Page 23 of On the Edge

Anna, I promise, it will be one of the best things you’ve ever done.

The winking emoji made me smile, which was just wrong, given the circumstances. I groaned as my mind began to imagine all the things I could do with him.

Damn you, Adam McGregor.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ADAM

I parked my bike outside the auto shop, which had a small black sign with white letters that read “Hannigan’s Auto Body.” I braced my legs on each side of my bike and removed my helmet.

Drips of what looked like thick, red paint rained in my mind. Only it wasn’t paint. It was blood. I could taste the metal flavor of it in my mouth.

Biting down on my lip, I swiped the memories from my mind and made my way into one of the businesses that Donovan Hannigan used to cover his scuzzy business dealings. I stalked to the garage at the side of the red brick building and tapped at the door three times. I looked up at the camera to the left of me as it shifted toward my face with a buzz.

I pointed my middle finger at the lens and, a moment later, the first garage door sprang up slowly.

I ducked under when it was waist high, too impatient to wait. I set my helmet down just inside and made my way past the mechanics who were working on cars—or, I should say, illegally chopping cars for parts. A few of the guys looked my way, but none of them were familiar to me. It had been five years since I’d set foot in this garage. I never thought I’d do it again.

Donovan was in his office, and the two arseholes from Les’s place sat in front of his desk. They looked over their shoulders at me, and my hands immediately clenched at my sides. I almost wanted them to give me a reason to spring at them. Of course, Donovan’s place was swarming with men who’d be eager to take me down.

“So, I see you changed your mind.” Donovan leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands on his chest. The guy was still jacked, even though he hadn’t fought in ages.

“I’ll fight Frankie in November in place of Les.” I didn’t waste time—I wanted to make this quick.

“It’s about damn time. It’ll be the fight of the year. Our two undefeated champions.”

“What’s his record?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Eighteen wins.” Donovan’s lips split into a grin. Frankie had two wins over me, but I wouldn’t let it get to me. I wasn’t that guy any more. At least, I didn’t want to be that guy any more.

“I’ll need a few practice fights before then. I haven’t stepped into a ring since . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

“I knew you’d be itching to get back in sooner.” He laughed. “But I don’t want you blowing your perfect record before fighting Frankie.” He stood up and tipped his head, his eyes squinting my way.

I relaxed in my stance, allowing my hands to become loose at my sides as I stood on the other side of the large oak desk. “And what makes you think I’d lose?”

“Because I have a lot of hungry men who’re dying to shred you apart. You’re thirty now and rusty. Hell, you’re more than rusty—you’re practically a virgin again.”

I lowered my head, unable to look at him. I couldn’t let his words get to me. “I may not have fought in a long time. And I may not have a camp, or a coach. But I’m in damn good shape, and I’ll throw down tonight if I have to.” I scratched the stubble on my jaw. “With you, if you’d like.”

Donovan came around the desk, and I shifted to face him head on. Would the fifty-year-old throw a punch? No, he was afraid of me. I could see it in his eyes as they darkened. “This Saturday night, then.”

And that’s what I got for opening my mouth. How would I be ready for a fight in five days? But I couldn’t stand down now. “Fine.”

Donovan’s fingers curved over my shoulder, and he leaned in. “If you fuck this up and lose before November, that pretty American will know what it feels like to have Irish blood in her.”

I knocked Donovan’s hand down and grabbed hold of his red dress shirt and scrunched the material in my hand. “If you lay a goddamn hand on her, or even think about her in any way . . .” I gritted my teeth. His two thugs grabbed me from behind, roping their tree trunk arms around my elbows, pulling me backward.

Donovan smirked. “Empty threats.” His voice was a whisper as I tried to jerk free from the men.

“Let him go. He won’t do anything to risk his chance at getting back in the ring.” He took a step closer to me as the guys loosened their grips. “You know you want it—the feel of your fist cracking against someone’s skull.”

I kept my eyes trained on him as his words moved through me. My heart pounded in my chest, and the blood rushed to my ears. “When this is all over,” I said, glancing over one shoulder, and then the other, “I’ll be coming for you two arseholes.”

* * *

My bike wheels moved almost with grace as I rounded a sharp corner. The darkness of the night hovered all around, and I squeezed the handles tight as I focused on the road, trying to keep Donovan’s words from battering my brain. Thinking of him touching Anna was more than I could handle. I’d have to keep an eye on her—Donovan was a man of his word.

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