This Round for Love

by Malia Mallory

  This I had to hear. “Oh yeah? You’ll put in a good word for me?”

  Carl’s head bobbed. “Yes. Just need a little help from you.”

  This was surreal. “Help from me?” What. The. Fuck.

  Ted leaned forward. “Yeah, see, there’s an issue that’s come up.”

  “Issue?” I was starting to feel like a damn parrot. I wished these asses would get to the point, but they didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

  Ted nodded. “You might have noticed that the odds have moved in your favor.”

  Carl snapped his fingers. “It’s true. There were a couple articles about how you’re in top form. People started to talk. They think you can take Correa.”

  “I can take Correa,” I stated.

  Carl clapped his hands together. “See that there. That’s a winning attitude. That makes people believe in you. That makes people place bets…on you.”

  “I don’t have anything to do with that.” My anger simmered, but I tamped it down.

  “Oh, but you do, you see. You do,” Ted chimed in. My head snapped his way.

  Carl nodded. “Yeah, if everyone thinks you’re going to win, but say Correa actually won. Well, anyone who bet on Correa would be in the green.”

  “I’m not following you.” At least I hoped I wasn’t. A dawning suspicion formed. The bullshit was getting higher and deeper, and I didn’t like it.

  Carl waved his hands around. “Oh, come on, Ford. You know how this works. You’re a good fighter. It’s not as if this is your last chance. Make a good showing. Let everyone see your stuff. They’ll put you up for another bout.”

  Were these guys suggesting I throw the fight? “You need to make it clear to me what you’re talking about.”

  Carl rubbed his chin. “Okay. Let me lay it on the line. Certain parties have strong interest in a Correa win. Therefore, Correa needs to win.”

  “I’m going to kick Correa’s ass.” It wasn’t a promise. It was a fact—at least in my mind.

  Carl snickered. “See, that’s nice showmanship, but when it comes right down to it, you need to play ball here. You have a choice. Fight now. Correa wins. You’ll get another fight. You also get your payout for the fight. Place a side bet if you want.”

  “You mean let Correa win.” My temper threatened to burst out of me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep my cool. I wanted to punch Carl King in the face, but that wasn’t going to get me back on the marquee.

  Ted nodded. “Otherwise, you’re off, and who knows when you can get on the schedule again?”

  “You know I can’t do that. One, my career is on the line here, no matter what bullshit you spout about getting me another fight. Two, what you’re talking about is completely illegal. I could be banned. Hell, I could be arrested.”

  Ted scoffed. “You won’t be arrested.”

  “I’m not taking a dive.”

  Carl shrugged. “Your choice.”

  Chapter 8

  Darcy

  I didn’t know what Carl wanted, but I had a good idea. He must have heard something from the head office. I’d expected to schedule a meeting with him myself, but his admin beat me to the punch by calling first.

  The receptionist nodded as I walked past. “Mr. King is ready to see you. You can go right in.”

  There was no putting it off, and I headed to Carl’s office. I knocked once before I entered.

  “Darcy Winthrop,” he said, with a weird emphasis on Winthrop. He grabbed the edge of his desk with his hands and pushed his chair backwards.

  “Carl.” I walked in and took a seat.

  “I got a call today. A very disappointing call.” Carl laced his fingers, tapping his index fingers together.

  I nodded. “Okay.” I was content to let Carl guide the conversation.

  “Dan Burke is sending a team down here.” A muscle twitched in Carl’s cheek.

  I nodded. “That is my understanding.”

  “See, Darcy. I know you’re new to the hotel game and all, but going over my head, that’s inappropriate.”

  “I didn’t go over your head. I was asked to look into things while I was here. I reported back to the person who gave me that assignment. May I be honest with you, Carl?”

  His mouth twisted. “By all means.”

  “This place is screwed up. You aren’t properly staffed in any department that I can see. The guest experience is suffering. You’ve let maintenance go. These responsibilities are yours, and you don’t seem to be concerned.”

