Free Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) by Terri L. Austin Page B

prize.” Buster fell back into his seat. Lost in thought, he stared at a pile of papers. “I talked to him on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday.”
    “What did you talk about?”
    He shrugged his meaty shoulders. “Fighting shit. Workout schedules. Listen, sweetheart, whoever hired you is wasting their money. Rob has obligations. He’ll turn up.” I heard an unspoken “or else” in that sentence.
    “Obligations to Will Carlucci?”
    He flinched at the name. “Time’s up. None of this is your business. Rob’ll be back, so you better forget you ever heard about the club.”
    “Sorry, Buster, it is my business. Rob hasn’t shown up to teach his classes at the dojo. His girlfriend, Sofia, hasn’t heard from him in days.”
    He pulled his mouth to one side. “They’re always arguing back and forth. And that brother of hers is a pain in the ass. Do you know he had the balls to storm in here and try to pick a fight with Rob? Robbie could have beat that kid into the ground. Instead, he stood there and let the punk take a couple of shots. One of the other guys finally restrained him.”
    Interesting. I realized there was bad blood between the two men, but Franco must have been in a blind rage to try and attack Rob, especially here, with a gym full of fighters. “When did this happen?”
    Buster’s eyes flitted down to his desk. “Like I said, I don’t get involved in my guys’ personal business. Don’t care what they do, as long as it doesn’t affect their training. You need to go now.” As he dismissed me, he waved his hand and a tall pile of papers went flying to the floor. Buster cursed and we both bent down to retrieve them.
    I gathered them up on my side of the desk, and as I did I noticed a bank letter stating his home address with the words “Foreclosure—2 nd Notice” in bold font. I glanced up to make sure Buster wasn’t watching, then I stood and placed the untidy stack on his desk. From what I’d seen, the rest of the papers were bills or invoices. And there were dozens of them.
    Buster’s gaze washed over me. “You still here?”
    “Not for long. I just have one more question. How long has Rob been using steroids? And how many of your other fighters are doping? Whoops, guess that’s two questions.”
    His face turned purple and his pale eyes bugged out. “You better get out of here before I really lose it.” He bounded to his feet and stalked to the door, wrenching the knob so hard I was surprised it didn’t break off in his hand. “Out! And don’t come back.”
    Or what—he’d call the police? Unlikely. Have his guys rough me up? Maybe. I didn’t want to press my luck and find out.
    I stood, hiking my purse onto my shoulder, and pulled a card from the outer pocket. “You obviously know more than you’re telling, Mr. Madison.” I laid it on his desk before crossing to the door. “When you’re ready to talk, give me a call.” I’d be holding my breath waiting for that to happen.
    Buster said nothing as I left. Walking across the gym, I stopped to watch the fighters in the ring—heavyweights. Rob’s class. They traded punches that would have sent me into a coma. I shuddered and kept moving until I drew close to Roxy, who was deep in conversation with a cute, thuggish guy with three stars inked near his left eye. He worked a punching bag while she looked on. I didn’t see Sugar anywhere.
    “You ready to go, Rox?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Buster remained in the office doorway, arms crossed over his chest, giving me the evil eye. “I think I’ve worn out my welcome.”
    “Rose, this is Carlos. He knows Rob pretty well.”
    He was ultra-lean, not an ounce of fat on him, just solid muscle. “Hey, Carlos. Any clue where Rob might be?”
    He flicked his eyes toward Buster, then lowered his head and gave the bag a swift jab. “Nah, man, I don’t know nothing.” After one more punch, he turned and strolled away.
    “Was it something I said?”
    Roxy popped her gum. “Most