The crowd is growing uneasy, the longer the match persists without a clear victor. They expected Iceman to take Luca out in one hit — now, with the clock ticking down to the finals seconds, they’re not so sure about the outcome… or the security of their bets.
Both competitors are breathing heavily as they move around the arena. My eyes never leave Luca as he moves sharply to the left, attempting a knock-out uppercut to the jaw. I feel the breath seize in my throat as Iceman anticipates his strike and lunges back, so Luca’s fist hits nothing but air. The forward momentum of the punch pulls Luca off balance, stumbling a few steps toward the closest cage wall. Iceman uses it to his advantage, effectively backing Luca into a corner in the tiny slice of time it takes the smaller man to find his footing.
Fuck.
Once you’re pinned, it’s almost impossible to escape — especially if your opponent is roughly the size of Mount Everest. The audience cheers as Iceman grapples for a solid hold. I watch his big hand flying out, preparing to deliver a fatal blow to the top of Luca’s spine…
And then, the unthinkable — Luca ducks, quicker than I’ve ever seen him, pivots behind the lumbering hunk of ice, and swipes Iceman’s legs out from under him with a perfectly placed roundhouse kick to the back of the thighs. The giant falls like a tree in the forest, face-first onto the canvas mats, and before he has time to find his feet, Luca’s there, delivering a series of sharp jabs to his ribs. His arm snakes around Iceman’s throat in a chokehold as he presses him into the mat, demanding submission.
It’s over quickly, after that.
The ache of worry inside my chest eases as soon as Iceman’s fist taps the mat, crying uncle. The crowd is stunned, their roars louder than ever — some are pissed to see their champion fall, but most are thrilled that the underdog dominated. It’s akin to David taking on Goliath — albeit a bit bloodier. (And I’m relatively certain there were no bikini-clad ring girls pressed up against David after he won that biblical bout.)
Colt is whooping in celebration as he pulls me up the stairs into the octagon. We’re barely on the canvas when Luca appears. Dismissing his corner men and clingy cheerleaders without a word, he grabs me in a giant bear hug.
“You did it,” I yell into his ear, returning his tight embrace as he spins me in a circle. “Are you okay? You nose is bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Mom, I said I’m fine.”
I huff.
“Thanks for coming, babe,” he says, pulling back so he can look down into my face. “I know I was a dick, the other day.”
“You think?” I ask, arching a brow.
He smirks. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.”
“You can start by setting me down. You’re so sweaty, I might actually drown standing this close to you. It’s gross.”
With a laugh, he sets me back on my feet. He turns to accept a back-slapping hug from Colton — but not before wiping a sweat-coated arm against my face just to taunt me, the rotten bastard.
“Ew!” I exclaim, dragging my sleeve against the sweat mark. “Now I have to go wash my face.”
Luca rolls his eyes. “Priss.”
Colt shakes his head. “Such a girl.”
I flip them both off.
“Hurry back! We’re going out to celebrate!” Colton scuffs his knuckles against Luca’s head in a playful gesture. “Pretty sure this guy could use a few drinks.”
I laugh as I turn away, calling back over my shoulder, “Oh, get a room, you two.”
Luca’s grin is the last thing I see before the mob of fans closes in around him.
It takes a while, but eventually I maneuver through the dozens of people crowding the octagon and make my way down the stairs. My eyes scan the crowd as everyone slowly funnels out the front doors onto the street — five hundred people trying to exit at once has resulted in a serious traffic jam. I’m searching in vain for a bathroom sign, eyes moving along the walls, when I see something that makes my heart clench inside my chest.
It’s been a while, but I’d recognize her anywhere.
Long, dark hair. Impeccable clothing. Skyscraper heels.
And, most familiar, a set of hazel eyes so like her brother’s it makes my heart twist.
Phoebe West.
She’s standing with a group of girls about fifty feet to my left. A brunette with large blue eyes — who looks so strikingly similar to Phoebe she must be her sister — is telling a story, making everyone laugh. A petite woman with a platinum pixie cut is standing with her back to me. By her side is a willowy brunette who must teach yoga because, damn the girl has a rocking body. Rounding out the group is a curvaceous strawberry blond with big brown eyes I can see, even from this distance, are glossy and long-lashed.
They’re all giggling and grinning, clearly having a great night.
I tell myself to walk away, to fade into the crowd before Phoebe has a chance to spot me, but it’s like I’ve lost control of my senses. My eyes move of their own accord, seeking someone else in the crowd… someone with tousled blond hair and a broad chest…
I don’t find him.
Instead, my eyes latch onto the man hovering just behind Phoebe. The way he’s standing — feet planted, arms crossed, eyes hyper-vigilant as they scan the crowd — tells me he’s guarding her from any potential threats. I know who he is without blinking twice.
Nathaniel Knox.
Parker’s best friend; Phoebe’s boyfriend.
Knox Investigations is well-known and well-respected by everyone in this city. Knox is smart, capable, and exceedingly good at his job. Which probably explains why he notices my scrutiny almost instantly.
Dark eyes lock on mine, a question in their depths. He takes a stride closer to Phoebe, never looking away from me, and as I see him bend to catch her attention, I finally snap into motion.