  “You should have come to me first,” Carl insisted.

  “This isn’t subtle stuff, Carl. There’s a line at the reception desk daily. Rooms aren’t clean. The buffet is questionable. It’s your job to make sure those things are working.”

  “See, if you’d come to me, I’d have explained to you the problems we’ve been having. That gal in housekeeping? It’s on my list to replace her, but you can’t hire just anybody. We had a great head chef, but another restaurant poached him. There are bumps, and sometimes it takes time to smooth them out.”

  I shook my head. “Meanwhile, guests are arriving. Some of them won’t come back, and I don’t blame them.”

  Carl stabbed his finger in my direction. “You owed me the courtesy of speaking to me.”

  “Okay. I apologize for not alerting you directly, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.” Carl probably had a point there. If I were honest with myself, I could have tried harder to work with him.

  “Of course it would have. I would have explained things. I’d have addressed your concerns and made things right.”

  “If you can make it right, why isn’t it right?” I asked.

  Carl’s face flushed. “I have a lot on my plate, missy.”

  I leaned forward in my seat. “You haven’t been helpful. Not with the event. Not with anything. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Explain yourself to Dan Burke.”

  Carl slapped his hand on the desk. “You need to put in a good word for me.”

  I was incredulous. “What? How do you get that? What would I base my “good word” on?”

  “You’ve blindsided me here. That’s unprofessional. You jumped the chain of command.”

  I took a deep breath. I wasn’t easily intimidated, but this conversation was certainly not comfortable. “You’re not my boss. You’re not in my chain of command. I don’t report to you.” I was sorry for what was happening—sorta. But Carl deserved a reprimand. The resort needed leadership, and he wasn’t providing it.

  “True. You don’t report to me, but I’ve spoken with your boss. He’s not happy with you. I think you’ll be hearing from him soon.”

  That seemed unlikely, but I wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

  “Anyway, I have other news for you while you’re here.” A sly smile formed on his face.

  Whatever Carl was going to say, it was clear he knew I wasn’t going to like it. “What’s that?”

  “About the fight. The main fight’s been changed. Request of the promoter. Instead of Cooper fighting Correa. It’s going to be Reilly and Correa.”

  “What?” I was stunned. Ford was out of the fight?

  “Yeah, they wanted to make the change since tickets are going on sale.” He looked at me meaningfully. “Because of all the delays and logistical problems, they wanted a fight that will really get the tickets flying out the door.”

  He wasn’t trying to pin this on me, was he? That was ridiculous. I pushed that thought to the side of my mind. “I don’t understand. Ford Cooper is a big draw. It’s his comeback fight.”

  Carl shrugged. “Eh. The promoter thinks Reilly is more of a crowd favorite. Anyway, it’s done. I’m just letting you know.”

  “Does Ford know?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. I told him. Plenty peeved he was.”

  “I think this is a mistake.” I knew I was wasting my breath.

  “Doesn’t matter what you think. They have the option to change up the fights if they want. They did it.” He
smiled with thinly veiled satisfaction. “I know he’s a friend of yours. Makes no difference.”

  There was nothing more to say to Carl. He wasn’t going to lift a finger—not after the report I’d passed on regarding the state of the hotel. My hands shook, but I balled my fingers into fists as I stood. Ford must be furious. I wanted to get to him. I needed to fix this.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Darcy

  Ford opened the door and I wanted to jump into his arms, but his expression wasn’t welcoming. He stepped back and gestured me inside.

  “Carl told me you were replaced.” I touched his hand as I walked past.

  “Yeah.” The single word contained a wealth of disappointment.

  “I’m so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault. I think we can work this out. I’m contacting Jay Murphy. I’m going to ask that he meet with me. Demand that he meet with me if necessary.”

  Ford touched my shoulder. “How is this your fault? Did you know about the gambling?”

  I gasped. “Gambling? What are you talking about? Carl implied he did it to get back at me.”

