“He deserved it.” Maybe not the death he’d come so close to, but Jax had needed a lesson. Maybe he’d never hurt another woman again.
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought I was doing the apologizing.” I tried to crack a smile, but I could tell he was still suffering. He had so much weighing him down, and I hated it. “Well, my Irish cowboy, are you going to make love to me or what?” We’d never referred to sex as making love before, but I couldn’t bring myself to use the F-word again. Because, as Adam had rightly insisted, whatever was between us went way beyond sex.
His blue eyes glinted as he lowered himself closer to me, his chest brushing against mine. “Cowboy, eh?”
“Hey, you looked really good on that horse. I’ve been fantasizing about you riding in on a horse, whisking me off my feet. . .”
He laughed. “And what happens next?” Adam rolled to his side, facing me. He touched my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Well,” I smiled, my hand running down the hard planes of his body until it reached the waistband of his sweats, “I could show you.”
“Did Holly really offer you money?”
I sat up in Adam’s bed, hugging the sheets to my chest as a cool chill raced across my skin. It was my first time waking up in Adam’s home. Being here made “us” feel all the more real.
“She did, but only because she loves you. She has a strange and kind of intimidating way of showing it, but she’s looking out for you. You’re lucky to have her.”
He brought a steaming hot cup of black coffee to his lips and took a sip. He looked so sexy sitting up against the black leather headboard, his hard, naked chest on display, the bedsheet draped casually across his groin.
“So you told Holly about me?”
He lowered his mug. “No. Sean figured it out and clued her in. You know big families—keeping a secret is damn near impossible.”
“Which is why I never told any of my siblings about Jax.” I hadn’t meant to say his name. I didn’t want to spoil the mood, but I also didn’t want to hide my feelings. Still, it might not hurt to change the subject. “I can’t believe I’m going to leave Dublin so soon.”
“I don’t want you to go.” He set his mug down on the black nightstand by the bed and reached for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
“I don’t want to leave. But I already gave my notice to John for the internship. In two weeks I’ll have no job. No money.” Adam furrowed his brow at me. “What?”
“Give me a bloody break. You know I’ll help you.”
“No,” I responded immediately. “You know I—”
“Can be a stubborn arse?” A smile lit his cheek, and it warmed my insides to see him smile.
I slapped his chest with my free hand. “And you’re not?”
“Of course I am, but I’ve got no qualms admitting it.” His seductive accent flitted to my ears, and I had the urge to straddle him again, to ride him hard and fast like I’d done only a few hours ago.
God, what do you do to me?
His eyes became intense and he cleared his throat, lowering his attention to the base of my neck. I bit my lip. When Adam didn’t look me in the eyes, it was usually because he was going to tell me something I wouldn’t want to hear.
“Anna.”
Here we go.
“Yeah?”
“I need to figure this thing out with Donovan. I need to fight next Saturday. I need to do this alone. If you’re around, I’ll be worried about you, and I won’t be able to—”
“I understand. But you’ll find a way out once this is done, right?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Adam . . .” Something in the pit of my stomach didn’t feel right.
He released my hand and pulled me into his arms. “Try and trust me.”
Our eyes met, and I forced myself to relax against him. “I do trust you.”
“But?” He held me tight against him.
“No buts . . .”
Chapter Thirty
Adam
I clenched my phone in my hand as I strode into Donovan’s office at Hannigan’s Auto Body garage. After spending the day with Anna yesterday, I was in no mood to be this Adam—the fighter. But the damn man had demanded my attention ASAP. And so I had come.
“What’s so important that you needed to see me now?” I asked.
Donovan was sitting behind his desk, and he was alone. He was never without an entourage.
“Close the door, son.” He flicked his wrist, waving his hand my way.
Son? The muscles in my body grew tight as I turned away to close the door. I released a low breath, pressing my palm against the wood, hoping to calm myself.
“Sit down. We need to talk.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled one last breath before turning back to face him.
“Sit,” he said again.
I walked over and took a seat. I clutched the chair arms as if they could prevent me from doing something stupid. Like jumping across his desk and wrapping my hands around his throat . . .
“Frankie’s the underdog in the fight.”
I shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”
“By a lot.”
Hadn’t we already discussed this? “What do you want? Get to the damn point.” Impatience seared through me.
“I want you to lose.”
“Come again?” I leaned forward and moved my hands to my thighs, pressing down until my feet began to throb against the soles of my shoes.
“You heard me.” Donovan stood and came around next to me as I tried to digest what he’d said.
Now I understood why we were alone.
“You want me to throw the fight?” I shook my head a little as the bastard filled the chair next to me. “I thought you wanted me to win.”
“Well, it occurred to me that there is a lot more money to be made if you lose.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of this all. Donovan may have been an arse, but he’d never interfered with an outcome of a fight before. At least, not that I was aware of. Maybe his operation had changed in the past five years.
“Maybe your boy Frankie will win square,” I offered.
Donovan snickered. “Lose.”
