Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(71)

He took a deep breath through his nose and focused on later. Later. Later. When he would have Polly beneath him in bed. She would be stiff at first, still fresh from sharing oxygen with someone with whom he had a past. A child. If the shoe were on the other foot, putting Austin in the same room with an ex of Polly’s? He’d have the man in a chokehold already, whether it were rational or not. His hands fisted and shook just imagining it. If Polly felt even a fraction of that…

Focus on tonight. She wouldn’t want to be soothed, but he’d give her no choice except to listen. She would hear the words he’d been holding back, again and again, while he rocked into her. There would be no satisfaction for him until she believed him. That life before her was unbearable. That he’d been hiding under a series of identities until she’d made it all right to be…Austin.

He just needed to hold on to tonight. It was almost over.

Bridling his apprehension as much as humanly possible, Austin tuned back in to the voices interspersed with static. Derek grumbled something to an officer wearing a headset, who turned a series of knobs, making the conversation clearer.

“Ah, here’s your drink.” A beat passed. “Isn’t that your friend Shayna?” Reitman, obviously talking to Isobel. A muffled female response followed, to which Reitman replied, “Sure, go catch up. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Some static intruded, clearing just in time for Bowen to speak up. “I have to say, man, seems like you’ve already got a good thing going. Sure you want to take this action?”

Reitman laughed, but there was an underlying note of tension. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” The tinkling of glasses. “You might be the first fight promoter I’ve met to question cash in any form.”

Austin could picture Bowen spreading his arms, chip on his shoulder all but visible beneath his suit jacket. “Maybe I don’t need it.”

“I don’t trust my money with people who do need it.”

Derek whistled through his teeth. “Smart motherf*cker.”

Austin nodded. “Don’t assume you’ve seen the tip of his iceberg. Imagine how intelligent one must be to be my mentor.”

The technician turned to Austin with a raised eyebrow, but he only shrugged and went back to listening in on the exchange. He could hear Bowen and Henrik having a low discussion, obviously feeling out Reitman between each other.

“Now these two stick out like sore thumbs…” Reitman was speaking. To Polly and Sera? “You ladies stand out for a different reason. It’s a pleasure to be in such beautiful company.”

“Thank you.” Polly giggled. “Pretty smooth, aren’t you?”

Austin could practically feel Reitman’s grin through the wire. “Sometimes. But I can be rough when the occasion calls for it.”

Bile burned in Austin’s throat. “Fuck. I want this over.”

“This is your show, in case you’ve forgotten,” Derek said. “We could have done this by the book if you hadn’t kept me in the dark.”

“Keep believing that, if it helps your badge stay shiny.”

Bowen’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Fight is two nights from now, but we don’t give out a location until two hours before the bell, for obvious reasons. It’ll be posted on this website and will go dark after thirty minutes.” Austin imagined the business card he’d crafted being slid across the bar. “Our boy has three-to-one odds in his favor. These cats are lining up to bet on an ex-cop with nothing to lose.” Silence passed. “A shit-ton of money will be lost when he takes the fall, but it won’t be us losing it. If you’ve got the cash up front.”

Reitman cleared his throat. “I’m good for it.”

“Well, then,” Bowen said, backed by the sound of glasses being tapped together. “Fucking mazel tov.”

“You’re not good for it until we see it.” Henrik’s voice rumbled amid the crackling connection. “I’m not lying down based on your word. We don’t know you from Adam.”

“He still talks like a cop,” Reitman said, amused. “I don’t expect blind faith. But one of you will have to come along with me to pick up my offering. I can get away long enough to make one stop, but not two.”

Bowen’s sigh wasn’t overdone, just a touch irritated. Not bad. “If it has to be right now, I’ll go.” A yelp from Sera, following by the musical notes of feminine laughter. “Much as I don’t want to let this girl out of my sight.”

“No.” Despite his negative answer, there was a smile in Reitman’s voice. “She comes with me. I’ll let you know where to pick her up.”

A frigid wind blew through Austin, icing every inch of his insides. Breathing ceased to be an option. Which girl? Polly? No. No. What the f*ck was happening?

“Me?” Polly laughed, Sera joining in. “I said you were smooth, not lucky.”

Reitman wasn’t laughing. “As we’ve already established this evening, I play winning odds. And four against one is a losing bet, especially when my money is on the line.” No one spoke for a moment. “I’m not picky about which girl comes along, but I get the feeling no one’s prying her out of your cold, dead hands,” Reitman continued, obviously referring to Sera. “So the redhead comes with me and gets the two-fifty. Real easy.”