  “Honey, Carl’s mad at you, but he’s not stupid. It’s money. Covering bets. It has not one thing to do with you. Carl and Ted wanted me to throw the fight. I said no. They replaced me.”

  “Can they do that? They can’t.” I paced back and forth with jerky steps.

  “They did. Ted told Murphy my blood test came back bad. That way, there are no objections.”

  “I’m not letting them do this,” I said with determination.

  “For all we know, Jay Murphy is behind the whole thing.”

  “Do you really believe that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Darcy

  I’d had no trouble scheduling a meeting with Jay Murphy. The problem was I hadn’t had time to prepare what I wanted to say. Dan Burke’s team was crawling all over the resort, and it was one thing after another. Between running down to the arena to monitor the construction and checking on the ad campaign, I’d had no time for anything else.

  I needed help.

  I turned on my cell phone and scrolled through the list of contacts. My father’s name jumped out at me, and I pushed the button. I didn’t have time to worry about what he might think. There was more at stake here than my pride.

  “Sweetie, I’m glad you called.”

  “Hey, Dad.” I was lucky I’d caught him. Meetings usually filled his day.

  “I saw Dan Burke. He had good things to say.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I paused. “I actually called for a specific reason.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jay Murphy. What can you tell me about him?”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Darcy

  Jay Murphy rose to his feet as I was ushered into his office. He extended his hand. “Ms. Winthrop.” The expansive windows behind him framed the bright Miami skyline.

  I shook his hand and sat opposite him in a plush leather chair. “Thank you for meeting with me. I know you’re very busy. I’ve been overseeing the arrangements for the Sand Brawl.”

  “I’m aware. How is everything? I know we have until Tuesday for final approvals.” Jay Murphy was every inch a businessman, from his perfectly cut hair to his custom suit. I saw no hint of the fighter I knew he’d once been.

  I clutched my fingers together. “Yes. I think you’ll find everything in order, but I’m here about the lineup.”

  Murphy nodded. “Ford Cooper.”

  “Yes, Ford Cooper.” I wanted to trust Murphy, but Ford’s words rang in my ear. For all we know, Jay Murphy’s behind the whole thing. My father had said he was a straight shooter and he didn’t doubt Murphy’s integrity. I understood why Ford felt as he did, but I trusted my father’s judgement, too. In the end, what choice did I have?

  “Ted told me Ford failed his drug test.”

  It was all I could do to stay seated. “That’s not true. He was taken off the card because of gambling.”

  “So I’m given to understand,” Murphy said in a calm, even voice.

  “What? You know?” My heart lurched in my chest.

  “I know now. To my dismay, I was unaware. Certain persons within my organization took advantage of their positions. That makes me unhappy. Very unhappy.” There was more than a hint of anger in his eyes.

  “And just what are you doing about it?” My temper was getting the best of me, and that was never good.

  “Ms. Winthrop, there are a couple of people I think you should meet.” He punched the intercom on his desk. “Francine. Can you ask Agent McArthur and Agent Contrell to come into my office? They’re in Conference Room B.”

  I leaned back in my seat. “Agents?”

  “Yes. Miami Office FBI. They’ve been here all day.”

  “Ford didn’t fail his drug test.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  There was a knock at the door before it opened. A man and a woman entered, both dressed in conservative suits. Ford followed on their heels.

  I jumped to my feet. “Ford?”

  “Darcy.” Ford’s body was stiff, and I could practically see the anger radiating off him.

  The woman held out her hand. “Agent McArthur.” Her light hair swung in a bob just above her shoulders.

  Jay Murphy’s eyes held interest as he looked at Agent McArthur. “Ford Cooper is here being interviewed along with some of my staff. We’re providing our full cooperation in the investigation.”

  “Full cooperation?” My head spun.

  Agent McArthur moved her lips into what might pass for a polite smile. “We’re pleased to have this opportunity to speak with you today, Miss Winthrop. This is Agent Contrell.”

  I sank down into my chair. “What’s going on? Is this about the…” I trailed off.

  “The gambling,” Agent McArthur filled in. “Among other things.”

