Page 32 of The Family Pet

Derek stepped back and laughed, and Uncle Bowie pursed his lips, shooting a glance in my direction.

“He wants five minutes with Johnny’s son.” Derek spun and stepped toward me, scanning his gaze along my body as if he was inspecting an animal, which wasn’t far from the truth. “He looks strong enough, but—” I cringed back against Ridge as Derek took another step toward me. “—he’s not much of a fighter, is he?”

Uncle Bowie shrugged. “Anyone can handle a five-minute fight.”

Derek shot him a look and his eyebrows climbed his forehead.

“Besides, you already promised the man, and I already agreed.” Uncle Bowie frowned. Maybe he was regretting that decision. His nostrils flared, and then he forced a smile.

“What did you do?” I whispered.

Uncle Bowie ran his hand over his face and shook his head. “I gave this a green light the night I saw you at the restaurant.” There was enough remorse in his tone that I got the idea that perhaps he wouldn’t have made the same decision now, but we were already on the hook. For what? A fight, but a fight against who? Why? My stomach churned.

“Is this why you took today off?” Ridge demanded and glared at Uncle Bowie. “What’s happening?”

“No, it isn’t why I took the day off. I just figured I would get it out of the way, and you’ll see.”

Derek flashed us a smile. “Follow me.” His mood seemed to lift as we walked toward the group of guys who were working out. “How have things been since Johnny vamoosed out of the city?” he asked me.

I cringed. “Terrible.”

Derek nodded. “I can see that, since you’re here.”

“New blood for the fight club?” called a thin guy with curly brown hair. A pair of shiny black shorts—and nothing else—clung to his body. “This place is fucking great. There’s so much space for any stupid shit you can think to do.” He grinned at me. “I’ve been running along the pipes and working on my balance. I’m Hendrix.”

“No, that isn’t why he’s here,” Derek said.

Hendrix’s brow furrowed as his bottom lip jutted a bit. The change in his expression made him seem more like a teenager.

Derek lightly slid a hand along Hendrix’s shoulder, and Hendrix smirked.

“Where’s Benzo Joe?” Derek asked.

There was a loud thud, and one of the punching bags swung in a wide arc. A man who could kick the ass of the entire offensive line of the New Gothenburg Riders football team stomped closer to us in a pair of gray sweatpants. Sweat gleamed on his pecs. His wide, square face was a stone mask. Fuck. I literally whimpered as he got closer to us.

Uncle Bowie cleared his throat. “Five minutes you said?” He bared his teeth in a grimace. “Five whole minutes?”

“Yep,” Derek replied cheerfully, as if today was the best one he’d ever experienced. “I promised five.”

“Why do they call you Benzo Joe?” I asked the huge man nervously.

He snorted and his face flushed. The barely there hair on the top of his head sparkled with droplets of sweat, and I backed up a step as he shook like a dog.

“Because I eat Xanax by the handful, and they don’t do anything to me. I’m still a nervous wreck.” The corner of his mouth curled.

Derek stared at me while fear skittered across my skin, leaving an insidious tingle in its wake, and my stomach turned inside out.

“You see—” Derek stepped forward and adjusted the collar of my sweater. “—when someone signs up to play my games, since there’s a predicted high rate of less than healthy incidents involved, I offer a sign on bonus. Many people elect to have cash sent to their family members. Some ask me to do a little something for them. Joe asked for a favor. He wanted to get some well-deserved revenge.” Derek flashed his teeth at me, but I wouldn’t call his expression a smile.

Benzo Joe stepped closer. “Your father talked my grandma into investing in a startup for some mushroom coffee stuff that supposedly would benefit women who foraged for food. He took the money and ran, and she lost twenty grand. Since she lost her savings and didn’t get the payout she was promised, she couldn’t pay the taxes on her house. She didn’t tell anyone, and the house got taken by a tax lien. Without the house, she and my great-aunt ended up in a nursing home. She calls me crying every day.” He smashed his fist against his palm.

“I thought you were going to help me avoid things like this!” I stared directly into Uncle Bowie’s eyes.

He sighed. “I am. If Derek had to look for you himself, he would’ve killed you when they were done. And I just paid out a lot of money. We’re settling your debts today and this is part of it.”

I raised my hands at Benzo Joe. “I’m sorry, but I had nothing to do with the money your grandma lost. I was screwed over, too.”

“Were you? You didn’t even notice me get out of my car on the way in here because you had your boyfriend’s tongue jammed down your throat. And the McLaren you arrived in was pretty fucking expensive. You look fine.” He let out an actual fucking growl and my balls tried to crawl up in my body and hide.