network, seeing as she couldn’t access the right areas with her own staff code. Trouble was, she didn’t know how … or even which room was the Head of Security’s office. A couple of minutes to case out the management suite would help her plan what to do next. “So, how long does it take to deal with them?”

“Usually takes an hour or so to sort them out, then no doubt Doyle will be back up here. This floor is his home from home.”

“Okay.” So it was now or probably never. She called to Carlos who was just disappearing into the stockroom next to the bar. “While it’s quiet I’ll nip off to the bathroom.”

Making sure he hadn’t seen the direction she went in, she headed to the back of the bar, ducked behind the curtain and out into the management suite corridor. It was wide and open with some side tables along the walls and a couple of comfy chairs in front of each door. The tray in her hand was a cover, as was the dirty glass, should anyone ask. Not that there was anyone here. Dealing with card counters happened elsewhere, apparently. She daren’t ask where, but she imagined it was probably in a cold dark basement.

She was aware of the cameras following her every move, the all-seeing eyes of the casino, so she played nonchalant, as if she was meant to be there—pretending to check for more empty glasses, cups … all the while scanning for the Head of Security’s office, seeing if there was, by any lucky chance, an open door anywhere.

But her heart thump-thumped in her chest and the dirty glass she’d taken with her shook on the tray. Damn it all to hell, what on earth was she doing? Risking her life for a grudge, for revenge? Really? Was this fulfilling the promise she’d made to her mum?

There wasn’t time to think about that.

Voices behind her. Dark. Deep.
Rey’s
. Heavy footsteps. She froze.