Page 4 of Ryder

“What the fuck is that smell?” he asked, grimacing as he pulled the top of his shirt over his nose. “It smells horrible in here. Jagger really needs to find other places to fight.”

“Who cares what the place smells like? As long as he wins and gets paid, nothing else matters.”

“Still. . . .”

Dropping the material shrouding his nostrils, Tripp opened his mouth to say something else when Jagger came bursting out of the back room, searching the area before settling his eyes on us. Stomping forward, he reached us in record time, looking worried and frazzled.

At first glance, the guy looked in control. Fierce even. His dark blond hair was shaved on the sides, the top strands longer than the rest. Slicked back and in place, the style was enough to ensure he could see his opponent without obtrusion. It also enhanced his etched features, which were pinned with worry for some reason.

“Where is she?” he asked, looking past us into the adrenaline-filled crowd.

“Who?”

“Kena. She’s supposed to be here. She said she’d be waiting for me before my fight. It’s not like her to be late.” His fists clenched at his sides, the sign that he was subject to blow in a few seconds if he didn’t find what was keeping his woman.

Kena was punctual, though her sister was always late. If they were coming together, it could explain her absence.

I couldn’t deny that Braylen had somehow burrowed inside me, alighting on my nerves in both aggravation and intrigue. Passion and annoyance. The woman was something else, a firework in the darkest of nights.

I would’ve loved to say there was a quiet innocence and grace about her, but anyone who knew Braylen knew that wasn’t entirely accurate. An embellishment of the highest degree, to be more exact. Every time she entered the room, she lit it up with her presence, her fierceness and undeniable sex appeal. Although the last trait was for me and me alone. She’d shoot off at the mouth at the drop of a hat, misinterpreting situations quite often. She ranted and raved first, then asked questions, but only after she’d calmed down enough to allow me to speak. And by speak, I mean kiss the hell out of her until she had no other choice but to calm down.

“Here they come,” Tripp announced, pulling his phone from his pocket and taking a step toward the aisle. “You got this?” He cocked his head toward the two women fast approaching.

“Yeah.”

“Be right back.” No doubt he was checking in with Reece, his woman, who was pregnant with his kid. It seemed everywhere I looked lately the guys were knockin’ up their ol’ ladies. First Stone and Adelaide, and now Tripp had fallen down that rabbit hole. I didn’t have anything against kids—I had one of my own—but I sure as hell didn’t want to start all over again at thirty-four.

Jagger pulled Kena toward him, wrapping his arms around her and giving everyone quite the show. Damn, the guy was smitten, but I couldn’t blame him. Kena was pretty damn cool, never seeming to give my friend much of a problem. Not like her sister with me.

Speaking of . . .

Braylen shot me a warning glance before trying to shuffle down a nearby aisle, squeezing past a few guys who seemingly didn’t want to keep their hands to themselves. As I pushed off the wall, intent on wiping the floor with the asshole who dared grab her ass, my steps faltered when I saw her whip around and slap the guy across the face. Even over the roar of the frenzied crowd, I heard the impact.

Thankfully, for her and for me, the fucker seemed embarrassed enough to mouth something before looking down at the ground. Was it because he feared another smack from the feisty blonde, or could it have been the death daggers I shot his way when he looked around to see who’d witnessed the assault? While I was proud of Braylen for sticking up for herself, she had no idea how much danger she’d just put herself in for slapping that bastard. Had I not been present, would he have snatched her up and hurt her? I knew how the world worked, about all of the evil contained within, but Braylen was clueless. For as ballsy as that chick was, she lived in a bubble. Something we fought about on occasion.

I was always right, and she hated when I pointed it out.

Peering over at me, she looked away as soon as our eyes connected. She wanted to appear unaffected by my presence, but I saw the way her body reacted when she knew I was looking—no, staring. Her taut muscles locked up tight and the heave of her chest increased; it was slight but noticeable. Her tits looked amazing in that fuckin’ black top, her ass round and delectable in her painted-on jeans. If I wasn’t so intent on playing aloof, I would’ve approached, snatched her up and taken her back to my place right then and there. But because I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t sting my cheek with a smack, I stayed planted against the wall. Not that I didn’t encourage a bit of feistiness in the bedroom, but it wasn’t the time or the place.

I knew Braylen well enough to know that if I pushed her too far, she’d continue to give me the cold shoulder. And while her silence gave me the room to try and come to grips with the shit I’d been dealing with—or pushing back down for my subconscious to bury again—I needed to be with her. To feel her against me. To taste her.

I could toss it up to simply being horny, but even though I knew it was more than hormones, I refused to acknowledge the fact that I was becoming more and more attached to her. My survival was key, emotional as well as anything else.

Entirely consumed with my own thoughts, I hadn’t even seen Tripp approach, grumbling to himself as he came to stand next to me once again.

“Fuckin’ women,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets while looking off into the distance.

He’d just given me the opportunity to focus on someone other than myself for a moment. “Reece okay?”

“Yeah, she’s great. Just ask her.” Sarcasm dripped off him. Tripp looked a little more than put out, and even though he’d be the first to poke fun at me, he’d also be willing to lend an ear.

“What’s the problem? She not givin’ you any now that you knocked her up?”

Cocking his head, he narrowed his eyes before flashing an arrogant smirk.

“No problem there. In fact, she’s all over me.” Bending his leg, he braced himself on the wall behind us, his smirk fading as quickly as it had appeared. “She told me she wasn’t feeling well before I left, so I convinced her to call off from work. But when we just spoke, she told me she decided to go in after all.” He stopped talking, looking at me as if I had a fuckin’ clue as to what the problem was.

“So?”

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