She can’t see me. She’ll recognize me. Confront me about abandoning her last year. Remind me what a shitty fucking person I am for walking away.
And somehow, it’ll all get back to Parker… who I’ve determined to avoid for the rest of infinity…
I whirl and bolt in the opposite direction, cursing myself for being so incapacitated by just the thought of Parker, I let my guard down entirely. Spotting the small, illuminated bathroom sign at the far end of the gym, I race toward it, hoping Phoebe hasn’t spotted me. My black Toms eat up the distance in seconds. When my hand curls around the knob, I ignore the tinge of disappointment in my stomach.
I made it without being spotted. That should be a relief.
So, why isn’t it?
Just before the door shuts at my back, it happens.
“Holy frack!” a feminine voice shouts, her excited squawk is so loud I can hear her even from this distance. “That’s Tinkerbell!”
Shit.
I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, even though I know it’s futile. She spotted me. And, if she’s anything at all like her brother, she’s not going to let it go without a confrontation.
With nowhere else to go, I enter the nearest stall and quickly bolt the door behind me. I’ve barely gotten the latch closed when I hear the outer door swing inward. I wince as the sound of stiletto heels clack across the floor, coming ever closer. Two black shiny pumps come to a stop right outside my stall.
“Tink!” Phoebe’s voice is impatient. “I know it’s you! You might as well come out.”
“You’ve got the wrong person.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Seriously,” I insist. “Just tying to pee in peace.”
“Lying promotes wrinkles, Tink.”
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t make me climb under the stall. These are Prada slacks.”
I roll my eyes. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, Princess.”
“HA!” Her voice is triumphant. “I knew it was you!”
Resigned to my fate, I reach forward and flip open the lock. The door
swings slowly outward, revealing a pretty brunette who’s staring at me with something like adoration.
Wait… Adoration?
I don’t even have time to brace myself before she’s flung her arms around me and pulled me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
She’s hugging me?
“I thought I’d never see you again!” she screeches. “I’m happy I was wrong.”
“Um.” I pat her back awkwardly. “You’re touching me.”
She snorts and pulls back a bit, but doesn’t release my shoulders. “Yes, this is called a hug. I realize you may be unfamiliar with the concept. We’ll take it slow. Baby steps. Work our way up to rocking hugs. Back-petting hugs. Bear hugs. And my personal favorite…” She pauses, eyes twinkling. “Tackle hugs.”
I blink. “You’re still touching me.”
She smacks my arm lightly. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”
My brows lift. “Why?”
Her pretty hazel eyes widen. “To say thank you, genius. You saved my life.”
She’s got it all wrong.
A squirmy, uncomfortable feeling fills my stomach. “Not really.”
“What the hell do you mean?” She stares me down. “You’re my savior. My fairy freaking godmother. I’ve been trying to get Nate to track you down for ages but he didn’t have a lot to go on. Blonde, petite, swears a lot — not exactly enough details for a full criminal investigation.”
“Listen, you’re mixed up. I’m not your savior.” I swallow hard. “I’m not who you think I am at all. Let’s just go our separate ways and pretend it never happened, okay?”
Phoebe blinks at me. “Are you high?”
Without waiting for an answer, she shakes her head to dismiss my words, loops her arm through mine, and starts walking striding toward the bathroom door. “Come on, Tink, I have to introduce you to everyone. I made them wait outside while I came in to get you, but I swear half my friends think I made you up. Granted, I was a bit sleep-deprived and dazed when we met, but I wasn’t delusional for god’s sake.”
I dig in my heels but it’s no use — in those stilettos, she’s got at least seven inches of height on me. I’m dragged along like a deflated birthday balloon on a string.
“Wait—” I protest, searching for the right words. “I’m not— this isn’t—”
She ignores my babbles.
God, she’s just like her brother.
“Phoebe, listen—”
“There’s really no point arguing,” Phoebe says placidly, stopping just in front of the exit. “You’re going to let me thank you properly. Now that Nate’s seen you, he’ll just track you down if you try to disappear again. Isn’t that right, Nathaniel?” she calls through the door. Her tone very clearly suggests he’d better agree with her if he ever wants sex again.
“Whatever you say, little bird.” Knox sounds amused — and close, like he’s standing right outside.
When Phoebe pulls the door open, I realize that’s because he is right outside, guarding the entrance — much to the annoyance of several girls waiting to pee. As we clear the door, his dark eyes sweep over my face, intelligent and intense in their perusal. This man misses nothing — not one detail. I can tell from a single glance at him that he’s everything his reputation boasts and more.
“Zoe Bloom,” Knox murmurs lowly. “Should’ve known.”
I startle — I can’t believe he knows who I am.
“You know Tinkerbell?” Phoebe hisses at her boyfriend, voice ominous. “And you didn’t tell me? You are in so much trouble!”
“Little bird, I know her name; that doesn’t mean I knew she was your foul-mouthed rescuer from eight months ago.”
“Oh,” Phoebe says, somewhat calmer. “Well, how do you know her, then?”
“That’s a good question. I’d like to know the answer, myself.” My brows arch. “Have we met?”
