by Elle Kennedy
Naomi looked from Skyler to Gage, then back at Skyler, and gave an honest-to-God wink. “You know what, hon, why don’t you take off now? We can handle the setup without you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Go.” With a barely restrained smirk, Naomi sauntered off.
“Jeez, I need you to pick me up more often,” Skyler remarked. “Think of all the shifts I could have skipped out early on.”
Gage slid off his stool and brushed a kiss on her lips, soft and fleeting and yet it still succeeded in curling her toes.
She fought to stop the goofy grin from resurfacing. “Can I wear this to the fight or should I go home and change first?”
He leaned in, his fingers toying with the strip of lace peeking out from her shirt. “What’s this sexy lacy thing you’ve got on?”
God, his voice was like a drug. Deep and addictive.
“It’s a camisole. But it’s kind of skimpy—I usually wear something over it.”
“Skimpy is fine. Trust me, the chicks at the arena will be wearing less clothing than that.” He held out his hand, and she took it, shivering when their skin made contact.
Hand in hand, they left the restaurant and walked to the black Jeep Cherokee at the curb. Once she’d settled in the passenger seat, Skyler unbuttoned her shirt, noting with a grin that Gage’s gaze followed every minute motion of her fingers. When the shirt parted and she slid it off her shoulders, he released a growling sound that heated the car.
“Damn, that is skimpy. I love it.”
Pleasure danced inside her. His appreciative gaze did wonders for her ego. She was fully aware that she wasn’t supermodel-gorgeous, but gosh darn it, Gage made her feel like she was.
His hand rested on her thigh during the entire drive across town. What he’d referred to as the arena ended up being an enormous warehouse in the city’s west end. Gage pulled into the jam-packed parking lot in front of the sprawling gray building and drove up to a row of reserved spaces. After he’d killed the engine, he hopped out and rounded the vehicle to open Skyler’s door.
And her friends said chivalry was dead.
Two minutes later they strode into the building, and Skyler was astonished by the number of people crammed inside of it. Bleachers spanned three of the arena’s walls, while the fourth housed a bar area with a mile-long line.
The crowd was surprisingly eclectic. The Irish folks were easy to spot thanks to their thick brogues and the pints of Guinness in their hands. The hipsters looked bored by it all—they were probably there ironically, anyway—and Skyler also glimpsed several groups of businessmen in the bleachers. Some people were covered in tattoos, some weren’t. Some women wore sneakers, others wore heels. And almost everyone was screaming their lungs out, all eyes focused on the cage in the center of the room. It boasted ominous chain-link walls, and a large fighting surface covered with faint reddish stains. Blood, Skyler realized. Wiped away, but not entirely.
Two men were locked together in the corner of the cage, one curled over on the mat and locked into submission by the one above him. Even from where she stood, Skyler saw the veins bulging in the captive man’s forehead. He was red-faced and gasping, meaty fists pounding upward at the man trapping him in the hold. But to no avail. Several seconds passed before the man’s shoulders slumped and he slowly tapped the mat.
As the crowd roared, the winner hopped up and raised his arms in a victory pose.
“I asked for an early slot, so I should probably head over to the locker room now.” Gage led her to the bleachers and found an empty seat, then gestured for her to sit. “You’ll be okay here, but if anyone gives you trouble, tell them you’re with me.”
She nodded. “So what do I say to you? Break a leg? Kick his ass?”
“Good luck will do just fine.”
“Good luck then.” She stood on her tiptoes and smacked a kiss on his cheek.
He smiled, and a second later he was swallowed up by the crowd.
Skyler turned her attention to the cage, where the next fight was starting. This one featured an African-American man with full-sleeve tattoos and a beefy opponent with a shaved head that gleamed beneath the bright lights. While the previous match had resembled wrestling, this one looked more like boxing.
Skyler watched with wide eyes as the fists began to fly. She couldn’t hear anything but the roar of the fans, but she imagined the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, hard thumps and sickening crunches. Two women next to her screeched like banshees, cheering for the dark-skinned man, while a group of guys in the row behind her boomed out encouragements for the stocky fellow.