“Or else?” I pushed up to my feet and folded my arms, staring down at him. I waited for the threat I knew was about to come.
Donovan clasped his hands together, casually resting them on his lap. His thick gold ring caught my eye as the oval emerald twinkled in its center, and I focused on that instead of the smirk on his face.
“You’re not done Saturday. You know that, right?”
“I said I would keep fighting, didn’t I?” I kept my arms locked across my chest so I didn’t lose control. There were twenty guys outside the office, and all of them were packing.
“Humor me. Let me know what might happen if you don’t lose Saturday . . . and if you don’t continue to fight for me after you lose to Frankie.”
I wasn’t some eighteen-year-old kid meeting Donovan for the first time. I wouldn’t let him play mind games with me.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice deep and threatening.
“Cut to it. I’m growing tired of this.” I dropped my arms and angled my head.
“Maybe you think you can protect Anna by hiding her somewhere. Or maybe you even think you can threaten me with going to the Garda like you did last time. But, tell me, how much do you care about the kids at that center of yours? What about Conor? Little Chloe?” He held up his hand between us. “How’s Abby doing? You ever find out who pumped her full of drugs?”
I shoved the chair out of my way and reached for him, yanking the lapels of his blazer and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t look scared or even worried as his eyes refocused on me. “You son-of-a-bitch. Was it you? Were you her feckin’ dealer?” I screamed. Flecks of spit spattered in his face as I yelled.
It took me a second to register the sound of a click in my ear. It was the sound of a safety being rem
oved from a gun.
“Let him go.”
I didn’t care to see who it was—I kept my attention on Donovan’s beady eyes. “If you hurt them—if you hurt Anna—”
Donovan’s lips spread into a grin.
“Let him go, or you won’t make it to the fight Saturday,” the voice said in my ear.
“You know what you need to do. After the fight, we’ll talk about the next steps,” Donovan said. I slowly released his blazer and took a step back.
The barrel of a gun was hazily drifting in and out of my peripheral vision. “Fuck you, Donovan Hannigan.” I faced the blond giant at my side, who was holding the gun sideways, his arm stiff.
I started for the door, my feet feeling like lead, my body heavy as I moved.
“See you Saturday,” Donovan called, and a flicker of fear rolled through me.
I’d been almost hopeful on Sunday after spending the day with Anna, that somehow I’d make things work for us. How impossible that seemed now. I’d be glad just to get her out of Dublin alive.
Five years ago I had stood up to Donovan, vowing never to fight again. It was easy to walk away—I had nothing to lose.
Now I had everything.
Chapter Thirty-One
Anna
Seventy-one hours until the fight.
I had a timer of fear ticking in my head. I was going to lose my mind.
I’d called Adam and texted him a few times since Sunday, but he never answered his phone or responded to my messages. I had assumed he would want some space, but I didn’t expect total radio silence.
He could have sent a one-word response, at the very least.
When we parted Sunday night, I’d had that sinking feeling that I was losing him.
“I don’t think you should go through with the fight Saturday,” I had pleaded into his voicemail last night. I have a bad feeling about it, Adam—a real bad feeling, I had texted him this morning.
And now I was two blocks away from Hannigan’s gym where Adam had been training the last few weeks. I just couldn’t give him the space he had asked for. In my heart, I didn’t believe he needed it. What he needed was someone in his corner, whether he went through with the fight or not.
I fastened the straps of my coat as a cold breeze beat against my shoulders. My teeth clicked together, but more from nerves than from the cold.
My heart tapped inside my chest like the feet of an Irish folk dancer as I neared. Through the clear glass walls of the studio, I could see him—Adam.
I remembered my first morning in Dublin when I’d encountered him standing shirtless in Les’s kitchen. I’d been mesmerized by his body. Now, seeing him face off, shirtless, against another fighter, a part of me feared the powerful ripple of his muscles.
I couldn’t believe it had all come to this. I’d left Kentucky to escape Jax and to follow my dreams, and now I was standing twenty feet away from a man who made me feel more than I could ever bottle up.
Just go in. Jesus. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of confronting the man who had been avoiding my messages the last few days, or afraid of seeing any more of the jerks who were affiliated with Donovan. My cold fingers trembled as I wrapped them around the metal door handle.
Adam had his guard raised.
I swallowed as I approached the ring, aware that the men were all looking my way as I passed heavy bags and workout mats.
But my eyes never left Adam.
He circled his opponent, and the movement brought me into his line of vision. His guard lowered as his brows furrowed together, his blue eyes on me. “Enough for now,” I heard him say. He ducked under the ropes and climbed down.
My eyes found the base of his throat as he closed the gap between us. I was too afraid to look him in the eyes.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was low.
I dragged my gaze up to his strong chin and finally met his cool blue eyes. They were the color of the water—like the water from the day we’d taken his bike out for a drive. God, that felt like years ago.
“We need to talk,” I whispered before tugging my lip between my teeth. “I know you said you needed space this week, but I’m freaking out.”
