Baller: An Interracial MMA Stepbrother Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

– like he was some kind of celebrity or something.
    The crowd gathered there was an unusual bunch. There were a lot of white trash folks in baseball caps and t-shirts. A sea of brown faces suggested the Hispanic contingent was big as well. Then Hannibal saw enough African-American folks to make him wonder if Jules had sent the word around his run-down housing development.
    All in all, it was a pretty multicultural crowd. The only difference from a real MMA venue being that these folks looked mean and hungry.
    “Up here,” Red had led them to a trailer, parked incongruously in the middle of the warehouse. Two men in cheap suits guarded a staircase up to the trailer, and stepped out of the way as Red approached.
    Three steps up and Hannibal and Kristen found themselves in the best seats of the house – with a clear view of the makeshift octagon, and luxurious seating in the form of old patio furniture and a couple of beer coolers.
    Red offered them seats, and Kristen and Hannibal sat down cautiously in rickety lawn chairs. Grinning, Red sat down opposite, and reached into the cooler next to him for two cans of Miller Lite.
    He flung them over.
    “Neck these suckers, and let’s talk,” the redneck grinned.
    Hannibal picked up the beer suspiciously. He wasn’t much of a beer drinker – as a top-tier fighter, he ate far too clean for that. But he went along with it, and popped the top – gulping down two long swallows of the frothy brew before Red pulled out his next trick – a mason jar full of clear liquid.
    “My boys bring this up from North Carolina.” Red popped the top, and took a long swallow from the jar. Then he passed it over. “Get some that down you, son. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”
    Hannibal snorted. He shaved his chest.
    But, once again, he did as he was asked; and brought the Mason jar to his lips.
    Moonshine.
    The alcohol fumes made his eyes tear up, and that was even before he’d let the glass touch his lips. He gulped down two searing swallows before he had to pass the jar over to Kristen, gasping as the ‘shine burned on the way down.
    “That’s the good stuff,” Red grinned. “Whaddya think?”
    “I think I’ll stick to Hennessey,” Hannibal gasped.
    Kristen didn’t fare much better. She coughed and spluttered as she handed the Mason jar back. Then she eagerly washed down the firewater with the cold Miller Lite.
    Red grinned. The moonshine was clearly a test – and one the two of them had failed.
    “So what d’y’all think of my little set-up?” Red asked, as Hannibal blinked away tears. “I know it ain’t as fancy as your big league getup over in Las Vegas, but you can’t deny I can bring in a crowd.”
    Hannibal surveyed the crowd of roaring patrons and nodded. It was pretty impressive.
    “So this venture’s illegal , right?” he asked.
    “Shit yeah,” Red snorted. “I tried to go legit when I was younger, but there are too many hoops to jump through.” He gulped down some more moonshine. “Besides, the money’s better this way.”
    Hannibal surveyed the crowd.
    “You’ve got spotlights. They can probably hear the music all the way over in Hartford.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you get worried about the cops?”
    Red shrugged.
    “Let’s just say the cops and I have an agreement.”
    Hannibal pursed his lips. He didn’t like the sound of that.
    “I know you might turn your nose up at this lil’ setup,” Red leaned closer, “but it’s a startin’ point for a lot of young fighters. Not everybody had the advantages you did, gettin’ into the sport. Take your lil’ brother, for example. He has to work for it.”
    Hannibal snorted.
    “My only ‘advantage’ was fifteen years studying martial arts,” he growled. “If my brother had stuck to his karate lessons, he’d be where I am now.”
    “Yeah, well, your lil’ bro has ambitions to make it there anyway,” Red grinned. “How do you think his chances are?”
    Hannibal narrowed his