The truth was Connie needed Sean more than Sean needed him. He needed him to take this organization to the next level. He needed him to help keep the members of the brotherhood in check. The boy-o had friends, he had boxing. He had people who supported him, respected him, loved him. Connie was certain he had respect from the members of the brotherhood, but only because they feared him. Other than that, he had no one. Well except for maybe Aidan. Maybe. Sure Aidan was loyal now, but if something eventually went down with Teagan Reilly he wasn’t so sure that Aidan would have his back. He’d already voiced his opinion on not wanting to harm the girl if that’s what had to be done.
Connie groaned with he thought of the outcome of this situation. And the outcome for Teagan would most likely be the same outcome as her father’s.
But as far as Sean went, he figured that he could somehow weave a web of lies involving Teagan being the rat that Sean would believe.
Possibly.
Maybe.
50/50.
Not likely.
No.
Not a shot in hell.
The more Connie thought about it, the more he realized the odds in these circumstances were not in his favor.
Chapter Twenty Seven
~Sean~
The Fighter blasts through my ear buds and puts me in the zone. I hang my head down, my elbows on my knees as the melody moves through me. And I bob my head along with the beat.
This song is relatively new, but it feels like my anthem. I wish I would have told Joe to have them play it when I walk out.
If I didn’t have my ear buds in I know that I’d be able to hear the roar of the crowd bleeding through the walls.
I’m kind of glad I can’t though. At the moment, I’m so pissed that I can’t see straight. Normally when I hear the crowd screaming my name I feel amped up. I feel a rush of adrenaline burst through me.
But not today.
Today I feel like fighting dirty. I feel like taking Avery Mullins face in both of my hands and sending his nose through his brain with my knee cap. Do you believe the jack ass accused me of taking self-enhancing drugs? Right before the fucking fight?
It was during our weigh in, and might I add, I shaved off the two pounds I was overweight by, and now I weigh in at a buck seventy five. Anyway, during the weigh in he shot me a cocky glance followed by a smug grin. “You look really cut up, Reilly,” he commented. “I heard through the grapevine that you were testing out this new enhancer.”
I lunged at him, and it took Murph and Joe to hold me back. “You fucking coward,” I yelled, taking a swing at him before Murph could restrain my arms. “You’re grasping at straws.”
What I meant by that was that was his final attempt to try and cheat himself into winning the belt. Everyone knows self-enhancers are illegal and if I tested positive, he’d win the belt because I’d be disqualified. That would make my record 12-1 and knock me out of being undefeated.
So not only would the mother fucker be stealing my belt, but he’d be stealing my pride as well.
Joe’s lips were at my ear. “Save it for the ring, Seany.”
If it weren’t for Joe, and Murph, I’m pretty sure I would have popped Avery Mullins in the mouth. An image flashed through my mind about what my fist connecting Mullins mouth might look like, and lets just say that image brought a smile to lips.
A great big smile.
Sparkly white teeth and everything.
Needless to say, the officials made me piss in a fucking cup, the bastards. And after that I retreated to the locker room for some alone time.
I think it’s strange how listening to music before my fights always soothes me. It’s like it speaks to my nerves and tells me you got this Seany. You got this. It doesn’t matter what I’m listening to, whether it’s classic rock, pop, even traditional Irish folk music has a way of latching onto me and calming me down.
My thoughts shift.
Switch.