Page 11 of On the Edge

There was a tightness to his jaw as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He sat up a little as he reached for something else and produced a brown leather wallet. I noticed the first two initials—AF—engraved in silver. His thumb blocked the third letter. I wondered what his full name was . . .

“I’m so sorry, love. I have to leave.”

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

His brows pulled together as he tossed a few bills on the table. “Yeah, all is good.”

Although I didn’t know the man, I could tell he was lying. His posture had been relaxed, supremely confident. Now he had a stiff spine and a sudden cool, almost icy edge. He seemed . . . pissed, to say the least.

“Do you think you can find your way back okay? I’d take ya, but I’m afraid I should hurry.” I could tell it bothered him that he was abandoning me in the restaurant, but clearly someone—whoever had been on the other end of that phone call—needed his help.

“I’ll be fine. And thank you for breakfast. Tell Leslie to give me a call when he gets a chance, if you don’t mind.”

He tipped his head, his eyes becoming a stormy, darkish blue gray. “I’ll be in touch, Anna.”

“But you don’t have my number—”

“No worries, love. I know where to find ya.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ADAM

“Are you totally daft? What the bloody hell were you thinking trying to get out of bed? Your goddamn leg is broken. When you need help, you hit the call button, ya idiot.”

Les rested his head on the pillow. “Didn’t anyone ever tell ya that you aren’t supposed to yell at a man in the hospital?”

I blew out a loud, exaggerated breath and dragged one of the chairs up to his bed. “There’ll be a lot more yelling if you pull another stunt like that. The nurse also told me you aren’t taking meds. What is wrong with ya? You got your arse handed to you Friday. You could have died!”

“Yeah, but I can’t afford any of this.” Les’s green eyes shut, and I lowered my head. I knew he wouldn’t take any handouts—he was as stubborn as they come.

Still. “I’ve got your back,” I promised.

Les shook his head and opened his eyes. “No. Feck that.”

I waved my hand out in front of me. This wasn’t the time for a pissing match with my best friend. “What were you even doing in that ring Friday night? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?” What had he been thinking going against someone who’d been undefeated for two straight years?

“Because you would have tried to talk me out of it.” His swollen and bruised nose captured my attention, and I thought about how Frankie had elbowed him there, again and again. All I wanted to do was break Frankie’s nose—and then some.

“Then why’d you text me at all?”

He shrugged. “Because I needed someone to drag my arse to the hospital if I got hurt.”

I rolled my eyes and fisted my hands, tapping them against my forehead in frustration. “Why in the hell did you agree to fight Frankie?” When he didn’t answer, I lowered my hands and studied him.

Stitches crawled over his cheek and jawline. They speared down in a jagged line across his forehead. Les was a damn good fighter, but Frankie was an animal.

“What is it?” My brows snapped together; concern pulled at me.

“I needed the money. I’m flat broke. Hell, that’s why I put an ad out for a roommate.”

“You could have asked me for help.” I rose to my feet, a slow boil of irritation erupting inside me, putting me on edge. I needed to hit something, dammit. “Speaking of your new roommate, why the hell didn’t you tell me—”

“Is she hot?” He paused and scratched at the stitches on his jaw, and I wanted to slap his hand away. “Oh, she’s hot, isn’t she?”

Yeah, she was more than gorgeous . . . and probably too innocent for someone like Les. Or myself, for that matter. “How long am I supposed to keep up with the charade that you’re out of town?”

He huffed. “I can’t tell her where I really am. I don’t want to scare her.”

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