He swiped a gloved hand over his head and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
He reached for my elbow and angled his head toward the door. “Come on.”
“You must be Anna Drake. I’ve heard so much about you.”
The voice was deep and raspy.
“And you are?” I looked up at the man that had come up next to Adam. Adam stiffened and arched his shoulders back, but he kept his hand wrapped around my elbow in a possessive—or maybe protective—way.
“Donovan Hannigan. Pleased to meet you, Miss Drake.”
Donovan? Oh God. Oh God.
“She was just leaving,” Adam grumbled.
“Why in such a hurry? Stay for a while and watch Adam fight. It’s a thing of beauty,” Donovan said with a grin.
“It’s late, and she needs to go.” Adam hadn’t given me time to think, let alone respond. “Come on, Anna.” He gently pulled at my elbow, nodding toward the door.
“Goodbye, Miss Drake,” Donovan said as I allowed Adam to guide me away.
The cold air slapped me in the face, but it was what I needed to snap out of panic mode. “That was him?” I croaked once we were safely on the sidewalk.
Adam released his grip and rubbed his thin gloved hands down his face. Jeez. He would freeze out here without a shirt on. Of course, he didn’t seem the least bit affected. What the hell?
“Adam . . .”
“This was a stupid idea, coming here. Not safe at all.” He crossed his arms, which made me feel a little better. Maybe his biceps would keep him warm.
“I know, but I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left your house Sunday. I’m worried about the fight. I know you’ll win, but I’m afraid of what happens after. I’m afraid you may not be able to stop fighting . . . or that you might not want to.”
There, I’d said it.
I waited impatiently for him to reassure me, but he didn’t speak. He only stared at me with parted lips.
“Adam, please,” I said, hating the silence.
He raised his arm out in front of me and pointed at something or someone inside the gym. “You see that guy in the blue shirt? Well, he’s Garda. Police. And the guy he’s wrestling is a politician’s son.” He lowered his arm and stared down at the cobblestone pavement.
“What are you trying to say? What’s your point?”
“Donovan’s protected.”
“You were able to get away from him before.”
“Things are different,” he rasped.
“Then you’ll have to do it differently,” I insisted. “You have to get out of this. I’m so afraid that if you step into that ring on Saturday, I’ll lose you. I said I trusted you, but I—”
“You shouldn’t trust me. I tried to tell you that.” When he looked at me, his eyes were blank, his face an unreadable mask.
I didn’t recognize the hollow eyes looking back at me.
“You can’t have both, remember?” I pointed to the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. “Did you lie to me Sunday?” I took a step back, my body shaking. “Did you never plan to find a way out?” I shook my head. “You want to give up everything just to do that bastard’s bidding?” I yelled, my own voice surprising me as I pointed to the gym.
Adam bent his head forward and shoved his hands in his sweat pockets.
“Say something. Please.” I reached for his arm, scared now that he was already gone. Hadn’t our reconciliation last weekend meant anything? It was starting to feel like a sick joke. “Tell me I’m wrong,” I begged, my eyes welling with tears.
His body was like steel—he didn’t budge an inch.
“Adam,” I cried.
“I have to fight, Anna,” he finally said, his voice raw.
“But you don’t
.”
“But I do.” He jerked his arm away from me and stepped back. My hand fell to my side as I looked up at him.
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else. The words died on the edge of my tongue.
My stomach lurched, and my skin grew clammy. Adam would be stepping into the ring tonight. This might be it. Maybe he would fight this last time, and that would be it for him.
But I doubted it.
I hadn’t tried to reach out to him again after our confrontation at the gym. I knew better. Still, I couldn’t get him off my mind.
What if he got hurt?
I thought about what happened to Owen, the man he’d paralyzed five years ago. What if Adam killed someone this time?
I circled my fingertip around the rim of my wine glass and stared down at the burgundy liquid. I’d barely touched it, but I needed to drink something if I was going to survive the night. Kate was out on a date, so I had the large apartment to myself.
I glanced at my wristwatch.
Nine o’clock. Adam’s fight was at ten.
I raised the wine to my lips, hoping to calm my nerves, but a sudden knock at the door had me lowering my glass.
My heart raced in my chest. Was it Adam? I knew I was stupidly hopeful, especially since he seemed to have changed his tune between Sunday and Wednesday.
I set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me and rushed to the door. I didn’t bother to check the peephole—I swung it open as fast as I could. A glimmer of hope glided through me. It was a McGregor.
But not the one I’d wanted.
“Hi, Holly. What are you doing here?”
Wearing skinny jeans, brown boots, and a cream-colored sweater, she looked like she’d stepped out of a catalog. I dropped my gaze to my outfit. Ugh. I was wearing sweats and a graphic tee.
Holly pushed her long locks to her back and cocked her head to the side. “Can I come in?”
I’d been standing like a statue in the middle of the doorway. “Sorry. Come in.” I stepped back, and she slowly walked past me, her coat draped over her arm.
Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line Page 26