Page 56 of House of Scarlett
“Sure did. And no, I didn’t give myself the nickname. I’m not that arrogant. Some asshole did after he lost his GT-R to me. It had a stage three Cobb tune and everything. He waspissed.”
I don’t know much about cars or what a stage three anything is, but I know a Nissan GT-R isn’t an inexpensive model to start with.
“What did you do with it?”
Flynn smiles. “Sold it. I told you, that’s what I do with almost all of them. It’s not like I could afford to keep them all in Manhattan, but I am thinking about renting some space over in Jersey. It’s been heartbreaking to sell some of these beauties. At least my broker gets me good deals.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose under my glasses. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
She leans over and rests her head on my shoulder. “Just love me for the awesome badass I am.”
I slide my arm around her to squeeze her against me. “You know I do.”
“I know. So, tell me about Legend. Is he really hung like a stallion?”
Thirty-Four
Legend
I findmyself walking the streets of Manhattan again with Roux at my side. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can calm me down.
The wrath I felt as I was leaving the club carried me all the way to the building where Bodhi Black trains his celebrity clients.Including Scarlett.
I know she said she wouldn’t go back, and that’s a damn good thing, because there’s no way I’d let that shit fly now. Before, it was just bad blood. But now, if there’s a chance he risked the lives of innocents just to ruin my club and push me into a fight, she will never breathe his air again.
If she wants to keep training, she can train with me or someone I handpick.
But since it’s after eleven when I arrive, the building is completely dark. I look down at Roux. “What the fuck do we do now?”
Not surprisingly, she doesn’t have an answer for me, just tugs at the leash, so we keep walking. I don’t have any particular destination in mind, but somehow we end up at the gym near the club.
Like anything else open twenty-four hours in Manhattan, it’s never empty. Through the windows, I see two guys in one of the rings and a half dozen more punching bags or jumping ropes.
I have two choices—turn around and spend all night trying to walk off the anger that’s riding me, or get it out a hell of a lot faster by hitting the bag until I can’t lift my arms.
Roux nuzzles my leg, and I pat her head. “You choose, baby. What do you want to do?”
Like she can understand, she licks my hand and tugs at the leash as she takes a few steps toward the door.
“All right. I hear you. You’re telling me I’ve been slacking and missing workouts, and I need to get my shit together.”
Her tail wags, and I swear to God, my dog is more intelligent than most people I’ve met.
Together, she and I walk into the gym and make our way to the lockers, where I keep extra gear in the locker I rent. I tape my wrists and wrap my hands before tugging on my gloves. I’m halfway to the heavy bag when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Yo, Legend. Haven’t see you in a while. Been waiting for that chance to spar.”
I turn my head to see Silas Bohannon slowing his jump rope until it stops. The last thing I want to do is make small talk right now, but I give him a nod anyway. “Been busy.”
“Yeah, I saw you got a few important people stopping at your club these days. Shit doing better?”
“Doing all right.”
From my short answers, there’s no way he can miss that I’m not here to chat, and his next sentence acknowledges it.
“You wanna spar rather than talk? Because I’m getting the sense that you’re fucking pissed off right now, man.”
“Now isn’t the time to get in the ring with me,” I tell him, by way of warning.