Lord. She was definitely leaving here tonight with a migraine.
By the time the buzzer sounded and the final round ended, Skyler was wondering what all the appeal was—and then she spotted Gage, and the answer became pretty darn clear.
He was barefoot and bare-chested, black shorts hanging off his trim hips and skin already glistening from the hot, stifling air. His sculpted muscles were sheer perfection, and his tattoos stood out against his tanned flesh. He looked like a warrior. A deadly, sexy warrior, and her body instantly reacted to the waves of raw masculinity rolling off him.
The announcer stepped up to introduce the two fighters, and a spark of displeasure ignited in Skyler’s belly when she registered the obscene amount of female screams triggered by Gage’s introduction. Clearly her man had a fan club.
Gage’s opponent was bulkier but several inches shorter, with a scary-looking skull tattoo that spanned his entire chest. Definitely someone she would run in the other direction from if she saw him on the street, and yet the second the thought struck, she scolded herself for being so judgmental. For all she knew, Skull Tattoo was a really sweet guy. A guy who liked to stay home and watch Everybody Loves Raymond reruns with his wife and only fought on the weekends to make money for their couples’ pottery classes.
Except then he bellowed out an animal roar and dragged his finger across his throat in a death promise to Gage, and Skyler promptly went back to disliking him.
Gage, however, was completely unruffled. Even from yards away, Skyler noticed nothing but pure calm reflecting in his eyes.
She jerked when a bell rang to indicate the start of the first round. Her heart immediately jumped to her throat when Skull Tattoo launched himself at Gage. Fists up, Gage blocked his opponent’s blows, then attacked so fast Skyler barely even saw him move.
Left hook, right hook, one-two punches at lightning speed, until he’d backed Skull Tattoo against the chain-link wall. All the other man could do was try to defend himself, but when he threw his hands up to protect his face, Gage simply planted a fist in the man’s gut. Skull Tattoo buckled over, swayed on his feet, and then lifted his head in time for Gage’s fist to connect with the side of his face.
Lights out.
It was over.
Skyler stood there, dumbfounded. Her jaw dropped as two refs and a man who must have been the doctor rushed over to the unconscious fighter. The doctor touched his cheek, checked his pupils, and then signaled something to the ref, who wasted no time thrusting Gage’s arm up in the air. The announcer declared Gage the winner and the crowd went wild.
Unlike the previous victor, Gage didn’t stick around to take a bow or pump his fists. Covered in sweat, he hopped out of the cage and made a beeline for the row of chairs in front of it. Skyler saw him mutter something to a man with ginger hair and a bushy beard. People’s heads blocked their faces from view, but she noted Gage’s stiff body language, and knew he wasn’t happy with the conversation.
A moment later, he stalked back to the locker rooms.
Since she didn’t care about the next fight, Skyler left her seat and headed in the direction Gage had gone, but the two beefy men guarding the corridor wouldn’t let her through. She swallowed her irritation and stepped back to wait.
Fortunately, Gage reappeared less than five minutes later, back in his street clothes and showing no signs of injury. Not even a bruise.
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Then again, no duh. His opponent hadn’t gotten a single swing in.
“Hey.” His face softened when he saw her.
“Hey. Nice match.” She raised one eyebrow. “Are all your fights usually so quick?”
“Nope.” He brought his head close to hers and lowered his voice. “I wanted it over fast so I could take you home and fuck you.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Her heart soared when he flashed her a crooked grin. She loved seeing his lips curve like that. It was so rare, and so deliciously rewarding when it happened. “So is that it, or are we sticking around to watch the other fights?”
“Do you want to?”
She winced when another roar went through the crowd. “God, no. My head is going to explode from all this screaming.”
They were out of the arena less than thirty minutes after they’d gotten there, Gage’s phone ringing just as they reached his car. He pulled it out, frowned at the number, then muttered, “Give me a sec,” before taking several steps away.
