Five Moves of Doom by A.J. Devlin

Author:A.J. Devlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NeWest Press
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

I left the Shillelagh and made haste to meet Stormy back at my Coal Harbour townhouse. If she was miffed, she didn’t show it. She had a key to the place and her own drawer in my bedroom dresser, so when I arrived home she was already wrapped in a towel, freshly showered, and blow-drying her long blonde hair. A light-blue sleeveless blouse, white summer shorts, and a pair of Birkenstocks were laid out on the duvet covering the bed.

I tossed aside the notebook with the details of Sykes’s fight club intel before sweeping Stormy into my arms and kissing her. She was caught off guard, but returned my affection. After I don’t know how long we ended our passionate lip lock.

“Wow, what has gotten into you, tonight, Mister?”

Only at that moment did it occur to me that I may have been fired up because of Rya’s goodbye smooch. I was immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Emotional day.”

“Don’t apologize. I like this side of you.”

Stormy ran her hands through my hair and gave me another soft kiss. It was lovely. Eventually, I pulled back. “Where are you going?” I asked, nodding toward her clothes laid out on my bed.

Stormy chuckled and began applying ruby-red lipstick to her heart-shaped lips. “It’s date night, remember?”

“Right,” I said, without conviction and only then remembered our plans.

“Don’t tell me you want to bail, Babe.”

“No, not at all. But do you think we could just visit the lounge at Cardero’s?” I asked, referring to the harbour-side Live Bait and Marine Pub across the street. “I’m not really up for much else.”

“You got it, Bub,” replied Stormy with a smirk.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and swapped out my cargo shorts and Chris Jericho “Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla” pro-wrestling T-shirt for some blue jeans and a white polo shirt so crisp that it made me feel as if I should be posing with a tennis racket for a country club-themed magazine photoshoot. While Stormy finished dressing, I capitalized on the bonus time by grabbing the notebook and slipping into my office to review what I had jotted down of my conversation with Sykes. He had not minced words when he contacted me earlier, and it had been all I could do to keep up with the detailed information that he’d shared. Apparently, this rooftop fight club that both Lennox and Cripps were involved with had blown up over the past several months. Little was known about it other than that fights mostly took place on weekends on a different rooftop, making them difficult to track. It was all but impossible to pin down a location without an invitation or prior knowledge from the host or hosts of these combat sessions.

When not working as a freelance personal trainer, Cripps had a reputation as an aspiring professional MMA fighter, and there were rumours that people in the rooftop club had some serious connections to that sport. So it made sense that Cripps would be involved.

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