  Agent Contrell moved closer. “I’m sure you are aware of the date rape drug investigation.” His tie was loose and his suit was slightly rumpled.

  My eyes widened in confusion. “Yes, I heard about that. It’s terrible.”

  “The bartender from your club’s been arrested,” Agent Contrell stated.

  “What?” I raised a shaky hand and tucked my hair behind my ear.

  Agent Contrell nodded. “I’m not at liberty to share many details, but he had a good deal to talk about—including illegal gambling activities associated with the Sand Brawl. Several people have already been picked up for questioning.”

  Agent McArthur moved closer to my chair. “I should let you know—you were named as a possible victim.”

  “A victim?” Confusion clouded my mind.

  McArthur tapped her pen against her notebook. “The bartender. He confessed to drugging your drink.”

  Ford’s hands clenched into fists. “That explains a lot.”

  “I can’t believe it.” My stomach sank. I’d been oblivious. Even when I’d seen the newspaper article, I hadn’t connected it to my own experience.

  Jay Murphy coughed. “The good news is Ford is back in the fight, of course.”

  I looked up. “Yes.”

  Ford took my hand and pulled me from my seat. “I’m taking Darcy back to the hotel.”

  Agent Contrell nodded. “Sure. We’ll be in touch. It’s likely we’ll have more questions for both of you.”

  Chapter 9

  Darcy

  Ford negotiated the traffic as I sat stunned in the passenger seat. It was all too much to take in. I was elated Ford was back in the fight. I’d wanted that. But I couldn’t shake the creepy crawly feeling invoked by thought that I’d been violated.

  “It’s okay, you know. It’s going to be okay.” He placed his hand on mine and then returned it to the steering wheel.

  Ford pulled the car into the circular drive and a valet opened the door. I stood there, bracing myself against the car. The automatic door into the hotel opened and Carl stepped out, flanked by t
wo men in suits. His eyes met mine and they smoldered even from a distance.

  I felt a twinge of sympathy until I remembered what he’d tried to do to Ford. He’d brought it on himself with his greed and indifference. I wasn’t going to spend any more energy thinking about Carl.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Darcy

  I shivered. The radio station lobby was a refrigerator. Ford reached over and rubbed my arm. His skin was warm against mine, and I wished I could curl up against his heat.

  The producer opened the door and waved us in. “We’re ready.”

  I got to my feet. I’d done press before. Ford had done press before. This should be easy, right? I shook my head. I wasn’t sure it ever got easier. I found it hard to be natural in front of a microphone and we needed to be more than natural—we needed to be engaging.

  Ford and I slipped into empty seats in the booth. The morning DJs bantered back and forth. Mark and Mike, locally known as M&M, were number one in the morning drive time slot. They managed this through a combination of raunchy humor, celebrity gossip, and a few well-chosen songs. We’d been fortunate to get this promotional spot.

  Mike clapped his hands. “Okay, Miami, you’re with M&M in the Morning, and if you’re not out of bed by now, you’re going to be late. Mark and I are going to help you out with this. We’ve come up with excuses you can use on your boss when you walk through the door not quite when you were supposed to be there.” Mike’s deep voice boomed out from a tall, skinny body.

  Mark laughed and ran his hand over his bare scalp. “Yup, traffic is bad this morning, people. I-95 is backed up—all the way past your exit. Okay, our first suggestion is to pretend you were always there. So, leave your things in the car. Get your purse or whatever at lunch. Walk in empty-handed. You can make like you went to the bathroom.”

  Mike hooted into the microphone. “Yeah, like the far one to…uh…spare the office.” I shook my head and hid a smile.

  Mark laughed along. “If you see your boss, don’t say hello or good morning. Launch into questions about a current project. He’ll think you were there the whole time.”

  “Or that you stepped outside for a quick smoke break,” Mike offered.

  Mark spoke over the top of Mike’s quip. “But don’t take up smoking just for this purpose.” These two had an uncanny ability to riff off one another.