It couldn’t be considered eavesdropping when the other person wasn’t bothering to lower their voice, right?
Because there was no way not to hear Gage’s ferocious, “Are you kidding me?”
Skyler flinched at the note of fury in his tone, wondering who the caller was. She’d never seen Gage this upset before.
“Just stay there. I’m on my way over.” Anger lined his strides as he walked back to the car. “Change of plans,” he said roughly. “I’m taking you home, but I can’t stay over tonight.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to go see my brother.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said instantly.
Gage hesitated, looking so unhappy with the idea she felt a tad insulted.
“Are you expecting any trouble?” she asked pointedly.
“No, probably not. I doubt it’ll even take too long, but—”
“Then it makes even more sense for me to come along,” she interrupted. “We can stop in on your brother, and then head to my place like we originally intended.”
“Sky…” His tone was laced with reluctance.
“If you’re worried about this being some kind of big relationship step, then don’t. It’s just your brother—it’s not like I’m meeting your parents or anything. What’s the harm in letting me tag along?” She knew she was pushing him, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She wanted another glimpse, just one more tiny glimpse into Gage’s life. She’d gotten one now at the arena, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, darn it.
“Please?” she said softly.
After a long pause, he let out a weary curse. “Fine, you can come. We won’t be there long, anyway.” Then he sighed. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Chapter Nine
Gage’s brother lived in a converted town house that consisted of four apartments. Denny’s was on the ground floor with an entrance located at the side of the brick house, and the lightbulb over the door shone bright when Gage and Skyler walked up.
Gage reached for the screen door, glancing at the woman by his side. “You can wait out here if you want.”
He found himself praying she’d agree. Denny had sounded alert and sober on the phone, but you never knew with him. Gage had once seen his brother carry on an entire conversation with two police officers while tripping on half a dozen hits of acid.
Crap, why had he let Skyler convince him to bring her?
Because you can’t say no to the damn woman.
Nope, he certainly couldn’t. All it had taken was the disappointed glimmer in her beautiful eyes and her soft “please” and he’d caved like a cheap tent.
Except…it was more than that. A part of him had wanted her to come. Maybe if she met Denny, if she saw what Gage had to deal with, she’d…what? Understand him better? Understand why he couldn’t give her more than a fling?
“I’ll come in with you,” she said, her quiet voice interrupting his troubled thoughts.
His head jerked in a nod. He was about to stick his key in the lock when the door swung open and his brother appeared.
Gage instantly ran through the usual routine—examined Denny’s pupils, checked his bare arms for fresh track marks, inhaled deeply for any lingering scents of crack or heroin. But Denny looked as sober as he’d sounded earlier, and the only odor hanging in the air was the faint whiff of pot smoke.
“Hey,” Denny said awkwardly.
“Hey.” Gage cleared his throat. “This is Skyler.”
“Nice to meet you.” His brother stuck out his hand, which Skyler tentatively shook. “Come in. I don’t want to talk out here.”
They followed him inside, where the smell of marijuana got stronger. “You’re smoking weed again?” Gage couldn’t hide his disapproval.
Denny was ahead of them so his face was hidden from view, but his shoulders sagged at the accusation. “No, Gage, I’m not smoking weed again. I’m also not drinking, mainlining H, popping E and acid, or smoking crack. I’m clean, just like I’ve been for the last three months.”
No bitterness in his voice, just tired resignation. He led them to the living room, where Gage noticed all the windows had been cranked open to let in fresh air. His brother went to sit on the couch, but Gage remained standing. Skyler ended up in the plaid upholstered recliner, timidly crossing her legs together.
Nobody spoke for several long moments. As Gage stared at his kid brother, an eddy of familiar emotions churned in his gut. Disappointment, sorrow, pain, disgust. Despite the seven-year age difference between the brothers, their resemblance was uncanny, especially now that Denny had stopped poisoning his body and was no longer gaunt and sickly looking. They both had the same gray eyes and dark hair, just like their old man.
