Chapter 235: "Need A Hand?"

The venue Aren had told Jordan about was tucked away in Leone District, down an alley that smelled of damp concrete, cigarette smoke, and overflowing rubbish.

Unlike Castellano Club The First, this establishment looked exactly like the sort of place Jordan had always associated with illegal cage fighting.

Its entrance was hidden behind an unremarkable door, and stepping inside did little to improve his opinion. The floors were dirty, the fixtures poorly maintained, and the whole building had the unmistakable air of a business whose owners considered safety an unnecessary expense.

Jordan disliked it immediately.

He knew the sort of people such establishments attracted.

The spectators alone could cause trouble, particularly once money and alcohol were involved. As for the security personnel, he had serious doubts about their ability — or willingness — to search every fighter properly for concealed weapons.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have preferred that Aren stay well away from a place like this. Unfortunately, she was scheduled to fight here tonight.

And not against one opponent.

Ten.

That was the final number she’d given him before he arrived.

Jordan had spent much of the journey trying not to imagine what might happen if even one of those ten men decided the rules weren’t worth following. He believed she could fight. What troubled him was how readily she seemed to trust that everyone else would behave according to the terms of the match.

He was still examining the entrance with considerable dissatisfaction when a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Jordan! You’re here!"

Jordan smiled before he even turned around. When he did, Aren was approaching with one hand raised in an enthusiastic wave.

Biscuit trotted beside her, his scruffy tail wagging so vigorously that his entire backside swayed with it. Jordan’s smile widened at the sight of them, but it quickly stiffened the moment he noticed the blue-eyed man following directly behind.

Caio Sartori had arrived with his usual security detail, several men in black suits trailing him through the entrance. Leo was among them, wearing the professionally weary expression Jordan had come to associate with anyone responsible for managing Caio’s temper.

Jordan narrowed his eyes.

’Wonderful. He’s staying to watch too.’

’And he only texted me that he was dropping her off.’

It was a minor omission, technically speaking, but Jordan doubted it had been accidental.

Still, Aren was smiling at him, and Biscuit was already straining to reach him. Jordan decided not to spoil their greeting over Caio Sartori.

"Hey!" He waved back. "You came early!"

Biscuit broke into a run.

Jordan crouched just in time to catch the little dog as he launched himself into his arms.

"Hey, buddy! Good to see you!" Biscuit wriggled happily while Jordan scratched his scruffy head. "How’s it going? Ready to place another bet tonight?"

Aren reached them a moment later, laughing softly.

"Biscuit told me he wants to bet twenty packs of blueberry yogurt snacks today."

"Twenty packs?" Jordan looked down at Biscuit in disbelief. "That’s quite an investment. If you win, you’ll have enough snacks for the whole week!"

Biscuit barked with tremendous enthusiasm, apparently satisfied with the projected returns. Aren laughed again, and for a few pleasant seconds, Jordan almost forgot where they were.

Unfortunately, the pleasant atmosphere lasted only until Caio stepped closer. He was wearing the same unfriendly expression Jordan had come to recognize as his personal greeting.

"Only came for the betting, didn’t you?"

Jordan’s good mood promptly deteriorated.

"Of course not." He looked Caio over. "What about you? You only said you were driving her here."

"I never said I wasn’t staying to watch." Caio regarded him with mild indifference. "What? You think she only has you?"

"I don’t." Jordan returned his look without flinching, then glanced at the men standing behind him. "But why did you bring so many guards?"

For some reason, the question seemed to please Caio. A faint, unpleasant smile appeared on his face.

"I have a bastard to kill."

Jordan stared at him.

Before he could decide whether that was a joke, a cheerful voice rang out from farther inside the building.

"My goodness! Look who’s finally here!"

Caio went rigid, the smile vanishing from his face. His jaw tightened, and he turned toward the approaching voice with the deliberate restraint of a man deciding precisely where to put a bullet.

Jeremiah Castellano came toward them looking positively delighted.

Whether he genuinely failed to notice Caio’s murderous expression or simply found it entertaining was difficult to determine. Either way, he paid Caio absolutely no attention and headed straight for Aren.

"Ariana, darling!" He threw an arm around her shoulders. "You should have told me you were bringing both your boyfriends tonight! I would’ve prepared more desserts for everyone!"

He turned toward Jordan with a brilliant smile.

"What do you say, Jordan? Are we going to have a foursome now?"

Now, Jordan went rigid too.

For one terrible moment, he deeply regretted having Biscuit in his arms. Under ordinary circumstances, he might have been tempted to punch Jeremiah Castellano directly in the face.

Fortunately, he never had to decide whether that would be worth the consequences. Caio had already surged forward and seized Jeremiah by his immaculate collar.

