‘This way,’ Theo says, taking the steps before me and reaching back for my hand. I accept and descend with him, constantly searching for clues as to where we are and what we might be doing. He presses a silver buzzer, and the door opens a few seconds later, revealing a man. Jesus! I recoil, alarmed. He’s huge, and the whole left side of his face is covered in tribal art that creeps down his neck and disappears past the collar of his white T-shirt. Holy Lord, he looks frightening.
‘Stan,’ Theo says, letting him move back before coaxing me inside. I don’t realize that my grip of Theo’s hand has tightened until he flexes his fingers, looking down at me with reassuring eyes. I smile a small smile, moving into his side, and he catches me and tucks me in.
‘Kane.’ The tattooed giant presents his hand and waits for Theo to accept. ‘Good to see you, my friend.’ He smiles, wide and toothy, shaving off ninety percent of his scariness with the friendly gesture.
‘This is Izzy, my girlfriend.’
Stan turns that friendly smile on me. ‘Theo Kane’s girlfriend, huh?’ He waits for Theo to release his hand before offering it to me. ‘Now that’s a title one should respect.’
‘ “One” as in you, or “one” as in me?’ I ask, shaking his hand.
He laughs and makes off down the corridor, gesturing for us to follow. ‘Both, darling.’
We cross the threshold into an open-plan space with bifold doors spanning the entire back wall, leading on to a small but well-kept garden. The huge area is sparsely furnished and divided into a kitchen, dining space, and lounge area. Theo pulls a chair out for me at a large white table, and I take a seat.
‘Coffee?’ Stan asks, bringing a coffee pot over to the table and settling with us. ‘Or something hard?’ He flips Theo a grin.
‘Coffee’s fine,’ Theo replies, seeming to ignore Stan’s vague joke.
‘Maybe I need something harder.’ He holds up the coffee pot to me and I nod. Who is this guy and why are we here? And, more worryingly, why would either of them need the hard stuff? It’s eleven in the morning, for goodness’ sake.
Theo levels an almost impatient expression on Stan as he pours my coffee, and I wrap my palm around the mug when it’s handed to me. Then I wait for either man to shed some light on what’s going on.
‘So.’ Stan sits back in his chair, his eyes crossing from me to Theo constantly. ‘How’s life treating you?’
‘You’ve not been at the Playground for a few months,’ Theo says, ignoring his question. ‘Is winning becoming boring?’
Stan laughs lightly. ‘There’s only one man left to take on, and he won’t fight me.’
‘You don’t want him to,’ Theo retorts seriously, slight menace in his words. ‘You have talented hands. We wouldn’t want to fuck them up.’
Stan looks down at his hands with a smile. ‘Very true.’
My head goes from side to side, trying to keep up with the conversation. ‘You’re a fighter?’ I ask Stan, seeing a perfect image in my mind’s eye of him in the cage at the Playground.
‘It’s my other talent.’ He winks, and then nods towards Theo. ‘Your man here refuses to take me on.’
‘I don’t want to tarnish your perfect record,’ Theo says, stroking the side of his mug.
‘Or break my talented hands?’ Stan laughs, showing them to Theo. ‘You’re so thoughtful.’ An edge of sarcasm is there. ‘Are you telling me you’ve developed a conscience?’
‘No, I’m reminding you that I don’t fight any more.’
‘Shame.’ Stan sighs. ‘I miss the bloodshed.’
My eyes shoot to Theo, finding him shaking his head a little. He used to fight? Bloodshed? A long licking shiver travels down my spine, making me sit up in my chair. I can only imagine what damage he’s capable of.
Theo looks across to me, sensing my reaction to this news, his hand falling to my knee and squeezing. ‘My days in the cage are behind me.’
My mind is spinning off some very vivid images of Theo pulverizing many men. Who would be stupid enough to take him on? He’s dangerous and capable of serious damage when he’s in full control of himself. And when he’s not . . . I shudder, dreading the thought. ‘I didn’t know that you ever did,’ I reply quietly.
‘Oh, he did.’ Stan chuckles. ‘Anyone stupid enough to challenge him.’
‘Like you,’ Theo counters. ‘But lucky for you, I’m retired.’
‘At thirty-one? You have years left in you.’
‘Yes, but the men who faced me in that cage didn’t by the time I was done with them.’
‘True story,’ Stan agrees, looking off into the distance, like he’s reminiscing. ‘Your moves, man. It was like watching a dance,’ he muses thoughtfully. ‘A beautiful dance.’
Theo shifts in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. Of course Theo’s moves were fluid and graceful. It’s how he escaped being touched. Otherwise, I’m guessing the level of damage inflicted on his opponents would have been irreparable. Any man who entered the cage with Theo Kane was dancing with death, quite literally.