Page 29 of Fighting for Irish
Fuckers were closer than he liked for comfort, but he supposed he wouldn’t expect them to go very far. Whatever. As long as they kept their end of the bargain and stopped toying with Kat, it didn’t matter where they were.
Aiden grabbed Kat’s gun from her dresser, checked the clip and the safety, and shoved it in the back of his waistband before locking up and heading back out to his bike. Before he started the engine, he found Xander in his contacts and connected the call. In two rings, his friend picked up.
“Glad to see you’re alive, mate.”
“Me too. Is that underground tournament going on right now?”
“The Four by Four? Yeah, we’re in the finals. Three weeks to go. I kicked major ass in it last night, by the way, thanks for asking.”
Aiden didn’t have time to pander to Xan’s feelings. “I need you to get me in.”
“Let’s pretend for a second, Mr. I’ll Never Fight Again, that my jaw isn’t on the floor while I remind you that the tournament already started.”
“I heard you the first time. I need in, Xan. Figure it out.”
He shoved his phone in his pocket, pulled on his helmet, and took off toward home to get some answers.