Knox jerks his head in the direction of the octagon, toward Luca. “You’re a friend of a friend. I like to stay informed, whenever I work with someone. Who they know, who they deal with.” His eyes hold mine and I see thoughts stirring at the back of that dark gaze. “You know Blaze… that means I made it my business to know you.”
There’s another sentence in his eyes, one he doesn’t say out loud.
And I don’t like what I know.
I hold his stare unflinchingly. He may be intimidating to most people, but I was raised in back alleys and on shadowed street corners. He doesn’t scare me.
I’ve seen that look he’s giving me before, too many times to count. The one that says, Get out, you’re not wanted here. You’re dirty and dangerous. A threat.
I saw it from soccer moms and teenage girls and little kids and businessmen in fancy suits, who’d press their cellphones tighter to their ears as they hustled past my cardboard sign like I might leap up and steal their wallets. For some unfathomable reason I thought, when I left the streets, I’d never see that look again.
Apparently, I was mistaken.
“Zoe?” Phoebe says from my side, totally oblivious to the hostilities being exchanged two feet from her. “That’s your name? Zoe?”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy glaring at her boyfriend.
“Ahem!” The girl with long strawberry-blonde hair clears her throat. Loudly. “Phee, you ever planning to introduce us, or…?”
“Sorry, sorry! This is Tinkerbell!” Phoebe announces, grinning like a madwoman. “I mean, Zoe. And, Zoe, this is…” With a sweep of her hand, she points at the girls in the group, from the redhead, “…Lila,” to the willowy brunette “…Shelby,” to the platinum pixie “…Chrissy,” to the girl who looks like her sister. “…and Gemma.”
I give a half-hearted wave. They all wave back. In unison.
It would be creepy, if it weren’t so cute.
“She is tiny,” Gemma says, grinning.
“And you weren’t lying — great hair,” Lila adds.
“She’s the hacker chick?” Chrissy’s nose scrunches. “I was expecting goth and grunge, not jeans and a cowl-neck sweater.”
I roll my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, don’t mind Chrissy.” Shelby laughs. “She’s hormonal and sleep-deprived. Two babies in one house does that to a person.”
Chrissy elbows Shelby in the ribs.
Gemma shakes her head at both of them.
Lila glances at her phone and taps out a quick text message.
Phoebe huffs. “Nice, guys. Real nice. You decide to act like total screwballs the one time I have to introduce you to someone I’m trying my damnedest to keep from bolting.”
“They’re always screwballs,” Lila murmurs, briefly looking up from her phone. “I’m the only sane one of the bunch.”
Gemma, Phoebe, Shelby, and Chrissy all trade glances… and simultaneously burst out into uproarious laughter.
“Oh my god,” Phoebe brushes a tear from the corner of her eye. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”
Gemma’s holding her stomach, trying to catch her breath. “It’s cute.”
Chrissy and Shelby are chuckling too hard to say anything.
Lila glares at her friends. “I’ll have you know, I’m the only one here who hasn’t been involved in some kind of car chase, kidnapped and held for ransom, threatened at gunpoint, or run for my life in stilettos.”
They all go silent for a second, adopting serious expressions as they contemplate her words…
“Give it time,” Gemma says, shrugging. “Keep hanging with us, I’m sure you’ll be kidnapped eventually.”
That sets them all off again, cackling like hyenas. Lila scowls silently.
Is this what it’s like to have friends? A whole group of people who know all your shit, even the dark, scary shit, and can still somehow laugh with you about it?
I’m feeling about as awkward as a horse at a glue factory, so I start to edge backward, trying not to draw any attention. They’re so busy laughing, they don’t seem to notice I’m about to v
anish into the crowd. I take another step, relief flooding my system, and suddenly my back hits something solid. It feels like stone. For a minute, I think I’ve backed straight into a wall…
Until the wall moves and I hear a deep male voice close to my ear.
“Going somewhere?”
Damn Knox and his fucking spidey-senses.
My spine straightens. “No.”
“Good. You disappearing would upset Phoebe. And I don’t like her upset.”
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Macho-man antics have never been my style, and this guy takes the freaking cake when it comes to bossy, alpha-male shenanigans.
He steps back — far enough that he’s no longer pressed up against me, but close enough that I know I can’t slip away into the crowd without him running interference. A few seconds later, Phoebe’s eyes lock back on mine and my escape window slips away.
“Zoe! You’re coming to my Christmas party tomorrow night. No excuses.”
My hands clench. “Sorry, I have plans.”
I have a full evening scheduled — Netflix in my pajamas, binge-watching the new season of House of Cards and eating too many peanut-butter cups to count.
“You do not,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “And it wasn’t a request, Tink — sorry, Zoe. You’re coming. Parker made me invite almost half the WestTech staff and we need some normal people in the mix, to break up the awkward work-bonding.”
I go still at the mention of Parker’s name. It’s clear they don’t know about my connection to him; that will certainly change, if I go to Phoebe’s party.
“I really can’t.”
“Uh huh. Why’s that?” she asks.
I hesitate, contemplate lying, and finally decide to just go with the truth. “I don’t do Christmas.”
One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) Page 13