"YOU’RE GOING TO HELL TODAY!"

Leo reacted instantly.

"Boss! No, wait!"

Several Sartori guards lunged forward with him, attempting to pry their Don’s fingers away from Jeremiah before he could do something irreversible.

"Please, Boss! Not here!"

"There are witnesses!"

"And not his face! My daughters love him!"

Aren, who had been standing beside Jeremiah, also caught Caio’s wrist in alarm.

"Caio, wait! Please!" She tried to pull his hand away. "He’s a very important client!"

In the middle of the chaos, Jeremiah was somehow still smiling. He raised both hands in surrender, although Caio’s grip was making it increasingly difficult for him to maintain his usual dignity.

"My God, calm down! Calm down! If you want to kill me that badly, perhaps you should sign up as one of my fighters and challenge me in the cage. At least we’d make a hell of a lot of money from it!"

"You motherfucker—"

"Caio!"

Within seconds, the entrance had descended into a thoroughly undignified struggle.

Leo and the guards were trying to restrain their Don without injuring him. Aren was attempting to persuade Caio not to murder her employer, while Jeremiah continued offering suggestions that seemed calculated to make his own survival less likely.

Jordan, meanwhile, simply remained where he was, holding Biscuit securely against his chest.

"Well," he muttered, watching Caio struggle against his own men, "I certainly wouldn’t object."

Unfortunately, the spectacle didn’t last long. Footsteps approached from behind Jordan, accompanied by a voice every bit as smooth and cheerful as that of the man currently being assaulted.

"My God, is that Caio Sartori?"

The commotion faltered.

Everyone turned to find Hezekiah Castellano approaching with his younger brother, Zachariah, who looked equally entertained.

"Well, look at that!" Zachariah remarked, his gaze moving from Caio’s murderous expression to Jeremiah’s crumpled collar. "What are you trying to do? Kill our little brother?" He laughed. "Need a hand?"

Caio narrowed his eyes at the Castellano brothers.

"Hezekiah. Zachariah."

After a moment, he muttered a curse, drew a harsh breath, and finally released Jeremiah.

"Long time no see."

"Long time no see indeed," Hezekiah replied pleasantly. "We certainly didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re here to watch Miss Lombardi fight, I take it?"

"Oh, surely our dear friend Caio is here to support Miss Lombardi," Jeremiah replied before Caio could. "Who else could possibly deserve such a privilege?"

He was still smiling, but something about the smile had changed. He knew Zachariah well enough to understand that the offer to help kill him hadn’t been entirely a joke.

"Although I must confess," Jeremiah continued, straightening his collar, "your presence surprises me considerably more than his. Tell me, my dear, loving brothers, what brings the two of you to this little event I’ve arranged at such a humble establishment outside our own clubs?"

Hezekiah recognized the tone immediately. Jeremiah might have sounded delighted, but the message underneath was unmistakable.

’You weren’t invited.’

’Why don’t you fuck off?’

Unfortunately for Jeremiah, Hezekiah was also a Castellano. He answered with a smile every bit as polished as his younger brother’s.

"Why, curiosity, of course! After all, it’s not every day that one of our contracted fighters competes at an outside establishment. Isn’t that right, Zachariah?"

"Absolutely, big brother." Zachariah adopted the same pleasant expression. "Although, to tell you the truth, Jeremiah, we also came because we had an idea that might make tonight’s fight considerably more exciting."

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow.

He hadn’t heard the idea yet, but he was reasonably certain it would be either spectacularly stupid or calculated to ruin his evening.

Possibly both.

Still, his smile never wavered.

"And what, exactly, is this brilliant idea, brother? I’m positively dying to hear it."

Rather than answer, Zachariah looked across the room and raised a hand.

"Oh, Mister Cavallo! Would you mind coming over here for a moment?"

The man Zachariah addressed was the owner of the establishment. Mister Cavallo hurried toward them as soon as he was called, his expression brightening at the sight of so many influential guests gathered together.

"Good evening, Mister Castellano!"

He bowed his head toward Hezekiah, then Zachariah, then Jeremiah.

"My goodness, so many Mister Castellanos tonight! And Miss Lombardi, of course. What a pleasure to have you here! You look absolutely gorgeous this evening—"

"All right, all right," Jeremiah interrupted warmly. "Enough with the greetings, my dear fellow. I hear you and my brothers have arranged something rather exciting. How curious that I, your contractual partner for tonight’s event, haven’t heard a single word about it. Would you care to explain?"

"Oh, of course!" Cavallo laughed nervously. "It’s simply that everything happened so quickly, and we didn’t have time to inform you! Your brothers gave me a call just this morning. They suggested it might be more exciting if we increased the number of opponents Miss Lombardi will face tonight from ten to fifteen!"