Only while Gage was nothing like their father, Denny had certainly followed in Bobby Holt’s self-destructive footsteps. Smoking weed by the time he was thirteen, addicted to crack by seventeen, graduating to heroin at twenty. And everything got substantially worse when Denny went to work for O’Donnell’s crew. Addicts had no business selling drugs, and Mitch O’Donnell had pounced on the opportunity to capitalize on Denny’s weakness.
“I won’t bother with small talk or pretend you’re here to shoot the shit with your kid brother,” Denny said. “Mitch sent some of his thugs over about an hour ago.”
Gage’s stomach went rigid. “Yeah? What’d they want?”
“According to them? Just to say hi.” Denny didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Gage. “It was Paddy and Roy—you remember them, right? They showed up at my door, acting like we were long-lost bros.”
“You let them in?”
Denny gave an uneasy nod. “Didn’t have much of a choice. They pretty much walked inside like they’d been invited. But they didn’t stay long. Lit up a couple of joints, cracked some jokes, filled me in on what’s been happening with the old crew.” He paused. “Roy had heroin on him. They tried to get me to use.”
Hot fury boiled in Gage’s gut. Fucking sons of bitches.
“And before you assume the worst, I said no. They kept poking and prodding, using that peer pressure bullshit, bringing up old times. I stood my ground, told them I was sober now, and they left.”
Other people might have felt a burst of pride that Denny had resisted temptation, but not Gage. It was too late for pride. Denny could be clean for the next fifty years of his life, and it still wouldn’t erase all the shit he’d put Gage through.
“I think they were trying to knock me off the wagon.” Denny sounded sad, broken even.
“Why would anyone do that?” Skyler blurted out. “Deliberately try to tempt an addict—you are an addict, right?” When Denny nodded, her eyes flashed with anger. “That’s just cruel.”
“That’s Mitch for you,” Gage’s brother muttered.
“Who’s Mitch?” Her tentative question lingered in the air, spurring Denny to glance at Gage in surprise.
“She doesn’t know?”
He shrugged.
“Any of it?” Denny prompted.
“We only recently met,” Gage said gruffly. “I hadn’t gotten around to it.”
He felt her watching him but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His jaw had clenched so tight his molars ached. Fuck. Bringing Skyler had been a mistake. He should have followed his instincts and stuck to his guns, damn it. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want her involved.
Unfortunately, his brother took it upon himself to involve her. “Mitch O’Donnell runs the drug game in Southie,” Denny said grimly. “I used to deal for him.”
“Oh.”
Gage swallowed his rage. He hated that Skyler had to hear any of this. Hell, he could practically see his darkness oozing toward her like a puddle of black tar. He should’ve known better than to show her this part of his life.
“He’s also a fight promoter and part owner of the arena where Gage fights,” Denny added.
Skyler wrinkled her brow as she turned to Gage. “You fight for a drug dealer?”
He sighed. “O’Donnell is a respectable business owner on paper. And I don’t fight for him. I’m just repaying a debt.”
“My debt,” Denny supplied in a sour voice. “I messed up, and now Gage is paying the price.”
Skyler’s confusion seemed to heighten. “What did you do?”
Gage took an abrupt step toward the doorway. “We should go. Denny, thanks for giving me the heads-up about—”
“I stole from Mitch,” Denny cut in, focused wholly on Skyler. “I was a pathetic junkie and I smoked a shipment instead of selling it. And when you steal from O’Donnell, you don’t get a slap on the wrist. You get cement shoes at the bottom of the harbor.”
She looked alarmed. “He threatened you?”
“Of course.” Denny’s voice cracked. “But Gage struck a deal for me.”
He felt those big blue eyes on his face again. “He’s making you fight?” Skyler said in horror.
Frustration climbed up his chest and curled around his throat like a cold fist. “It’s not a big deal, Sky.” Christ, he needed to get out of here.