Fighting Alone (Jay Sullivan Thrillers Book 6) by Ed Grace

Author:Ed Grace [Grace, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blood Splatter Press
Published: 2024-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

“What the fuck is this?”

Sullivan beheld the meal before him. Was this what they fed their prime fighters? It looked like sludge. Beige and white and sloppy.

“It is—what do they call it?—macaroni and cheese.”

Sullivan glared at Soren, then at his plate. “I notice you’re not eating this shit.”

“I have already eaten. We have several fights a day, Mr Sullivan. I can’t have a meal with every fighter.”

“But this ain’t a meal. I’ve had macaroni and cheese—this ain’t it.”

Soren smiled. He only ever seemed to smile. He was always delighted and happy. But why wouldn’t he be? He was rich and in control, and a man is never as happy as when they are in control. Sullivan should know.

“You can leave it if you wish,” Soren said. “But then, of course, you will go hungry.”

Sullivan huffed. He was starving. His belly was gurgling and moaning at him for his resistance. So he dug his fingers into the sauce it and piled clumps of macaroni into his mouth.

“You are aware there is cutlery, Mr Sullivan?” Soren asked.

“You are aware you can go fuck yourself, Mr Soren.”

Sullivan shovelled even bigger piles into his mouth and ate it with his mouth open, making sure to slop on each bite.

Soren chuckled. Of course he did. To get mad would be to admit that he wasn’t the big guy around here—and he got off on being the big guy. Not that he had muscle. Or brains. Or strength. He just had money, and his money had bought him all the muscle, and all the politicians, and all the power he needed. This house probably wasn’t even his primary home. It was his statement. Something he used to show he was better than everyone who visited it.

“So I noticed you had that Turkish politician guy here—Mustafa something,” Sullivan said as he finished the last mouthful, then chugged down half a beer that he was more grateful for than he’d admit. “Who else do you have here? I assume you have a fair few judges and coppers as well as crooks.”

“I do not divulge the names of my clients.”

“Considering I just killed three men for you, maybe you could amuse me.”

“I am happy to answer questions, but not that one.”

Sullivan leant back and downed the remnants of his beer. “What questions will you answer, then?”

Soren shrugged. Smiled again. Sullivan felt tempted to dive across the table and rip the guy’s lips off his face so he didn’t have to look at that smarmy, cocky smile anymore.

“The right ones,” he admitted.

Now it was Sullivan’s turn to chuckle—albeit more sarcastically. “What is it with dicks like you, eh? You like to be all cryptic, like you’re Billy Big Bollocks. How about you and me take a trip down to the pit, and we’ll see who’s the Billy Big Bollocks?”

Jungo stepped forward, his boulder-like body approaching Sullivan. Sullivan wondered if the guy actually had a neck. Soren raised a hand and Jungo backed off.

“Billy Big Bollocks, oh you English and

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